Chapter 15 Colby
COLBY
“What kind of piece of shit do you have to be for your own sister to sell you out like this?” Eian asks almost conversationally, his eyes firmly on Lucian as I watch Rory lay out her tools on the table that’s off to the side of the . . . well, it’s a bunker.
Literally.
Concrete walls, concrete ceiling, and concrete floors with a creepy-as-fuck drain in the middle.
Instead of trying to talk Eian into letting me be here last night when he was doing that fantastic recap of the night’s events, I decided to enjoy him for the night and sleep on it.
The way I was feeling, I didn’t know if I’d want to be here for this, but when I woke up this morning to the perfect picture of Eian’s muscular bare back as he got out of bed, I knew I wanted to try.
So I told him I wanted to be here when they make Lucian spill his secrets, and he agreed.
Now we’re here, and I’m trying to catalogue every tiny detail in my head so I don’t miss a thing.
Eian’s obviously used to this, he looks as relaxed as he did just twenty minutes ago when we were having breakfast. Though I do have to admit his three-piece charcoal suit doesn’t seem as charming in this lighting.
Looking at Rory’s impassive face as she inspects all kinds of knives, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand this, but at least I’m here. The second things get messy, I think I’ll have a very different outlook.
Lucian and Cotroni are in their underwear, hanging from the ceiling, the ropes around their wrists tied to hooks, and for the one second I risked a look into their eyes, I saw hate in them—directed at me.
I think Eian likes it when people look at him like that—at least that’s been my experience—but I don’t.
Mostly, I just want to get some answers. I want to know the ins and outs of their operations so we can present the police commissioner with enough evidence to shut it all down.
“Get on with it,” Eian tells Rory, and after a moment of hesitation, she grabs a skinny little blade. Then she marches over to them and rips the tape off their mouths without mercy.
I wince at their groans of pain, and take two steps back to lean against the wall. I don’t think I’ll be able to temper my reactions, so it’s best if they don’t get a good look at me. At least I think it’s best.
How would I know what the etiquette is here?
“Let’s start with an easy one.” Unlike me, Eian steps forward, still talking in that bored tone that I’m not sure is an act anymore. “Who is your partner, Lucian?”
“I don’t—”
Rory cuts off the lie with a quick stab to his stomach. The blade must be sharp as hell because it takes him a second to feel the pain.
“We already know who it is,” she tells him.
“Fine,” he shouts when she slowly raises the knife to his chest. “It’s Brent, Carl Brent.”
“Good,” Eian murmurs. “Now tell us what the new auction website is. We know you shut down the previous one.”
“Man, I don’t know.” Weird, I actually believe him. “Brent has some super hacker dude in charge of that. I’ve never even met him.”
“Then what is it you bring to this enterprise?” Eian’s tone is mocking. His hand twitches, his fingers curling and uncurling three times, so I know he’s losing his patience. “What do you do, Cotroni?” He grips the man’s jaw tight, and Cotroni grunts.
“Just tell them,” Lucian says, defeated. But that’s an interesting reaction, and I’m not the only one who catches it.
“I make sure the merchandise—no, stop!” Cotroni shouts, horrified when Rory slices a clean line down the middle of Lucian's torso. The thin red line takes a moment to appear, and it’s obviously a shallow wound.
“I make sure no one runs away or causes any trouble,” Cotroni hurries to answer when Lucian’s breathing speeds up and he lets out a string of curses through gritted teeth.
And now they have these two morons by the balls—even more than they already did.
They obviously care about each other. The psychological torture of seeing each other in pain might be worse than their own pain, and so now I know we’ll get all the answers we need.
And they better not involve the word “merchandise” anymore, because clearly Rory hates it as much as I do.
I’m genuinely wondering now if these two are in love or if they’re just the best of friends in the whole wide world? I mean, they’re evil, that’s not in question.
“Thank you,” Eian says, as mild-mannered as if a waiter just brought him his preferred drink or something.
Then he reaches into the tiny pocket of his vest and slides golden brass knuckles onto his fingers and points at Lucian.
“Now you’re going to answer, but you won’t be able to see what I do to him if you lie again. ”
With that, he walks around Cotroni.
“I’ll ask you again, what do you do for Brent?”
