Page 50 of Mafia Handbook

“Because my gut is screaming at me to look closer.”

Jamisson stared hard at his best friend, they’d both survived the same SEAL training, heard the same speech of listening to what you don't hear more than what you do. “Okay, what do you need me for?”

Turning for the police station, “Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

Gil shuffled down the narrow hallway, the shackles on his ankles rubbing his skin. The cops had busted into his apartment over a week ago, arresting him for some bullshit charges of identity theft, and possession of a controlled substance. He’d admitted the weed was his but hadn't a clue about the other. Calls to Frank’s attorney had gone unanswered. His mother and sister were off on one of their mother-daughter bonding vacations, too busy spending Frank’s money to pick up his repeated calls. Gil had no clue who waited for him, the guards were less than helpful in telling him who’d asked to see him.

“In here, Cortez.” The officer escorting him indicated.

Bash kepthis gaze locked on the door of the interrogation room, willing it to open. He had a laundry list of questions for the little bastard, ones he intended to gain answers to tonight.

Relief washed over Gil as his eyes landed on Bash.

“Oh, thank God, man. You have to tell these guys I’m innocent.”

“Are you?” Bash demanded. “Milena trusted you and all this time you were robbing her blind.”

Gil shifted his gaze between the three men. “Wait, you think I’m Milena’s stalker?”

Pulling out his cellphone, Bash tapped the screen, selecting the file he needed before turning it to face Gil. “Here’s your credit card number for payment to a commercial car service, the same service that tailed Milena to my house.” Swiping his finger over the screen. “Here it is again, paying for various items used to build a glitter bomb, the one which just happened to be delivered when you were at her house.” Bash used air quotes for the latter.

“I dug around in your past. I know you were a championship gamer, one talented motherfucker when it came to computers, so cut the shit and tell me where you hid the money you stole from her.”

Gil didn't bother swallowing down the anger brewing inside. “First off, I’ve never seen that credit card in my life. Second, check my phone, I don't have an account with any car service, never have. Third, yes, I was a gamer, but if you dug as deep as you’ve claimed, you’d know I was stripped of my ranking after it was proven my mother paid promoters to help me. As far as everything else, if it doesn’t suck my dick, or get me high, I want nothing to do with it.”

Jamisson waited until the guards closed the door before rounding on Bash. “Think he’s telling the truth?”

Keeping his face forward, “One way to find out for sure.”

* * *

“I thoughthe lived in a fraternity house?” Checking the address on the older apartment building against the booking forms Grant handed him before they left the jail.

“Getting pinched for possession tends to gain unwanted attention. Even if your stepfather could slit some throats and make it go away.”

“Come on, I need to have a look inside Gil’s computer.” Pulling a knife from his boot, Bash jimmied the lock and twisted the handle.

“Holy motherfucker.” Covering his mouth with the crook of his arm, Jamisson took a step back. “I haven’t smelled weed this strong since that rescue mission in Grenada.”

Stepping over a discarded pizza box, Bash halted his progression as his foot slid on something mushy on the floor. Lifting his boot, he nearly vomited from the smell of a rotting banana. “Nasty motherfucker,” Bash swore, bracing himself against a bookshelf in the corner as he scrapped the slimy fruit on the edge of the rug. “He can afford to buy three-thousand-dollar bongs, but not a cleaning lady once a week.” Pointing at the bookcase covered in drug paraphernalia.

“Looks like he pawned the laptop to buy this,” Jamisson held up a gallon sized freezer bag full of weed. “Because I don't see a laptop anywhere, do you?”

Hooking his hands on his hip, Bash scanned the room. “Know what else I don't see? A fucking modem.”

Tossing the bag of weed to the couch, Jamisson’s eyes darted around the room. “Every household in the world has the internet. Maybe he’s stealing more than Milena’s identity?”

Bash snapped his attention to Jamisson. “This is why we are still friends.” Pulling his phone from his back pocket, Bash scanned for available connections, “All the ones within a sutainable distance are password protected.”

“When was the last time a password stopped you?” Jamisson challenged.

Bash moved to argue he’d spent the past month at the mercy of a password he couldn’t break when his cell began ringing. Glancing at the screen, his pulse quickened at the name on the caller ID.

“What’s up, Wizard?”

“Hey, man, you remember the anchor account you had me set up in Milena’s name?”

Snapping his gaze to Jamisson’s. “Yeah?”

“Well, you just got a hit, and this time I was able to trace the IP address. I’m sending you the coordinates now.”

Bash ended the call, tapped the screen of his phone, bringing the map to life.

Jamisson moved closer in order to gain a better look, his heart racing as he watched Bash pinch the screen bringing the location into view.

Raising his gaze to Jamisson’s, Bash turned his phone in his direction. “Look familiar?”

“Isn't that?”

“The salvage yard she worked at. Yeah, it fucking is.” Bash swore through clenched teeth, shoving his phone into his back pocket. “Time to pay Uncle Tony a visit.”

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