Fallen Empire (Dirty Empire Book 4) Read online

  “We had a lot going on this morning,” I remind him evenly. “What’s the latest news on that, by the way?” The AM radio was buzzing the entire drive back. The reporters are speculating that the FBI presence at the murder scene suggests a connection to organized crime, but no names have been released yet. According to Stanley, the police have traced the SUV to Miles Perri and every faction of law enforcement presumes the charred, dismembered bodies are the infamous Perris in some sort of territorial war.

  I turn to Merrick and Vince, lounging on the nearby couch. “No one’s paid you a visit yet?” Considering these two are here playing “get the girls naked,” I assume they have nowhere more important they need to be.

  “They have. We told them we’re not our brothers’ keepers, we didn’t travel here together, we’re not in the same hotel, and we haven’t seen or talked to them since yesterday afternoon.” Merrick slides a pack of Marlboros from his jacket pocket and tucks a cigarette between his lips. “And we asked them to let us know when they’ve ID’d the bodies.” He seems to have digested the fact that he shot his own father. I can’t say I blame him for doing it. Camillo ordered Miles to murder the guy Merrick was in love with. I can relate. If any harm comes to Mercy while in Bane’s care, I’ll walk into Fulcort, aim the gun at Vlad’s skull, and pull the trigger, audience or not.

  “You should have told me,” Caleb mutters, still focused on our father’s betrayal. He snaps a finger at Merrick and then holds out a hand, wordlessly demanding a smoke. For once, Merrick doesn’t have a sharp retort. He simply holds out the pack and the lighter for him.

  Caleb lights a cigarette and takes a long drag. “If I’d known, I could have gone to Fulcort with you today and snapped his fucking neck—”

  “And how would we ever get any answers out of a dead man? That’s why I didn’t tell you.” The last thing I needed was Caleb there. They can’t tolerate being in the same room on the best of days. My brother wouldn’t have been able to control his temper. He would have killed our father with his bare hands, or at least tried. “You don’t think he gave Bane explicit instructions about what to do with her if something were to happen to him? We need him alive if we have any hope of finding Mercy before Bane carves her up into pieces.”

  Caleb pinches his brow. He’s finally seeing the bigger picture. “And let me guess, he’s going to keep her tied up with Sergeant Psycho while we get his precious Harriet back on track, like he’s wanted all along.”

  “That’s the gist of it. And apparently, anyone who might challenge us taking over is no longer an issue.” I give him a meaningful look.

  His eyebrows arch in surprise with that bit of news. “That was fast.”

  But we knew it was only a matter of time before Bane caught up with our uncle and cousins.

  “And what about this alliance with Camillo that he was pushing for? Has he heard about that yet?”

  “Of course, he has. Says he expected as much from you.”

  Caleb rolls his eyes. “And? Is he pissed?”

  My eyes dart to Vince and Merrick. It would be so easy to slide my gun out and sink a bullet in each of them, and concede to our father’s demand. We’d have more bodies to clean up though. If we keep piling them up in here, eventually no cleaner will be able to erase what we’ve done.

  But it would also mean I’ve become the very thing I don’t want to be—like Vlad, a cold-blooded murderer.

  Vince stiffens in his seat.

  “He said the job was only half-done, didn’t he?” Merrick says through an exhale.

  They’re smart, I’ll give these two that much. I hesitate over how honest I should be. “Our father wants to take over your territory and he thinks eliminating you two will make it easier to do that. He’s also waging a war against Navarro. He’s got something planned. He wouldn’t tell me what it is though.” We could probably hunt down Ivan and JJ, another one of my father’s dependable minions, and find out if we really wanted to. Whatever he’s got cooking, those two will have their spoons in the pot.

  “The old man has lost his marbles.” Caleb chuckles bitterly. “And you told him to go suck Chops’s dick because there’s no way in hell we’re on board for any of this, right?”

  The more Caleb speaks, the happier I am I went to Fulcort alone. “No, I didn’t say that. I played along to buy us time, and we’ll keep playing along with big red bows around our necks until we can find Mercy. Do you understand?” My own anger and desperation bleeds through my tone. “I’ll do anything to make sure Bane isn’t given a reason to hurt her.”

