Everyone but me and Quinn, who seems to have finished the whiskey bottle and is barely awake.
"How are we going to get Hastings to comply?" I ask Martin, trying to see what he has up his sleeve.
"I'll use my daughter. She's his weakness," he smiles insidiously.
Of course he'd throw his own daughter under the bus. In the time I've known Martin, I've come to realize why he was on Jimenez's naughty list. The bastard is a treacherous dog, wagging his tail for whoever profits him the most.
He refrains from saying how exactly he'll use her, hoping to maintain some secrecy. I can hazard a guess as to what the big secret is—from her ties to the Russian Bratva to her kill count, I'd say there's plenty to blackmail them with.
I almost groan out loud when I realize I'll have to pretend to flirt with her—as per Jimenez's instructions. In his own words, he wants his son truly cornered, and apparently, some good ol' jealousy will do the trick. The only reassuring fact is that by all accounts, she's completely enamored of her husband, so there's less chance of her taking me seriously.
The following day, our goal is achieved, and Theodore Hastings is officially under our thumb. Now for the pièce de résistance—the fall of an empire.
47
ENZO
I lockmyself in my office, careful to avoid any prying eyes or ears.
"What do you mean they know?"
"They somehow found my picture and put two and two together," Jimenez grunts, and I can tell he's not pleased at this turn of events.
Soon after we'd taken a good chunk of Martin's fortune, Jimenez had decided that it was time to dispatch him. He'd chosen none other than my house to do it—the very office I'm standing in.
Now, Jimenez, for all his willingness to share information, hadn't told me one tiny detail. The person who killed Martin was someone Theodore Hastings knew from his time as Adrian Barnett.
In the spirit of cordial cooperation, I'd sent Hastings and his wife the footage from that night, sure they wouldn't find anything suspicious that might link the killer to Jimenez.
Well, they had.
And so a witch hunt had begun for Jimenez. Only we didn't think it would get this far.
Years ago, in his attempt to get close to his eldest son, Jimenez had borrowed the identity of Matthew's deceased brother—Andrew Gallagher. And so for years he'd coached his own son in underground, to-the-death fighting, trying to create the perfect killing machine.
Only he'd failed.
Hastings is one of those good guys who think they can carry the weight of the entire world on their shoulders. Well, given his wife's penchant for remorseless killing, I'd say he has his plate full.
Of course Hastings would recognize his long-lost mentor. And now he can link him to the Gallaghers and… me.
Fuck!
"Do you realize what this means?" I grit my teeth, my plans threatening to fall apart. Everything I'd worked for throughout these years will be fornothing.
"Yes. I need to recalculate everything," Jimenez replies, and I stifle the urge to throw my phone across the room.
Fucking hell!
No, I can't let this happen. I need to regroup and figure something out fast. At this rate, Rocco is bound to find out that the Gallaghers have been working for the enemy the entire time. And while that has been the plan all along, it's too soon! We still have to do a complete merger with the Gallaghers in order to leaveeverythingin Jimenez's hands.
No, something needs to be done.
"Indeed," I say, and I hang up. I can't find it in me to care about Jimenez's sensibilities now that I'm in danger of being discovered, and my revenge will be worthless should that happen.
Massaging my temples, I start thinking. Fast.
This little stunt is precipitating my plans, and I have to skip months of perfect planning…
