“Y-yes, that’s him.”
She burst into tears again and this time I can’t comfort her. I show Eian the picture, knowing damn well he’ll know who it is.
“Motherfucker,” he spits out and shoves away from the desk.
That’s an appropriate reaction, I suppose.
Finding out who the leader of this fucking organization is should’ve made things easier, gotten us closer to ending them, but Carl Brent is the mayor of New York City, and the only way we’re getting rid of him is if we put ourselves on the line of fire. And if he finds out we know?—
“When was the last time he came here?” Eian asks, voice even rougher than before.
“T-two days ago.” Luisa barely manages to answer.
“So we have five days before he comes back.” I breathe out the words, knowing no amount of information will help us now, and the ticking clock will help even less.
12
EIAN
Killing the mayor isn’timpossible, it’s just going to make our lives—my men’s lives—a lot harder. It could land me in jail after decades of avoiding that. It could prompt the police to go on a hunt for any person associated with me, with Colby. Those are only two of the less dire possibilities.
Also, he might be the leader of the organization—we can’t know that for sure yet—but there’s no guarantee that if we take him and Lucian out it would dismantle that shit.
“Does he always come here exactly one week apart?” Colby’s urgent question gives me even more stress. What if he doesn’t? What if?—
“Yes.” Luisa nods rapidly, and I make a decision then and there.
“All right.” I walk around the desk again and open the door. “Sara, Cillian, get in here.” When they do and thedoor is closed again, I nod down at Luisa. “She stops working today, but you have to keep her safe. I’ll be back in less than five days to take her somewhere else, understood?”
“Yes sir,” Cillian says, brow furrowed in confusion. I shake my head once, silently telling him not to ask.
“Luisa, don’t say a word of what we talked about to anyone, got it?”
“Y-yes, but you will be back for me, yes?”
“We will,” Colby reassures her and I let him. He’s better at that. “Wewillmake sure you’re safe, Luisa.”
I nod at Sara to take her away, and once they’re out of earshot I walk closer to Cillian and make sure he understands how important this is.
“There’s a man who comes to see Luisa every week. He came two days ago, at night. You need to find out everything you can about him. How is he paying? What’s his name? Anything and everything you find, send it to me, got it?”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Good. Colby, let’s go.”
He keeps his cool until we’re about a block away from the brothel.
“Holy motherfucking shit, Eian,” he shouts. “What the fuck are we going to do? How can we protect her—no, how can we protectanyonein the city from him?” I can tell he’s just getting started, so I let him rant for as long as he needs. “If we kill him or kidnap him it’s going to be a nightmare to get the police off our backs.” Thewegives me a thrill, the thought of Colby believing he’s part of my family... but now isn’t the time to think about that. “And I know the commissioner, he always took my research seriously, but we don’t have proof except Luisa’s word against his. You know how that story goes. No one’s gonna believe a sex worker, an immigrant, hell, awomanoverthe fucking mayor.”
“I know,” I grumble. It’s fucking infuriating that only the word of another man—“Venuti,” I say the second that idea pops into my mind.
“Do you really think Lucian’s gonna sit in a courtroom and confess to everything he’s done?” By his tone, it’s clear Colby doesn’t. “Also, it’s so obvious they’re trying to incriminate you—Luca going to your casino, planting one of the human trafficking victims in your brothel. The second they think someone’s onto them they’re gonna blow the whistle on you and spin this into some kind of huge victory where they finally take down the great fucking Eian Dempsey. We can’t doanything to?—”
“Stop,” I shout at him when he starts to screech, and I curse my idea to drive today because I need to keep myeyes on the road. Colby’s working himself up into a panic attack, and that’s not only not going to help but will also just make me lose my fucking mind. “We’re almost at the garage. Just breathe until we get there, and once we’re home we can get everyone together and we’llfigure it out,” I stress, because I won’t accept any other option.
“Talking helps,” he mumbles. “Talking about anything else. Like...” It takes him ten long seconds, but he jumps in his seat when he comes up with a different topic. “What was that dude’s fuckingdeal?” he demands, outrage clear in his voice.
I play stupid. “Cillian?” I frown harder to sell it.
