He signals Beck for a drink, then lifts his eyes to mine and waits.
I set my glass down. “You look like you got the shit beat out of you.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Not far off.”
I don’t ask why. I don’t care to know.
“Wells pulled intel from the Duvalls this morning,” I say. “I want to go through it with you.”
Something in Vin’s posture tightens, subtle but immediate. “What did he find?”
I slide a slim file across the table, along with a jump drive. “Shipping routes. Financials. Encrypted traffic. It points toward Gulf operations my father used to control. Enough to suggest they’re pushing into lanes my father kept locked down. You were right.”
Vin flips the top page, eyes moving quickly. “I knew it. They’ve been pushing for expansion for years. Your father kept them boxed in. Now he’s gone.”
“I’m not moving yet,” I say. “Not until I’m sure. I’m not repeating the Boudreaux mistake. I also want that route back. Whether they had a hand in my father’s death or not, I’m not letting them keep it.”
“I looped Cain in,” Vin says. “He’s coordinating with suppliers while he preps to come down from New York. I’ll tell him to speed it up. Waiting too long carries its own risks.”
“Good,” I say as I take a sip and let it burn going down.
“What about Tripp? Have you made any decisions there?”
“In due time,” I reply. “If this ties back to Tripp, we’ll find it. When I can connect those dots cleanly, then I’ll make a call.”
Vin nods once, fingers tapping against his glass. “What else?”
I pause before answering. Not because I don’t trust him, but because the words carry weight.
“When I was in the bunker with Coco,” I say, “I found photos in one of my father’s desk drawers. Old ones. They’ve been there a while.”
His brow lifts slightly. “Photos of what?”
“People,” I say. “One of them had you in it. There’s a photo of the man who killed my father. The one with the birthmark.”
Something tightens briefly along Vin’s jaw, gone almost as soon as it appears. A breath passes. His expression smooths.
“Boudreaux’s guy,” he says after a beat. “I’ve crossed paths with him. We weren’t enemies back then. While our companies competed, there was overlap. It’s entirely possible we ran into each other on business.”
“That’s what I assumed,” I say. “I just want to understand why my father kept the photos.”
Vin’s gaze stays on mine. “Let me see them. I might recognize the setting, the timeframe. There were a lot of reasons I could’ve crossed paths with him. Something yourfather asked me to handle, maybe. The photos could jog my memory.”
I nod once.
“I meant to bring them,” I say. “They’re still on his desk. I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
“That works,” Vin says. He finishes his drink and sets the glass aside. “In the meantime, I’ll go through Wells’s intel with him. If there’s something actionable in there, we’ll find it.”
“Good.”
He meets my look without flinching, steady as ever.
We turn back to the report. The answer is buried in these pages somewhere. I just need the kind of confirmation that lets me act without hesitation.
The streetoutside the old row house turned millennial hangout is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels temporary. Neon from the bar sign bleeds across the wet pavement, blue light stretching and breaking in the cracks.
She said she’d be here. I don’t know if she expected me to listen.