  “Anything?” Vince’s gaze flitters to my hand, and the proximity of it to my gun. The dangerous gleam in his eye and the way his fingers twitch tells me he’s weighing his next move.

  Merrick, though still lounging, looks like he could spring to action at any second too.

  We’re quickly sliding back onto thin ice with these two, as far as trust goes. The air is growing as tense as it was that first night they strolled into the office at Empire in Phoenix with their offer of this unorthodox alliance.

  Caleb, sensing the volatility, edges in. “No. We’re not backstabbing shitbags like our uncle. Us taking over your territory is a stupid idea, made by a desperate old man who can’t handle not being in control.”

  “As long as he has Mercy, he is in control,” I counter. Does Caleb not see that?

  My brother curses. “Listen to me, Gabe. Let’s make one thing clear: we’re not giving Vlad what he wants, no matter what. Because once we start that, it’ll never end. Not until we’re in Fulcort-grade jumpsuits or buried in the fucking ground!”

  He’s right. I know that in my head, but my heart is twisted into a thousand painful, anxiety-ridden knots. “But he can’t know that.”

  “No, he can’t,” Caleb agrees, sucking on his cigarette. “We have to play along until we find out where Bane has stashed her.”

  “I’ve got Stanley working on it.”

  “That’s good.” He frowns in thought, then nods toward Merrick. “You, and all your intel…. Any idea where our father’s favorite hitman holes up?”

  “Never bothered to ask.” Merrick shrugs. “But I can see what my sources can dig up.”

  “Yeah. Do that, would ya?”

  Merrick opens his mouth—likely to launch a sharp retort—but then, as if thinking better of it, presses his lips shut. Still, his curious gaze lingers on Caleb as my brother paces in thought. I don’t know what those two got up to earlier in the games room with all that cocaine and pussy, but if it’s anything like last night’s festivities by the pool, I’d say Caleb has somehow complicated this tepid alliance between our two families.

  Vince is watching me carefully. He’s still on edge. “Until you find her, how do you suggest we play along with the idea of you two murdering us? Because you know Vlad is waiting for a report on a fresh body count and my guess is he won’t wait too long.”

  “No, he won’t,” Caleb agrees.

  Our father isn’t a patient man. Knowing him, he has Bane on standby with a backup plan.

  But the look in Vince’s gaze now is calculating. He’s assumed as much.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” I warn. Like have Vlad executed in prison.

  The bitter smirk that touches Vince’s lips tells me I’ve hit the mark. He pulls himself out of his seat, standing tall. As if preparing. “Look, I get that this woman means something to you, but you’re suggesting we sit around and wait for our personalized bullets to arrive and that’s not a plan either of us are signing up for.”

  A fresh wave of anxiety slides down my spine. The remorse I was feeling earlier is quickly evaporating, my hand shifting closer to my weapon. “If anything happens to our father before I find Mercy—”

  “Everyone, relax.” Caleb’s hands are in the air as he shifts into the space between Vince and me. “We’re going to spin this in whatever way we can to keep Vlad thinking he’s getting what he wants. We know how to deal with him. We’ve been doing it for decades.”

  Given the events of the last few days, I’d say anyone could argue that we have no fucking clue how to rein in Vlad, but I keep my mouth shut. The last thing we need is bullets flying around again.

  Vince’s shoulders sag a touch, as if Caleb’s assurances are welcomed. Maybe they are. Maybe he doesn’t want to kill us either.

  I allow myself the slightest sigh of relief. “It’s probably best you two lay low for the next few days.”

  Merrick sighs. “You mean not sit around in a Vegas hotel with you two?”

  “Something like that. We definitely need to put distance between each other.”

  “And act like you care that your father and two brothers are dead. Maybe head home, go be with your mother.” Caleb tips his head back and lets a puff of smoke out. It sails up into the night, shaped in an O. “God knows that hateful fuck Miles was a guy only a mother could love, but I’m sure she’d like to see her youngest sons right about now.”

  Regretful looks pass over both Perris’ faces.

