Barbarian (Jericho’s Boys #3)

19. Mal

Once they were alone, Mal grabbed his phone and pulled up Calliope’s number. “I think it’s time we did some digging into Jason and Frankie.”

Nico eyed him with trepidation but nodded. Mal hit the call button then put it on speakerphone.

It took three rings before a voice chirped, “What’s up, my adorable dancing dumpling?”

Mal felt his face heat up as Nico bit his lip to hold back his laughter. “Morning, Calliope.”

“Are you calling to check on Casey?” she asked.

Guilt lanced through him. He had only called to check on her once since she went with Calliope and Lola. He’d been so caught up in trying to find Amy and trying to navigate Nico’s anxiety, he hadn’t really checked on her at all. He was an asshole. “I know you’re taking good care of her. Is she around?”

“She’s out back with Lola. She’s having a blast playing with Buffy, Willow, Giles, and Xander.”

“Who?” Nico blurted.

“Oh, hi, Nico. Those are our goats,” Calliope said.

Mal and Nico exchanged confused looks. Calliope owning goats was no less confusing than Thomas being friends with the head of a crime family. Mal had met Calliope. She looked much younger than her actual age. She had the same dark hair and light eyes as her son, Dimitri. But Nico said that, up until Thomas and Aiden got together, nobody had any idea what Calliope looked like. They hadn’t even believed Calliope was her real name. Mal supposed it wasn’t weird to find a tech nerd who wanted to live completely off the grid…but goats?

“You…have goats?” Nico asked, clearly on the same page as Mal.

“Yes,” she said, as if the answer should have been obvious.

Nico blinked several times, like he was processing this new data. “ Why do you have goats?”

Calliope scoffed. “The chickens were lonely, obvi.”

“Oh, right. Of course, how stupid of me,” Nico deadpanned.

“What are your chickens’ names?” Mal asked, suddenly desperate to know.

“Bang Chan, Hyunjin, Changbin, Han, LeeKnow, IN, Seungmin, and Felix,” she rattled off, like these were all perfectly normal names for chickens.

Those names sounded weirdly familiar. How did he know those names?

“You named your chickens after Stray Kids ?” Nico asked.

Oh, that made sense. Calliope shared Shiloh and Ever’s love of K-Pop. Shiloh had pictures, posters, trading cards, and DVDs scattered all over their bedroom. Levi said he’d probably be jealous if they weren’t all so hot and so unattainable.

“Does Ever know?” Nico continued. “He’d go crazy. He’d probably beg Arsen to buy him chickens, too.”

“More importantly,” Mal cut in, “does Felix know he shares a name with one of your chickens?”

Calliope’s responding laugh was borderline diabolical. “No, I’m saving it as a surprise.”

“So, do you live on a…farm?” Nico asked. “I thought you lived in the city.”

“God no. Just outside it. And it’s not a farm so much as a homestead. Lola and I prefer to be self-sustaining…just in case.”

Nico shot a startled glance at Mal. “Just in case of what?”

“The world is a chaotic and unpredictable place. You never know what could happen. We like to be prepared,” she said, sounding both vague and ominous.

Nico frowned at the phone. “You’re not, like…bunker people, are you?”

“Bunker people?” Calliope repeated, her amusement obvious.

“Yeah. Or one of those doomsday preppers?”

Calliope ignored him, promptly changing the subject. “Can I help you two with something since it seems you’re not simply calling to check on Casey?”

“We need some information, please?” Mal asked.

There was a sound like she’d clapped her hands together. “Of course, ask and ye shall receive, my lovelies. How may I assist you?”

“We need information on Jason and Frankie Zhao, given names Zhao Jun and Zhao Feng,” Mal said.

There was a squeak like a protesting hinge and then the delicious sound of fingers tapping rapid-fire across a creamy keyboard. Finally, she said, “Hmm, let’s see. Zhao Jun, born May 6th, 1995 in the Yuen Long District. Arrived in the U.S. approximately seven months ago, lives in a condo in Wellington Heights.”

“A condo? Really?” Nico asked, face scrunching.

