Page 80 of Demon's Angel

“I’ll get Mace, Lizard and Ink onto it.”

“That enough?” Hellfire queries.

I let him in on my thought processes. “All we have are addresses of what we know he owns. Need to check them out, see where might be likely, whether there’s been movement there. I trust those three to cross off those which are possibilities. If they’re suspicious about one, they can call help in.”

Hell nods. “I’ll get onto it.” He takes out his phone.

“Oh, and Hell? I want in if they think they’ve found the location.”

Drummer, still listening carefully, nods at this instruction. Doubt if he’d be able to hold back if it was his woman who’d been taken.

“We could send more than one team out,” Red suggests, his hand staying Hell from pressing connect.

Fucking decisions. On one hand, more men out searching could get results quicker. On the other… I shake my head. “We don’t know whether Angel’s going to make a play for Theo, or whether to launch an attack. I don’t want to leave the compound short-handed.”

“How about I go with them?” Hellfire offers.

“Need you here.”

Hell’s not happy, shooting me a look that says he’d rather be taking action. We’re brothers, both sharing the same frustration at seemingly sitting on our hands while Violet’s suffering. But Hell’s experience with the Mafia might come in handy. I stare back steadily, letting him know there’s no point in arguing. He sighs in exasperation and turns away. Shortly after, I hear him issuing my instructions.

A car arrives, shortly followed by another. Then more.

Ten men, each accompanied by one or more of their soldiers appear. Tencapos, each responsible for adecina. While they’ve not brought the whole lot with them, it strikes me how Lucio has at least one hundred men at his beck and call. Even with the extra fifteen at the compound, we’re heavily outnumbered. If Angel had managed to turn them, we wouldn’t have had a chance.

Roberto comes up beside me. “I didn’t call all thecapi. Just those who I’d stake my life on can be trusted. One,CapoFerri, let me say is sympathetic to Angel’s ways. Another couple I couldn’t say either way and thought it best to exclude them. Even Sanna has a question mark over his head.”

He has not made the situation better.

Lucio doesn’t waste time, ushering us all into a large dining room. The table is enormous, can easily seat thirty. He sits at the head, Roberto beside him. Then beckons me to the seat on his left. I raise my chin in acknowledgement of the honour. Red, Drummer and Hell are also invited in, leaving the rest of the MC and thesoldatosto mingle awkwardly outside in the hallway.

When everyone’s seated, Lucio looks around the assembly, his glance landing briefly on each one of his men. My eyes follow his, waiting to see if anyone flinches or reacts when his assessing gaze settles on them. No one acts suspiciously I’m pleased to see. They’re clearly curious as to why they’ve been summoned, and why three current and one former MC presidents are sitting around the table with them.

One man, whose grey hair betrays his age, is impatient. “What the hell is going on, Lucio? There are holes in the walls. Have these bikers…”

“Gallo. If you will give me a chance to explain.” His eyes flick to Roberto, then he takes a breath to fortify himself. I’m not surprised. What he has to say will be devastating, for him to admit to his famiglia, and for them to hear. “I was set up. To be killed.”

Growls and exclamations go around the table. “Che cazzo?”

I don’t understand the phrase, but from the way it’s snarled think I can make the right interpretation. The expressions of hatred being sent toward me, and toward my brothers at the opposite end of the table, make me rest a hand on the butt of my gun just in case.

Lucio raises his hand; his men go quiet. “I was set up,” he repeats, “by my own son. By Angelino.”

There are a few audible gasps. I’m watching all reactions carefully, eyes flicking away, faces looking down at the table, anything which might suggest one of thesecaposis in the know. But the expressions range from horror to surprise to resignation.

“But you are alive,” Gallo observes.

“Because the Satan’s Devils are not as hot-headed as Angelino. They speak first.”

Roberto grimaces at the pain on Lucio’s face and takes over as the don clearly is finding it hard to admit his son’s failings.

“Angelino has taken a woman. He believes her to be the daughter of Vittore Parma.”

There’s swearing in both English and Italian at the name. I’m trying to work out whether they’re praising Angel for taking Violet or upset at the name just thrown out into the open. My face must give me away.

“The woman is the wife of Demon, President of the Satan’s Devils.” Roberto indicates me. “For his sake, and the rest of his men, please talk in English only.”

“Your wife?” Acapoasks. “Why would he take your wife?”

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