“I smuggle all the people into the city.”
“Really?” Eian asks. “That’s all you do?” Clearly he doesn’t believe that.
“My men . . .” He hesitates, and I have to smirk when I realize he’s looking for a word that won’t piss Rory off. “Kidnap the people when they go get our regular merchandise.”
The tilt of Rory’s head reminds me of a cobra when it’s about to strike.
“So you’re in charge of everything before they’re sold,” Eian concludes.
“Yes,” Lucian says, and breathes easier when Eian moves to stand behind him. “And where can we find all the information about the clients? About the new site for auctions?”
“Brent has that, he—” Lucian stops himself to lick his lips nervously, but that’s enough for Eian.
He slides back to Cotroni and punches him right in the kidney, then again.
“Fuck,” Cotroni screams, and swings from the force of the blows.
“He has a secret room in his basement!” Lucian shouts now too. “We always meet him there. Any information about the auctions has to be in there.”
“Was that so hard?” Rory taunts. Cotroni’s still groaning, and Lucian’s worried frown finally gets me to move.
“Now you’re going to tell Rory exactly how we can get into that basement, and quickly.”
“Sure, whatever,” Lucian mumbles, like he doesn’t even care, like he—I can’t stay back anymore.
“You’ve been selling people! For years! To be raped and tortured and god knows what else, but a few blows to this fucker’s kidneys and you turn into a snitch?
” I take only two steps closer because the sight of his wounds—while satisfying—isn’t something I particularly enjoy.
“Whatever they do to you, it won’t be near enough what you deserve.
” I spit the words out and hope they see how happy that makes me when I look them in the eyes.
Then I turn on my heels and don’t stop until I’m once more on the surface, in the gardens, able to breathe in clean air and look up at the gray sky.
“Are you okay?” Eian’s voice makes me jump and spin quickly to look at him.
He looks nothing like he did down there, his brows pinched with worry, his mouth softer somehow.
I don’t know how he manages that change so quickly, but it feels nice. I can’t deny that. It feels like maybe he really does love me as much as he said he does.
I go to him, wrap my arms around his waist, and rest my head against his collarbone.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, and in truth, I am. I know Rory won’t kill those fuckers quickly. I know she’ll get all the information I need.
Eian hugs me back, even rests his cheek against my head, and for a moment we just stand there, hugging. Saying this is a position I never thought I’d be in would be the understatement of the century.
Eian Dempsey is hugging me, comforting me, and I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more cared for in my entire life.
It sucks that I can’t just keep focusing on that, that we have the biggest challenge ahead of us, and clearly, Eian’s thinking about that too.
“Go inside while we finish up here. Maybe call Bran so you can see Maggie, yeah?”
“That’s a good idea,” I mumble, and when I look up, I can’t make myself step back from him.
His hand trails up my back until he’s holding the back of my neck in a firm grip. It’s support, and my eyes close with how good it feels. Once I’ve soaked up enough strength from him, I open my eyes again and answer the silent question with a slow nod.
“Thank you,” I whisper, then tilt my head up and kiss him. “Get back in there. We need all the information we can get.”
As I watch him open the trapdoor, it hits me.
That simple kiss isn’t something new lovers do. It’s a new type of intimacy, a comfortable knowledge of each other. It’s something that should’ve taken a lot longer to develop between us.
I shake my head at my thoughts.
That’s overanalyzing and I need to nip it in the bud right now. There’s a lot more work to be done.
So I walk to the house, and get ready for a video call with my angel.
“Find out where the mayor lives and get us the building plans,” Eian tells Seamus even as we’re walking down the stairs to his . . . lair?
It’s time to get a plan in place, and so the usual suspects are present as we all cram in together into Seamus’s office.
The number of screens seems a little extreme to me, but there’s what looks like important shit on every single one of them.
Rory and Eian had both showered and changed their clothes when they joined Duffy, Mac, and me in the dining room for a quick lunch, and I’m grateful.
I can honestly say that the memories their interrogation gave me are enough for a lifetime. I held my guts in, I said my peace, and now I think I’ll never want to be witness to that ever again.
“Cecilia texted me,” Eian says. “Apparently Aslanov and Chen took care of every single man working for Lucian last night, and they also found the new place where they’re holding the victims.”
