by Geneva Lee
“Are you going to stay here?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I wish she would stop asking questions.
“London is expensive. Maybe you should return home.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” More than anything I want to be free of Valmont and my family moving forward. Right now, though, I want to hold Ellie and remind myself that I’m making the right decision. I’m sure that Ginny means well by asking me about my plans, but she has to know I haven’t had time to think about this. If I had, I would have come to this conclusion earlier and she wouldn’t be standing here with me.
“So, you’re going to stay here alone with a baby?”
“We’ll be okay.”
“If you came back, I could help you. Eventually, they’ll see reason,” she says.
“Will they?” Not for the first time I wonder if Ginny and I are living on the same planet. I don’t understand how she can write off all the ugliness she’s seen.
Another reason that I can’t trust her to raise my baby.
“I’ll make them,” she says fiercely. “You don’t have to do this alone, Adair. Bring the baby. I’ll get you an apartment. I have my own checking account. Malcolm doesn’t have to know. It will be our secret.”
“I just wait for them to change their minds?” I shake my head. I can’t see how that’s going to work.
“Look. You think you can do this, but you shouldn’t have to. You aren’t alone in the world. Plus, surely, the baby’s father is in Valmont. Was it that jerk from the wedding?” she asks.
I shrug. “Not sure. I didn’t feel like handing out a bunch of paternity test requests.”
They all think I’m a slut. I might as well lean into it.
Ginny doesn’t seem phased by this proclamation. She only nods. “If you figure it out, you can make the dad take care of you. Both of you. But only if you’re in the States.”
I start to tell her that Ellie’s father isn’t there either. That he won’t be around to help me or take care of his daughter, even if he wanted to be. But it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.
“Just think about it,” Ginny says, passing Ellie to me finally. I press her comforting weight to my chest and kiss her forehead.
“I will.” I won’t though, and we both know it. Ginny will go home, and I’ll stay here with Ellie. We’ll all be okay—somehow.
“Adair, there’s something you should know. Something they aren’t telling you.” She bites her lip as though she’s having second thoughts about telling me herself. “I really shouldn’t. Malcolm made me promise not to say anything. He said it might change your mind, but that hardly matters now.”
The pit in my stomach opens up again. “What is it?”
“It’s your father,” she says in a soft voice. “He’s dying.”
I open my eyes as the memory fades and stare at my brother.
“You really hate us that much?” he repeats.
The answer comes easily after remembering every reason behind it. “Yes.”
18
Sterling
“Noah, it’s Sterling,” I say as soon as the line connects. There’s no time to waste with pleasantries. Each second lost could cost me. “We need to talk.”
“Is that so? How’s the life of crime?” Noah doesn’t sound like an FBI agent. He never sounded like a military man, either. Instead, he’s always reminded me of an exasperated parent. Maybe that’s why he annoyed me during training. That annoyance shifted to hatred after what happened in Afghanistan.
“Cute. Listen, we have a mutual problem. Let’s solve it together.” Right now, he holds the key I desperately need to unlock the answers hidden from me. If I want to keep Sutton alive, I need to know who’s been talking to the FBI. I’m in a parking garage in downtown Nashville, somewhere even I didn’t know I’d be—until about five minutes ago. It’s probably just paranoia, I know. But that’s the thing about paranoia—it exists because it can be useful. Noah is probably somewhere in a FBI surveillance van, waiting for someone to incriminate themselves.
“It’s more your problem than mine, actually.”
“You have no idea,” I mutter. “Look Nikolai Koltsov just called me. They have Sutton.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath. Sutton herself told me Noah had tracked her down, that he liked her. I can’t blame him. It’s hard not to love someone as blatantly and unapologetically abrasive as Sutton. She just makes you want to. “I told you they were serious.”
“I believed you. I didn’t expect them to move so quickly, but apparently, they realized the FBI is in town.” I have to bite back a few choice things to say about this. Noah might have warned me, but he’s also endangered everyone I love by sticking around to stir the pot. “Your source. The one who’s informing on me and them. I need you to tell me who it is.”
“That’s a pretty big fucking ask, Ford.” Noah tries to sound pissed off, but he’s a lot less dismissive than I expected. Something about it bothers him, too.
“Yeah, yeah. Ongoing investigation. Leverage. I get all that—”
“I really don’t think you do,” Noah says. He’s as effortlessly condescending as a parent, that’s for sure. “I gave you a heads up as a courtesy. And my offer still stands. You tell me what you’ve been up to with the Koltsovs, and I can keep you alive. I can get a team down here to extract Sutton—”
“Let’s put our cards on the table,” I stop him. I just need to convince Noah my method will get him better results. In other words, I need to find something more compelling than persecuting me—not easy, but not impossible. “I know you don’t have shit, okay? If you did, you would arrest me, then use whatever you had to try to make me flip.”
“That’s a lot of assumptions—”
“Maybe, but I know you’re a decent person. You don’t like the idea of leveraging my safety just so you can do your job. And you like Sutton, you don’t want to see her get hurt.”
He’s quiet on the other end.
