Page 14 of Entangled

“Fine, English it is.”

Gian stuffed his hands in his pockets, and rocked on his heels, pleased as fuck to have once again, annoyed the cops. Maybe if he did it enough, they would leave him the hell alone for a week. He doubted it, but he figured the risk was worth it.

All Royal Canadian Mounted Police were required to speak both official languages of the country. English and French. Gian found the detectives assigned to irritating him preferred French, and because he spoke French fluently, they expected him to converse in that language.

Gian was just as unpleasant in French when it came to cops as he was in his other languages. Cops all held the same distinct stench. Their job was to seem nice to him, to placate his distrust with them, and bring him in closer to their schemes. They put men like him away all the damn time, and Gian refused to be their next foolish sheep.

“I want to discuss some things that came up in your grandfather’s case, and see if you could confirm anything for me,” Seeley said.

Gian passed the man a look. “Corrado has been dead for months; you should leave him that way and let his soul rest in peace.”

“Don’t you want justice for your grandfather?”

How little they knew …

Justice had already been served.

“What information do you have?” Gian asked, determined to get these idiots out of his building so he could get back up to his penthouse. “And what do you want from me?”

Seeley took a folder from Shaw and opened it up. The very top item happened to be a photograph of a man with half of his face blown off, but the other side was perfectly recognizable. Gian focused on the recognizable part instead of the grisly bits with brain matter and fluids soaking into the green grass under the body.

“Nik Tradek,” the detective said. “Hired gun. We did a bit of digging and found some interesting emails and numbers between him and another dead man of the Guzzi Cosa Nostra—Constantino Rossi.”

“And?”

“It wasn’t exactly made quiet why Constantino was killed, I mean, not when it came to rumors on the streets.”

There was a reason for that; Gian wanted it made clear that anyone who came up against him or his family would meet the same fate. Their closeness to him mattered for nothing.

“Rumors are not admissible in court,” Gian reminded the detective.

“Be that as it may, word only travels when there’s a ring of truth.”

“Again,” Gian drawled, “and?”

“Nik showed up dead last month. As you can see, his face was blown off, or most of it.”

Yes, because it’d taken two months to find the bastard. He lived his life underground and off the grid.

Gian wanted him dead.

He got his wish.

Gian made a dismissive noise. “Well, I guess that’s one less killer in Canada, then, isn’t it?”

Seeley sighed, closing the folder and passing it back to his partner. “Gian, I know you’re not a stupid man.”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

“Then let’s talk.”

“I’d rather not, I’m not stupid, after all. You said it first.”

“Then let me talk,” the detective said.

“You did waste your time coming all the way here, so be my guest, Detective Seeley.”

The man gestured at the file his partner held. “You should be aware—if you aren’t already—that this really is no longer about Corrado’s murder, or the many deaths that followed after his. This is about the Guzzi organization as a whole, and putting an end to the reign your family has had in this city—”