Chapter Four
Tessa
Antonio waited until the sun was high before calling me down to the study.
I’d spent the morning with my laptop, digging through my first pass of Knight’s summary, but what Antonio had was the full unfiltered dump, the raw documents my sister had gathered.
I just needed to see with my own eyes exactly who, what, when, and why.
I had no illusion I could do anything about any of it, but I wanted to have the chance to look these men and women in the eyes and tell them I knew exactly what they’d done.
Might never happen, but I still wanted to know.
His study was cozy, dressed in dark wood throughout, but it was understated without looking or feeling pretentious.
The view out over the deep valley was simply breathtaking.
In the middle of the room, a large rectangular table held several stacks of papers and printouts.
I took a seat and folded my hands on the table.
Antonio slid Knight’s packet of the raw evidence to me, unfiltered and unredacted.
I’d never seen anything like the scale of the viper’s den I’d become a part of.
Names, shell corporations, LLCs built for short periods of time and then dissolved, bank accounts that didn’t even pretend to be legal.
Photos, too. Not the kind you put on social media, but candids, surveillance pulls, group shots at parties with people I recognized as being some of the most powerful in this part of the country.
“Knight built this in forty-eight hours,” Antonio said. “He worked off what you and your sister put together, then took apart every phone and laptop we grabbed from the attackers at Haven.”
The first few names and faces meant nothing.
Most of them looked like men in their forties, wearing expensive-looking suits and flashing big watches and pinky rings.
Yeah. No stereotypes there. A few women appeared, too.
The shell company stuff went over my head, though the money amounts were substantial.
Then I saw a face I recognized. Not from real life, but from the news.
“That’s the judge,” I said. “The one from the news last month.”
Antonio nodded. “He’s on a plane to Belize right now. He’ll never set foot in Nashville again.”
“He brokered sales for a human trafficking ring, one I got forced into, and he gets to live a life of luxury? Is that your version of justice?”
“No one said anything about him living in luxury. I only sent him to Belize because that’s one of the places we found this network passed through. He has a surprise waiting for him when he gets there.”
I tilted my head. “Surprise?”
“Yes.” He met my gaze straight on. “Turns out, there’s a significant market for middle-aged, entitled, rich assholes.
My understanding is that the very small population of female billionaires in Belize have some pretty significant anger management issues when it comes to the aforementioned middle-aged, entitled, rich assholes. ”
I had to replay that in my head before I believed he’d actually said that, but then I nodded. “I can see how that might not work out so well for him.”
“No. Especially since I gave a heads-up to someone in the know.”
“I mean, I respect the deviousness. I should probably put you in the same category as the assholes who took me, but I’m not stupid enough to not see the difference.”
“I did what I needed to get Judge Marlin out of the country and away from prying eyes. For all intents and purposes, he’s disappeared. Never to be seen again.”
I flipped through the pages, trying to quickly skim as much as I could. One was flagged red. “Dominic Denton.” I stopped and looked up at Antonio. My throat tightened.
“Do you know him?”
“No,” I said, but it was a lie. “Maybe. I don’t know.
” I forced myself to keep looking. The file on Denton was thick.
The photos showed a suited man with silver at the temples.
The file also contained receipts for cash, for international wire transfers, for luxury vehicles, and for security details that cost more per week than I’d ever made in a year.
I tried to remember where I’d seen the name before.
Nothing came. I scrolled farther, hands shaking now.
There were more photos. One looked recent.
Denton at some black-tie event. Arm around a woman who looked bored out of her skull.
The background was blurred, but I recognized the pattern on the wall as belonging to Enclave éclipse.
I slammed the picture on the desk before shoving myself away from the table.
I spun around and paced away. “He was there,” I said.
“At éclipse. The night I was taken.” The memory came up all at once, so hard it left me dizzy.
“He talked to Iron. I was in the back. I didn’t want to be, but…
I think I was supposed to serve drinks for the man’s party.
He never looked at me. But I remember his voice.
I remember him telling Iron he wanted the next shipment to be cleaner. ”
“Cleaner?” Antonio’s voice was soft. “What does that mean?”
