“We should talk to Dante,” I said as she disappeared into the bedroom to get changed.
“Do you know where he is?” she called out.
I walked to the bedroom door but didn’t push it open. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of her naked back: smooth and muscular and beautiful. She turned to the side and caught me looking in, but only smiled and didn’t move to cover herself. I smirked back then leaned against the wall outside the door.
“Downstairs somewhere,” I said. “It’s quiet, but he’s here. I’m guessing the library.”
“Think he’ll listen?”
“I’m not sure how he’ll react, honestly. I don’t know him well.”
“He’s the second-in-command, right?”
“Vincent’s best friend and right hand. Some people think he’s the real power in the family, but I think he’s more interested in his own little kingdom and neighborhoods than he is in running the whole show.”
She came out a moment later wearing a tight black shirt and a pair of jeans, her wet hair down around her shoulders. “Then I’m guessing he’s not happy about this current situation.”
“Probably not.”
“Good.” She got up on her toes and kissed my cheek. “Then he’ll be amenable to our plans.”
I laughed and let her lead the way back out into the hall and downstairs. She backtracked along the path I’d walked earlier and headed to the large double doors that led into the library. A single thug stood outside, arms crossed over his chest.
I raised a hand in greeting. “We need to talk to Dante.”
“He’s busy. Fuck off.” The thug glared at us like a monkey in a cage.
I rubbed my face. “Look, I know he probably told you not to disturb him—”
“Look, I said, fuck off.” He stared at me.
“I know Vincent’s in the hospital, and I know Dante’s in charge. I need two minutes of his time.” The thug went to say something, but I spoke over him. “I swear, if you tell me to fuck off again, there’s going to be a problem and I promise Dante won’t be fucking happy about it.”
He glared at me, and I could practically hear the hamster wheel in his skull spinning. “What do you want?” he asked.
“Tell Dante I spoke with the Dusters, and he needs to hear what they said.”
The thug frowned but knocked on the library door and slipped inside. I glanced at Amber and rolled my eyes. These guys had to make everything difficult and turn even normal conversations into a goddamn dick-measuring contest. Which he would lose, I was sure.
He came out a second later, looking cowed. “Go in,” he grunted. “And be quick.”
I smiled pleasantly and slipped past him into the library. No use in being rude about it. Amber followed, sticking close.
Inside, Dante sat at a table with several other men. I recognized one of them: Steven, another prominent capo in the family. Dante sat at the head of the table, a tall man with dark hair and light eyes with a pissed-off scowl on his face.
“Ren,” he said, standing as I stood a few feet from the table.
“Dante. Thanks for seeing me.”
He tilted his head. “You say you spoke with the Dusters. I’m not really sure how to take that.”
“Take it in the spirit it’s meant, considering I’m here to tell you about it.”
He laughed. “Fair enough.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, this is sort of—” I hesitated, glancing at the other guys around the table, then back at Dante. “It’s a little sensitive.”
There was a long, tense moment before Dante grunted and waved a hand. “Everyone out.”
They stood and exited, one by one. Steven spared me a glance, but didn’t seem to care one way or the other about what was going on. When we were alone, Dante walked over to a side table covered in alcohol bottles and poured himself a drink. He offered me one, which I accepted. Amber lingered nearby, looking uncomfortable.
“I appreciate you clearing the room,” I said. “This isn’t the sort of thing you want too many ears hearing.”
Dante snorted. “Then we shouldn’t talk in this place at all.”
I raised an eyebrow. “We’re being overheard?”
“Recorded, probably. Don’t worry though. Vincent’s paranoid, but not stupid. I think he’s the only one with access to the footage.”
That didn’t make me feel great, but I let it slide. It stood to reason that the whole mansion was bugged one way or the other, probably by multiple different interested parties, from the Russians on down to the FBI.
“The Dusters approached me with an offer,” I said.
“And I assume you turned them down?”
“No, I accepted.”
He frowned a little and sat at the edge of the table. “Seems strange that you’d be here telling me that then.”
“You’re a reasonable, smart guy,” I said. “I’m hoping you’re smart enough to listen and think this through before killing me.”
He took a long sip then gestured. “Go on.”