Chapter 79 Barking Up the Wrong Tree
Matteo
Rosco was pacing again.
Slow. Controlled. The kind of pacing that only looked casual if you didn’t know him. But I did.
Which meant I already knew he was counting. Every step between the desk and the door. Every breath. Every second until something gave.
We’d already bugged Calder Grant’s apartment and car hours ago. The crew I’d hired to do it was the best—ghosts in boots. In and out in under thirty minutes, no trace. They were the kind of men who didn’t knock, didn’t speak, and didn’t fuck up.
The taps were monitored twenty-four-seven by a guy who charged more per hour than most lawyers, but that kind of peace of mind didn’t come cheap. Not when your kingdom was built on smoke and silence.
And right now?
That silence was finally about to speak.
Rosco’s burner buzzed once, and he snatched it up mid-stride. No hello, no small talk. Just listened. Nodded. Grunted once. Then hung up.
“Well?” I asked.
“He’s going to Ravello,” Rosco said, slipping the phone into his jacket.
“When?”
“Tonight. Within the hour. He told someone he thinks cops screw up by showing up during the day, before the place is in full swing. He wants to catch it live—less time to clean, less time to hide.”
I snorted, low and humorless. “Ballsy little bastard.”
Rosco gave a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “He’s not stupid. Just new. And new gets people killed.”
I leaned back in my chair, tugged on my cuffs, then stood. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”
Rosco followed as I shrugged on my coat. I pulled out my phone, thumb flying across the screen.
Me: Business at Ravello. Want to come?
Her reply was instant.
Valentina: Yes.
Me: You’ve got fifteen minutes to look like the boss’s wife.
Rosco arched a brow. “She coming?”
“She is,” I said, sliding the phone into my pocket. “It’s good for her to see the businesses. Learn how things work.”
Rosco snorted. “Teachin’ her to run the empire already?”
“Better she knows the machinery now than tries to fix it when it’s already on fire.”
We headed down the hall, and by the time we hit the front doors, Valentina was already waiting in the foyer—tight dress, high heels, a twist in her hair that said elegance, and eyes that said try me.
My smirk was automatic. “Good girl.”
Her brow arched. “That sounded like you were expecting less.”
“I wasn’t. I’m just never disappointed.”
She gave me that half-smile that always made my pulse flicker, then took my arm without needing to be told.
We slid into the back of the black SUV—Rosco up front, nodding once to the driver.
As the car pulled into the night, I leaned toward her. “I’m glad you said yes.”
“To?”
“Coming. It’s important you see how the clubs run. You need to understand them—every inch. In case you ever need to step in.”
“Planning to retire already?” she teased.
“Planning to make sure you don’t get eaten alive if I’m not standing beside you.”
She didn’t laugh. Just nodded once, her fingers curling loosely around mine on the seat.
Smart girl.
When we pulled up to Ravello, the line was already wrapping around the building. Velvet ropes. Gold accents. The smell of sex and desperation in the air.
One of the doormen spotted us and stepped forward fast.
“Boss,” he said, giving a nod. “Agent Grant’s inside. At the bar. He said he’s waiting on you.”
Of course he did.
Rosco and I exchanged a glance.
I offered Valentina my arm again, and together we walked through the main floor—through the sea of bodies, the pulse of bass, the dim-lit heat of everything expensive and dangerous.
At the far end of the bar, a man sat alone. Club soda in hand. Elbows on the counter. Eyes tracking us like a hawk.
Calder fucking Grant.
I approached with a polite smile.
“Agent Grant, I presume?”
He didn’t stand. Just lifted his drink slightly.
“Matteo Genovese,” I said offering my hand.
“I know who you are.” He replied flatly and didn’t bother to shake my hand.
I dropped my hand and gave a nod. “Forgive me. I tend to assume people I’ve never met don’t know my face. I forget how famous I am.”
“This is your wife?” he asked, nodding toward Valentina.
“She is,” I said, tugging her in a little closer. “And this is Rosco. My associate.”
Grant looked at Rosco for half a second, then back at me. “They told me I had to wait for you.”
“And here I am,” I said. “So… what can I do for you, Agent?”
He set down his glass. “I got a tip. Someone said they saw a girl here last week they recognized from a missing person’s poster. Thought it might be her.”
Valentina stiffened slightly next to me. I didn’t flinch.
“Did they give you a name?”
“No. Just said they were ‘pretty damn sure.’ Thought I should look into it.”
“And you decided to show up during peak hours. Bold.”
“Figured it would give me the best opportunity to lay eyes on the girl if she’s here,” he replied coolly.
I nodded slowly, as if thinking. “Well, you’re in luck. If it’s the girl you’re thinking of, she’s probably here. Getting ready for her shift.”
His eyebrows lifted a notch. “You’re saying she’s not missing?”
“I’m saying if she’s the girl you’re looking for then she’s not missing is she?”
He said nothing. Just showed me the photo.
I gestured toward one of the bouncers. “Go grab Isla from the dressing room.”
A few minutes later, Isla appeared—heels clicking, short dress sparkling, her expression curious but calm.
“Is this her?” I asked, stepping aside.
Grant studied her for a long beat. Then shook his head slowly. “No. She just looks like her.”
“There you go,” I said lightly. “Mystery solved.”
Grant didn’t move. “You always this cooperative with cops?”
“Only when I have nothing to hide.”
He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then you won’t mind me poking around a bit more.”
“I do mind. But I’ll tolerate it—for now.”
He stood slowly, brushing off his jacket. “I know you’ve got something going on here. Maybe not the girl. Maybe not tonight. But something.”
“Careful, Agent,” I said smoothly. “That kind of talk sounds an awful lot like a witch hunt.”
“Then maybe I’m the fire.”
I stepped in just slightly. Just enough that he’d feel the weight behind the words.
“You know what happens when people bark up the wrong tree, Grant?”
He didn’t answer.
I smiled. Cold. Quiet.
“Branches fall. Sometimes… right on top of them.”
We held the stare for three full seconds.
Then he smiled back, just as cold. “I’m not scared of falling.”
“Maybe you should be.”
He turned without another word and walked out.
When he was gone, Valentina exhaled softly beside me.
Rosco stepped forward. “We gonna let him walk?”
“For now,” I said.
And quietly, to myself, “Let’s see how long he stays upright.”