Page 17 of Fallen Rook

Raw frustration churned inside me. My hands clenched into fists.

“It’s bullshit.” I forced myself to measure my tone, my words, my reaction. “And you know it, Zeke. These things take time. The Ferrantes aren’t common criminals. Sure, they have lawyers and judges in their pockets. But no one is immune.”

“No one’s immune.” Zeke clicked his teeth in agreement. “But they’re too careful, and we’re too short-staffed. We keep hitting one dead end after another.”

“So we just quit?” I growled, knowing I sounded like a newbie.

“No, but we put it on the back burner and revisit when the setting is ripe. You’re needed in the Chicago division, anyway, to deal with the Outfit. The Bandini family is out of control.”

Like fuck I was. Chicago was a hot mess, and none of my business. The Camorra file had prestige, and would likely gain me promotion.

“I’m staying here to deal with the Ferrantes.”

“Look, I know this case is your baby.” Zeke massaged his eye sockets. Understatement of the year if I ever heard one. This was the only case I’d yet to crack, putting me at a 99.99% success rate. “But this is beyond my control.”

Running a hand over my face, I clung to the last shreds of my composure. The Ferrantes had become my obsession, my life’s mission, the very thing that kept me going. I’d put all my chips on this case, betting my entire career on it, and failure wasn’t an option. I needed this promotion. And, on an ethical level, I just knew that I wouldn’t be able to breathe right until I saw every single motherfucker with that last name rotting in prison.

The sheer amount of blood on Achilles’s and Enzo’s hands alone could refill the ocean.

Maybe if we had new information…if I detected a chip in the Camorra’s armor…

An idea sprang into my mind.

“I have a new in with them.”

Zeke tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Enzo.” My throat constricted around his name, for an unknown reason. “He and I… We got close.” I guess you could call it that, seeing as we’d played tonsil tennis less than twenty-four hours ago and I could still taste him. “I can establish trust there.”

“Trust, with the Camorra’s enforcer?” Sully’s bloodshot eyes glared at me like I was the drunk one.

“Yeah.”

“Someone’s ambitious,” he puffed out sarcastically.

“But he knows you’re on their case.” Zeke frowned. “Why would he cooperate?”

I wasn’t going to out Enzo—his sexual orientation had nothing to do with any of it—but I had to throw Zeke a bone. “He’s not as guarded as his brothers. We bumped into each other the other day. Shot the shit. He’s like an eager puppy. Easily manipulated, if you know what points to press.”

Zeke considered my words while I held my breath. He turned to Sully. “What do you think?”

Sully shook his head. “I don’t know.”

I stared him down, my gaze demanding this blank check. I was the brain behind our operation. I called the shots while he pickled his liver to shit. He wasn’t in a position to defy me.

Sully rubbed a palm over his stubble, grunting. “I’ll follow Rothwell’s lead, but it better take us somewhere this time. I’m tired of taking pictures of that Ferrante kid doing his squats in front of Love Island.”

Enzo watched Love is Blind, not Love Island.

Not that it mattered in any way.

Zeke worked his jaw back and forth, touching it absentmindedly. “I meant what I said, Tom. Priorities have changed, and you’re needed in Chicago. I can buy you a couple months, at best. No more than that. And then we have to bury this case unless something significant pops up.”

“Two months are enough,” I clipped out.

He nodded.

I got to my feet and headed toward the door. I had no time for chitchat. I needed to come up with a plan to draw Enzo closer to me and gain his trust.