Chapter 8
Eight
N oah parked in the crowded lot of the city’s largest mall, blending seamlessly into the crowd of post-holiday shoppers. The informant had chosen the location for its anonymity, a congested space where secrets could be exchanged unnoticed among the throng. Noah weaved through the bustling crowd, his sharp eyes scanning for his contact.
He found the man near the food court, sitting casually with a cup of coffee. Darren Vance, one of Maxim Fairchild’s bodyguards, looked as ordinary as anyone else in his jeans and leather jacket. But Noah knew better. Darren was a man who had heard things most people couldn’t imagine, all under the employ of the infamous Maxim Fairchild, CEO of Verdant Horizons, and a titan in the city’s underworld.
That was how Fairchild worked. No one person in his employ knew enough to sink him.
Darren glanced up, his face hard and impassive. “You’re late.”
“Traffic,” Noah said smoothly, sliding into the seat across from him. “What’s Fairchild up to?” He passed him an envelope. Cash for his information.
Darren’s jaw tightened as he leaned in, speaking just loud enough for Noah to hear. “Fairchild’s pissed. He knows about you guys finding Robert Hilton. That is a whole other story. You were never supposed to find pieces, but the mulcher crapped out. He wanted to know who Hilton talked to. Someone dropped your name. Now he’s looking for something to leverage you with.”
“Any idea who dropped my name?”
Darren shrugged.
Noah didn’t flinch, keeping his expression neutral. “What else?” He wondered where the guys who didn’t mulch Hilton were deposited.
Darren hesitated, glancing around before lowering his voice further. “He’s skipping town in a couple of hours. Heading to Disney World.”
“Disney World?” Noah raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, laugh it up.”
“So?” Noah bit his cheek to still his chuckle.
Darren’s mouth twitched in something close to a smile. “Getting bang for his buck—wife and kids, mistress, and a work thing. Bringing an entire security team. Big deal going down there. Shipment’s coming in soon.”
“What kind of shipment?”
“Big. Fairchild’s been buying up rocks. Verdant Horizons are the ones doing the design for the new capitol building entrance and the rest of the state buildings. Word is ghost guns are getting shipped in with the decorative rocks. First batch is coming in soon.”
Noah’s stomach tightened. Verdant Horizons was a sprawling operation, a monopoly in the state’s landscaping contracts. Their reach extended far beyond beautification projects—they had lucrative deals with public parks, corporate campuses, even the governor’s mansion.
Fairchild was a smooth-talking tycoon with a pristine public image, but whispers of corruption had followed him for years. And Noah was the man who was going to take him down.
Noah leaned back, considering the implications. If Fairchild was now using Verdant Horizons to smuggle ghost guns, the corruption ran deeper than anyone had suspected. Fairchild had cultivated a network of powerful allies, from local business people to city council members and state officials, ensuring his company’s dominance in the market. He wondered if there was someone in the state’s attorney’s office. How else would Fairchild get his name?
“Fairchild’s leaving tonight?” Noah asked.
Darren nodded. “Yeah. He’s meeting his buyers in Florida. But the real action’s here. The rocks now and sod in the spring. They’re going straight to the capitol building site. First shipment is already en route.”
Noah’s mind raced, connecting dots. The capitol building project was a high-profile endeavor, a symbol of progress and renewal for the city of Pierre. No one would suspect the crates of decorative stones lining the grand new entrance might be concealing deadly contraband. It was a brilliant cover, one that would be nearly impossible to unravel without tipping off the players involved.
Darren stood abruptly, finishing his coffee. “That’s all I’ve got. Fairchild finds out I’m talking, I’m a dead man.”
Noah gave a curt nod. “You’ve done your part. Stay low.”
As Darren disappeared into the crowd, Noah lingered for a moment, the information settling heavily on him. This wasn’t just about Fairchild or the weapons. It was about the rot that had spread through the state, corrupting everything it touched. And if the shipment wasn’t stopped, the consequences could be catastrophic.
He walked back to his car, his mind already turning over the next steps. This was far bigger than Ruth’s situation, but the thought of her steadied him. He had promised to keep her safe. With Fairchild out of town, the situation bought him some relative safety and time. Fairchild didn’t want him dead; he wanted leverage. Noah was sure Fairchild would want to be there when they went after him.
