Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
MASON
“ D ude,” Diego says, shaking his head. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah, I am.” I lean back and my desk chair and blow out a breath. “It’s risky but think of it, man…we get enough details on Lorenzo we could process this case wide open. We could be the ones to put the first Moretti behind bars.”
“You trust this chick?”
“Not anymore than I would trust anyone else,” I press. “But if we can use her to, at the very least, lure Enzo out into the public more than he has been or get a better feel for his personal habits, it’s worth it.”
“And you’re it has nothing to do with the fact that she looks like this?” Diego flips his phone around, screen on a picture from Mira‘s Instagram. Her whole story as a therapist who breaks up couples that shouldn’t have gotten together in the first place checks out. She has quite the social media following and it seems as if her message hits this generation differently. People—mostly women, like she said—openly appreciate her honesty and ability to save them from months or even years of heartache.
And in this particular picture she’s sitting near a pool wearing a white bikini that cups each of her round breasts perfectly. She’s in fan-fucking-tastic shape and she looks so good with a tan, with her dark hair swept up in a messy bun. She’s smiling and holding some sort of fruity drink in her hand and at least half the comments tell her how good she looks...and I don’t disagree one bit.
“Has absolutely nothing to do with the way she looks.”
Diego cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that,” he uses to himself.
“Though it doesn’t hurt to work with a good looking woman, I’ll admit,” I go on. “But this is work. The number one mission is keeping her safe while getting our intelligence. She’s a therapist. She knows how to look past the bullshit.”
“All right, I’ll play,” Diego says, and we both watch one of our supervisors walk past my office. The door is closed and my blinds are open on the window that looks into the hall. What we’re doing is strictly off the books and we would be heavily reprimanded if anyone were to find out. Involving citizens typically requires a ton of paperwork, and we were already told to work with other agents on this case. But the other agents are going about things all wrong, and are only going to slow us down.
“Tonight,” I say. “She’s meeting him again for a date. We need to be there ready to jump in in case things go south.”
“And where is the date?” Diego asks, giving me a look.
“Some Ramen place in Fulton market,” I say with a shrug. Mira was the one who suggested it, saying it was one of her favorite places. She was almost too calm about the whole thing, not phased at all about putting on a persona. The fact that she plays an amateur PI when she’s not sitting in her therapist chair should be a little concerning since she has no license or training in that area.
But I have a feeling she’s going to be surprisingly good at this.
Yawning, I lean back in my desk chair and blink a few times. I’ve been reading over reports, staring at my computer for hours. There are very slight variations between the last two bodies found with broken arms compared to the dozen others.
Which means someone else most likely took over the role of hitman.
I’ve looked through hours and hours of CCTV footage, security cam footage, and video doorbell recordings. And my theory that Enzo is the new executor remains. There’s nothing concrete enough to take legal action—yet. But give me some time and I’ll have him behind bars for sure.
Needing a break, I shut down the computer, pick up my empty coffee mug and stand, stretching out my back. I toss the paper cup in the trash and get my phone from my jacket pocket. The sibling group chat was blowing up, so I put my phone on do not disturb.
My brother, Jacob, and his wife, Josie, are the only ones of the bunch who live in my hometown of Silver Ridge, running an animal hospital and horse rescue. Sam, my oldest brother, and his wife, Chloe, moved to Eastwood last year after Sam got a job as one of the head anesthesiologists at the new hospital in town. He works in the OR with our sister, Rory, and how they haven’t had some sort of big blowup that resulted in Sam sticking her with whatever drugs he has on hand that would make her shut up is beyond me.
They’re all married with kids, settled down and content with their lives. And then there’s me, traveling around the country in search of bad guys. I’ve been here, based in Chicago, for a few years now and there’s no shortage of crime, that’s for sure.
I reply to the group texts, which are mostly a bunch of pictures of Chloe and Josie on their horses, and grab my bag so I can head to the gym and get a workout in before the day is over. Staying in shape is vital for my job, of course, and working out is the best stress relief out there.
Other than fucking, of course.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship. This job doesn’t make it easy, with all the travel and hush-hush missions. What’s the point in forming anything more than a casual hookup situation when I’ll be in another town in a year or so? Besides, I haven’t found anyone that makes me feel .
My phone vibrates with a text as I’m heading out of my office. Thinking it’s another message in the group chat, I only glance at my phone. But it’s not my sister or sister-in-laws sending more horse pics. It’s Mira, saying her next client canceled at the last minute so she has time to meet up now and go over things before her fake date tonight.
I smile to myself as I reply. This is going to be good .