Gathering them up, I sorted them back the way they were as I glanced at different names. Names that shocked me, and names that I would expect to see connected to something like this.
George Stone was a name that didn’t surprise me. But Valentino Valentinetti did. The knowledge that Eamon had been working not only with the Italians but with the Russians and the Mexicans was staggering.
Not to mention the politicians. Devlin Scott was an evil, sadistic bastard, but after what I’d read about some of the others, it made him look like a Boy Scout.
There was only one name on this list that was still alive. And unless I missed my guess, he would do whatever he had to do to keep it from getting out.
I stacked the files together and walked to my office. Closing the door behind me, I entered the bathroom attached to the back of the room.
Reaching behind the medicine cabinet mirror, I held my finger against the scanner, releasing the mechanism that allowed the cabinet to swing out. I quickly spun the dial to open the safe. It was one of many I had throughout my apartment.
The other safes hidden throughout the apartment were decoys. Two of them held important papers that could be replicated with ease—birth certificate, passport, etc.—and money.
This was the safe in which I kept the secrets. The one that wouldn’t be noticed. No one thought to look in the bathroom for a safe. They might check under the sink and in the linen closet, but the safes throughout the house would be pillaged first, and when money was found, people tended to stop looking for anything else.
The files went into the safe, and as I closed the medicine cabinet against the wall, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I expected to feel something. Guilt, maybe, revulsion that I had essentially kidnapped Caity and was holding her hostage.
There was none of that. In fact, when I settled in my bed, I fell asleep within minutes.
My conscience was clear.
It had been three days since Liam had brought Caity to my home. Three days of the silent treatment. She barely ate, at least not with me. The only reason I knew she was sleeping was that I had cameras in the guest rooms.
The truth was, I had cameras everywhere. Here in my apartment and throughout the office building where we worked. There was nothing I couldn’t see and hear.
“Ci! Get your ass in here.”
I rolled my eyes at Mac and followed him to Sal’s office. Surprised to see him, I asked, “You’re back already?”
“Yeah.”
“Ask him what happened,” Mac pressed as he elbowed my side.
“Fuck off, Mac,” Sal growled.
“What happened?” I asked, curiosity taking over. I didn’t really care to hear Sal whine about his son ignoring him, but I wondered if there was more.
“Where’s Duncan?” Sal asked.
I looked out into the hallway at Duncan’s closed door. “Probably fuckin’ Freyja over his desk.”
“Get him in here.”
I looked at Mac and shook my head. He rolled his eyes at me, then walked out across the hall and banged on Duncan’s door. “Get off your woman. We’ve got shit to do.”
Duncan yanked his door open and glared at Mac. “Fuck you.”
Freyja giggled behind him and slipped past him into the hall. She peered into Sal’s office and said, “Should I stay?”
Sal looked up and blew out a breath, nodding his head. “Lucille tell you?” he asked.
Freyja smiled. “Only that there was something important.”
Duncan sat in the chair by the window and pulled Freyja onto his lap. “What’s up?”
“Daniel Scott is dead.”
My body stiffened at Sal’s words. Daniel Scott was the eldest son of Devlin Scott. I’d seen his name in the files, but he wasn’t a heavy hitter. At least not until after his father had been killed.
