He spoke for a few more minutes, then ended the call slowly.
“Well?”
Gianni dragged a hand down his face.
“We have a name.”
My spine went rigid.
“Milan Sokolov.”
The name hit me the wrong way.
“Related?”
“Younger brother.”
Fuck.
Gianni started pacing.
“Viktor Sokolov is the biggest Russian trafficker operating this side of Tuscany.He has full Bratva backing.Runs girls through ports, clubs, auctions.He’s a very nasty bastard.”
I stared at the wall like I could see Viktor’s face burned into it.
“Milan was found late last night,” Gianni continued.“In the same alley you took that photo in.He bled out so badly the locals started whispering about vampires.”
A slow, dark smile curled in my gut.Neve.
“Volkov says Milan handled procurement,” Gianni told me.“Recruitment.Street grabs.Runaways.Girls who wouldn’t be missed.”
“Neve would’ve been perfect,” I said flatly.
Gianni nodded.
“Volkov thinks the likely scenario is that Milan tried to take someone he shouldn’t have.That the man protecting her fought back and killed him.”
The irony burned.Neve hadn’t been protected.She’d protected herself.She hadn’t known who he was.She’d just seen a predator—and cut him open.
“Volkov says our best bet is Viktor,” Gianni added.“He runs auctions.Last Friday of every month.Private parties.”
This Friday.
My blood went cold.
“He’s trying to get us an address and an invite.It’s not a guarantee, but he’ll try.”
“And Milan?”I asked.
“Viktor’s out for blood.If he knew Milan was out that day trying to grab your girl, that’s where he’ll look.”
I didn’t correct him over the reference to ‘my girl’.There would be plenty of time for that later.
“You don’t lose a brother like that without tearing the world apart.”
Gianni nodded his agreement.
“And Milan was his.”