“Why? Is that weird?” Calliope asked.

“I don’t know. Just vicious gang members living in condos is…off-putting,” Nico muttered.

“BTK lived in a subdivision. Even serial killers have to live somewhere,” Calliope chirped.

“I guess,” Nico said, sounding deflated.

More typing ensued before Calliope spoke again. “Feng Zhao, born November 15th, 1997 in the Yuen Long District as well. Also arrived in the U.S. at approximately the same time as his brother. Zhao Feng lives—” She cut herself off to bark out a surprised laugh. “Uh, he lives in the high-rise directly across from Freckles and Jericho. Not the penthouse, though.”

“Odd coincidence,” Mal said.

“It looks like they both lived in New York for several years as children while their father ran a factory in the fabric district. The family moved back to Hong Kong when the two were teens.” More typing. “No, wait…this is interesting…”

She fell silent then.

“Uh, care to share with the class?” Nico asked after a bit.

“You’re worse than Atticus,” she clucked. “So impatient. I was reading. Apparently, their father did not go back with them. In fact, he never went back at all. He died in Attica in 2019.”

“Attica? That’s a maximum security prison. What did they convict him of? It clearly wasn’t a white collar crime,” Mal said.

“Aggravated murder,” Calliope answered.

“Is that worse than just plain old murder?” Nico asked, glancing over at Mal.

Mal nodded. “Aggravated murder is when the crime is particularly heinous.”

“Like Law & Order: SVU heinous?” Nico asked.

“Not always,” Mal said. “If the victim was a police officer or judge or something. Or if it’s a kid. Or if they killed someone to intimidate or terrorize a witness into, say, not testifying. Things like that.”

Nico shook his head. “Your brain is like a cursed library—every book is there, but half of them are bound in human skin.”

Mal grinned at him. He wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, but he chose to take it as one anyway. Nico wasn’t wrong. Sometimes, it was actually exhausting. Nobody should have access to this much knowledge all the time.

“I’m trying to look for more details,” Calliope said over her typing.

“I guess if they’re part of the GTB, it wouldn’t be strange if their father was also part of that gang or the Red Lotus Clan. It is kind of a family legacy thing,” Mal mused. “Maybe he was some kind of enforcer and killed a witness or a cop or prosecutor? The factory could have just been a cover?”

“Got it,” Calliope cried, like she was yelling “Bingo!” at the nursing home. Her excitement seemed to die just as quickly. “Oh, Jesus. This is definitely not gang related. He apparently strangled his pregnant teen mistress and then tossed her body on her parent’s porch. He was sentenced to life in prison for extenuating circumstances.”

“Wow,” Nico said. “He seems nice.”

Mal’s lip curled at that information. “Guess we know where Frankie gets his psycho tendencies from. Can you shoot us their addresses?”

“Already done,” she said. “Anything else?”

“Don’t suppose you know how to hack their security so we can snoop around without tripping any alarms?” Mal asked.

Calliope gasped dramatically. “You doubt me? Of course, I can. But why not just go talk to them? You have the Dai Lo’s permission.”

“I just want to have a look around their places first and then we talk to them. Maybe we’ll find something that will give us the upper hand,” Mal said.

“Suit yourself,” Calliope chirped. “I’ll be on standby should you need me.”

Nico looked at Mal. “How do we know if they’re home? It’s not like we have time to do any recon.”

“Luckily for you, it seems both Frankie and Jason have phones that are trackable,” Calliope cut in. “Which probably means they also carry burner phones for their less seemly activities.”

“That’s helpful,” Nico said.

“Mm,” Calliope agreed. “Jason is currently at a restaurant in the Pearl River District. Frankie is…at the gym.”

“Can you send us—” Nico started.

“Already done, Pop Tarts. Already done.”

“Thank you, Calliope,” Nico said in a sing-song voice.

They didn’t even need Calliope’s help breaking into Jason’s place. He left the back door unlocked and his alarm deactivated. They slipped off their shoes so as not to track any muddy shoe prints onto his tile, then entered through the sliding glass door. Inside was silent. Not so much as a squeaky ceiling fan. Mal hadn’t expected to find a smoking gun or anything, but Jason’s condo looked…sterile.

