“You made it clear I shouldn’t.” He lifts his chin, remorse written in every crease. “I’m glad they’re safe, but I … I wouldn’t …”
Fuck. What the hell is going on?
My attention flicks to Monroe’s five associates as I straighten. “No need to stop enjoying your lunch on my behalf. I will be asking a series of questions. If you have nothing to contribute, you eat. If you know the answers, you share. And if you choose to keep anything from me, you’ll choke. Understood?”
All of them nod or murmur their understanding as they pick up their forks.
Maddox twirls his Karambit knife with a sickening grin. He’s a billboard for the criminally insane, which is the only instruction I gave him for this outing. And he’s nailing it. Some of these men are connected and wicked in their own right. But their association is with The Order. That’s the hide-in-plain-sight brand of crime, committed by upstanding citizens who are highly educated and prosperous in their careers. They prefer not to brawl.
I direct my focus back to Monroe. “Trafton was killed. Know anything about that?”
His shoulders droop. He’s seemingly relieved that I believe him and we’re onto something else. “He was my lawyer, so I was notified this morning.”
That tracks.
I briefly scan the others, all stuffing their faces, before countering the simplicity of that answer. “He was part of The Order too.”
The three men at the table, who also belong to The Order, shift their eyes up to mine with a plea to not disclose their association. That could get them killed. Secret societies fail when they aren’tsecret. I’m in the know because they leveraged that tobe La Lune Noire members, which is permitted. My reputation would be shit if I went around exposing them.
Instead, I point my gun at the two who aren’t associated. “Get the fuck out of here and never speak of this.”
They slide out their chairs, resist the urge to run or piss themselves, and stride away.
My wrath returns to Monroe as my pistol finds its rightful place on his temple again. “Trafton tried to tell me something before he died, which was around the same fucking time I got that email from you. He wouldn’t talk to my brothers, so the only thing I can figure is that it was about what’s mine. You have a vested interest in my fucking family, you were Trafton’s client, and you were both in The Order. Tell me what the fuck that means.”
Monroe’s eyes widen in alarm. “To me? Nothing.”
This asshole is no help, beyond me realizing he’s as lost as I am. Although there is one area he might have information in.
“Any idea who Dalton would have called for help the night he hurt Mercy?”
He contemplates that for a minute, searching his mind. “No.”
I twist the knife in his hand until he’s writhing and breathless, the serrated edge grating the flesh and muscle and tendons. “Give me more than that.”
He won’t be using that hand ever again, but I’ve got no sympathy for the former governor. That’s his digging hand too. Poor Hailey Holden was in the ground for years before her family found justice, thanks to his help.
After several pants, a rumbling growl, and some drool, he calms himself. “Other than the time I stopped by to visit … the baby, I didn’t see him much then. He knew how ashamed I was, and he cut me and his mother out of his life. I felt like he’d gotten mixed up with the wrong people along the way. But, from theoutside, it didn’t look like he had any acquaintances or friends that were an obvious … asset for that type of situation.”
That’s essentially what Ty’s team and I found too. Nothing adds up. And yet I feel like I can see things weaving together, one fraying thread at a time.
Someone is fucking with me and using Mercy to do it.
Confident Maddox is enough of a threat, I start to pace around the room, hoping it brings clarity. “Would Dalton’s relationship with Mercy or what he fucking did to her or the goddamn phone call he made have anything to do with The Order?”
Monroe dabs at his wound with his cloth napkin, sopping up the blood. “Dalton wasn’t a member of The Order. His values didn’t align.”
Ahh. Because they have very strict rules about the treatment of women, much like KORT—the cabal they’re associated with.
“So, you ousted him?”
He nods, the shame of a failed parent cloaking him. “Yes.”
Another thread. Maybe.
I halt my pacing, locking my eyes on the four men to gauge their reactions. “Dalton knew Mercy’s father had been a member of The Order, as well as what one of his assignments was. And he didn’t find out from her. She had no idea.”
Bewilderment paints them all.