“Where?” I ask. We need to go there and make sure they’re safe, we need to—
“Upstate, some ranch. Rossi and Di Leo are dealing with sending them all back to their homes now.”
I breathe out in relief.
“I’m checking whether he or his wife have any payments to security companies,” Seamus says. My eyebrows rise immediately.
“You can do that?”
“Yes,” he says simply. “It’s easier than hunting down international bank accounts,” he mutters as if he’s still frustrated by that. “The plans are here.”
He points to a screen on the left and we all move in at the same time while he keeps working on the other shit.
“This is where Lucian said the door to the basement is,” Rory says while pointing at the alley next to the brownstone. A pretty typical brownstone too, in Manhattan.
“Find out if he has any events or galas this weekend, please,” I murmur as I keep inspecting the plans of the house.
“Will do. And they do have an alarm system, but I think we can get around that if you guys cut off the power.”
“How would we do that?” Mac asks.
“I’ll have to find out where the transformer is for that block, so at least two of you will have to go underground and cut it off manually.
Then the ones who are breaking in need to find out quickly if they have a generator, though I can search in their purchases, but that will probably take too much time since I can see here that Brent is attending a fundraiser for Senator Clarkson tonight.
In any case, the power being out will give you all the time you need unless he has a generator.
It’s a pretty safe bet that he has one, though it’s a pain to get one, but he’s the fucking mayor .
. . so you need to find it, unplug it, and then do whatever it is you need to do. ”
“We can do that,” I murmur.
“What?” Eian whirls around and pins me in place with a furious frown. “You’re not going.”
“Uh, yes I am. This is my investigation. I’m the one who’s going to take this to the commissioner—”
“No you’re not.” He slashes a hand as if it’s final, but to hell with that.
“I’m going, Eian. You’ll have no fucking clue what you’re looking for, and no one’s supposed to be there. It’s only the basement and we’re going to be in and out in no time.”
“Colby . . .” His jaw bunches as he looks up.
“I’m doing this, Eian. You’ll be there with me and we’ll get what we need to put him away. You can’t tell me to stay this time because no one is supposed to see us and no one will.”
I stand my ground, not looking away from his eyes for a single millisecond. Problem is, he doesn’t agree, he just stays quiet, for an eon it seems.
“Brent is a dinosaur. He probably has a post-it note with the instructions to get into the site on his damn computer, Eian. It’s not going to take us long at all.”
That seems to do the trick. Eian sighs, though his shoulders remain tense, his jaw stubbornly set.
“You’ll follow every order I give without hesitation or question.” I nod eagerly.
“I will, but it’s going to be fine, I swear. We’re going to end this tonight, and tomorrow Luisa can leave the brothel and go back to her home. All of them can leave this fucking nightmare and I can . . .”
I trail off.
I have no clue what I was going to say because . . . I have no fucking clue what I’m going to do with my time after this.
I have Maggie of course, and spending every day with her sounds freaking amazing, but I don’t even want to look at the tangled mess that is my relationship with Eian, or what Eian wants from our relationship.
It’s not like we’ve had a lot of time to think about it, or talk about it. I suppose after this is all done, I’ll get that time.
Yay.
Okay, so the prospect of continuing this . . . relationship isn’t the worst. Fine, it’s too enticing, too perfect.
Two months ago I had Maggie, and I had the mysterious man who hired me to look out for some men doing bad shit.
Now I have so much more. Maybe it’s the idea that Eian might—
He told me he loves me, I remind myself. I know how insane that is, how fast and reckless. What scares me is how little I care.
The only thing about Eian that makes me truly unsure about our potential future is the secrets.
I hate secrets.
Love keeping them, and I’m damn good at that, but I hate when someone I trust doesn’t tell me everything. It’s a . . . thing for me.
I understand why Eian has kept his aunt a secret, of course I do. But I still think that no matter how much I want to jump ass first into a serious, lasting relationship with him, I won’t feel safe enough to do it until I know all of him.
“I can stop worrying about this,” I finish lamely after not saying anything for too long.
Eian’s brow is furrowed with obvious worry, and who could blame him.
“Let’s get this plan done, then,” Seamus says, and we finally break our stare-off.
“Let’s,” I agree. This ends tonight.