“Chicago,” I supply.
He lifts a finger in my direction. “Bingo.”
“Fuck.” I scrub my jaw and walk behind the desk, pressing my hands to the surface, a roar in my ears. “Fuck.”
“How’d you know?” Blake asks, claiming the seat in front of me.
“Pri’s mother called and wants her to go to dinner with her. She told Pri her father is out of town and she couldn’t remember where. Pri figured it out.” I sit down. “Needless to say, she’s freaked out. It keeps getting more and more personal for her.”
“Not so personal that they know she’s involved with you. Unless she told them.”
“She didn’t, but I’m not sure that would matter. I’m not sure they even care about Pri at all. That’s how shitty they are. What kind of parent doesn’t care about their child?”
“Too many,” he says. “But I get it. I was blessed with good parents as well.”
“There’s a hit out on her. I hate to think they’re involved. This dinner her mother wants to have. I don’t like it.”
“But it might be informative.”
“I don’t like it,” I repeat.
“We’ll protect her.”
“I don’t like it,” I repeat.
“We need to know who our enemies are. So does she, especially if it’s her family. And think about it. If Pri tells her mother she’s seeing you, there will be a reaction, in the moment, and after the dinner. That might lead us to Deleon.”
He’s right. I know he’s right, but he’s also suggesting Pri become bait. “Would you want Kara to be bait?”
“Kara’s an ex-FBI agent and a badass and the answer is no, I would not, but would I do it? I doubt I’d have a choice. Despite my objection, she’d make the decision for the greater good. In case you haven’t figured it out, Pri will too. She’s brave.”
“She also has something to prove—that she’s not her parents. I’ve been there in my own way, done that, and I’m living in the aftermath. I know how dangerous that can get.”
“As do I,” he says. “But there’s no way to change her role in this. She’s deeply involved, her family is deeply involved. This won’t go away because she hides from it.”
He’s right but the problem is that it won’t go away as long as Waters is alive. Why the hell I didn’t see that in the past, why I thought the legal system worked with guys like Waters, I don’t know.
The computer starts to buzz, telling me it’s time for my Zoom call. Blake knocks on the desk. “I’ll leave you to your meeting.”
“You don’t want to know what I’m going to say?”
“You said you’ve never been to Illinois. I believe you, therefore I’ve heard enough.” He stands up and heads to the door, then glances back at me. “If you marry her, you know your in-laws hate you. The good news is that sounds rather normal to me.”
He exits the office and shuts the door.
Married.
Me.
To Pri.
I wait for the rejection to follow, but it doesn’t come. For the first time in my life, I’ve met someone who makes me want something lasting. But as long as Waters lives, I’ll be hunted. That means she’ll be hunted. And her family might not care about the danger they place her under, but I do.
I hit the answer button and bring Royce and Lauren into view. “Go ahead,” Lauren, a pretty brunette, as feisty and strong-willed as Pri, says. “Tell us a joke to get this started. You know you want to.”
Royce, a broody, bigger version of Blake, grumbles. “Yes. Get it over with.”
And so, I do. “A penguin walks into a bar and asks the bartender. ‘Have you seen my brother?’ The bartender says, ‘What’s he look like?’”
I watch them stare at me for a moment while they catch on to the punchline—all penguins look alike. But all monsters do not, I think. All monsters do, however, die. In other words, maybe my version of being bad isn’t bad enough.
Chapter Twenty-Five
PRI
Fifteen minutes after Adrian leaves me in the room alone, I’m dressed in battle gear. For me, that means a blue skirt and matching silk blouse, with a jacket and heels to complete the look. I’m driven. I have a purpose. I will win this war against Waters. We will win this war against Waters.
First things first, I grab my phone and listen to Logan’s message again. “We need to talk. In person. It’s urgent. Call me.” His dogmatic insistence we meet doesn’t feel off considering his personality, but something else does. I need to know what he knows, but a callback or my easy agreement to meet on my part would be what would be off. And it’s late. I really don’t have time to meet him today anyway, not if I plan to have dinner with my mother.