“This almost feels insulting,” Nico said in a stage-whisper. “Like, imagine being a career criminal and still being cocky enough to leave your door open and your alarm off. It’s like you want someone to break into your house. You know?”

Mal huffed out a laugh. “Are you saying he was asking for it, Fidget?”

Nico shrugged.

They split at the door, Nico heading upstairs and Mal sticking with the lower floor. There was a stack of bills on the counter and several suspiciously old takeout containers in the fridge, but other than that, it was clean. Like hotel room levels of cleanliness. Maybe he had a housekeeper?

The whole place was…beige. There was no personality to it at all. No pictures, no paintings, not even a magazine on the coffee table. Maybe Jason spent too much time chasing after his brother to bother making a home there?

Mal was almost positive that Leo was the rat and Jason was the ox. That left Frankie as the pig. It fit. But that didn’t mean Jason was squeaky clean. There were no innocents in this scenario. The idea of having to hand over Frankie to the Dai Lo made Mal’s skin feel too tight. Didn’t they deserve to punish them? Amy was the offended party. Shouldn’t it be her choice?

Mal shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He checked every closet and cabinet, half-hoping he’d find something to give them any indication of what had happened to Amy and half-afraid whatever he found might confirm some grim outcome. He had no reason to suspect Jason of anything other than enabling his brother, but the overwhelming quiet of the place set his teeth on edge.

He thought about their apartment. It was hard to fit a lot of personality into a shoebox-size place, but Shiloh had tried. They had throw pillows on the couch and their kitchen canisters matched. They had scented candles and pictures of themselves and their friends strewn about the place. Mal and Nico’s room was filled with shelves full of anime and manga, while Shiloh and Levi’s was full of K-pop and vintage video games. It looked like someone lived there.

This place just looked like a really boring AirBnB.

Mal returned to the stack of bills. Water bill. Electric bill. Junk mail. Election stuff.

Nico bounded down the stairs two at a time. “This guy is a dud. Minimal products in his bathroom, only the essentials in his closet. Major snoozefest. Maybe we should have started with the murdery brother? He’s way more likely to be our bad guy anyway.”

They were on the same page about that at least.

“Maybe he just didn’t want to get too comfortable?” Mal posited. “The Dai Lo did say that they weren’t supposed to stay long. And Lisa said Jason and Frankie only came for Leo’s sake. It’s not that weird that he might pack light.”

“Did you find anything?” Nico asked, opening cabinets in the kitchen.

He was about to say no when he saw it. A Visa bill. “Uh, he has a credit card statement. Should I open it?”

“Yeah, maybe he charged something that could help.” Nico moved closer. “It’s kind of fucked that he can get a credit card after being here for six months, but I can’t get one living here my entire life.”

Mal huffed a laugh. “That’s because credit card companies only care about dollar signs. Being a gangster pays better than being a full-time student.”

Nico nodded, then his eyes went wide. “Guess I won’t be that much longer. Oh, God. I’m gonna have to get a job. I won’t be able to afford college anymore.”

Mal gave his ass a sympathetic squeeze. “Well, luckily for you, that lady at the bakery loved you. Also, if there’s any benefit to being broke, it’s scholarships. But, honestly, is college really for you, Fidget? You learn better by doing.”

Nico gnawed on his lip. “Do you think she’d really give me a job?”

“Yes, in a heartbeat.”

“But maybe I shouldn’t,” he said as Mal tore open the envelope. “My blood will basically turn into syrup.”

Mal gave him a dark smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll just add a dessert clause to your rules.”

“Rules?” Nico asked, then blushed. “Oh, right.”

Suddenly, Nico looked horrified. “What’s wrong, Fidget?”

“You’re just setting me up to fail,” Nico whispered. “On purpose.”

Nico’s cheeks went pink as Mal murmured, “Precisely.”

Mal pulled the statement free from its envelope and unfolded it, scanning page after page of charges. Nico read over his shoulder.