“This is simple math, Porter. The Koltsovs. My people. Your people. Three different groups, all caught up in something that feels off, right?” No one just gets the Russian mafia handed to them on a silver platter. Or me, for that matter. Not only am I good, I’m careful. Something doesn’t add up.
“I know the fucking players, alright?” There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, and I can hear Noah changing location. A beefy metal door slams shut, and then I register the unmistakable sound of wind blowing over his phone mic. Either he really did get out of a surveillance van, or he went out on a rooftop. “Alright, our conversation is private now.”
Something about the direction I’m taking the conversation has spooked him—enough that he couldn’t let us be overheard. Interesting.
“There’s someone we’re not accounting for,” I say.
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, but eventually he answers, “I know.”
“Someone says they have evidence that incriminates me,” I have to be careful how I discuss this. For all I know, Noah is recording everything I say. “But why give that information to you, Noah?”
“...when it would be much more valuable in extorting you. I know. I was wondering how long it would take you.”
“You’re being played. Whoever this is can't be trusted with any of this, so are you really going to risk Sutton’s life on a wild card?”
“I wish I could believe you were a team player, Sterling,” Noah chides. “That’s the whole problem. If I give you this information, you aren’t going to turn around and use it to help the FBI. You’re going to undermine the little progress we’ve made on the Koltsovs.”
“And if you were able to do something with the information, you would already have done it. Look, you trusted the wrong person before and I know you see blood on your hands. Do you really want to have Sutton’s blood on them, too?” There’s another bout of silence, and I hear what sounds like a soft sigh of resignation. I’ve almost got him. “
Whoever promised you evidence to use against me, they are in danger of fucking the Bratva. And anyone thinking of doing that can’t afford to let anyone find out. You’re never getting more. Whoever is doing this just wanted to scare me away. But that’s not happening, ever. So tell me. I’ll keep her safe. I’ll keep everyone safe. That’s all.”
“I can’t believe I’m fucking telling you.” Noah pauses, then drops his voice again. “It was an email sent to me through an anonymous remailer based in eastern Europe. The sender said they have video of you, Jack, and Luca doing business with the Koltsovs. A meeting at the Westminster Royal. Almost two years ago.”
I remember the meeting. I also remember the protocol for the meeting, which is spy-speak for all the stuff that’s done to keep away unwanted eavesdroppers. The protocols for Bratva meetings are extreme to say the least. Either Luca or Jack betrayed me, or there’s a traitor within the Bratva, or it’s a bluff and there is no video recording. There’s no other angle I can see. And then it hits me—so easy and simple I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. It’s not about someone. It’s all down to some place.
“Thanks, Noah. I owe you one.”
“Sterling?”
“Yeah?”
“I will collect. And not just for this one.” That’s the thing about Noah. He can only be manipulated so far. And he never forgets.
The Barrelhouse isn’t open yet, so I make my way to the alley entrance, which goes down a half flight of stairs to a basement space Jack is in the process of turning into a recording studio. Kai is there, struggling with bundles of fat, heavily rubberized cords.
“Fuck,” he barks, dropping his bundle of cords and shaking his hand. Then he sees me and gets an embarrassed look. “I bent a fingernail backwards.”
“I hate that,” I say, mostly because I’m not sure what else to say. I’ve never bothered to feign interest in small talk. It’s not that I don’t like Kai. Quite the opposite. He’s just been playing for Adair’s team, which placed us in the rivals category. That’s probably going to change. But today, I’m not here to talk to him.
“Jack?” I bark loudly, hoping he’ll emerge from one of the dimly lit hallways disappearing into the cavernous space beneath the Barrelhouse.
Kai takes his throbbing finger out of his mouth so he can speak. “He’s upstairs. We were trying to figure out the wiring plan for the studio.”
“This can’t wait.”
Kai takes a look around at the mess of cords, naked wiring, amps, mics and guitar stands, and heaves a heavy sigh. “Well, it wasn’t getting done in one day, anyway. I’ll just tell Jack I’m going to lunch on my way out.”
“Thanks.”
Kai disappears up the interior stairwell, into the Barrelhouse proper, and less than a minute later Jack’s feet appear on the stairs, followed by someone else.
“You need to talk about something?” Jack says, and by the time I see the pair of thousand dollar Italian leather shoes appear behind him, I know Luca has arrived, too. I called him on my way here. Apparently he was closer.
“I know who has been talking to Noah.”
“What? How the fuck did you figure that out?” Jack says.
“About time, actually.” Luca says, and when Jack gives him a disgusted look he adds, “What? I was getting bored.”
“It hit me when I called Noah—”
“You called Noah?” Luca says in disbelief. “Were you going to run that shit by us?”
“I didn’t really have a choice.” I fill them in on the situation with Sutton. By the time, I finish, Luca’s trigger finger is twitching. “So, yeah, I called Noah.”
“Why are we wasting time with him?” Luca asks. “I can have a location on Nikolai within the hour. He won’t see us coming.”
“Because I prefer my sister without bullet holes in her,” I say flatly, “and because taking out one Koltsov will only attract the attention of his brothers. I’d rather deal with the source of our problem. Finding out who’s informing means we can make the whole problem go away.”
