Chapter 68
Ford
“Tell me I’m not the greatest friend the two of you have ever had.”
I roll my eyes, attempting to hide my smile behind amber liquid. “It’s hard to know how to answer that, considering I still have no idea what the hell you did or didn’t do.”
Drake’s smirk shifts into a grin. “Killed Mrs. Crawford’s would-be assassin.”
He holds out his phone, and I take it as Gen presses herself to my side to see the picture of a man with a bullet hole in his forehead.
“Andrei Terasov. According to the bank records I just hacked—” Drake stops, interrupting himself. “Technically, it was Nick in cyber, but whatever. Terasov received fifty thousand dollars this morning from a Swiss bank account.”
Gen sighs, rubbing at her temples. “I think I can guess who that Swiss bank account belongs to.”
“I told you, I’m a great friend.” Drake winks. He has a charm about him that’s completely disarming, putting people at ease, which I find to be true as Gen’s shoulders drop a fraction.
“York is going to be pissed when he finds out you killed his hitman,” my wife remarks, moving back to the bar to make a second martini. The ice in the shaker clinks against the metal as she stirs the cocktail. “So, what the fuck happened at the café?”
“I trust you, but I don’t trust Percy York,” I explain when she joins us once more. “Drake and I decided to have eyes on your meeting. Well, I had my attention on you, and Drake watched your surroundings. I think that bullet was meant for you and the fact that Elliott Leplee is alive is a—”
“Wait, Elliott is alive?”
Drake pipes up then. “According to the spokesperson for Homeland Security, yes. The cell phone inside his breast pocket saved his life. He’s expected to recover.”
Relief floods my system, followed swiftly by guilt. He wouldn’t have gotten shot if it hadn’t been for me.
“York has to pay for this.” But I’m not leaving it up to the government to make sure he goes down through the proper channels of prosecution. Instead, I’m going to do what I should’ve done all along.
“I don’t like that expression you’re wearing,” Drake remarks, giving her a sideways glance before flicking his eyes to me.
“What did you have in mind, doll?” I know I’m going to hate this plan even before she spells it out though.
Drake shakes his head and thrusts his hands into his hair. “I think I’m going to need a beer before I’m talked into something else idiotic.”
He moves to the kitchen as I step forward. “Gen, what the fuck do you have in mind here?”
She swallows a large gulp of her cocktail before announcing, “I want to confront Percy York. Alone.”
Drake lifts his beer to his lips before shaking his head firmly as he stalks back into the room. “That’s a suicide mission. He’ll show up armed, and even if by some miracle, he doesn’t, he has all the leverage with your business. Plus, he owns the FBI.”
Everything Drake said is true. I frown, thinking there must be more to this.
Surely, she doesn’t think she can simply walk into the storm alone. She wouldn’t leave a meeting like that unscathed. But if she thinks she can do it, we should hear her out.
“Tell us why you think this would work and how you’ll survive that?”
“Since I got out of prison, I’ve been slowly rebuilding my client list. I’ve got nearly eighty percent back, and I can get the last few.
Especially when I tell them that I’ll release the secrets of anyone who doesn’t come back to my books.
That’s the thing I have that Percy doesn’t.
I’ve never threatened to weaponize anyone’s secrets, not until now.
“I’ll be able to handle him one-on-one. You’ve seen him in interviews and had conversations with him; you know he’s the cockiest asshole to ever walk the Earth. Men like Percy York are all the same.”
I nod, taking a sip of my scotch, resolving to discuss the finer details later. “Okay, that takes care of that small part of the plan, but what about the FBI?”
She winces, and my eyebrows furrow. When she tosses back the remainder of her martini, I brace myself for whatever she’s about to tell us.
“First, you need to understand that I didn’t put this together until I saw your scars and heard your story, but Theo Jackson is solely responsible for the death of those twelve people on your failed mission.
He’s the reason your cover was blown. I know, because he’s a client of one of my girls.
Based on the secret he submitted, I suspect he was told that he’d be protected by the Justice Department if I went down. ”
My body flashes ice cold, my shoulders stiffening and my lip curling. My grip on the crystal glass tightens, and I’m about to find out if it’s possible to shatter glass with my bare hands.
Memories pool in my mind of hitting the concrete floor, my blood pooling around me, the excruciating pain radiating through my body as I felt my life slipping away.
