Adriatik Maritime Limited was my jumping off point. I’d traced all the company’s paperwork back to the Vokshi Clan, proving they owned it. Armir Vokshi, their Head, was an established businessman with extensive reach across the coast of Albania. He also had previous run-ins with both local and international law enforcement, so it wasn’t hard to get intelligence on him through the law enforcement databases.
I sat back in my chair, eyes flicking back and forth between all the information spread across my different computer screens.
Taking them out was going to be our biggest undertaking yet. An entire organization. The South Americans with Rafael Arboleda—the people who killed my parents—were small compared to the Albanian Clans merging. Killing their Head alone wouldn’t make them collapse. Not this time.
“Hey,” Leona said as she poked her head into my room. “I was looking for you.”
I glanced around my desk. Snack wrappers and empty energy drinks littered its surface. “What’s up?”
She stepped inside and turned on my overhead light. I flinched at the sudden brightness. What time was it?
“You’re going to ruin your eyes.”
“They’re already ruined.” I rubbed them underneath my glasses. “What brings you to my cave?”
She leaned her hip against my desk. I wanted to reach for her and draw her into my lap, but I still wasn’t sure how she was feeling. She wouldn’ttellme. She wouldn’t tell any of us. We’d agreed to stay careful, so we didn’t upset her or make her feel like we expected anything of her. She needed time to rest and heal, and she’d feel more comfortable around us again. Eventually.
Still, my hands felt empty and my lap felt cold without her.
“Can I help you with anything?” Her head tilted to the side, and the glow of my computers illuminated the dark circles under her eyes. Her body needed sleep, but I was no stranger to a brain that wouldn’t stop running.
“Why don’t you rest? I’m fine. Just working on Albanian stuff.” I rubbed the palm of my bad hand, trying to loosen the scar tissue there. My fingers were stiff and increasingly slow to respond. The hand ached deeply the longer I worked, but I didn’t have any other choice.
The corner of her mouth pulled into a frown. “What kind of Albanian stuff?”
I looked at the stack of papers to my side, and then the database I’d pulled up in front of me with the picture of a man in his late 60s. His grey hair was combed to the side, and the frown on his face only exacerbated his wrinkles. His pissed off expression looked like he’d eaten a pair of hornets, and then was mad at them for stinging him.
“That’s Armir Vokshi,” I said, pointing at his picture.
“He looks like a wrinkly old ball sack.”
I choked back a laugh. “Yeah, he does.” I clicked around, bringing up three other pictures. “Those are his sons and underbosses. Arion is the oldest. He’s in charge of the worldwide trafficking operations. Ervin is the middle. He’s in charge of their businesses in Europe. Orik is the youngest. He’s in charge of business expansion. I’m pretty sure he’s the one who lurks around the States and keeps clashing with Max. I think he was the one behind your kidnapping.”
Armir ran the Vokshi Clan ruthlessly. He’d been the driving force behind unifying the Albanian Clans. He’d started absorbing other branches of the Albanian mafia slowly yet surely over the last five years, until his final sweep two years ago, where he and his sons had single-handedly taken full control either through forced alliance by marriage, or wiping out the other Heads and taking control of their forces.
Orik had then come to the States to make sure the transition of power went successfully. All the other Clans had fallen in line behind the Vokshi, and that’s when the records showed an explosion in their businesses and transport. Orik had a reputation of being ruthless, like his father. He killed before he asked questions and put down all resistance.
To my knowledge, Armir hadn’t left Albania in years, so I assumed that Leona’s father must have been working with Orik for face-to-face visits.
Her face darkened as she stared at all four of the pictures. The sons were spitting images of their father, just younger. Each wore a nasty scowl.
“I want to kill him,” she said while her brow darkened and her eyes locked on Orik.
“I think we all want to kill him.” Personally, I couldn’t wait to wrap my garrote around his neck and watch the life choke from his eyes.
“Where is he now?”
I didn’t want to tell her because she’d want to go after him,but I couldn’t hide the truth. “I think he’s going to be at the next container ship arrival.”
Adriatik Maritime Limited owned a fleet of ships of varying sizes and cargo, but only four of them had recently made port in the United States, including theRed Talon. The rest were spread out across Europe, Africa, and South America. While we couldn’t guarantee that the Clan used every ship for trafficking, it felt like a pretty solid guess, so our plan was to start with intercepting the ships, saving whoever was on board, and then decommissioning or sinking them.
The next ship,Iron Ghost, was scheduled to make port at a small marina in New Jersey in four days. The other two were on track to show up in Miami within the next two weeks. We’d have to deal with those later, but right now, theIron Ghostloomed in our sights.
Especially if the intel said Orik was going to be there.
Her eyes went calculating. “Four days, right?”
I nodded, grabbing her hand. “Are you sure you want to go? You and I could stay here and coordinate the operation while Cas, Obi, and Ryu led the attack on the ground. Wynn could stay with us, too.”
