CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CELESTE
“It’s so fucked up.” Beef Jerky cackles. “Leave it to Silas to get in on the most convoluted motherfucking shit out there, but this blows those crates out of the water.”
My brows pinch together as I try to fathom how this has anything to do with me. It doesn’t sound like they want me as leverage. It sounds like they think I personally have or know something. Ivy rests her head against the wall, eyes closed, no doubt listening intently as well, but she’s oddly the picture of peace.
“Get on with it, asshole,” one of the other degenerates snaps, sliding a crate or a chair across the floor with a grating squeak.
“It goes back, like, a decade or something. Some journalist—Archie Newton, son of that corrupt federal judge—”
“Judge Walter Newton,” another guy finishes. “That guy was a fucking legend, connected to everyone.”
“Exactly,” Beef Jerky says through what seems to be a puff on a cigarette, the faint scent of smoke wafting into the room to meld with the stench of death and sex seeping from the walls. “The old man was more than fucking connected. He owned half the goddamn country. And when he croaked, he left Archie a book with every indiscretion he had on a bunch of high-level assholes.”
“Holy shit,” someone hisses.
“No fuck,” Beef Jerky says with a hint of pride. “After a death threat, Archie showed up at a law firm, probably ready to piss his damn pants. And the book blew the lawyer’s fucking mind. Archie wanted to publish the secrets like some motherfucking tell-all conspiracy book. From what I hear, it would’ve sent the whole damn country into chaos. It wasn’t just secrets. He was hoarding classified government information, corruption, and keys to unsolved cases.”
No one is making a peep, other than a few spewed expletives from the guys. Least of all Ivy and me. This isn’t only riveting; it’s what Liam’s been asking me about. Based on the political nature, I’m wondering if it’s my grandfather’s career or my father’s that has me tied up in this. Both could have things to hide, I suppose.
“Anyway,” Beef Jerky continues while obviously blowing a plume of smoke, “Archie went to the law firm Baker, Sherman, and Ross for his meeting.”
Oh God.
The metal bars of this cell pulsate, my breath catches in my throat, and my sternum melts into my spine.
I know that law firm.
“Sherman told him if he published it, he was as good as dead. So, he convinced Archie to disappear until they could determine who knew it existed, and then they could release it under a pen name. Archie vanished without a trace, and Sherman kept the book. Two days later, Sherman was shot in cold blood at his home. The guys looking for it scoured the law firm and Sherman’s house for months. One of the partners was dying of some disease, so they ransacked his house but left him be. The other partner dismantled the practice and disappeared. Asshole is probably dead too.” He pauses for a second before delivering the outcome. “The fucking book was never found.”
“So, the chick has the book?” someone asks, patently irritated.
“Yeah,” another one snarls, “you cleared up fucking nothing.”
“I wasn’t done, you goddamn twats. There were two other people who knew about that book. Sherman’s associates. Also killed. Easton Lancaster and Benjamin Carver.”
Ivy’s hand squeezes mine, but neither of us moves or breathes or acknowledges one another.
“Turns out, Easton never fucking died,” Beef Jerky adds, siphoning every bit of air from my lungs. “The son of a bitch is tired of being on the run. Says he has a buyer for it and that girl in there can lead us to the book. If she does, he gets a hefty sum and the means to come out of hiding.”
“Who is she?”
“Celeste Carver, Benji’s little sister.”
My world flips and spins and twists inside out. Everything fuzzy becomes sharp while the fully shaped images of my life fade into blobs.
Easton is alive. How can that be? I watched him blow up.
And Ben? Ben was murdered because he knew about that book.
I might know something about it too.
“Tell me why I can’t stay at your apartment,” I whine to my brother when I walk in the front door from summer photography camp.
Ben’s been so weird and secretive lately, and it’s pissing me off. He sent me a text on my way home, canceling on me again with the consolation that he’d spend the day at home with me.
I huff for dramatic effect. “I always stay on race weekends.”
He glares at the door I just slammed and takes my camera bag off my shoulder. “Because I have stuff to do and I don’t want you there alone, squirt. I already told you that.”
“I’m sixteen, Ben. Not a kid.”
If he knew how unchildlike I’ve been with Easton recently, he’d strangle us both, so I don’t think I’ll use that as an example, but I wish he’d stop babying me.
He chuckles and follows my plodding footsteps upstairs to my bedroom, carting my bag for me. “As is evident by your grumbling.”
“Do you have a lady friend?” I tease, hoping to lighten his sullen mood and get to the bottom of whatever’s bugging him.
“A lady friend?” he parrots. “I have plenty of those, but that’s not why I’m canceling. You’ll always be my number one girl, Cee.”
That’s not true. Someone will definitely steal his heart someday, but I love him all the more for it. Ben is everything family and home should be.
As I veer into my room, I notice a stack of books on my bed, tied in a bow, with a bookmark sticking out of one.
“What are these?” My nose scrunches as I scan the spines of terribly boring conspiracy theory books. “Is this some weird ploy from Mom to get me hooked on being a lawyer?”
“Sit down,” Ben says, all deep and serious, like my father or grandfather.
I obey his uncharacteristic command, but, God, I hope he never morphs into a dull Carver politician.
He grimaces. “I gave you these.”
“Oh.” Guilt rushes through my veins. Any gift from Ben is perfect and welcome. This is weird and not really befitting my interests, but I don’t want him to know that. “Well, it’s about time I read something other than trashy romance novels.”
“I absolutely agree with that.” He laughs, plopping down beside me and tucking me under his arm. “You might not ever need these, but you’ll know if you do. If there’s ever a question, you’ll have the answers.”
That’s practically gibberish. He’s probably hoping I’ll go into law with him too. He’d be the one person I’d snooze through law school for.