“He didn’t want the girls looking ‘used.’ Said it hurt resale.” The memory hit me so hard I broke out in a sweat. I hugged myself tightly, trying to catch my breath. “I didn’t know what he meant then, but I found out later.”
Antonio didn’t move, but the way his hands curled on the table told me everything. “Do you need a break?”
I shook my head and returned to the table to sit.
Then I plowed on. Every line in the file felt worse than the last. Denton had enough money to make people disappear.
There were receipts for hundreds of thousands spent on “charity.” Then a line item for “consulting,” paid out to a firm in Miami that Knight had already flagged as a cover for a private security and investigative company.
“You see this?” Antonio pointed to the payment record. “This is the firm that did the last surveillance run on Haven. They knew the layout, knew where the cameras were. They paid top dollar to get the information they needed to hit Haven.”
I wanted to vomit. Instead, I kept going deeper into the file. Knight had a whole section labeled “Narrative Management.” I opened it, expecting more payments. Instead, I got a list of media contacts, local reporters, PR agencies, and something called Lattice Partners.
Antonio leaned in. “That’s a crisis management firm. Denton owns it, through two layers of shell companies.”
It hit me what that meant. “He writes the story before the news happens.”
“Exactly. Knight found three separate drafts for the Haven attack. They were going to call it a drug raid gone wrong and blame the women while painting Kiss of Death as armed thugs.”
I looked at the booklet again. “So even if we died, it would have been our fault.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he watched me.
I forced myself to keep reading. The next few files were technical, too dense for me to follow.
Then there was a folder of emails. I opened the most recent.
It was from Denton to someone called “Crandall.” The tone was businesslike, but final.
“Complete the job, then lose the asset.” The date was three days ago.
I read it three times. “He wants me dead,” I said.
Antonio didn’t argue. “He wants any loose ends gone. The only reason you’re still here is because you fought, and because the men in Kiss of Death aren’t exactly what they seem.”
I looked back at the photo of Denton at éclipse and the biggest wave of hate and disgust washed through me. It felt like an oily slime coating my skin from the inside out.
A crash from the hallway made me jump. The door banged open, and Darby walked in like she owned the place. “Did you find it?” she asked. She wore ripped jeans and a black thermal, with her braid over one shoulder. She went right to the minifridge, pulled out a can of something, and popped the tab.
“We found a name,” I said. “Dominic Denton.”
Darby’s eyes went sharp. “That fucker.” She dropped into a chair and leaned back, putting her booted feet on the table, even though it made Antonio twitch.
“You know him?” I asked.
She nodded. “He’s been in the club scene forever. He runs parties, buys out whole clubs for ‘events.’ Always brings his own security. I kind of figured he was sketchy, but not this level of evil.”
Antonio studied Darby. “You ever work for him?”
She snorted. “He doesn’t hire people like me. He finds compliant, timid people.” She narrowed her gaze at me. “Which is surprising because you don’t seem like the blindly compliant sort of person.” She pointed at the file. “I recognized another name, too. Rourke. Cade Rourke.”
The file there listed him as a party broker. He ran a fleet of black SUVs for VIPs. His last payment had been logged two days ago.
“Cade’s not as slick as Denton,” Darby said. “He’s a heavy drinker and frequents several bars in the local area. More importantly, he talks. If you want to get at Denton, Cade’s the way in.”
Antonio absorbed that, slow and deliberate. “Is he reliable?”
Darby shrugged. “Motivated’s better than reliable. He’s greedy, and he hates Denton. He’ll talk if you squeeze him right.”
Antonio picked up his own phone and tapped a few times. Then he looked at the man standing in the doorway. “Find Rourke. You know where to take him. Keep Kass informed.” The man nodded and vanished.
Darby whistled. “Someone’s not fucking around.”
Antonio ignored her, turning back to me. “You did good, Tessa. Most people would have quit halfway down that file.”
“I don’t have the luxury,” I said. “Not if I want to live.”
“Is this helping clear some of the haze around your memory?” he asked. He looked closely at me and waited for an answer.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s helping a lot. It was all there before, but the pictures of these guys… The ones I recognize have varying creep factors, but this is the evilest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
He nodded once. “Then keep going. As long as it takes. As long as you need to.”