“And shared it with a select few I trust.”
“Which is why you’re telling me now, and not when we meet with the Triads and The Forgotten Boys at the Summit?”
“Precisely. We had a brothel in Vegas once upon a time?—”
“TheCamorraor theCosa Nostra?”
“Cosa Nostra. Admittedly, the location was purchased with Hunter’s help.”
“You two are such assholes. Getting him involved with that shit on his grandad’s turf.”
“Like you didn’t already know Hunter must have helped us pick that location, Rory.”
“You’re still pricks.”
“To worm my way into power, we had to shed this particular brothel, but it was business as usual for him. Brackton stopped visiting Vegas and instead headed into NYC to avail of our services.”
Leaning against the fender, O’Donnelly crossed his feet at the ankles. “What does this have to do with me?”
“Because I mean it when I say Brackton trusted us. He trusted the girls. He trusted we’d keep his custom locked up nice and tight, and he was right, until he was wrong.
“A blogger somehow picked up the story, but it went under the radar outside of conspiracy whackjobs. The night he died, President Devere and a Canadian billionaire called Clyde Korhonen visited Brackton’s penthouse in the city. Our hooker witnessed the meeting. She was later killed. The ledger didn’t arrange her hit. Nor did the perps make it look like an accident.”
“You think they… the Albanians targeted her?”
“Considering the conversation she overheard, it’s likely. Whether it’s the Albanians or Devere and his ilk is something that requires further investigation. Personally, I think the Albanians are workingforDevere, but you can posit your own theories once you’re apprised of all the facts.”
O’Donnelly straightened. “And what, precisely, did she overhear?”
“Aidan, Devere, Brackton, and Korhonen were aware of your plans. Our hooker said that they were unhappy with the idea of a sitting president having a mob-adjacent father?—”
“Declan won’t be when my nephew’s in the Oval Office,”O’Donnelly reasoned.
I barked out a laugh. “Have to admire his audacity.”
“Don’t be pedantic. You know what I’m saying.”Luc pointed to the thumb drive.“Like I said, our escort overheard this discussion and told Rory about it. She also showed us a picture she’d taken. That’s on the USB, too.
“In the run-up to his death, the pair of them had argued over the hookers Devere and Korhonen brought with them for their ‘parties.’ They were underage girls. We’ve come to learn that the Albanians managed a brothel in Nolita, with Italian and Russian investors, that ran children for whale spenders.”
“Sons of bitches,” O’Donnelly snarled. “What kinds of pictures are on here? The last thing I want to see is child porn.”
“How didI Told You Soaccess those images?” I wondered out loud.
Rory shuffled in her seat. Again.
“The men with their respective partnersandtheir dead bodies?—”
“They killed the other hookers… the children, too?!”
“Yes. Ours died in a pileup. The other two weren’t American and had no papers. One of Rory’s people found them dumped in an alley. We had to push the NYPD for an investigation.
“We also documented the stable from the Nolita brothel as well as other warehouses they had tucked away in the city.”
“All underage, Luciu?”
O’Donnelly might have been a cold motherfucker, but even he appeared distressed by the prospect.
“Rory’s conferred with Rachel Laker on their situation. She’s helping them through the immigration process and hasways, via her charitable foundations, to get them the support they need. We have them holed up in one of our brothels?—”
