Obsidian. (Book 1)

Chapter 4

Hunched over the dinner table with a stack of new intel correlating to Lionel's death, and the recent expansion of Gaza's business from one corner of the world to the other.

It's not all a front since he actually owns legit businesses. But that's all for show to cover the illegal ones or using them to funnel dirty money through them. The man is more slippery than a snake, no charges stick. Quite like another entity....

Calum strolls into the room, moving to stand behind me. He pecks my temple and skims over my work from my shoulder. His one hand on the table, the other rested on the back of my chair.

"You're really going after them...."

"And this time with permission." I snorted. "Not that I ever needed it."

"Oh, and how did your meeting go with Mr big-shot CEO?"

Shuffling through the stacks, I say, "It went." Bitterness leaking into my tone. "I never met Orian. Not yet. Instead, I interviewed his brother."

"Torin, the COO?"

My head bops. I slip out a particular document. "Yeah, super charming, even when issuing threats."

Calum darts to my side, gawking down at me. "He did what?"

I free a long breath. "He warned me against being a problem. Vaguely referring to how he made former problems disappear."

His face twists into a scowl. "That son of a bitch."

I dismiss his anger with a flap of my hand. "Oh relax. How many death threats have I gotten?" I shake my head, focusing my attention on the document. "There's too much heat on them already. They wouldn't dare touch me, my death or disappearance would raise too much questions."

Calum plucks the document from my hand. I grab at it, but he raises it well above my head.

"This is Zenith, not some small time wannabe. If anyone could neutralize a threat quietly. It's them. They're a bunch of gangsters in suits."

I reach for the paper. "Then help me bury them."

"It's impossible."

I arc a brow at him. "Only if you believe it is."

***

"Anything?"

"Nada." Calum slumps against the chair, glaring at his laptop. "I have cross-referenced all the cumulative data that I have on Aztech, trying to find the nexus with Gaza. And you?"

"Fresh out of ideas." I place my phone face down on the table. "No one will talk."

"That would be signing their own death certificate."

I release an explosive sigh. "If only we could get hold of his phone to see who he was talking to in the last twenty-four to ping it, and triangulate that from the cell towers nearby to pinpoint his exact location before time of death. He was found dead in Gaza territory. I doubt he was killed there."

I look back at him expectedly.

His eyes widen with mock confusion. "What you looking at me for? You know that the feds seized all his personal effects. It's probably locked up in some evidence vault somewhere." He shifts to one side. "Besides, I know you got connections on the south side with ties to his operations. Maybe they know something."

Irritation prods at me again. "They're the ones that won't talk, even with a substantial bribe."

Calum quirks his brows. "Money ain't worth much with a split neck."

I slide over a folder, flipping it open, examining the picture of Torin shaking hands with a politician. "I noticed that Torin is very...hands-on-deck for a COO. Most people belonging to his title have other people to mange the ins-and-outs whilst they supervise. But Torin is on the ground." I sift through the folder. "He attends charities, fundraisers, corporate summits. Even makes a few local appearances."

A pensive look draws Calum's brows together. "What about Orian?"

"The most elusive, camera-shy CEO ever." I close the folder. "He only attends the most imperative meetings and pivotal, transitional assemblies. A few high-profile press conferences when announcing some kind of big, business venture." I hold up the folder. "I have an abundance on Torin."

I drop it on the table, swapping it with a pathetically thin file. "All I have on Orian is generic pieces, fawning over Zenith for their new go-green initiative and their foundation on—" My ringtone interrupts me mid-sentence. I pick up my phone, looking at the no caller ID. A burner phone.

A smile grows on my face. "It looks like someone took the bait."

***

The following day, I meet with one of my confidential sources. Ernesto Warez. A gang banger but a solid dude. Every piece of information he's given me has been nothing but gold.

I stand at the end of the pier, overlooking the still water. A small duffle bag in my hand. Heavy footsteps thud hard behind me, hurried and anxious. Ernesto sidles me flank, flicking his nose with his finger. He glances at me sideways, giving me a quick scan.

"You got the stuff?"

"Don't insult me," I say lightly. "You know how it goes."

"I heard chatter that something big is going down," he says, getting straight into it. "I have close friends that are higher ups in Gaza's cartel. We go way back. Word is that Gaza is pissed. He got nothing to do with that dead, wolf street cat. But he's in bed with the punk and so is his boss."

I look back at him. "Orian Moon?"

"Gaza is comin through in his yacht, his portable fortress. He doesn't travel any other way. He practically lives there. There's a big meet coming up. This bust caught Gaza unwanted attention, also undermining Zenith's leadership. So the CEO dude wants to broker a new alliance and make amends on their part. Collaborating to hunt the fool who actually shot him, setting him up by planting Gaza's drugs in his trunk to expose their... connection."

This is big. Shock spiking my adrenaline. "Even if he was dirty, would he risk showing face like that? He's been untouchable because he's never seen, nowhere linked to the crime."

"Exactly." He shoves his hands inside the pockets of his baggy, denim jeans. "This little debacle forced his hand. It's either make amends or lose a good supplier, losing out on whatever percentage profit he was getting for trafficking his shipments."

I shake my head in disbelief. Though it did make sense. "You sure about this? That your homeboy's intel is solid?"

He scoffs at me. "Don't insult me," he quotes, poorly mimicking my voice. "I held up my end, señorita."

"When's the meet?"

"Gaza's arrives tomorrow night."

"Location of the meet?"

"Unknown." He rolls his shoulders. "But I can get it for you."

I outstretch my arm, dropping the bag at his feet. I shoot him a wink, turning to walk away.

"Sabes que estas loco," he says to my back. "But I have a thing for crazy. And going after Gaza or whoever you're targeting. You're gonna find yourself on the wrong end of a casket."

I smile to myself. "So I'm told."