Page 35 of Witness Security Breach

Tommy strode over and gave Bill an affirmative nod, which meant one thing.

Devlin had Edgar.

If Bill wasn’t standing in the middle of the casino in front of this dirtbag and didn’t have bad knees, he would’ve jumped for joy and pumped his fists in the air. “I’ll have something that I think the bosses will be much more interested in,” Bill said, “but thanks for the offer.”

He’d give the vultures Edgar’s bruised and broken body to pick at and use whatever evidence that traitor had squirreled away for old-fashioned blackmail. Put them back in their places. Show ’em Big Bill was the boss once again ruling New Orleans.

“It better be good or it’s your funeral.” Enzo turned and left.

Bill took a cleansing breath and led his nephew to one of the four restaurants in the casino. They entered the busy, gleaming kitchen. He acknowledged the head chef and some of the underlings and went into the walk-in refrigerator, where sides of beef hung from the ceiling. Tommy closed the door behind him.

It was freezing in the tin icebox, but it was a safe space to talk freely.

“What did Enzo want?” Tommy asked.

“Seventy-five percent of the sex ring.”

“Wow.” Tommy rocked back on his heels. “They’re really gunning for you.”

Didn’t Bill know it. But it was time for him to hit back. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a plan.”

“No offense, but I gotta worry.” Tommy’s breath fogged the cold air. “If they slit your throat, Uncle Bill, I’m going to bleed out with you.”

The kid’s concern was warranted, and Bill had an obligation to protect his sister’s only son. “You spoke to Devlin?”

Tommy nodded, rubbing his hands together. “D got him. Alive. The boys just passed through Tucson. They’ll reach the city in twenty-one hours, but D is flying back tomorrow. He got delayed in San Diego. When he gets back, he wants to meet face-to-face.”

“You told him we’ll do it at Avido’s?” The casino wasn’t an option and Bill’s days of meeting in back alleys and cars were done. He was reduced to having conversations in meat lockers, for Pete’s sake.

“Yeah. I told him,” Tommy said. “He wants to arrange half the payment before his boys set foot in New Orleans with Edgar. The rest on delivery.”

Bill blew into his cupped hands, starting to shiver. “Fine. Whatever he wants. As long as I get Edgar alive. And what about the evidence? Digital? Hard copies? Anything?”

Tommy shrugged. “D said he’s working on it.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“He said he’d explain in person.”

Bill was too damn cold to blow a fuse.

Nabbing Edgar was a major win. Bill would toss the other bosses a juicy Plinski bone to gnaw on, but he needed that evidence—in black and white, so to speak—to get out of this alive.

SOMETIMES ASSISTANT SPECIAL AGENT in Charge Ava Garcia strolled through the casino on one of her breaks or after duty, to play a hand of poker or have a meal.

She liked to change her shoes first. A woman walked differently depending on her footwear. Three-inch heels didn’t scream federal agent but purred all-woman.

It helped her blend in, appear nonthreatening.

Garcia spent more time at the Windfall than she did at her apartment in the hopes she’d see something, overhear a nugget she could use to nail Big Bill Walsh to the wall.

Today she’d got that kernel, making all her free hours spent here worthwhile.

The other bosses in the syndicate were coming to New Orleans. That was huge.

Bill would have to meet with them, and he planned to offer them something they wanted more than his head on a pike.

She’d have to get extra agents and change out the vehicles Bill’s people were familiar with. Anticipate how Big Bill would try to give them the slip.