Six

                                    

                                          

Savio
The newest member of my inner circle is a lean Columbian rank-climber named Nathan. When Luca pulled him out of the soldiers and introduced him to me yesterday, I could tell he was smart. He keeps his head down, but underneath the deference he's smirking with confidence—and that confidence is earned. A few days ago, he worked over every hiring employer in downtown Chicago in record time, making sure their vacancies were filled. He leaves them nervous and respectful but not panicked, just how I like them.
As I finish my after-lunch coffee, a knock sounds on my office door, and Nathan enters. He startles slightly at the incredible view of the lake that I enjoy, as well as the contemporary fixings that don't match the rest of the apartment. It's just a very expensive hardwood standing desk in the middle of the room with an iMac on it. No fireplace, no bookshelves, none of the distracting garbage that fills most offices. "What?" I prompt when he's taken in his fill.
He places a folder on my desk, which I open to reveal a stack of glossy photos taken with a telephoto lens. Natalia is walking out the door of an ugly antique shop, the kind that fills the windows with dolls and then wonders why no one comes in.
I wait silently for him to explain.
"One of the businesses I visited the other morning was this old woman's junk store. She seemed cooperative. Had a stack of resumes. I told her to pick one and she made the call in front of me." His emotive brown eyes flash in the afternoon light. "When the target came in, I saw her start to cry, then exchange money with the owner and shake her hand."
My eyebrow quirks. "You're saying she made some kind of under the table deal."
         "She was shifting around like a kid with ants in his shorts. She knew she was bending the rules."
"Find out how often and how much. Talk to me before you shut it down."
"Whatever you say, sir."
He doesn't leave, instead staring at the stack of photos until I remove the top one and reveal a second. Natalia is kneeling on the sidewalk, skirt riding up her thigh, staring at a man in a tan overcoat.
"These two bumped into each other outside. She ran up the street like her butt was on fire and went into a convenience store a few doors up from her apartment. He went into a photography show across the street." 
I pick up the photo, tilting it back and forth in the light, trying to interrogate as much information as I could from the man's blurry profile. It isn't much.
"Talk to Luca; he can help you trace the guy in the photo." I type my password into my computer and pointedly return to work, but Nathan just clears his throat.
"No need. I already had it worked up. The man's name is Ian, and he was definitely following the girl. He left out the back of the gallery a few minutes after entering. But..." I grit my teeth as he pauses for dramatic affect. "He belongs to Vincente Del Toro."
My head snaps up, my fingers clenching dangerously around my flimsy mouse. "Del Toro?"
"Luca said you'd want to hear that name right away."
Anger and hunger and need surge through me, heating my blood until the sunlight becomes nearly unbearable. "Trace this Ian guy. If you pick him up, you can—"
"He's in the bathroom." Nathan jerks his head toward the wall my office shares with the small apartment toilet.
"I—what?"
"I tracked him to his mistress's house in the 'burbs. When Luca said it was important, I had him picked up."
I push away from my desk and approach him, enjoying the mixture of power and tension I can smell laced with his cologne. He twitches as I rest my hand against the side of his head for a moment. "You're second only to Luca now, ok? We'll draw up the contract this evening." He takes the news dispassionately, and I like him even more.