Barbarian (Jericho’s Boys #3)

22. Nico

It was dark by the time they left Frankie’s. Nico’s head was spinning with all this new information they’d been bombarded with. Before sitting down with Jason and Frankie, Nico couldn’t imagine anyone other than Frankie as ‘the pig.’ But sitting down with both of them, it was hard to understand how any of them were fooled. There was something so slick about Jason, like an…eel.

They stood on the rain-soaked streets just outside Frankie’s apartment. The air outside was thick, the scent of petrichor and motor oil surrounding them. The sound of tires on the wet pavement made Nico want to take Mal’s hand and just walk home in the rain. It had stopped for the moment, but the night sky was still overwhelmed with heavy black storm clouds waiting to burst.

“What do we do now?” Nico asked.

Mal gave a heavy sigh, wrapping his arms around him from behind, letting Nico lean against him. “We could question Leo, but I can’t imagine he’d have the brains or the guts to be in on this with Jason. At dinner, he looked like he didn’t know what day it was, much less where Amy might be.”

Nico nodded, resting his head on Mal’s shoulder. “Yeah, he looked pretty strung out, but I don’t think he’d help Jason halt production just so he could get his dick wet.”

Mal rocked Nico in his arms, partially throwing him off-balance just to catch his weight before he tipped over. “Push the button for the crosswalk, Fidget.”

Mal leaned Nico forward enough for him to reach the button, then pulled him back against him. Nico huffed out an exasperated sound, but he secretly loved when Mal clung to him like this. And Mal knew it.

“He probably thinks Amy ran away after Jason forced her to—whatever they were doing together? Sleeping together seems like a wildly inaccurate description for blackmailing someone into sex,” Mal said.

“Rape. The word you’re looking for is rape,” Nico said, quietly seething as he thought of how helpless Amy must have felt in that moment. “Or maybe even coercion?”

Nico ached for Amy. She had tried to turn to Leo for help and all he’d done was push her to accept Jason’s advances. Nico knew what it was like to be forced. He knew what it was like to feel like he had no way out. While his mother hadn’t blatantly sold him to men for money like Naomi had Levi, she hadn’t protected him from all the men she’d brought home either.

He knew what it felt like to live with that broken, defeated feeling that came from…giving in. But at least Amy had tried to leave something behind to point them to her assailant. They’d just almost missed it.

His stomach churned at that as he turned in Mal’s arms. “Jason’s definitely our guy. He has to be. In the end, Amy really did sort of leave a note that said, ‘In case I disappear, X did it.’”

Mal’s mouth formed a flat line. “She just left us to solve for X.”

Nico huffed out a breath through his nose. “Not to victim-blame, but it was a bad plan. Most people suck at math.”

“It was hardly The DaVinci Code, ” Mal said, kissing Nico’s forehead when he glowered at him. “Math’s just not your strong suit, baby. That’s okay. You have plenty of other amazing gifts.”

“Do any of them take place outside of bed?” Nico sulked.

“That’s an unfair question, Fidget,” Mal said, kissing his nose.

Nico glowered at him. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re so good in bed, it just overshadows everything else,” Mal countered.

“You’re lying,” Nico pouted. “And you’re mean.”

Mal gave him a dirty smile. “You love it.”

“We still have no idea where she is or if she’s even alive,” Nico said. “I feel like we need to call in an adultier adult.”

“I know,” Mal agreed, expression grim. “Luckily for us, there’s one across the street.”

The little green man appeared, telling them to walk, and Nico let Mal guide him across the street, both of them jogging even though they had the right of way.

“What if we spooked him?” Nico asked once they were outside Jericho’s building. “What if all we did was make it worse?”

Mal didn’t answer him. “We can’t think about it like that. We have to focus on finding Amy, dead or alive. Casey deserves to know what happened to her mother.”

Nico nodded, but Mal was already looking down at his phone screen.

Jericho answered on the second ring. “‘lo?”

“Can we come over?” Mal asked, foregoing the usual pleasantries.

Nico bit his lip to hide his smile, wondering if Mal realized just how much he sounded like a little kid asking someone’s parents permission for a playdate. Of course, when Nico—who was straddling the line between twenty and thirty—thought of a parental figure, it wasn’t his mother he thought about.

It was Jericho. He’d been in Nico’s life for longer than he hadn’t. That made Jericho more of a parent than his mother ever was.

“Yeah, sure,” Jericho said. Just hearing his voice soothed something in Nico. “You know you don’t have to ask, right?”

Nico’s chest grew tight. Jericho was rarely sappy, but it must be in the air because Nico suddenly wanted to hug Jericho and also cry. What was wrong with him?

“We’ll be there in a minute,” Mal shot back.

“You think you found something?” Jericho pressed.

“We think so, yeah. But we don’t know what to do about it,” Mal said.

“That’s why you have us,” Jericho replied, then disconnected without a goodbye.

They waved at the guard as they passed. He saw them often enough to not even question their presence. Jericho, on the other hand, looked very surprised when they let themselves in barely five minutes after hanging up.

“Did you guys call from the sidewalk?” Freckles asked.

