“I’d like to speak to Mr. Russo, please,” Kyle said to whoever answered the phone at Connoisseurs. “Tell him it’s in regard to some papers I found that, I believe, belong to him. My name is James Robards.” That was the name on the ID he’d been carrying when Russo had captured him during his visit to the bordello.
“If you’ll hold a moment, sir, I’ll see if he’s available,” the woman replied.
Kyle had put his phone on speaker, so that Brax could listen to what transpired.
A moment later, a deep voice said, “This is Elio Russo.”
“Elio. Do you mind if I call you that? I feel as if I know you, after our last meeting.”
“Be my guest, Mr. Robards.”
“I’ve come into possession of some files that I suspect you’d like back.”
“You’re correct,” Russo replied. “Although it took you long enough to