I shoot off a text: We already talked. We don’t need a repeat. And even if I wanted to meet, I can’t tonight.
Once I’m done with that, I call the judge’s office and leave him an urgent message, during which Logan tries to call me. I don’t take the call. I need him to work for this. I need him to react with agitation, which might make him say something he will regret and I can use it to help us in some way.
My phone rings again and it’s the judge’s office. I sit down at the desk and answer the line, “Ms. Miller?” a woman queries.
“Yes,” I confirm. “This is her.”
“I have Judge Nichols for you. Can I patch him through?”
“You can,” I confirm. “Please do.”
“Ms. Miller,” Judge Nichols greets. “What can I do for you?”
“This is highly unusual and I recognize we’ll need to schedule a time with opposing council—”
“But you’re going to continue on anyway,” he concludes.
“Considering I just spent the night hiding in a cave from an assassin, after watching an FBI agent get stabbed to death in front of me, yes sir, I am.”
“I heard about your situation,” he states grimly. “And I’m certainly enjoying, and I say that sarcastically, the unnerving need for security myself, which is why I returned your call promptly. Go on.”
“Thank you, your honor. Our star witness is Adrian Mack, otherwise known as Adrian Ramos.”
“Who I now understand has an arrest warrant in Chicago.”
“Which is ridiculous,” I say, barely taming the lift of my voice. “He’s never even been to Chicago. This is a ploy by Waters to get him into a jail cell and kill him.”
“Waters, who is in jail.”
“Waters ordered that hit on me last night,” I say, “which I know since the hitman told me. And,” I add, “I might point out that even if Adrian lives to testify, Waters will be hunting him, if not directly, then through his people, for the rest of his life. We’ve lost witnesses, witnesses who were murdered, which is why I’m asking for permission to take his deposition now. If anything happens to him, we need his testimony on file.”
“A fair request the defense will argue against, but I assume you’re ready for that confrontation.”
“It’s expected and yes, I am. I don’t want him to testify in open court on camera, your honor.”
“I’m certain the defense will have an issue with that as well.”
“As I stated, I’m willing to argue my points formally.”
“I’ll authorize the deposition and inform the defense. No argument is needed. But that’s to secure his testimony to be used if something happens to him. It’s not a replacement for him taking the stand under oath in front of a jury. We’ll schedule a Zoom meeting to argue that topic with defense, as I’m not prepared to see any of us dead on arrival to a meeting.”
“Yes but—”
“We’ll discuss with the defense.”
My lips purse. “I’d like to take the deposition sooner than later. Our witness needs to be able to disappear and stay alive. As for open court, I’m open to arguments as early as this evening.”
“Understood. Let’s be clear, counselor, if he gives deposition and disappears, I may well thro
w out his testimony. I have not ruled yet on his dismissal from open court testimony. Am I clear?”
“Quite,” I assure him.
“And I assume all of this means your witness is prepared to turn himself into the Chicago authorities?”
“He doesn’t have a death wish, so no, I don’t suspect he’ll be turning himself in and I’m frankly hoping he doesn’t change his mind.”
“Are you telling me that you’re harboring a fugitive, counselor?”
There’s something in his tone that tells me he’s going through the motions, covering his ass and mine. I offer us both said coverage. “I don’t know where he is, though I have talked to him, but he contacts me. The depositions will need to be done via Zoom.”
He’s quiet, one second, two. “What else?”
I steel myself for a bad reaction and say, “I need to come clean on something.”
“Is that right? Well, I’m all ears and listening.”
“Adrian Mack saved my life at least twice now. I’ve developed a personal relationship with him. I’m hoping that won’t be a problem.”
“But you don’t know where he is?”
