Page 161 of Dark Angel
They grew silent as they watched the woman drop the vial of powder into his drink.
“She’s got a tattoo on the back of her neck,” Halston said. “Zoom in on that.”
After staring at the close up, he said, “That’s a dragon.”
“It sure is,” she said, as her phone rang.
“It’s my brother.” She answered. “Hey.” After listening, she said, “Yes, you can send him up.” She hung up, returned her attention to the laptop.
Gabriel had pulled up the video the night Angelo got gunned down.
“She’s completely covered up,” Halston said. “All I can see are her eyes. And we don’t have a clear picture of those from the club.” She grew silent as he replayed the video.
Turning away, she said, “That’s hard to watch.”
“It’s exactly what I need to see,” he replied. “It fuels my hatred.”
His phone rang. It was Carmelo, his GM of Santini Spirits, in Italy.
“Santini,” he answered.
“Boss, we need you,” Carmelo said. “We got a big problem. The Bratva broke into the distillery in the middle of the night, changed the locks.”
Those motherfuckers.
Despite the anger coursing through him, he would not show it, not even to his closest associates.
Gabriel chuckled. “They’ve gotten bold since I’ve been gone.”
“We know you got business you been handling,” Carmelo continued, “but we need help. Maybe send Angelo?”
“I can’t do that,” he said as he watched the video play out of his closest friend collapsing on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Another bolt of pain shot through him. “Update me.”
“They threatened to burn down the winery—the vineyards, everything—if we try to take back the distillery.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Grazie,” Carmelo said. “I’ll let the guys know.”
“Tell them it’s war.” Gabriel ended the call, called his primary pilot.
When he didn’t answer, he called the next one.
“Hello, Mr. Santini,” answered the pilot.
“Captain, I need to fly to Milan. When can you have the jet ready?”
“We can be wings up in three hours,” she replied. “Be checked in by 9:30 AM. We’ll depart at 10:00 AM.”
“See you then.” He hung up, slid his laptop into his computer bag.
Knock-knock.
Halston rose. “Looks like you’re taking off.”
He couldn’t miss the disappointment in her eyes. “I have a problem at my distillery.”
She hurried out, returning with her brother.
