“Leon Fuentes.”
Roark’s voice is flat through the phone. I pace the sidewalk outside the brownstone, my heels digging into the concrete while Seamus loads Lola into the car for the emergency vet. The cat’s still breathing. Barely.
“Tell me everything,” I growl.
“He’s Ignacius Fuentes’s only son. Roja Cartel royalty, except he’s not. He works for the Cinco Cartel instead. Has for years. His old man’s not happy about it. Never has been. Leon embarrassed the family when he dissented.”
“Why’d he leave and go to Cinco?”
“Because Ignacius thought his son was weak. Soft. Not fit for the family business,” he says. “Leon took that personally. So he went to Cinco to prove himself and became their money man. He does laundering, moves cash, facilitates deals. He’s good at it, but he’s also greedy as fuck. Cinco found out he skimmed from the wrong accounts. Now he owes them more than he can afford. And they’re gonna kill him if he doesn’t pay up.”
Roark pauses. “My intel says he latched onto Marlowe because one of the guys he wassupposed to shakedown fucking disappeared off the face of the earth.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Briggs?”
“Briggs,” Roark repeats.
Everything clicks into place with sickening clarity. The helpful friend. The concerned ally. The man who was always there when Marlowe needed someone.
All of it was a fucking con.
“He was using her to find Briggs,” I say. “So he’d have someone to hand over to take the heat off his ass.”
“That’s my read. Cinco wants Heston Briggs real bad. The man owes them millions from gambling debts. Blood sport betting circuits. But the guy didn’t have enough cash liquid to make the payments. So Leon was supposed to deliver Briggs, or leverage to draw him out of hiding.”
“And when Briggs stayed hidden?—”
“Leon got desperate. His deadline’s coming. And now he’s got a new play.” Roark’s voice chills me to my bones. “A Murphy is worth more than a Briggs. If he hands you over to Cinco, he clears his debt and then some.”
My grip on the phone tightens until my fingertips numb.
“Where is he?”
“At an abandoned warehouse in Sugar Hill. I’m sending the address now.” A pause. “I already talked to Ignacius.”
“You what?”
“Called in a favor. Asked him about his son.” Roark lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “He gave Leon up without a fight. He wasn’t willing to go to war with the Irish mafia over his double-crossing asshat of a son. He told me Leon’s been a problem for years. And that him crossing over to Cinco made Ignacius look weak. He’s still pissed as hell over it.”
“So he’s willing to let his own son die?”
“He can’t pull the trigger himself. Leon’smother is dead, but Ignacius is superstitious. He said her spirit would haunt him.” Another pause. “But if someone else does it? He turns a blind eye. He’s hoping you’ll do it to clean up his mess for him.”
“Gladly.” I grind my teeth together.
“Dec.” Roark’s voice sharpens. “Don’t go in there with your head using your ass as a hat. Leon’s desperate, which makes him dangerous. He’s got nothing left to lose.”
“Neither do I.”
I hang up. The address pings my phone a second later.
Cal’s beside me before I can move. “I heard everything. We’re coming with you.”
“Fuck that. This is my fight.”
Cal shakes his head. “Marlowe’s family now. That makes it our fight.” He lights a cigarette, takes a long drag. “Seamus and Ava are taking Lola to the vet. Tor and I are coming with you.”
I want to argue. I want to tell him I need to do this alone.