* * *
Noah leaned against the cold steel railing of a footbridge in the park near the U.S. attorney’s office, the late afternoon air biting at his skin. His phone was still warm from the call he’d just made to Alex, who now strode across the nearby path toward him. As Alex reached the bridge, his sharp gaze flicked over Noah’s face, reading the tension there.
“What’s so urgent we need to freeze out here?” Alex shoved his hands into his coat pockets. His voice was low, his tone serious.
Noah didn’t mince words. “Fairchild’s got my name. He’s looking for a way to leverage me.”
Alex tensed. “What happened?”
Noah recounted his conversation with Darren. When he got to the part about the ghost gun smuggling and the rock and sod shipments destined for the statehouse, Alex’s face darkened.
“Guns in decorative rocks?” he muttered. “He’s not just bribing for contracts anymore. He’s escalating.”
Noah nodded grimly. “And he’s got eyes everywhere. The only way he has my name is?—”
“Is to have someone in our office or to have us bugged.” Alex pulled up his collar.
“If we play this wrong, he’ll see us coming a mile away. We need to loop in the FBI. But we need to go directly to Ethan Hayes. We don’t know how far this goes.”
Alex exhaled sharply. “Okay. The Everhart ladies have a dinner once per month. The guys play poker. It’s at Charlotte’s. We can talk to Ethan then. In the interim, we start peeling back the layers. Hilton’s records—those codes you’ve been working on hold the key. If you can crack them, we’ll have the list of everyone Fairchild’s greased to make this happen.”
“And if Fairchild gets wind of the code break,” Noah said, “he’ll put a hit on me. On you. Hell, on anyone connected to us. At this point, he thinks, if he can leverage me, I’m worth more to him alive.”
Alex’s jaw tightened. “We can’t go to local law enforcement. If we request a protection detail, can we even trust them?”
Noah shook his head. “Not a chance. We need to turn to someone we know. Brad Killian. He’s outside this mess and knows how to deal with these kinds of threats.”
Alex nodded in agreement but then added grimly, “You realize what this means for Ruth. If he thinks you’re dating, she can be used as leverage. You’ve just dragged her into the crosshairs.”
Noah’s expression hardened. “I know. And I’ll make damn sure she’s safe. I can’t let that asshole Matt Brandt or anyone else hurt her. He picked the wrong woman.”
Alex gave him a knowing look. “So, you’re still taking her to the black-tie party?”
Noah frowned. “I won’t let Matt think she’s an easy target. I need to be there to protect her. Besides, I wouldn’t mind seeing the guy in action. Maybe we can catch him slipping up. He’s done this to others, Alex—I’m sure of it. Ruth’s just the latest.”
“You can’t make a scene,” Alex warned. “That’ll make it worse for her.”
“I can be discreet.” Noah’s eyes glinted with determination. “But I want him to know she’s not alone. And if there’s any way to get evidence against him at that party, I’m taking it.”
As the two men began to walk, Noah asked, “What do we know about Brandt? We need to do a fast deep dive.”
Alex ran a hand through his hair, thinking aloud. “Start with his professional reputation. He’s got to have skeletons in his closet. Every predator like him leaves a trail.”
Noah nodded. “We’ll hack through internal complaints at the firm. Anonymous reports, exit interviews—anything that suggests he’s done this before.”
Alex added, “Check his social media too. Guys like Brandt can’t help themselves. There might be photos, comments, or connections that paint a picture. And let’s run his financials. If he’s got a habit of paying off victims or using firm money inappropriately, it might show up there.”
“I’ll also talk to Ruth,” Noah said, his tone softer now. “She knows the office dynamics. She might have noticed things about him—other women who avoided him, or the way he operates.”
“And surveillance,” Alex said. “If we can catch him harassing Ruth—or anyone else—we’ve got leverage. We need to convince her to tape their conversations. South Dakota is a one-party consent state. She won’t be breaking any laws. It would be nice to plant someone inside the party to keep an eye on him. Find out who the employment company supplying the waitstaff is.” His brows furrowed. “Where is it anyway?”
“I better find that out, huh?” He smiled, but then his jaw tightened. “It’s a gamble, but if we can corner him, maybe we push him into making a mistake.”
As they rounded the path back toward their office building, Noah spoke quietly, almost to himself. “He picked the wrong woman.”
Alex looked at him sideways. “You’ve got it bad.”
Noah shrugged but didn’t deny it. “I’m not letting this slide, Alex. Not with her.”
Alex clapped him on the shoulder. “Then let’s make sure Brandt doesn’t get another chance.”