“Damn, either this guy is into wearing women’s lingerie or he has a stable full of girlfriends. Expensive ones. Five grand at Agent Provocateur. Three grand at Kiki de Montparnasse. Holy shit. Nine grand at La Perla?” Nico cried. “Is he really blowing through this kind of money? Look at this shit. Chanel, Dior, Louis Vuitton. Kiton. Berluti. How much does this guy get paid?”

“No idea,” Mal said, shaking his head. “What do we do now?”

“Fuck it,” Nico said. “Let’s go talk to him. It’s not like he can say no.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you want me to feed you and Calliope said he’s at a restaurant in the Pearl River District,” Mal said, narrowing his eyes at his boyfriend.

Nico batted his lashes at him. “It’s your job to take care of me,” he reminded. “Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

Mal sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to win this—or any other—argument for the rest of his life. “Okay, sure. Let’s go.”

The trip took longer, but forty minutes later, they stood outside the restaurant where Jason’s phone had pinged. The name was in Chinese, which only seemed to excite Nico more. He was wiggling beside Mal like an excited puppy.

It was a small hole-in-the-wall establishment within walking distance to the market. Inside was clean but a little shoddy, like it hadn’t gotten an update since it opened. The tables were worn and the chairs appeared a bit wobbly, but it smelled incredible. Even Mal’s stomach growled. The moment they entered, Nico immediately began whining and held his stomach like he hadn’t eaten in years.

Mal rolled his eyes. “Go order something,” he said, handing over his wallet.

While Nico was at the counter, Mal wandered over to a woman in the corner, who was folding tiny little pieces of dough into crescent shapes. “We need to speak to Jason. Is he around?”

The woman stopped what she was doing, looking Mal up and down, like she was sizing him up. “Who are you?” she asked, her accent thick.

“I’m Mal.” He pointed over his shoulder. “That’s Nico. We’ve been sent by the Dai Lo to discuss something with him.”

It wasn’t exactly the truth, but at the mention of the Dai Lo, the woman jerked to her feet and bolted into the back. Mal wasn’t sure if she was going to find Jason or if she was making a run for it, so he just went to stand in line with Nico, hoping for the best. Once Nico had ordered, Mal led him to a four-person table near the window.

Nico’s food arrived just as a man emerged from the back. While the Dai Lo looked like he belonged on the cover of Vanity Fair , Jason very much looked like the villain in one of Mal’s web comics. He wore black trousers and an ugly yellow shirt with a garish black pattern on it. He had his hair pulled back in a ponytail and lots of ink, where his skin was visible. He looked…slimy, like he was trying to look intimidating.

“Jason?” Mal asked as he approached.

“Who’s asking?” Before Mal could answer, he narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you must be that mechanic’s kid.” He pointed at the numerous bruises on Mal’s face. “I see you got my message.”

Mal snorted. “You’re lucky my boss didn’t want me to send a reply.”

Jason gave him a baleful stare. “It was just a misunderstanding. We thought you had information we needed.”

“We?” Mal countered.

“Mm,” he said, noncommittal. “I’m assuming you’re here to ask me about her?”

“Yeah,” Nico said, stuffing rice and vegetables into his mouth, chewing aggressively. After a moment, he moaned, rolling his eyes, like he was experiencing something transcendent. He jabbed the chopsticks in Jason’s direction. “This food is amazing,” he said, his tone accusatory.

Jason snorted but seemed to relax a bit. “What did you want to ask that was so important you had to get Leo’s daddy involved?”

“We wanted to ask some questions about Amy,” Mal said.

“Yeah, we established that. If I knew where she was, I wouldn’t have sent my men to… ask you, would I?” he said, his tone implying they were both clearly idiots.

“That’s not what we wanted to ask about,” Mal assured him. “We heard a rumor that someone was harassing Amy a few months ago, bad enough that Leo had to step in.”

Mal wasn’t going to bring up the diary. He didn’t want to spook him into clamming up.