“Sutton can take care of herself,” Luca argues.
“Not everyone I care about can,” I explode.
“Well, we can, so I assume you’re talking about Adair,” he says. “Keep a close eye on her. It’s not like she can just opt out of your life. You’ve got enemies. You’re both going to have to face that.”
His advice might mean more if that’s all there was to it. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“It always is,” Jack says, not without sympathy.
“Look, I’m just saying we have options that don’t involve—”
“I have a daughter,” I interrupt softly.
“Like a...kid?” Luca blinks rapidly. It’s rare to catch him completely off guard. In this instance, I know how he feels.
“Adair was pregnant when I left,” I confess, feeling some of the weight of this mistake lessen by telling my friends. They listen as I run them through more details. When I finally get through what happened to Adair after she found out, they’re silent.
“Wow, I can’t…” Jack sucks in a breath. Then he does something I don’t expect. He claps me on my shoulder. “Congrats, man.”
The show of affection knocks Luca out of his stupor, and he grins foolishly. “I really thought I’d be the first one to discover I had a love child.”
“We all thought that,” I mutter, managing a small grin myself.
“Look, Jack’s right. Congrats. I know what family means to you.”
“So, I guess this means you’re sticking around here?” Jack guesses.
I nod. “But it also means I have to deal with the Koltsovs once and for all. Nikolai said something I didn’t understand before. I think he knows she’s my kid. So, that really only leaves me one option: remove the threat by any means necessary.”
“But if we can’t find the source…” Luca says.
“Any means necessary,” I repeat. “If it comes down to satisfying the Koltsovs concern that I’ll talk, there’s a pretty easy way to do that.”
“You wouldn’t,” Luca says.
“Yeah, he would.” Jack shakes his head, but there’s understanding in his brown eyes. He’s always understood sacrifice better than Luca.
“We won’t let you,” Luca says like this is a done deal.
I glance at Jack and he nods almost imperceptibly. If it comes to it, I can count on him to take care of it. If I have any say, I’ll put the bullet through my own brain before I force him to, but I’ll do it to keep Ellie safe.
“So, that’s why I went to Noah. Call it my Hail Mary.”
“And you actually got him to talk?” Jack sounds impressed, which is rare.
“Yeah, but he doesn’t have any clue what’s going on. He thought it was a Bratva rival or a foreign government, I think—he was stuck on the wrong detail.”
Luca and Jack look at me uncomprehendingly, and I realize I’m going about everything the wrong way. It’s harder to keep my head clear with my sister involved. She isn’t some faceless hostage. She’s Sutton and she likes crappy cereal and bad music and snow. “Noah received an anonymous email—”
“Email can’t be truly anonymous. Data has to be physically present somewhere,” Luca interrupts.
“That’s not the important part. The email said the sender had a video recording of our meeting with the Bratva at the Westminster Royal.”
“Bullshit,” Jack says, “No one could have compromised that meeting.”
“They checked me so thoroughly for weapons and bugs, I needed a cigarette after,” Luca agrees. “They don’t fuck around with that stuff.”
“For fuck’s sake, you two. Can I just finish?”
“Sorry,” Jack mumbles.
“So sensitive,” trails Luca under his breath, but his sarcasm is lacking its usual sparkle. We’re all worried about Sutton.
“It’s all connected. I didn’t see it before, because I’ve been working with half the information. Adair and I were talking a
nd she made it sound like she tried to reach me after I left. Called Francie, even. But I gave a note for her to my roommate, explaining things. She didn’t get it.”
“Okay,” Jack says, “but what does that have to do with any of this?”
“Everything, and if I’m right, this isn’t going to just be about getting the Bratva off my back. It’s going to nail the bastard responsible for all of this to the wall. My old roommate? His name is Cyrus...Eaton.”
Jack and Luca get there at exactly the same moment, and when they realize how simple the answer is they turn to look at each other in disbelief.
“Eaton hotels. Our meeting with the Bratva was at the Westminster Royal—”
“An Eaton Hotel,” Luca says, humming the jingle used at the end of all the company’s television advertising.
“We didn’t see it because we never thought what happened five years ago—before we even met—could be connected to our trouble with Noah.”
“And why would we?” Jack says, whistling. “Your old roommate is in a lot of trouble.”
“It’ll be done by tomorrow morning,” Luca says, and Jack and I turn to find him screwing a silencer onto the pistol he keeps tucked into his shoulder holster.
“Woah, Luca. Pump the brakes,” says Jack.
“Why? Has anyone ever needed killing more than this guy?” Luca responds like we just told him two plus two is five. “Does he even know how dangerous it is to spy on the Koltsovs? What they’d do to him? It’ll be a mercy.”
“You’re not thinking big enough,” I tell Luca. “I didn’t at first, either. But the recording was made about two years ago, right?”
“So?”
“So it was sent to Noah last month.”
“Which means this Cyrus fucker sat on it for nearly two years—until you showed up in his life again.” Luca’s brow furrows.
“Yeah,” Jack gives me a glance that says I’ll take it from here before continuing, “Which means Eaton Hotels have been gathering information about their guests for years.”