Page 29
Chapter 29 of "Possessive Sinner" opens presenting: "Yeah."A heavy breath answers me, and I roll my eyes at the theatrics. I already... Don’t stop now!
"Yeah."
A heavy breath answers me, and I roll my eyes at the theatrics. I already know who it is. Then the voice. "Gabriel."
Something dark twists in my gut. I don't know the asshole's name, just the stupid title he's using, El Recaudador. The Collector. He started calling a few days ago, not just me. Every single person in our outfit. From the valet people all the way to the top.
"Have you thought about my offer?" he asks calmly.
I lean against the car door, looking out over the parking garage.
"You're persistent." I give him that. And a pain in the ass. We're sure he's the one behind the laced coke and the shooting at the club. He wants to get into our territory without destroying the infrastructure. Only the management.
"I'm practical."
"You're wasting your time." There's no use notifying Kale; this guy is a pro. He's using burners and destroying them after each call. Pretty expensive and time-consuming, considering that, between our legit casinos and our… not-so-legit business, we have thousands of people working for us.
A soft chuckle comes through the line. "I don't think so. Men like you eventually realize loyalty is just another word for bad business."
"My loyalty isn't for sale." Not now. Not ever. Massimo is more than a brother to me. So are the others.
"Everything is for sale."
"Not this." He'll be dead the moment we find him.
Silence hangs between us for a moment.
"You're a smart man, Gabriel," he continues. "Smarter than the others around your Don. You see how fragile his empire really is."
"You don't know a damn thing about us."
"I know enough."
I push off the car, irritation starting to crawl under my skin.
"Let me save you another call. The answer is still no." I advise El Recaudador.
"You should reconsider."
"Why?"
"Because when Massimo falls—and he will—you'll want to be standing on the right side of the grave."
I laugh. Not because it's funny. Because it's stupid.
"Listen carefully," I warn as my good humor slowly drains and my voice grows cold. "You keep calling me. You keep pokingaround my city. Eventually, I'm going to find you." The line goes very quiet. "And when I do, you're going to wish you'd never been born."
Another small chuckle. "You threaten very confidently for a man who doesn't know where I am."
"That's temporary." I end the call.
For a moment, I stare at the dark screen. Sooner or later, we'll find him. And when we do, El Recaudador is going to learn something about Vegas: we always collect our debts.
Saying Massimo is on a warpath is an understatement. Last week, we got one of El Recaudador'slieutenants. Massimo dropped the fucker out of his jet somewhere over the Arizona desert. But it doesn't seem as if The Collector has gotten the message. All we know about him is that he's a ghost from the past and out to destroy our empire from within.
We'll take care of that problem, but first, we're going to get Massimo hitched.El Recaudador, I shake my head and get into the car. What a fucking ridiculous name.
Louie drops me off at the Sovereign ten minutes later, and I make my way through the casino floor, heading to the private elevator that will lead up to Massimo's penthouse. It's the same setup as in my casino, in all of ours, actually.
"Hold the box," a familiar voice calls. Damiano.