“Yes, he's from Boston,” I deadpanned, looking down at her. Her eyes were wide with awe.
She made a sound of approval. “Well, Antman was right about one thing. ThatisAmerica’s ass.”
“Baby girl,” Dean growled in our ears. “I'm not against killing Captain America tonight. Do not fucking test me.”
“Great, Captain America is fucking here, and I'm stuck in the damn getaway car,” Jer grumbled next.
My eyes shot to the night sky, my patience obliterated. A warm hand slid inside my tux jacket stopping right over my heart. When I looked back down, Gwen was in front of me. “Remember this, agent. It will be your greatest asset,” she said gently.
“Gwen, I don’t have the time for this—”
“Don’t lose your heart to the darkness, James, because when we get our girls back, your girl is going to need it,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. The small voice in my head knew she was right, but my anger didn’t give a fuck.
My princess was taken from me, and I wantedblood.
“Let’s go,” I ordered, brushing past her.
She kept her composure, my rudeness leaving her unaffected as she fell into step beside me and taking my arm. We got through security easy enough with our fake identities, thanks to Casey.
“Mr. and Mrs. Clawson. Welcome to Graystone Manor,” a butler said to us as we stepped over the threshold. We mingled for a few minutes before we split up, venturing through the grand rooms in search of Collin Stevens.
He washere, my gut told me what I needed to know the second I stepped foot on this property. Gwen veered left, the shimmering of her navy dress making it easy for me to spot her in the crowd if needed, and I went right.
In the living space, men were sprawled out, smoking cigars and sipping brandy. I noted three men of interest, but no mafia hitman—none of Romano’s menwere here. If Collin was supposed to be here, then where the fuck was his back up?
After ten years on this case, I had built a pretty good rap sheet, a list of men who served Romano without fault. Collin Stevens was at the top of that list, and respect came with the rank. Charles Tipponi confessed to me before I blew his face off that Stevens was more than just a hitman, and Connors said the same thing. There was more to this than just balancing the books and running errands for the devil.
Which could only mean one thing.Ray Romano knew Collin was his bastard son.
Why else would you give the man so much responsibility? He practically handed him the keys to the kingdom while he mourned the death of his legitimate son, Tony Romano. I made my way from room to room, smiling at anyone who made eye contact, playing the role I had given myself for the evening.
“No sign of them,” Gwen said through the earpiece.
I didn’t bother answering. She knew I heard her.
“I have two armored vehicles pulling up to the front with bullet-proof glass, packing a lot of heat,” Jer said.
“Go on,” Dean pressed.
My eyes flicked to the ceiling. The baseball player preferred to hide in air vents, but unfortunately, this house was over ahundred years old, so that wasn’t an option tonight. Curiosity peaked as I did a secondary sweep of the party for him. “Stop looking for me, Garner. You won’t find me,” Dean said flatly. I smirked at his confidence. The bastard.
“Jones, what kind of heat?” I asked quietly as I approached the bar, holding up a single finger.
“C-4.”
“Son of a—oh!Excuse me,” Gwen said.
As every hair on my body stood up, I calmly swiped my drink off the bar and turned, bringing the glass to my lips. I spotted her across the room by one of the windows. She threw her head back after a moment, her curls following as she laughed at something the man in front of her said. Her hand was on his upper arm.
“Two seconds, baby girl. I’ll take his life right here,” Dean growled.
Reluctantly, her hand fell away from the man, and he gestured for her to go out into the backyard with him. When he turned, my jaw clenched, my hand balling into a firm fist at my side. The man was on the Boston PD, a detective. I had worked with him once before, years ago. Michael Smith.
He was a dirty cop and should be in prison, but my director thought it would be best to let him continue working for the mafia. We'd been keeping tabs on him for the last two years.
So, if he was here, then were the fuck was the mafia?
A low growl of frustration resonated in my throat as I turned away to go into the next room. Making my way down the hall in a rush, I didn’t see the woman until she crashed into me.