“I was with him when I was attacked before either of us knew about the warrant. We were both attacked, but no, at this very moment, I do not know where he’s at.” It’s the truth, I think. I mean, for all I know he’s left the house.
“That’s unexpected. I’ll have to confer with the defense.”
“They know. Waters knows. And he knows because his assassin was watching us. Consequently, I’m more of a target now because Adrian cares about me. Waters wants to hurt him hard and personally.”
“I would think that would be a reason for you to want off this case.”
“I would respectfully suggest that since I’m already a target, and I will remain a target on or off the case, that it makes sense for me to lead this war. Why delay the trial by replacing me when that just puts another life on the line? Not to mention that a delay allows Waters more time to arrange the untimely death of yet another witness and ensures that you, your honor, must continue to watch your back, quite indefinitely.”
“Points well made. What does the DA say and why isn’t he on this call?”
“He’s presently settling into a safe house. We have reason to believe he’s a prime target. A dead DA or—pardon me—judge, would certainly delay the trial, and really truly, who would want to start it all over again?”
He’s quiet so long I start to fear we’ve been disconnected. And then he says, “You can stay on the case unless I see this personal relationship affect your performance. Now, again, what else?”
Relief washes over me. “That’s it, your honor. I’ll stand by for more arguments on Adrian’s in-person testimony.”
“Forthcoming,” he assures me and disconnects.
I dial Ed and it goes to voicemail. Of course, it does. Waters got to him. I can almost taste it in the air. Thank God Waters hasn’t gotten to the judge. My father is another story. I inhale and decide I’ve done everything but ask Blake where my father is right now. Almost as if some part of me doesn’t want to know.
It’s time, past time I find out and face the truth.
My stomach knots, but I stand up and head for the door. Once I’m upstairs, I find Blake at the endcap of the island with Adam in Lucifer’s spot and Adrian facing me as I approach. Savage and Lucifer are missing. All three men stop speaking upon my approach while Adrian tracks my every step, his gaze sliding over my work attire—no, over my body. I halt opposite him and the moment my eyes meet his, I know my answer about my father. I know what’s coming. “Tell me,” I order softly.
He motions to the sliding glass door. “No,” I say. “Thank you for trying to soften this blow, but just tell me.”
“You know what I’m going to tell you, sweetheart,” Adrian says softly.
“My father’s in Chicago.”
“In Houston, with a friend who’s connected to everyone involved in the Chicago warrant,” he supplies.
“I see,” I say, letting that seep in, ice that burns. “Does he know he’s involved with Waters?” I hold up a hand. “That’s a stupid question for ten reasons, spoken by a daughter who doesn’t want her father to be the asshole he is.” I move on. “Okay. So, my family is involved. No wonder they wanted me off this case and didn’t seek protection. Before we go further with that. The judge agreed to you giving your deposition via Zoom and he knows about us and he’s approved me remaining on the case.” I glance at Blake and then back to Adrian. “I’m still working on closed-door testimony.”
“When is the deposition?” Adrian asks.
“I’d like to say immediately, but I’m sure the defense will argue against it, stall, and drag this out. And, of course, you don’t have an immunity agreement. For that reason, I want you to talk to your attorney and of course, have her present for my questioning. If you’re in agreement?”
“I am,” Adrian states.
“Good. Now that we’re past all that, how do we use me to end Waters once and for all?” My eyes meet Adrian’s. “And don’t tell me you won’t use me. All the other people before us. We agreed.” My cellphone rings on the island where I’ve sat it. I glance down and frown before my gaze lifts to Adrian’s. “It’s my father.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
ADRIAN
Pri stares at her phone and I watch her perfect ivory skin, then flushes with pink. Her lips, also pink and glossy, press together as she decisively declines her father’s call.
“Since I just made my relationship with you official to the judge,” she says, her gaze lifting and finding mine. “I’d gamble and say my father just found out about us. Since we know Waters and his attorney already knew, I’d like to think that means he wasn’t in the know for at least some things. For instance, the fact that Waters sent Deleon to kill us both last night.” She draws a deep breath and inhales as she adds, “But I’m not going to guarantee it.”
