Timur slid into the seat beside Ashe and took her hand. Kyanite slipped up front and Rodion immediately put the car in motion. The entire sequence hadn’t taken them more than a minute. Timur exhaled and brought her hand to his face. “How would they get hold of the spray that removes all odors so our cats can’t smell them?” He pulled out his phone again and texted his brother. Talk to Drake. He has to investigate this slip. We need a meeting immediately. If we can’t get all the players together, we need the ones who know about that scent-blocker.
He rubbed the palm of Ashe’s hand back and forth across the dark stubble on his face while he waited for Fyodor’s reply. Texted Drake. He doesn’t know. Hasn’t heard any rumors. It would have had to have been sold on the black market if it was going to the Russians. He’s contacting Sasha in Miami. If it was offered, it had to go through him.
Timur disagreed. He’d met Sasha, and the man was pretty straightforward about joining them. He wasn’t going to fuck it up for a can of spray. That would mean he’d sold them out, and Sasha was more vulnerable than anyone right then with the exception of … Emilio Bassini. They should have killed the fucker when they were cleaning closets. Damn.
Does Bassini have ties to anyone in New Orleans?
Don’t have a clue, I’ve asked Drake. He’s leader of a lair there. He’ll know that information.
Check to see if Ulisse Mancini or Fredo Lombardo have ties there. He included the other crime bosses with close territories. Do they ever do business with anyone from that region? Anything, any tie at all, no matter how remote.
He waited impatiently and found himself biting down on the pads of Ashe’s fingers. She jumped but didn’t pull her hand from his. Maybe, without thinking, he’d bitten down a little too hard. He stroked his tongue over the marks and then kissed her.
His phone lit up. Both Mancini and Lombardo had business ties to Rafe Cordeau.
Recently, Rafe Cordeau had been killed and his body burned so no one would ever find him. Joshua Tregre had taken over his territory. Joshua was one of them. He would never sell them out. Timur glanced up to see where they were, how close to Fyodor’s estate. It was located out of San Antonio and up in the hill country. Even driving fast, it would take a few more minutes to get there.
Timur wanted to move Evangeline’s bakery closer to the estate. She was flown in each morning by helicopter, but that didn’t help when they needed to travel fast and they didn’t have access to one.
Is Tregre doing business with either of them?
Both. Not a lot. They wanted in on the opium business that was being run through the perfume sales a while back. That side of the business was shut down.
Timur wanted to bellow with rage. What the fuck was wrong with his brother that he hadn’t imparted any of this information to him? You didn’t think to tell me this?
Drake shut that down, so no, I didn’t.
This is the same perfume business where the scent-blocker comes from? His head was about to explode. He was head of security for Fyodor. What he knew, Sevastyan knew, and Sevastyan was head of security for his brother Mitya. They were all at risk. What the hell was wrong with everyone?
Who owns the perfume factory?
A woman by the name of Charisse Mercier, along with her brother Armande. They were cleared of all charges.
Who the fuck was guilty? It was like pulling teeth to get information. Important information that could save lives. He was punching Drake Donovan in the face the next time he saw the man. Everything should have been disclosed at their last meeting, rather than, because Drake took care of it, just not mentioning it.
Joshua Tregre’s uncles. The opium was put in boxes by Charisse’s mother and the two uncles took it out to buyers by boat at night in the swamp. The mother was some piece of work. A serial killer. That’s how they found out about the opium.
Timur closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Immediately, Ashe was on her knees on the seat beside him, her fingers digging into his neck, massaging the tension out of him. She was strong, pushing through the knots to ease them out. It was heaven, but more importantly, no one, not even his mother, had ever noticed when he was in any kind of discomfort.
“Thanks, baby, but you need to wear your seat belt. If for any reason we have to take off fast, I don’t want you hurt.” He didn’t want her to stop with the neck massage either. Her hands were amazing.
“I’m a leopard. I have great balance,” she reminded. “Whatever you’re reading on your phone is making you tense and angry. Stop reading it until we’re at your brother’s place.”