Nico turned to answer him but stopped short. Nico had really only ever seen Atticus in his business attire or pajamas, and usually, he looked kind of prickly or exhausted from running after the kids.

Seeing him standing in the kitchen in black Gemini athletic shorts and a sleeveless gray tank top that had the sides slit just like Mal’s favorite shirt had Nico’s head spinning. Nico knew Jericho was pretty shredded. He liked to box and lift weights. But he’d always expected Atticus to be…not pudgy but soft, maybe.

Freckles looked at him with concern. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Nico tore his gaze from the slit in his shirt that showed his toned sides only to come face to face with an even more jarring reveal. The front of the shirt contained two small graphics and nothing else. A pillow and a princess. Like Mal said earlier, it wasn’t The DaVinci Code .

He opened his mouth to say no but what came out instead was, “Have you always been this hot?”

Freckles looked taken aback, like Nico had just asked him to buy store bought instead of name brand. “Uh, I don’t know how to answer that.”

“I do,” Jericho said, leering at his husband with a dirty smirk on his face. “Yes, he’s always been that hot. I just don’t like anyone ogling what’s mine.”

Freckles blushed, looking anywhere but at his husband.

“Let’s sit down and stop hovering near the door,” Jericho said, waving them farther into the living room.

Mal glanced at Freckles’ shirt as he passed, lips twitching as he said, “Nice shirt.”

Freckles went pale, slowly looking down with dread. When he realized what his shirt said, his eyes went wide, his whole body flushing from pink to bright red. He yanked the shirt over his head, flipping it inside out, before shoving it back over his head like that was a perfectly normal response. It wasn’t like Freckles being a pillow princess was a shock to anyone. Jericho was and always had been a top. It was hardly a secret.

Nico whistled low. “He’s actually more cut than you, Coe.”

“But not me,” Mal said, moving closer to Nico, his face a little black storm cloud of jealousy.

Nico huffed out a laugh. “No, Bunny. Not more than you,” he soothed.

Jericho dropped onto the couch. Freckles tried to keep room for Jesus, but Jericho was having none of it, dragging his husband against him.

Nico sat in Mal’s lap, which he was realizing was where he’d always sat.

Once settled, Jericho said, “Explain everything.”

So, they did. It took about half an hour to recount everything they’d learned, but when they finished Jericho said, “I agree he’s your guy.”

Something unknotted inside Nico, but it didn’t really change their current predicament. “So, how do we find him? There’s no way he had her in the condo. Ever. It’s too pristine.”

“Unless he killed her somewhere else and dumped her body in the woods or a lake or…literally anywhere else,” Freckles said.

Nico’s stomach sloshed at the thought.

“For now, we have to operate on the assumption that she’s still alive,” Jericho said.

“Coe’s right,” Nico agreed. “But we have a clock ticking down over our heads. Jason is unpredictable and he has to know we’re onto him by now, even if Frankie keeps his mouth shut. If Amy’s still alive, she’s just become a huge liability.”

“If you were gonna hold someone hostage, you wouldn’t do it in a condo where you share a wall with your neighbors,” Freckles pointed out. “It’s too risky. She could scream, get free. There are too many variables to control. Jason sounds unhinged but not stupid. Unlike that Leo kid.”

“True, but the average person doesn’t have a murder cabin in the middle of the woods,” Jericho mused.

“But Jason’s not the average person,” Nico countered.

Jericho looked at him pointedly. “Did you check to see if Jason has his own version of a murder cabin?”

Nico snorted. “I’m flattered you think I’m smart enough to know how to do that. But I don’t.”

Jericho chuckled. “Then allow me to show you.”

He pulled his phone free and hit a few buttons.

“Why Jericho Mulvaney, as I live and breathe,” Calliope said in a horrible imitation of a southern accent. “To what do I owe this pleasure so late in the evening?”

“I need you to look into something for me, if you can?” he said.

“Sure. What’s up, buttercup?” she asked.

“Mal and Nico are here with me and we’re trying to track down some real estate,” Jericho explained.

There was the sound of covers rustling and a groggy voice mumbling something. They heard Calliope say, “It’s nothing, baby. Sleep.” She could only have been talking to Lola. They listened as she walked through the house, then to her chair squeaking and a computer powering up. “Hit me. Whatcha got?”

“Does Jason Zhao own property outside of the condo he lives in?” Jericho asked.

“Or Frankie,” Nico called. When Jericho frowned, he continued, “Jason has a tendency to throw Frankie under the bus. It stands to reason, he’d use his brother’s name to buy something if he planned to use it in a crime.”

“Good thinking,” Jericho said.

They listened to Calliope hum as she typed away. “Mmmm…negative. They don’t even own the places they’re currently residing in. They don’t have any assets here in the States.”

“No cars, no nothing?” Nico asked.

“Everything is owned by a holding company,” Calliope explained. “Crimson Petal Investments.”

Mal snorted a laugh. When Jericho’s brow furrowed, Mal said, “Crimson Petal? Red Lotus? Clearly, they’re using the gang’s assets while they’re here.”