“Harassing?” Jason asked, tongue darting out to lick over his lower lip. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Nico said around another mouthful. “Someone was bothering her. Trying to hook up with her. She wasn’t interested.”

Jason shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything about that.”

He was lying. His carefully calculated veneer was already starting to crack. He was trying to look relaxed, but he was sweating and shifting in his seat just a little too much.

“Really? They said it was your brother who was all over her,” Mal countered.

“They?” Jason asked.

His nonchalance was making Mal homicidal.

“Yeah, our informant,” Nico said.

“They said Frankie was hitting on her?” Jason asked, as if that was completely new information.

“Yeah,” Nico said, exasperation leaking into his tone.

Jason gave another lazy shrug. “Maybe. He does love women. But I guess you two wouldn’t know anything about that, huh?”

Mal snorted at what he was sure Jason thought was a witty dig at them.

The guy was a douchebag. If he was the sane brother, Frankie must be a fucking lunatic. Mal considered dragging Jason into the back and beating him senseless. It might not get them the answers they wanted but it would make Mal feel much better. Whoever said violence never solved anything had never experienced the happiness and fulfillment one could only achieve by beating the brakes off someone who absolutely deserved it.

“They also say your brother has a temper,” Mal said, trying to keep them on task.

Jason grinned. “Do they ?” he asked. “ They sure do talk a lot. They might want to find a new line of work before they lose their tongue.”

“Psychopath was the word they used, actually,” Nico said, words dripping with sarcasm. “If that helps.”

“Frankie is just misunderstood. He…likes things done a certain way”—Jason waved a hand in the air—“and when they’re not, he can sometimes react poorly. Sometimes, even…violently,” Jason said.

The excuses rolled off Jason’s tongue so easily. It was clear he was used to covering for his brother. Mal understood that on some level. While he’d never made excuses for Micah, Shiloh had. And while Mal hadn’t cleaned up Micah’s messes, he’d hidden more than one of Shiloh’s misdeeds. The circumstances were different, but Mal understood wanting to protect family.

But that only went so far.

“Does he have those same exacting standards for the women he dates?” Mal asked.

Jason’s smile was smug. “Perhaps. But none of them have ever complained.”

“Because they didn’t want to or because they were too afraid to?” Nico countered.

“Most women think my brother is a real catch, even with his nasty temper. He takes very good care of his girls.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “You mean hush money?”

Jason snorted. “Not at all. He just likes to spoil them. If my brother really was after Amy, she fumbled the bag.”

“Are you saying Amy never had an issue with Frankie?” Nico asked, his expression letting Jason know he already thought whatever he was about to say was a lie.

“Frankie doesn’t actually have to intimidate women into dating him. If Amy rejected him, there were a dozen other women waiting to take her place.”

Mal believed it. Money and power made people overlook many, many red flags, including violence. Including manipulation. Gaslighting. Narcissism. Money dulled people’s senses, anesthetizing them to the pain.

“Did you hear of anyone else being harassed at the market? Anyone who complained about someone other than Frankie?” Nico asked.

Jason snorted. “I don’t have time to listen to a bunch of gossip. Maybe you should talk to the two men who beat you up. They’re in the trenches far more than my brother and me. There’s really not much else to say.”

Mal and Nico exchanged looks, and Mal shrugged. It was clear they weren’t going to get anything else out of Jason. At least, not with an audience.

“Fine,” Nico said. “Thanks, I guess.”

Jason smiled benevolently as he stood. “My pleasure. Make sure you tell the Dai Lo I cooperated fully,” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” Nico retorted.

Jason was almost to the back door of the restaurant when Nico called out, “Oh, and if you ever touch my boyfriend again, I’ll carve out your eyes and make you fucking eat them.”

The woman behind the counter gasped. Jason stared blankly at Nico for a solid thirty seconds before throwing his head back and laughing.

Mal bit back a smile as he heard Nico mutter, “Fucking asshole.”

“So, what now? Check out Frankie’s place, then question him?” Mal asked.

Nico sighed. “It’s not like we have any better leads. At all. It’s like she’s just vanished into thin air.”