Chapter 28

Dante

We all turned to Silas. “Everyone, go inside. Por favor.”

“What’s happening?” Catalina asked.

Mia and Camila shook their heads as I put my hand in the small of my wife’s back, and we filed back into the house. Silas promptly closed the glass doors.

“Is everything all right?” Mia asked.

“If you and Jano could come with me.”

Mia gave us one last glance as she followed Silas down the hallway leading to his and Viviana’s suite. Beyond the large glass doors, cartel soldiers patrolled.

“Something is happening,” I said, my grip of Camila’s waist tightening. “I want to get you back to Kansas City.”

Her gaze went to her parents, who too were having their own conversation. “I want to go,” she replied. “But I want to know that everyone here is safe.”

A few minutes later, Mia and Aléjandro returned. Mia’s complexion was pale as she took a seat on the sofa. My brother-in-law’s dark stare met mine. “Come with me.”

One last squeeze of Camila’s waist and I followed Aléjandro to his office. He nodded to Jorge’s guard before he knocked once on the door. Without waiting for a response, Aléjandro led me inside.

Dario and Jorge were seated in comfortable chairs in the corner. They both stood as we entered.

“We have a situation,” Aléjandro began.

I leaned against the wall with my arms crossed and the other two men retook their seats as Aléjandro spoke.

“When I purchased this house, Rei vetted the neighbors. The house next door where Silas and a few of our men just were is or was owned by a commercial realty firm. At the time of our moving in, it was rented by a couple, Micah and Jennifer Goodin. He’s an investment banker, and she’s an influencer. Mia was certain that she spoke to Jennifer at least once.

“According to Silas, upon first inspection, there is no sign of the Goodins. Their possessions are still in place. There is spoiled fruit on the counter as if no one has been present for a period of time. There are two cars in the garage. There was a surveillance system; it has been disabled. In an upstairs room, Silas found a complex computer setup. That room has a straight view of the front of our pool deck. It is most likely where the shooter took aim.”

“Any weapons?” Dario asked.

“Silas has returned to the house to do a more thorough search, and I called Rei to do what he does and see what more he can learn about the Goodins.”

Aléjandro pulled his phone from the pocket of his blue jeans. “It’s Rei.”

“That was fast,” I replied.

“He’s good at what he does.” Aléjandro answered the call. “Rei, you’re on speaker. Our padre, Dario, and Dante Luciano are with me.”

I stiffened at the sound of my own name. The man on the other side of this call was supposed to marry my wife, and now we were fighting the same fight.

Reinaldo didn’t acknowledge my presence. “I found some interesting information. Jennifer Goodin hasn’t posted to her I*******m account or YouTube channel in over two weeks. Prior to that, she posted multiple times a day.”

“What did she post about?” Jorge asked.

“Get this…she had a true-crime podcast.”

“Fuck,” Aléjandro growled. “Anything about us?”

“No, she was concentrating on a story out of Simi Valley. A woman, Kira Ivanov, was murdered after claiming her husband went missing. Jennifer believed the two incidents were connected, but the police weren’t making any headway.”

I looked at my brother-in-law. “Does that have a connection to the cartel?”

“Sí,” Jorge answered. “Ivanov. Danill Ivanov was Kozlov’s soldier that gave up Kozlov’s location after the attack on Andrés’s home. Kira was his wife. He never returned to the bratva.”

“Who killed his wife?” Dario asked.

“Not us,” Aléjandro said. “When we were questioning Danill, he said the bratva would kill her if they knew he gave up information.”

Dario stood. “Let me get this straight. Some random influencer living next door to you was doing podcasts about a bratva killing and didn’t know she was messing with a powerful crime organization? And two weeks ago, she and her husband fell off the grid?”

“Yes,” Rei answered through the phone. “And Micah Goodin has not reported to work in the same amount of time.”

“No one has reported them missing?” I asked.

Rei responded. “The investment firm notified the police, and Jennifer’s fans are commenting on her posts. The fan theory is that the two went away on a trip to investigate one of Jennifer’s leads.”

Jorge stood. “Get our people out of that house. We don’t need any connection to whatever happened to the Goodins.”

Aléjandro replied, “We need to know who was in that window with their sights on our pool deck. Whoever that was knows who lives here and is a danger to my wife and family.”

Rei spoke. “I just accessed Micah Goodin’s bank account. The day before his disappearance, he received a half-million-dollar wire transfer from an LLC out of Delaware.”

“Always fucking Delaware,” I murmured under my breath.

Dario looked up from his phone. “I sent Lorenzo, our trusted technology expert, the information Rei’s found. Two searches are better than one. In the meantime, I propose that we take Valentina and Mia back to Kansas City with us.”

The muscles in the side of Aléjandro’s face tightened.

I asked, speaking to Dario, “When Herrera was in Missouri for your wedding, didn’t he spend time in New York?”

“Yes.”

“New York isn’t far from Delaware.”

My brother shook his head. “You can set the LLC up from anywhere. You don’t physically need to be in Delaware.”

“Of course Herrera has LLCs,” Jorge said. “There’s nothing linking him to any of this. Since Gerardo’s execution, he’s been quiet.”

“We know Gerardo was working between Herrera and Kozlov,” Aléjandro said. “Gerardo’s out of the equation. Herrera and Kozlov are still present.”

Rei spoke, “I found a deleted I*******m post, dating back to two weeks ago. It’s a picture of Jennifer on a private plane. The caption reads ‘Research.’”

“Any way to identify the plane?” I asked.

“I’ll send Jano the pic. It’s pimped up, but I’m not sure of anything else.”

“The date of the post?”

As Reinaldo replied, I sent the information to Lorenzo with the message: Scan manifests from private airports within a hundred-mile radius of San Diego for a flight with Jennifer Goodin on this date or the day before. After I hit send, I looked up at my brother. “I have Lorenzo searching private airports in the area for manifests. If Jennifer Goodin is on there, he’ll find it.”

The five of us—including Rei—continued to brainstorm. The answers felt like they were fucking close. However, other than our assumptions, we were still in the dark.

“I had a visit from the police this morning,” Rei said. “Jano, they took the story at face value.”

Aléjandro scoffed. “It’s easier for them to close a case than to keep it open.”

“What story?” Dario asked.

“A similar one to what we told SDPD last night. We were paid by Sony Pictures for allowing them to use our homes in a movie scene. No one was in danger.”

“And they fell for it?”

“Like I said,” Aléjandro replied, “they have enough shit on their plate. Give them a feasible story and let them close a case and everyone is happy.”

“Ingenious,” I said.

Aléjandro grinned. “It was your sister’s idea.”

“Ingenious but not fucking true,” Jorge said. “Both my sons were attacked. Link the attacks to someone, and we’re going to shoot our own damn film of them going down.”