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“It was Isamu Fujimura’s sixty-eighth birthday celebration,” he explained as I lifted the printed images.

Nereus was grinning from ear to ear, shaking Isamu’s hand, better known as The Godfather.

Isamu was head of the most powerful syndicate in Japan, and most, if not all of Asia. The bastard was ruthless, and other gang leaders hesitated when he was the target. Money laundering, human trafficking, smuggling drugs and extortion.

Having him on your side ensured protection since nobody dared to fuck with him, but having him as an enemy was a death sentence. Because when Isamu targeted you, so did everyone who sought his alliance. It seemed to me that the twins went for the former, if these pictures were any indication at all.

The muscle in my jaw ticked.

I wasn’t in the goddamn mood to rage war with the yakuza, but if that’s what it took to get her back in my grasp, I’d burn their fucking city to the ground. Because she was mine. Mine to own. Mine to punish. And mine to do whatever the fuck I pleased.

I ran an annoyed hand down my face. This couldn’t possibly be what he was keen on showing me.

I tossed the file on my desk, leaning back with an expression that made him flinch.

“There’s more.” He suddenly piped up, reaching down to grab a second folder.

“If you’re wasting my time, Gonzalez…”

His tone lowered, eyes hard. “I swear you’ll wanna see this.”

A flicker of a moment passed before I reached forward and flipped the folder open.

“Sin City.” He grinned, taking a long drag from his cigar. “An event hosted by some rich Italian kid. He’s not part of any Costa Nostra, so I did some digging.” He shifted in his seat, leaning back and my eyes met his. “Luck.”

My eyebrows furrowed.

“He hit the jackpot the first time he played and doubled it within six months. Kids a beast,” he explained.

That piqued my interest.

“Owns a couple of nightclubs, and damn near every casino in that city,” he said with a humorless scoff. “He plays and wins everyone at the goddamn table.”

My eyes dropped to the file in my hand until they landed on…

Tall, dark skin wrapped in a black suit with a tattooed hand bringing a glass of auburn liquor to his mouth.

A grin threatened to spread across my lips. He was speaking to… and there it is.

“When were these taken?” I picked the photo up, dropping the file to my desk.

“Six hours ago.”

My eyes snapped up. He waited six hours?

He easily picked up on my disapproval and rushed to explain himself. “It’s a five hour flight back to New York. As soon as I took those images I came right over.”

I exhaled sharply. “Back off until I give you any further instructions.” I stood and he nodded, rising as well. “I’ll take it from here but when I call—“

“I’ll answer on the first ring.” He grinned, extending his hand and with pride I offered a single nod, shaking his hand.

He headed for the door and as soon as it shut behind him, I eased back into my seat.

Grinning, I rubbed my fingers up and down my jaw. I know where you are… and I know exactly how to get to you. 1461 days, tesoro… it was time to come home.

* * *

Folding my arms over my chest I rested back against my car, scanning my eyes over the modern Victorian mansion in front of me.