Darius put his palms on the edge of the desk and tried to release the tension in his shoulders. Whoever this woman was, she posed a threat to Darius and could undo everything. “What did you come in here for?”
Salvator released a breath and rubbed the side of his nose. “I came to talk about the woman. I still don’t know who she is, but a tracker owed me a favor and found out where she’s staying.” He ran his fingers through his stringy black hair, one section falling out of place. Salvator looked like a balding Mafioso in his suit, with bushy eyebrows and a small mouth.
“And?”
The chair creaked when Salvator scooted to the edge as if he wanted to bolt. “In a mansion. A big fucking mansion with so much red tape around it that I can’t find out who the hell lives there.”
Darius frowned. “It should be public record.”
“Should be, but I searched the records and couldn’t find it listed. I’d need your permission to hack into—”
“No,” Darius interjected. “I don’t want my fingerprints all over the place. You’ve already proven your ineptitude.”
Salvator wiped his nose with the cuff of his sleeve. “You haven’t heard the best part. Want to know where it’s located? Remember that piece of land you were looking at last week? It’s next door.”
Darius thought Salvator was exaggerating when he’d said it was a mansion, but that neighborhood? If this woman was staying in one of those homes, she was well protected, and that meant big problems if he wanted to take her out. Even if she had no interest in who Darius was, it wouldn’t be long before she might see an opportunity to blackmail him.
Darius took a slow stroll around his desk and sat down in the chair, his thoughts scattered. He’d been saving his money in hopes of buying a magnificent piece of real estate to live on—something that would impress Patrick and make him forget about how Darius had lost everything. He’d never be able to acquire the land Patrick had given him now that humans controlled it, but he was going to milk those greedy little humans for every red cent until he accumulated enough to show everyone how successful he was.
Salvator tapped a small pendulum on the table beside him, initiating the swinging action. “Another five grand was deposited into your account. The new guy is cooperating.”
“Yes,” he murmured, thinking about how difficult all this was becoming. He had to be careful about how much he took because of their tax laws and how closely they were watched.
Extortion wasn’t the business it used to be back in the forties. In those days, men were easily bought off, and the law was equally corrupt. Times had changed. Now humans had wiretaps, could snap pictures and record conversations with cell phones, and had information at their fingertips thanks to the Internet. It wouldn’t take long to discover that Darius wasn’t listed on any business pages or social profiles. He only used his alias with humans, but it had become increasingly difficult to intimidate business owners.
“Well, if you don’t need me anymore….” Salvator said, rising from his chair.
Darius opened a drawer. “Hold on. I want you to finish off Mr. Bassett. He still hasn’t paid. Don’t go through with the original plan—we need to be more careful. Make it look like an accident. Once you finish the job, we’re going to find out how protected this woman is. I want her dead.”
“You and me both. That’s one thing you can count on, boss.”
Darius stood up and handed Salvator a file. “These are the signed documents. Give them to my secretary, and tell her I want them sent off tonight. Have her contact my architect.”
Salvator’s caterpillar eyebrows rose. “For?”
Darius glanced up at the photograph on his wall, feeling a sense of nostalgia in owning things instead of turning them over for profit. “I think I’ve outgrown this house. Don’t you?”
Salvator shook his head. “You’re one crazy son of a bitch.”
Chapter 14
After putting away all my new clothes, I changed into a pair of grey shorts and a long-sleeved violet shirt, courtesy of Gem, who’d tried to fill my wardrobe with as much color as she could. I ventured down to the gym, hoping to get in a little exercise since I was used to walking all day and climbing buildings. I could have paced the halls, but it felt intrusive since my footsteps would continually draw attention, and my housemates might start wondering if I was neurotic.
As I reached the stairway to the basement, someone gripped my arm.
“I wouldn’t go down there,” Blue said.
“Why not?”
She coaxed me in another direction. “Shepherd’s working out, and he likes to be left alone.”
“The room is huge; he’ll never know I’m in there.”
“He wouldn’t like that.”
“Not a very friendly guy.”
Blue’s eyes skated off to the side. “Shepherd’s a reticent man when it comes to his personal life. He likes his alone time. It’s just his way.”