Heavy pressure pierced through my waning consciousness, and when I opened my eyes, my best friend’s worried face was all I saw.
Gunfire popped around us, but his sole focus was keeping me alive.
Had it not been for Drake and his contacts with the ATF, I wouldn’t be here today.
“I fucking hate that guy,” Drake explodes, verbalizing my thoughts exactly.
I thought I’d fucked up, blown my own cover, but now I know it was Jackson’s fault. He sentenced me to die.
“With everything else going on, I didn’t say anything until now because it took me a while to dig through the records to triple-check that I was right, but that’s the secret he submitted.
Plus, I had to be sure I could trust that you wouldn’t act on this revelation.
I didn’t want you to do something…reckless. ”
To her credit, she looks a little guilty, though that’s not necessary.
She didn’t want me to act on the rage simmering in my veins.
While I’m a little irritated that she left me in the dark, I understand her reasoning.
I can’t guarantee that I would’ve been able to keep myself in check, and that would’ve ruined whatever plan Genevieve was concocting.
Nothing surprises me anymore, least of all learning that Jackson’s a client of hers. What does surprise me is how deep my hatred for the man runs.
“That’s why he gave me the tip to get my foot in the door with Henry. He knew about it,” I muse aloud. “Between Henry and Jackson’s connection to you, and Percy’s link to Henry, it makes sense that they were finally able to take you down and why they had to use someone undercover to do it.”
“What do you need from us?” Drake asks, his jaw set, fists clenched, and I know he’s praying that this ends with a little retribution, too.
“Can I just say—”
“That this is a bad fucking idea?” I finish for Drake. “You already did, about eighty times.”
Drake has been bitching about how fucked up this plan is for the last four days, pretty much from the moment we started combing through every detail with Genevieve. I haven’t wanted to admit it, but I agree with him.
I haven’t slept much, and the anxiety I feel is threatening to consume me from the inside out. Even placing my trust entirely in Gen and her insistence that she can handle York on her own, there are still a dozen different ways that things could implode.
I don’t like the idea of being away from her, unable to physically shield her from harm. Without tying up the FBI thread, she’s vulnerable, so I remind myself that I’m protecting her from inside this hideous concrete building.
There’s no other way to do this. Each of our halves of the plan must be completed at the same time.
If Drake and I had shown up earlier, York likely would’ve been tipped off, and Genevieve would walk into a slaughterhouse.
If we executed this part later, York might ask for proof and there wouldn’t be any.
There are too many variables without completing our parts of the plan simultaneously.
The air is chilly as we stride down the concrete sidewalk toward the Hoover Building.
“So,” Drake begins. “I take it that this assignment taught you some shit about yourself after all?”
I snort but remain quiet, even as the corner of my mouth twitches.
He chortles. “I fucking knew it. Tell me you figured out you’re a kinky bastard?”
Kinky bastard might be putting it mildly, but it’s true. It would’ve been a shame to have lived the rest of my life without never discovering this piece of myself.
I loathe to think about what would’ve happened had I not taken that final assignment. I would’ve missed out on so much.
Instead of telling him any of that, I shrug. “Something like that.”
“Good for you, man.” He’s silent for a beat, before adding, “I’m glad you and Catfish Queen found each other again. You deserve to be happy.”
I release a heavy breath. “We all need to live through this shit first.”
The sound of our footsteps on the tile floor of the hallway echo around us as we step inside the foyer. I fucking hate it here.
I nod to the officer stationed in front of the metal detectors. He glares at me as I drop my wallet and keys into the bin and step beneath the rectangular machine. The sensors go off, though, and my pulse quickens. I’m unarmed, so I don’t know what could be causing the incessant beeping.
A second officer pulls me aside, dragging the metal detector wand over my body. Behind me, Drake makes idle conversation with the guard on duty, passing him his service weapon and badge, but I can feel his attention fixed on me.
I grind my teeth. I don’t know these officers, but since I mostly did undercover work, I wasn’t in this building often, so I don’t have a relationship with them the way Drake does.
“What seems to be the issue, Marvin?” Drake asks, stepping up to me now that he’s been cleared and his Glock and badge have been returned to him. “He’s with me.”
The wand makes a second pass over my legs and torso before the officer states, “Not sure what set the machine off, but I’ll let you in if Elwood says you’re with him.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, shoving my wallet and keys back into my pockets.