“Thanks, Ben. Maybe I’ll need them in college,” I admit, hoping we can get back to the important matters at hand. My gaze floats up to his heavy brown eyes. “Am I not allowed to stay at your place anymore because of your new job? Is it that much more work? Mom said it was a horrible fate that you had to switch firms.”
“No.” He sighs. “That was months ago. It happens. And the workload is no different.”
“Whatever.” I pout, throwing myself back on my bed in a theatrical flop. “Ivy can’t hang out this weekend either. She doesn’t get back from vacation until Sunday.”
He groans and yanks on my ponytail that’s splayed out above my head. “You’re such a little brat. I’m here tonight, and I’ll spend Saturday with you.”
That makes zero sense. “If you’re able to spend Saturday here, then why—”
“Cee. Enough. Meet me in the middle here.” His hand rubs his forehead in exasperated strokes, and in an instant, my brother looks old. Like life has suddenly smacked him in the face. “I have to go to Colorado. I’ll be back Friday night for the race. My place will be a mess. I’d rather be here.”
“Okay,” I give in, not wanting him to be so stressed even though he’s talking in circles. “Will you and Easton pick me up for the race?”
“No,” he says, flicking some stray mocha hairs out of his eyes. “Arnold will drive you with Rex or one of Dad’s other guys.”
“What?” I shriek. “I always go with you.”
“And Mom and Dad always freak out. They already don’t want you to come. This was the best I could do, Cee. I’ll be running late as it is. Take it or leave it.”
“Fine,” I concede. Not even security detail could keep me from Ben’s races. They’re the highlight of any week. “I’ll take it.”
“How long have we been in here?” Ivy whispers, slicing into my memory.
“A little over an hour,” I say out of the side of my mouth, realizing that Beef Jerky is lingering by the door. I’m not certain about the time. Everything is warped in here, sped up and stretched out at once. I wonder if that’s how Ivy always feels.
Her breaths crash around me like she’s come to some kind of conclusion, but I don’t get to ask her what that is because Beef Jerky finally struts inside with a smug glower. His mask is off, and his face is as unfortunate as his smell. All pockmarked and glum, like no amount of joy could transform him.
“Craterface,” I chirp faintly so only Ivy can hear.
She cackles under her breath, followed with a mumbled, “Grease. That’s so good.”
“Something funny, Red?” our leading villain snipes.
“Just enjoying my accommodations,” Ivy croons. “How about you, Leo?”
That has me giggling, too, because that’s Craterface’s first name in Grease, and only Ivy could pull that out of her head so seamlessly. Our lack of cowering in this moment clearly irks Beef Jerky. His jaw clenches, and his eyes turn beady, certainly not improving his looks.
“Our leader will be here in a few minutes. You won’t be fucking laughing then, you goddamn whores.” His whole stance is threatening, but all we can do is not cower and buy ourselves time, so I smile big in return even though the sight of him repulses me.
Never let them see. “This is a big moment for you, isn’t it?”
“You gonna be a mouthy bitch like your friend now, huh? All brave for your final moments, sweetheart?” he taunts.
“You’ve been instructed not to touch us,” Ivy chimes.
“Right, or you would have,” I agree, hoping to hell that’s true because the mere thought has my stomach folding in on itself.
“Did you tell your boss that I was here?” she asks.
“Yeah.” He spits on the floor, some black goo that must be from chewing tobacco.
Gross.I’ve honestly never seen anyone do that in my life, and I swear he was just smoking.
His tongue sweeps over his broken teeth with a squeak. “He’ll make quick use of your leprechaun pussy to get the answers we need. Happy?”
“He didn’t ask my name?” She turns toward me with pouty lips, so I pet her head. I doubt she feels any braver than I do, but we’re both going with it. Snapping her blue eyes colder, she sings, “I’m guessing he’ll be interested.”
Always keep them guessing.
“You know,” I pipe up, “you seem to be the guy who knows stuff. You should be the one to tell him.”
“Tell him what?” he grits out, but his expression falters, like he realizes he’s about to step on a land mine.
Ivy winks at me, so I proceed to fill this jackass in. “Her last name is O’Reilly.”
“O’Reilly,” he mutters, working it out, but still not catching on.
“Not to brag, but I’m the head of the O’Reilly family. And I’m married to the head of the Cabrini family,” she supplies.
And there it is. His face pales, his breathing shallow, but he says nothing. We just sentenced him to death, no matter how he looks at it. His boss or our men. There’s no way out.
How’s that cage, asshole?
“Yep,” Ivy says, popping the P and examining her nails. “You kidnapped a KORT chair. How will Silas feel about that?”
His Adam’s apple grows alarmingly large on a swallow. The poor guy really should stick to masks. He scratches his head, glancing back at his fellow thugs outside the room, likely trying to decide how to handle this. Spoiler alert: there’s no good way.
Play their game.
“You’re having a Wolf of Wall Street moment, aren’t you?” I say with a smart-ass grin, betraying a boldness that must belong to my alter ego.
Ivy throws a finger out toward him, pushing her whole body into the gesture while paraphrasing the exact line I was thinking of with a giggle. “He’s not fucking leaving.” But then pity dresses her features, and she twists toward him. “Run. You only have minutes.”
He pants a strained, “How do you—”
“We know,” I say with far more confidence than I feel, although I want to trust that Liam will make it here in time. “They’re coming for us.”
“And for you,” Ivy adds as our captor, Craterface—who smells like beef jerky and looks like the Gimp when wearing a mask—raises his gun on us.
And in a flash, everything comes into question. Every bold and reckless choice that led to being here. Maybe I should’ve hedged my bets this time.