“You are not your father,” I remind her softly, speaking to her concerns spoken in the bedroom, on the topic of her father’s involvement with Waters.
“If your father just found out, Pri,” Adam says, “are we thinking the judge is dirty? You did just tell him about you and Adrian.”
“I don’t get that impression at all,” Pri replies, shifting her attention to Adam. “Quite the opposite, but I don’t want to go down a rabbit hole of speculation. I wanted to wait to talk to my father until I talked to my mother, but I’ll call him back and find out what he wants.” She grabs her phone, punches the callback, listens a minute, and quickly says, “Voicemail, so we’re back to speculation.”
“And the judge,” Adam replays.
“I’m on team Pri on the assessment of the judge,” Blake says. “I don’t believe he’s compromised. He called the man I recommended for his protection, who is now in place. If he wasn’t fearful for his life, I don’t think he’d have hired him. If he needed privacy to work against the prosecution, I don’t think he’d have hired him. And,” he adds, “his electronic fingerprint thus far is clean.”
“Then someone close to him has a big mouth,” I assume. “Is that loudmouth a safety issue for the judge?”
“I’ve already alerted his security team,” Blake replies.
“The judge called Waters’ attorney,” Pri says. “I’m sure of it.”
“They already knew about us,” I point out.
“Yes, but I don’t believe my father did or I’d have heard from him,” Pri counters. “The judge would have called the defense by now. I’d assume they felt they had to tell my father. Or maybe nothing we just talked about for ten minutes is accurate. My father was calling for another reason.” She tries his number again with the same results. “Voicemail yet again,” she announces, but this time there’s a hint of relief in her, almost as if she’d hoped he wouldn’t answer. She sets her phone down. “Moving on,” she says, and her energy is jagged glass fa
lling in shards around her as she glances between me and Blake and asks, “What does the FBI say about Pitt?”
“We’re in contact and there’s some chatter about him being dirty,” he says, “but I find that hard to believe, considering he’s dead.” He glances at me. “What do you think?”
“I think Pitt was the only person who knew how to contact me while I was in hiding,” I reply. “He has a whole lot of family that could be threatened. And he did surveillance on me and my brother’s undercover operation. Maybe he heard my brother reference the cabin or even saw him go there. That’s one option I hadn’t considered. My brother went there while he was a Devil. And no one dealing with a Devil is ever safe, no matter what deal they’ve made.”
“Including my family,” Pri surmises. “I think I need to go by the office and keep the attention on me and Adrian, not my staff, thus my attire. Then I’d like to have dinner with my mother. However, I’d like opinions, please, from the people helping me navigate this while still breathing.” She gives me a pointed look. “And before you reply,” she adds softly, “everyone else before us. We agreed. Remember that.”
I’m not sure I ever agreed to put her safety anywhere but at the top of my list, but I can feel her need to act, to do something, anything to make a difference. That need claws at her in a way that’s all too familiar. “What do you believe you can get out of the meeting with your mother?” I ask.
Her reply is thoughtful and immediate. “The truly honest answer here is that she’s my mother. I think I need to see her for some peace of my mind and I’m not even sure what that means. And outside of that, I hope for answers. She’s no saint, but she’s not my father or Logan.” Her brows dip. “Actually, I sensed an urgency in her, almost fear. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but right now, thinking about the call, I think yes, there was fear. Maybe she wants to warn me and with that warning comes critical information. Or maybe she needs help. I just don’t know. The truth is, she could be afraid I’m screwing up her financial security.”
There is bitterness and pain inside her words, layered beneath the logic and intelligence. Her family is not the loving shelter families should be, and despite all my trouble with my brother, I don’t understand it. My family was a good family. Alex was an anomaly, troubled, and volatile.
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