Eva, he and I look at each other. I’m trying to track what I know of TruthDrop, of the media scandals of the last few years, and of the men who have been exposed. Are any still alive?
“Damn, yeah. Truve had a stroke, Thornwell had a blood clot, and Hannigan died of kidney failure. What the fuck?” Eva says, eyes on her screen.
“Theywereall older,” Hudson says. “Those are all natural causes of death for men their age. They were under a lot of damned stress and pressure after these media leaks.”
“They all died within a month of their media leaks. It could all be a coincidence?—”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Agreed,” Hudson says.
“So, what are we saying? That we think the vigilante group behind TruthDrop is not only exposing predators, butkillingthem? And we think your siren, Pippa Saint James aka ‘Jane,’ could be a part of it?” Eva asks.
We all sit in that statement for a moment.
“Feels like a leap,” Hudson says.
“Yeah, we need to start digging into this,” I say. “If McCarter dies unexpectedly, then we’ve got a bigger problem than a staffer who seems out of place or an anonymous group of hackers exposing pedophiles. We’re talking widespread assassinations that no one seems to know about.”
SIX
decided
Hudson
Monday Evening, Day 5
It’s been a few nights, but the tension hasn’t faded. Enzo’s SUV idles like it’s holding its breath—blacked-out windows, engine humming low. The kind of car that disappears sitting still. Luca’s at the wheel, steady as ever. Niko rides shotgun, silent, alert. If something goes sideways, Niko will move first—he always does.
The air smells of gun oil and faint tobacco. The residue of Luca’s last cigarette clings to the cab no matter how many damned air fresheners he hangs. Outside, the city pulses with horns, sirens, and footsteps on pavement.
Inside, the car is a pressure cooker. Silent. Focused.
All eyes locked on her—Pippa, Jane, or whoever the hell she’s pretending to be today. She walks like a woman with a purpose. The sway of her hips in those high heels is all confidence and calculation, every step balanced between temptation and threat.
Eva had a set of Enzo’s men set to trail her tonight, but Enzowanted to handle this personally. He asked me to join, which I took as a good sign.
I snack on pretzels to keep my hands busy and sell the illusion that I’m fucking calm. It’s easier than admitting to the nerves running through me as we tail the woman who’s haunted my dirtiest thoughts for the past year. Knowing her real name feels…dangerous. Like I’ve crossed a line without intending to.
I’m not sure if my nerves are about seeing the “real” her or if I’m nervous about Enzo’s new obsession with her.Damn it.I’ve never seen him like this about a woman, not even his ex-fiancée, Ciara. I’m not surprised Pippa captivated him—I understand the draw all too well—but I am concerned about a woman coming between our friendship. I know we wouldn’t let it happen, but…fuck. This feels precarious.
Enzo breaks the silence. “So… Jane has a real name.”
Here we go.I exhale, long and theatrical, in attempt to break the tension with humor. I want to let him know this doesn’t have to be a problem. “Yeah, funny how that works. You fall for a mystery girl, and she turns out to have a LinkedIn profile. Complete with a sexy-as-hell corporate wardrobe she’d never be caught dead in playing poker.”
Today, she’s dressed in a high-end white designer suit that is tailored to her every curve. And don’t even get me started on her heels.Fuck me.
Enzo forces a chuckle. “And that doesn’t throw you?”
We both know he’s opening a can of worms, but we’ve been friends too long to keep avoiding it. “Depends how this all plays out, doesn’t it? She could be the woman of my damned dreams or the one whose secrets ruin me for all future women. Hard to know.” I pause, then add, “Besides, Eva said that when you talked about the redhead from The Vault you sounded like the one who needed a cold shower. You doing okay over there?”
He shoots me that deadly look he uses to intimidate, but he knows it doesn’t work on me. “This isn’t about me.”
I grin, knowing I’ve successfully baited him. He started it. “Says the guy who sounded downright poetic when he described her sitting at the bar wearing… What was it you told Eva? A dark green jumpsuit that matched her eyes?” I chuckle. “Don’t worry, I get it. She’s…” I take a breath.
“Remarkable,” we both say at the same time.
Luca flicks his eyes to the rearview.