“I bet Jackson flagged you,” Drake murmurs as we wait for the elevator, and I dip my chin. Fucking figures. “Are you sure Corinne is good to go?” he asks as we step into the elevator alone.
I grunt an affirmative, praying like mad that it’s true.
We get off on the sixth floor, our steps squeaking as we stride under the harsh fluorescent lighting. When we reach the last office on the left side of the hallway, I turn the handle, not even bothering to knock.
Stepping inside, I find Jackson reclined on the couch against the wall adjacent to Aubrey’s desk, which isn’t surprising, since we demanded he be here as well.
So far, so good.
“Mr. Crawford, Mr. Elwood,” Aubrey greets us curtly, his prominent eyebrows low over his eyes. We didn’t give these two much of a choice in the matter, but the fact that they showed up is a good sign.
“What can we do for you?”
Drake shuts the door, stationing himself next to me, his hands behind his back.
I’m holding out hope that no one draws their firearm, or I’m unbelievably fucked.
When I brought that up when we were planning this, Genevieve pointed out that knowledge can be more powerful than gunpowder.
Now that I’m putting that to the test, I think I prefer a Glock.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” I begin, using the same domineering voice I wield when I command Genevieve. It carries a lethal calm, a dare to challenge me. “Within the hour, Percy York will have killed himself.”
Aubrey shoots to his feet, his hands slamming against the top of the desk as his eyes become wild. “How do you know that?”
“Sit back down,” I bark. He eyes Jackson briefly, the muscle in his jaw flexing, but he does as I order.
Aubrey sneers. “What do you want?”
“You’re going to leave Genevieve alone. Everything from the solicitation ring to the blackmail web will be pinned on Percy York, and it shouldn’t be too much of a stretch, considering that’s exactly what he’s doing anyway.”
“Or…” Aubrey prompts.
“Or,” I supply, my eyes fastened on Jackson.
“I’ll tell the country about the one of the biggest scandals the FBI has ever been wrapped up in.
You know, the story of the handler who left me to die in the warehouse after blowing my cover because he was taking money from the weapons dealers I was working with. ”
The last part is an educated guess that Drake and I put together, but based on the way Jackson’s nostrils flare and knuckles turn white as his mouth remains shut, I think we nailed it.
“This is bullshit,” Jackson bites out. “Why would we go along with any of this? We could just kill you here and now.”
“You could, but that won’t stop everything else from happening.
Even without us breathing, the information will still get out—all of the information, including the fact that you’re one of Genevieve’s clients.
I’m sure that would be embarrassing for you and the FBI, so this is an easy choice for you since Percy will be dead either way.
You’ll both keep your jobs, and the Bureau doesn’t end up the hot water it deserves to be in. ”
Corinne is all set to leak my story to the press if I don’t call her on the hour. If Gen doesn’t check in, well, then she’s prepared to use the one-time code to access the secrets kept within the encrypted file, download them, and publish them for the world to see.
My story isn’t as salacious as Genevieve’s, but it’ll generate some headlines and enough traction to force these men to quit and possibly go to jail. That’s enough.
Jackson’s lip curls as if I disgust him, but the feeling is fucking mutual.
He’s lucky I’m not blasting his corruption across the front page of every newspaper in America.
He left me for dead. The fact that all I’m asking for is that Gen is left alone to conduct her business in peace is a gift he doesn’t deserve.
“And all we have to do is leave your wife alone?”
I nod, and Jackson rages, “Now, wait a minute—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Aubrey snaps, his head whipping toward my handler’s. “You’ve done enough.”
“I want to quit and leave with a glowing recommendation,” Drake pipes up. He’s been grumbling about getting out of the FBI since we found out about Jackson. I don’t blame him. I couldn’t work here knowing how deep the corruption runs.
It doesn’t hurt that the ATF has been recruiting him, but it’ll be easier to take a job with them if he’s got a recommendation from Aubrey himself.
“I’m not leaving without that journal,” I add.
“Done,” Aubrey asserts. “You can have what you want. Now get the fuck out.”
I nod, a smirk on my lips as a waterfall of delight and relief rushes through me. But this was the easiest part of this plan. Across town, Genevieve is facing a far bigger threat.
Please stay alive.