Page 18 of Taste of Blood
Darnell gives me my cut of the winnings as I exit the club. I’m sore and bloodied, but I feel more in control than I did when I entered. The afternoon has clouded over and the skies open up as soon as I step outside.
Perfect.
I run to my car and my phone rings as I slide inside. I breathe a sigh of relief when I recognize Dante’s number.
“Yeah?”
“What’s the deal with that picture you sent?”
“Just wanted to know if they were someone who works for you.”
“Why?”
How can I explain this without implicating Luca? “I was talking to a guy over in Brooklyn earlier and he mentioned these guys were snatching people off the street.”
“Yeah, so? What the hell were you doing in Brooklyn?”
I shrug, though I know he can’t see it. “Just cruising around.”
“And you happen to talk to someone about this?”
“It came up.”
He’s silent for a couple of minutes. “I don’t recognize them, but then again, I don’t know everyone who works for me. As far as snatching people, you know I don’t do that.”
“I know, but guys go off the reservation.”
“How do you know they’re even Clan?”
“I don’t. They could just be your garden variety human traffickers. Just thought I’d check in to see if it’s anything I should be concerned about.”
“I got guys in Brooklyn who can handle it if it is. I’ll pass on your concerns. In the meantime, I have a job for you.”
The job is to take down some Wall Street scumball who’s attracted the attention of the NYPD. Seems he has a nasty habit of leaving donors dead in hotel rooms. And the murder scenes are bloodbaths. The first four he diced and sliced with a knife. Ordinarily Dante would let the human authorities handle it, since there’s nothing that could blow back on us, but then the asshole got careless and used his teeth. Two victims, their necks chewed up, extreme sanguination. Kind of set off alarm bells and caused them to go back and reexamine the first four murders.
Now the cops think they have a serial killer on their hands. They’ve even appointed a task force. Dante was able to get his guys working in the coroner’s office to destroy the evidence on the last two victims, but that will only go so far. They can’t make those cops unsee what they’ve seen.
“Find this guy,” Dante orders. “Sooner rather than later.”
“Got any idea where I can start?”
He gives me a name and an address. “I’ve sent guys over there twice, but he’s never around. You’re resourceful. I figure you can sit on the place, grab him when he shows up. The worst part about this is it’s in my own fucking neighborhood.”
“What do you mean?”
“The asshole lives across the street from me.”
Across the street. As in the building across the street.
The building Asher lives in.
In a city of eight million people, I have to babysit one that lives in the same building as my former lover?
Why does the universe hate me so much?
Dante emails me a file with what little information he has on Eduard Smyth. Has to be an alias. There’s a grainy picture and some background. He transitioned less than twenty years ago on the west coast. Left there and moved to Chicago, where he wasforced to relocate yet again due to “questionable circumstances.” Meaning he’s pulled this shit before at least once. Maybe Dante should be going after his mentor. He’s obviously neglected his educational duties. What happened to the vaunted vetting process the Clan is so big on?
I park down the street and approach the building cautiously, senses alert, though for whom is a question I don’t want to answer. Dante said to do whatever it takes to bring this guy down, including ending him, if it comes to that. He doesn’t use me for that very often, but I have no problem getting my hands dirty. Judging by the picture of Smyth, he doesn’t seem like someone who could overpower me, but you never know with people.
