“Estefan Cordoza.”
And there it is. That fucking ache in the pit of my stomach, swelling and festering, because going to war against Cordoza brings me right back to the paralyzing fear that I’ll lose my wife anyway.
I wrap my arm around her stomach and rest my chin on her shoulder. Drawing a long, chest-stretching breath to prepare myself, I release it again and nod. “Alright. Drop it on us quick, Solomon. I’m too fucking tired to drag this out.”
“I actually don’t have as much as you think I do. This has been a family in pieces ever since the wedding, with broken communication, hidden motivations, and blind faith in a manwe all thought we could trust. Estefan is powerful and ruthless—it would do us well not to forget that—but we have real-world experience with the man, too, and he’s only ever treated my sister with kindness. Minka, also. He’s…”
“I can’t figure it out,” Minka rasps, sinking into my lap. “I’m tired, so maybe my brain isn’t working, but he could haveaskedme to take care of Agosti, and I would have. Why the big production?”
“He can’t ask without answering to the city,” Tim rumbles. “Hiring a hit is the same as committing the hit himself; the rules forbade him from doing that.”
“So he placed each of us in position and laid the foundations that led us here,” Soph continues. “He successfully ended another New York family without ever formally asking for it, and then he made a bunch of noise about autopsying the body and finding COD. To anyone looking from the outside, he’s done his job, and you, Chief, ruled it a suicide. The documentation supports what he wanted it to support.”
“But how can her documentation stand while, simultaneously, word is out that she was the one who did it?” Aubree questions.
“Well, that’s just it,” Soph counters. “I’m not hearing a single peep from anyone, anywhere, at all. Her name is on no one’s tongue.”
“We’ve heard nothing either,” Tiia inserts. “Roscoe’s still working with the bureau, his ear is to the ground, and before anyone loses their shit,” she adds quickly, somehow knowing how my blood roars, or how Felix snaps his teeth. “No matter the price or consequences, family comes first for me and Roscoe. You don’t have to worry about him.”
“He’s a federal agent,” I snarl. “Andhe gets this feral glint in his eyes every time he’s included in any conversation that could lead to an arrest and a fat promotion.”
“Family first, Detective.” She says the words plainly. No anger. No pressure. No rush. Then, “I can only conclude word of Minka’s involvement in Anthony Agosti’s death hasnotspread further than the people on this call, and Cordoza himself.”
“So he fuckin’ lied.” Fury bubbles and burns in my veins, forcing my arm to tighten around Minka’s belly and my hand to clutch her thigh. “He said the whispers were loud and expanding, and the best course of action was to place distance between us until he could get a handle on it.”
Minka glances over her shoulder, searching my eyes. “He specifically wanted us apart this week. Why?”
“I haven’t figured that bit out yet,” Soph answers. “And the man isextremelycareful regarding the conversations he conducts, even in his own home where privacy is implied.”
Implied. But not given.
“You have ears inside his house?” Micah rumbles. “In his private rooms?”
“The FBI has ears in his house,” she counters. “And in some of his clubs. In his car. They think they’re sneaky and slick, planting bugs around the man who controls the city, but all they really do is open him up to security breaches and create a gaping hole in his technological lines of defense. Despite what most people think, the feds aren’t looking to shut men like Cordoza down. Organized crime keeps almost every economy chugging, and, for as long as Cordoza’s at the helm—a man wholeads with fairness and common sense—the city is better for his presence.”
“They listen, so they know what’s happening,” Tiia confirms. “They’re not looking to put him away.”
“The feds make it insanely easy for me to piggyback on their efforts,” Soph continues. “Every access they have, I have. Every conversation they listen to, sits transcribed in my email inbox. For as long as Cordoza maintains control of the city, keeping bloodshed off the streets and the wars reminiscent of the sixties and seventies under wraps, there isn’t a badge anywhere who’ll touch him.”
“But how does any of this involve us?” I groan. “Cordoza created an enemy of the Malones this week, Soph. He used us, and then he intentionally pushed me and Minka apart. For what purpose?”
Aubree shoots her hand in the air, schoolgirl style, and draws everyone’s eyes. “I admit limited knowledge within this world, but can we not look at what’s right in front of us?”
“What?” Soph questions. “What’s right in front of us?”
“Cordoza, Agosti, Pastore, Mancino, Malone. There are probably other families too, but these are the main five, right? They’re the five families that’ve maintained power for decades. But now Mancino is gone.” She ticks one name off with a lifted finger. “Pastore is gone.” A second finger. “Agosti’s bloodline ended last weekend.”
“That leaves Cordoza… and us,” Tim sighs. “You think he wants a clean slate?”
“But that makes no sense,” Felix declares. “We take nothing from him by existing. We make him money. Wehelphim control the city. He demanded I come for dinner a few nightsago, and the whole time, he was making plans for the future. Plans that includedme. Every decent CEO knows they can’t run an entire organization on their own. They need middle and lower management to carry some of the weight.”
“He has an untapped space for these discussions,” Soph inserts. “There’snoway he’s making moves and fucking everyone over without talking it through first. Even if he’s keeping it small, he’s got a space none of us know about.”
“Wouldn’t that fall underyourresponsibility?” Felix snaps. “The all-seeing, all-knowing Sophia Solomon. It’s your job to collect the intel.”
“Dude! I don’t think you understand who the hell I am. I’m just a dance teacher who enjoys poking at everyone else’s business occasionally. My motivationused torevolve around my sister’s murder, but she’s right here with me now, married and pregnant and so damn happy, it makes all the rest of this shit not worth the trouble. As far as I’m concerned, switching off my computer permanently and heading back into the dance studio sounds like a damn good idea to me. Then we can—” The sound of a phone trilling echoes through the line, cutting Soph off and casting a cloud of dread over the top of us all. “Minka… that’s…”
Minka stiffens on my lap. “What?”