  Farley steps out onto the terrace then. “Sorry to interrupt but the feds are on their way up. They’re in the elevator now.”

  Caleb curses.

  My stomach churns as we all share a look.

  “They already got a warrant?” Merrick’s brow is furrowed with doubt.

  Farley shakes his head. “A special agent Kennedy Lewis said she has a few questions.”

  “Questions? You let her up because she has questions? With Mercy missing? What the hell is wrong with you?” The last thing I’m in the mood for tonight is the feds crawling up my ass. That agent’s been trying to flip Mercy and now she’s suddenly gone. How will this look, besides that Caleb and I did away with her?

  “Questions are fine. Questions, we know h
ow to handle,” Caleb tries to pacify me with a hand on my shoulder. “Just her?”

  “And another one.” Farley’s wary eyes dart to me. “They said it was about the plane.”

  “Yeah, sure it is.” Caleb sighs, his eyes flickering inside to where Michelle sits on the couch next to a bandaged and healing Moe. “That’s just a cover. Lewis is coming to check on her little pet, make sure she’s still breathing. She was messaging Michelle earlier to see what was going on with this FBI informant we got tipped off about, so I fed her some bullshit about Felix being the rat.” The muscle in his jaw ticks, like just saying those words is painful. “Didn’t want them busting our door down to ‘rescue’ the mouse they threw into the pit of snakes.”

  Merrick, ever the calm and collected one, stands and stretches. “I guess we better deal with them at the door and then send them on their way.”

  I trail the others, my pulse pounding in my ears.

  Caleb lags, eying me warily. “Gotta say, Gabe, I’m not used to being the rational one here. We’re gonna get out of this but you’ve gotta start using your head.”

  “If I was up here and not babysitting your ass downstairs to keep you from gambling our lives away, Bane wouldn’t have gotten his hands on her.”

  “We both know that’s not true.” He scowls. “And stop acting cagey, like you got something to hide. Get your shit together before you give this agent a reason to haul us in.”

  The chill of the air conditioning engulfs my body as we step inside and head for the penthouse entrance.

  “You.” Caleb points to Michelle. “Sip your drink and keep your mouth shut. If you tip this agent off in any way, your friend’s death is on your head, you got that?”

  Michelle sucks back a gulp of her martini in answer.

  The elevator dings and I brace myself for the performance of a lifetime.

  A woman with tawny skin and black curls steps out of the elevator with her chin raised a notch too high. Her dark brown eyes flitter over the penthouse, doing a cursory search. They stall on Michelle, sitting on the couch next to a pale Moe, and her chest sinks with a barely noticeable sigh. Of relief, likely. Caleb was right. It’s the only sign of vulnerability in that shield of confidence.

  “Gabriel and Caleb Easton,” she declares. “I’ve heard so many things. How nice to meet you both.” At least she doesn’t insult our intelligence by coupling that lie with a smile. She takes another step in.

  “I’m a little rusty with protocol, but isn’t this the part where you introduce yourself and hand us a warrant?” Caleb moves in to block her, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Special Agent Kennedy Lewis. This is Special Agent Brock Williams.” She waves her hand at the tall, lanky suit behind her. “And, yes, if we were here to search the premises. Is there a reason for us to search your rooms?” Her easy tone matches his.

  “Nah. We’re just a couple of guys enjoying what Vegas has to offer.” His eyes rake over her body. She has the kind of curves that my brother tends to admire—ample. A full grip when he’s driving in from behind.

  Please don’t hit on the FBI agent who wants to put us in jail, you neanderthal.

  If she senses where his thoughts are going, she doesn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable by it. “I’m no expert, but I believe Vegas has more to offer if you leave your room.” She shifts her focus to the bar. Her perfectly drawn eyebrow arches. “Vince and Merrick Perri. Funny seeing you two here. I thought your families didn’t get along.”

  She thought, my ass. She’s read every file about the decades-long Perri and Easton feud backward, forward, and upside down. She knows exactly what happened—what Uncle Peter did to Nonna Perri, and the retaliatory hit that left our mother’s body in a ditch. She and every other fed on the case knows it, but no one can prove it.

