They’re trying to recruit more allies.
I wonder if my stunt at the dock fixed whatever fracture they had.
Goddamn it.
“I’ve reached out to a few of my contacts abroad, but we have a bigger problem on our hands.” Carlisle gestures to the envelope. “I got a lead on who hired the contract killer, and I think you’re going to want to take a look at that.”
With a frown, I pull the envelope closer and rip it open.
Inside are dozens of pictures of Noah, many of them with Michael Everett and Lance Fitzpatrick, together and separately. A chill races up my spine as I leaf through the pictures before spreading them across my desk. I push my chair back with a screech and stand.
Fuck me.
“What’s the connection here?”
“Noah’s father is a mayor,” Carlisle replies. “His family has a lot of connections and goes way back. His father, in particular, is tied to several well-known families.”
I meet Carlisle’s gaze. “I need better evidence than this.”
If I’m going to go in, guns blazing, after the man who once held London’s heart, I’d better be damn sure.
Anything less will cost me London, and it’s a price I’m not willing to pay.
Carlisle nods. “Noah was in the neighborhood at the time of the car crash, and there’s a paper trail that leads to him.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Not good enough. If I’m going to nail him, I need more.”
This will kill London.
First, her parents want nothing to do with her, and now this.
Fucking hell.
Is Noah right?
Am I the one who’s holding her back, taking apart the life she’s worked hard to build?
Then again, I’m not the one scheming with criminals to get revenge on my ex.
Is Noah really trying to get rid of London and give himself a clean slate?
Or was he hoping that working with my enemies would drive her away and back into his arms?
The asshole even had the nerve to show up, act concerned, and try to paint me as the villain.
I should’ve had my men drag him out of the club and into my basement.
Do not start entertaining what the bastard said. He was trying to get under your skin, and you know it.
No one made London stay. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I pull my chair closer and study the pictures. My blood boils as I stare at Noah’s smug face and realize, with a chill, what I might have to do.
I don’t know if London can forgive me for entertaining what the evidence is showing me.
I don’t know if she should.
It might be the nail in the coffin of our rocky foundation, but I can’t let this go unanswered.
London deserves to have people in her life who won’t stab her in the back when things get hard.
