“Anyway, directly reporting to Morelli is Luca— who you heard on the call Peter found— and beneath him, there’s mostly drug runners and low level guys from s**t neighborhoods that do the dirty work. They seem to find most of the girls they ship off in bars and nightclubs, from what I’ve found so far. A few off of local college campuses.”
I stared at the row of monitors in Matteo’s room with a tight jaw. He was pulling up what looked like bank statements.
I’d expected my little cousin to pull through, but when he’d called me early this morning just hours after my request with information, I’d been foaming at the f*****g mouth to see what he had found.
Deadleg’s eyes scanned the screen in front of me, and he let out a grunt. “Morelli’s bank statements?”
Matteo nodded, his eyes lighting