  And I’m guessing she’s wearing a wire, given she’s making a point of naming all of us as her male partner stands by silently, taking visual inventory of all he can see.

  Caleb folds his arms across his chest. “The older generation had some bones to pick, but we’ve made peace and here we are now, holding hands and singing kumbaya.”

  “You drove all the way to another state because you have information on who blew up our plane?” I’m unable to muster a leisurely tone. Besides, I’m tired of this act. It’s a waste of valuable time that I could be using to search for Mercy. “Is that typical?”

  “We do what we must to get to the truth.” Her penetrating eyes graze over Michelle again—I’ll give Mercy’s friend credit, she’s playing her part well, keeping her focus glued to the drink in her hand. “You’re all in such fine spirits. Seems odd, given someone tried to kill you two nights ago, and you two—” Her eyes flip to Vince and Perri— “are waiting to hear if the bodies our forensic team is analyzing are those belonging to your father and brothers. Is that typical?”

  “What can we say? We’ve learned to take these things in stride,” Merrick retorts calmly.

  “Maybe we’re just in denial,” Vince adds, stone-faced.

  “What do you want, Special Agent Lewis?” Normally I’m a master at easy-go-lucky with the authorities but there’s nothing easy about this inner turmoil swirling inside me. I feel Caleb’s warning glare burning into the side of my face, but I ignore it. This agent tried to turn Mercy against me. She cornered her, terrified her, threatened her.

  I know she’s only doing her job, yet my fists curl at my thighs, my rage percolating with every second I focus on that.

  She studies me a long moment.

  Can she sense my hatred? My urge for retaliation? But she didn’t win, I remind myself. Mercy didn’t bend to her. She was ready to protect me.

  “We have reason to believe Peter Easton was involved in the incident at the Phoenix private airfield two night ago.”

  “Uncle Peter? My godfather?” Caleb gasps. “Never! What makes you think that?”

  “A source in our investigation.” Her lips twitch as if she’s struggling to stifle her smirk at my brother’s theatrics.

  Her source is Mercy. She mentioned it to the agent last night in the restroom, back when we believed him to be the culprit. Back when Mercy was desperately searching for any way to turn this agent’s attention from me.

  To help me.

  “You’ll have to ask Uncle Peter,” I say coolly. “If what you say is true, he’s not going to admit it to us.”

  “Well, you see, that’s the problem. We haven’t been able to find him. No one has seen him or his family in days. Seems odd that he would disappear at this time.” She cocks her head. “Would you happen to know where he might be?”

  “No idea. We left to come to Vegas hours after the ‘incident’”—I use her word, which isn’t much better than my father calling it a “lesson”—“and we’ve been here since.” As the tails on us could confirm. I’m sure they noticed Farley and I slipping out of the hotel today and returning many hours later. It won’t take them much to find my trail to Fulcort, if they look.

  Agent Lewis’s full red lips purse, as if she’s considering her next words carefully. She pulls out her notepad. “There were four of you who escaped the explosion. You two, and a Miss Michelle Banks.” She turns to Michelle. “Would that be you?”

  Michelle swallows hard. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lewis’s gaze lingers on her another moment as if waiting for a cue before returning to her notepad. “And a… Mercy Wheeler.” Her eyes flitter about. “Did she come with you on this trip as well?”

  Lewis doesn’t give a shit about the plane or Uncle Peter, who’s probably in a deep, sandy hole by now, along with his sons. She’s here because she was checking up on both her little mice.

  “I don’t remember you at the airfield the night of the explosion,” Caleb says, and I appreciate the stall because I can’t seem to conjure a lie fast enough.

  “I’m sure you don’t remember half the faces around you that night; you would have been in shock. But I was assigned to the case after. Is Mercy Wheeler here in Vegas with you?” She presses.

  “She is. She hasn’t been feeling well since we got here, so she’s resting, and I’m not about to wake her so she can tell you that she has no clue where a man she’s never met is. Now, if you don’t mind, you’ve interrupted our evening and it sounds like you have some bad guys to hunt down.”