“It’s already out of hand!” I roared, getting to my feet. “None of us know where he is. You heard Valhalla. Danny is in danger of infections, permanent brain damage, even death. I don’t fucking care what anyone says. All I care about is finding him fast, and if I have to burn this fucking city down to the ground to do it, then so be it!”
“What can you tell us about the kid’s disappearance from the hospital?” Mercy cautiously asked.
“The cameras picked up a shadowy presence that lingered in the background. The feed was grainy as hell and the description is vague, but you are looking for a man, roughly six and a half feet tall. Athletic, muscular build. He was wearing a black suit, but here is the weird part. The camera couldn’t pick up his face, but I could clearly see the watch he was wearing, aPatek PhilippeNautilus Moon Phase rose gold watch valued at over two hundred grand.”
“Well, that just omitted the Biker Federation.” Mercy chuckled.
“What do you mean?” Chipper asked.
Montana grinned, sitting up in his chair. “No biker would spend over two-hundred grand on a fucking watch. Hell, I don’t even own one.”
“You can omit the IRA and Irish Mob too,” Fury added. “They would rather spend their money on family and whiskey.”
“So that only leaves everyone else, then.” Mercy sighed.
“It’s not the Bratva,” the voice said. “I checked. Fedorov’s organization is clear.”
“So it’s someone in the Mafia.” Montana sighed, then added, “Reaper, you are close to Giovanni. Can you call him and see if he’s heard anything?”
“It’s not the Mafia,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“How do you know?” Montana asked.
Turning to face him, I admitted, “Because Cesar pledged his allegiance to me.”
Getting to his feet, Montana seethed, “What the fuck are you talking about? The Italian Council doesn’t pledge allegiance. Cesar is a sitting, voting member of the table.”
“Yeah well,” I scoffed. “That was before we became BFFs. How was I to know you were a half decent fucker?”
“Everyone, get the fuck out!” Montana roared as the room cleared quickly. Taking his seat, he rubbed his hands down his face and took a deep breath. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Gonna have to be more specific than that, fucknuts. I’ve done a lot of things in my time on this earth.”
“Max, don’t fucking play me. I’m trying real fucking hard not to lose my shit. Just fucking tell me what I need to know.”
Sighing, I said, “When the table was considering removing you from your seat, Cesar came to see me. He gave me some information that Giovanni had been sitting on. Information that concerned Crispin Sinclair.”
Montana narrowed his eyes. “Let me guess. That fucker didn’t escape the Trick Pony, did he?”
Shaking my head, I smirked. “Nope. The bitch let him go.”
“Why?”
“Because she needed him to locate someone.”
Montana groaned, rubbing his temples. “Hold up. I’m confused. I thought he was looking for Thena?”
“He was, because Thena stole the only evidence he had to find the kid.”
“What kid?”
Shrugging, I added, “Some kid born in Hartford, Connecticut, in 1992.”
“Did the file say who the kid was?”
I slowly nodded.
“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to continue playing twenty fucking questions with you?”
