The Heart of a Killer. Jaci Burton

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СКАЧАТЬ matter what your destination was. Nothing was very far away. You could get from the city to the country in a matter of fifteen minutes, minus rush-hour traffic.

       The condos were nice. Things sure had changed around here. Progress. Old shit got torn up, and new stuff got built. That’s the way it had always been, and so Dante expected it always would be. Just because he had a vision in his head of what his hometown had looked like when he’d left didn’t mean time would stand still.

       Buildings changed. People changed. Everything and everyone grew.

       He followed Gabe to the parking lot of the main office. Gabe got off his bike and Dante got out of his car. “Just wait here. I’ll go talk to management and see what’s available.”

       “Sure.”

       These were pretty high-class condos. Gabe, in his worn jeans and sleeveless shirt and with his neck and arms covered with tattoos, didn’t seem the type to even know the management. But Dante knew all about labeling people. And assumptions.

       Never assume anything.

       Gabe was out a few minutes later with a grin on his face. “Building D. We’ll head west down the main road and turn right.”

       Dante followed him to the building and pulled up in front of one of many cookie-cutter-type condos.

       “Grab your stuff. I’ve got the key.”

       Dante pulled his bag from the trunk of his rental car and followed Gabe to the door on the main level, just off the entrance. Gabe slipped the key in the lock and blissful air-conditioning greeted them.

       “It’s furnished,” Dante said as he walked in. “Someone live here?”

       “No. They keep it available for visiting corporate clients.”

       “Uh-huh.” Dante laid his bag on the floor and checked out the spacious kitchen, oversize living room and two bedrooms. Everything he might need was here, from pots and pans to flat-screen TV and even a game console. The beds were freshly made and the place had a new smell.

       He walked back out to the living area. Gabe was on the couch, the television was on and he was playing a game.

       “Make yourself at home.”

       Gabe grinned. “I am.”

       “So where do you live?”

       “Right across the walk from here.”

       “Convenient.”

       He took a seat next to Gabe and picked up the other remote, started punching buttons. It was a war game. Piece of cake.

       “What exactly do you do now, Gabe?”

       He lifted a shoulder. “This and that.”

       Which was the same answer Dante had given Anna—totally vague. “Which means what, exactly? That you’re a fry cook at the local burger joint, or that you’re an ax murderer?”

       Gabe leaned to his left, punched a few buttons and knocked out Dante’s player on the game. “No, I prefer guns. You don’t have to get as close to the victim that way.”

       Dante laughed. “Funny. But these condos are upscale, so you must be doing something.”

       “Yeah, I’m doing something. Mostly freelance.”

       Gabe killed Dante’s last player. Dante cursed. “Freelance sounds like illegal. What are you into?”

       “You sound like Anna, always asking questions.”

       “I’m not a cop, though. And you’re working for the Bertuccis now?”

       Gabe started the next game. “Yeah. Paolo Bertucci. He runs the mob here in the city.”

       “Your boss?”

       “Yeah.”

       Not the line of work Dante expected Gabe to get into. “For how long?”

       “About two years.”

       “Good work I guess.”

       “It pays the bills.”

       Working with the mob could be lucrative business. It could also get someone killed. “What do you do for Paolo Bertucci?”

       Gabe was focused on the game, his fingers flying on the controller. Dante was trying to keep up, but Gabe was kicking his ass.

       “Jack-of-all-trades. Anything from running errands to enforcer duty.”

       “You like the job?”

       “Like I said…it pays the bills.”

       Working for the mob also meant you kept your mouth shut, and Gabe wasn’t stupid. Still…

       “You think Bertucci’s connections in drugs had anything to do with George’s death?”

       Gabe paused the game, shifted his gaze to Dante. “I don’t know. He moves drugs in this city. Doesn’t mean he’s directly involved. He leaves that to the peons.”

       “Like you?”

       Gabe laughed. “I’m not a drug dealer, man.”

       Which meant Gabe was higher up on the Bertucci food chain than just a peon.

       They used to be as tight as brothers. Real brothers, not the foster brothers they had been. There had been no secrets between them. They’d known everything about each other, had spent many nights up in their room in the Clemons house where they’d been fostered sharing all the shit they’d been through as kids. It had bonded them because their hells of abuse and shitty childhoods had been so similar.

       And now they were strangers circling each other, neither of them willing to divulge their secrets.

       Dante leaned back on the sofa and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Not much like the old days, is it?”

       “Guess not.”

       “You into something big?” Dante knew he had no right to ask, especially since he hadn’t told Gabe shit about himself.

       “Just stuff I don’t want to talk about. With you, particularly, since I don’t know where the hell you’ve been the past twelve years.”

       “You’ve been here the whole time?”

       “No. Left right after…right after the thing went down with Anna. I had to get the hell out. That whole scene freaked me out.”

       Damn. Gabe had skipped town the same time he had. “I didn’t know you’d left, too.”

       Gabe slanted him a look. “I didn’t know about you, either, until after I came back. Where’d you go?”

       “Dallas first. Big city, СКАЧАТЬ