“Why would a gang buy up property in the U.S.?” Nico asked.

“Lots of reasons,” Calliope answered. “Status, investment properties, trying to get permanent residency. It’s not unusual for Chinese companies to buy here.”

“But why would the Red Lotus Clan in particular do it?” Nico asked.

Jericho shrugged. “Money laundering, legitimacy. Take your pick.”

“If their houses and cars are all owned by this Crimson company, it stands to reason that any place Jason might use as his version of a murder cabin is also owned by them, no?” Mal asked.

“It appears that way,” Calliope agreed. “But they own over forty properties just in this city alone. So, we’re going to need to narrow it down.”

“Can you just track his phone, maybe?” Mal asked suddenly. “If he’s holding Amy hostage somewhere, he’d have to go see her often enough to bring her food and make sure she’s still where he put her, right? Is there any place he goes repeatedly that’s isolated enough for whatever shit he’s doing?”

“Oh, good idea,” Calliope said. “Uh…the only addresses he frequents often are his condo, the restaurant you visited today, and the market, of course. He probably has a burner phone he takes with him when he’s visiting her. He’s a monster but, obviously, he’s not stupid.”

“Fuck. So, now what?” Mal asked, rubbing his hands over his face.

Nico’s leg began to bounce at the strain in Mal’s voice. Was he thinking the same things Nico was? Was Amy okay? Was she scared? Cold? Hungry? Hurt? Was she now fighting for her life because they’d poked at Jason without knowing the whole story?

Mal would be devastated if he had to tell Casey her mother was dead. He might not feel things for strangers, but when it came to those he cared about, Mal was fiercely protective.

Fuck. He couldn’t worry about what ifs.

They were going to figure this out.

Tonight.

Now.

“Jason doesn’t seem like the wilderness type,” Nico said. “If Jason’s at that restaurant all the time, it probably doubles as a sweatshop. If that’s the case, then he’s pretty hands on. He won’t want to venture far.”

Mal looked at the phone. “It will probably be some place freestanding.”

“That narrows it down some, but I need more,” Calliope said.

“It will most likely be residential, not commercial,” Jericho added.

Mal frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“There are a lot of cameras and potential foot traffic in commercial areas. Even down by the port. Even at night. It would be hard for him to get in and out unseen. He’s gonna want privacy.”

“That’s true. He’s got to keep up his choir boy appearance,” Nico muttered.

“Well, that leaves us with twelve houses that are close enough for Jason to visit often but also have enough distance to give him privacy,” Calliope said.

“Twelve?” Nico gave a groan of frustration. “How do we choose? If we choose wrong, Amy could be dead.”

“Hang on,” Calliope said. “Let…me look at…something,” she said, distracted as she typed furiously. “Ah-ha!” she cried. “Lucky for you, it appears only one of those twelve places is currently sitting empty. The others all show renters.”

“Can you—” Jericho started.

“Sent,” she said, cutting him off. “Don’t try to be cowboys. Be safe.”

Nico looked at Jericho as he disconnected the call. “We’re going tonight, right?”

Jericho didn’t answer right away.

“The smarter play is to go in the morning,” Freckles said, his tone implying that they would most likely not be doing the smarter thing.

“But we have the element of surprise tonight,” Mal said. “Jason still thinks we suspect Frankie, and Frankie said he had no plans to tell him otherwise. If we wait too long, we might be too late.”

Jericho nodded, scrubbing his hands over his face just like Mal had. “I know. I know, you’re right.” To Freckles, he said, “Call your brothers. See if one or two are available just to keep watch in case things go south. If not, we’ll wing it.”

“We?” Freckles asked, mouth a flat line of disapproval.

“Well, I’m not sending them in alone, and one of us has to stay here with the littles. Do you want to go kill bad guys or stay home curled up in bed where the only emergency you’re likely to face is one of the bathroom variety?” Jericho asked, giving his husband a knowing look.

Freckles deflated. “Yeah, fine. Whatever.” He poked Jericho in the chest. “Don’t you dare get hurt.”

“Aw, you worried about me, Freckles?” he teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Freckles pulled back, giving Jericho a saccharine sweet smile. “If you die, I’m gonna marry Kendra and let the kids call her Mom.”

Jericho’s mouth fell open. Freckles’ expression grew smug, but only until Jericho leaned in close. Nico flushed as he heard him whisper, “We’ll see how tough you are when it’s just the two of us later.”

Freckles’ eyes went all hazy. Jericho kissed his slack lips, then jerked to his feet. “Let’s get this show on the road. I want to be home to have breakfast with my boys.”

Nico’s gaze floated to Mal, who was looking at him like he was reading his mind. Like he knew just how badly Nico wanted what Jericho and Freckles had. Maybe he did. Mal always seemed to know him better than he knew himself. He’d seen past all Nico’s bullshit and posturing. He’d easily hurdled all of his defenses.

Mal gave him a small smile that Nico easily returned. Was he allowed to have this? Was he allowed to be happy? Could he trust that life wouldn’t pull the rug out from under him just because he didn’t have all the answers?