Chapter 17
Dylan
“What’s the mission then, boss man?” Jesper asks as I place both hands on the sides of the cockpit and lean in a bit. It’s far louder up here than in the seated section I just vacated, but Tucker is napping, and the voices in my head are drowning me.
“We’re meeting Harlow Slater,” I reply.
He glances over at me and arches a brow. As usual, his blond hair is shoved beneath a baseball cap. He’s wearing headphones over one ear while the other is slid off to the side so he can hear me. “Slater. As in the Slater crime family based out of the deepest bellies of New York City?”
“You’ve heard of them?”
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them. Or, more accurately, what they do to the people who work for them.” He shakes his head angrily. “They’re a bad bunch.”
“That much I do know. But she has information that could prove valuable to me, and I need to get to her before they realize she’s a threat to them. What do you know about them?”
“Just what I’ve heard through the grapevine. You know, when I was flying stuffy, no-morals rich people around before I met you Hunts.”
I can’t help but smile. Jesper is a highly decorated Air Force fighter pilot.
He’s flown more missions than anyone will ever know.
Which is what makes him perfect for what we use him for.
The guy has gotten us in and out of some tight spots on more than one occasion.
He’s fast, efficient, and discreet—three things that are desperately needed when you’re dealing with high-profile targets such as well-known traffickers.
You can’t risk tipping them off, or the risk of those they’ve taken is put into even more jeopardy than it already is.
“Just what did you hear through the grapevine?”
“Carl Slater—the patriarch before he met his own untimely death—loved to throw people out of planes.”
I wish I could say I was surprised—but the evilness human beings are capable of is something I’m quite familiar with. “Disturbing.”
“Yeah. And the son, Heath? Has a fondness for drowning people.”
Emma is terrified of water.
What would he have done to torment her if the marriage had gone through and he’d discovered that?
“Fantastic,” I respond dryly. Another reason to stop him.
“As I said, bad people. Be careful. Let me know if you want additional boots on the ground on this one. I’m happy to come and watch your back.”
I consider it. Most of the time, he stays back at the airport hangar and watches the plane, but if we’re walking into a trap, it might be a good plan to have someone no one knows on our side. “You know, I think that might be a good idea.”
The small café nestled near the beach, in Point Pleasant, New Jersey, is relatively quiet as Tucker and I step inside. The aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods drifts outside, but coffee is the last thing on my mind.
Especially when I see a blonde woman in the corner, large dark sunglasses covering her eyes. The white blouse she’s wearing has embroidered flowers all over the front of it like an explosion of color. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun—not a strand out of place.
Even if I hadn’t seen her picture, I’d have known she’s Harlow Slater. It’s just that obvious. As I wait for her to acknowledge me, I try to bury my desire to simply force her to tell me where I can find her son so I can stop this whole thing right now.
“Hi, can I help you?” the barista greets happily.
“I’ll grab the coffee,” Tucker offers, then heads toward the counter.
I note Jesper sitting at a table near the corner, his gaze trained intently on a book in his hands. He’d gone in thirty minutes before us. That way, he was here and settled before we came in. No one should suspect we’re here together.
Harlow finally shifts her attention to me and offers a single, tight nod, so I cross the shop and head to the small round table.
As I sit across from her, Delta lies down at my side, and Harlow removes her glasses.
She’s in her early sixties, but thanks to what must be multiple plastic surgeries, no one could tell.
Her brown eyes are red-rimmed, and her lips tremble just a bit as she takes a deep breath.
Is this fear or grief over the loss of her friend?
“Dylan Hunt, I presume?” she asks, offering me her hand.
“Yes.” I don’t take her hand, so she drops it. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t leave me much choice.”
Since I threatened to turn the text messages over to her son in exchange for Emma’s safety, I can’t exactly blame her for the frustration in her tone. But when she refused to meet with us, I had to do something. Right now, she might be the only person who can give us the answers we need.
“Would you like something?” Tucker asks her as he sets two paper cups of coffee down.
She points to the one already in front of her. “I’m fine.”
“We’re sorry about your loss,” Tucker starts. “Felicity Karver was your friend?”
“My best friend,” she replies. “Since college.”
“It must have been rough—marrying men from rival families.”
She glares at me. “We fell apart for a time but grew close again over the last few years.”
“Since the death of your husband?” I press. It can’t be coincidence that he died six months ago and now his son is trying to marry Emma.
“What can I say? As soon as his thumb was ripped off of me, I was desperate for my roots. Is this why I’m here? To talk about the loveless marriage I spent most of my life in?”
“No.”
“Then let’s just get this over with, shall we? I don’t have all day, and the longer I’m away, the more suspicious it looks.”
Fine. “Why does your son need to marry Gio Karver’s daughter?”
“Need to marry her?” She shakes her head. “You have it all wrong. Gio needs Heath to marry the girl.”
“Why?”
“A few months ago, Gio got into some trouble. He was having an affair, and that twisted son of his learned about it. He put the woman in the ground, and her husband came forward with evidence that would have proven the Karvers were responsible. Heath stepped in and quieted the matter.”
“Meaning he murdered the woman’s husband and paid off anyone who would’ve talked,” I surmise.
“Exactly.” Harlow leans back in her seat.
“Why didn’t Gio just take care of it?”
“Because he’s so broke he can’t see straight. What he does have is currently being monitored by the feds,” she sneers.
Interesting. “Then explain to us why your son agreed to marry her? If he doesn’t need to, why settle down into marriage with a woman who has no interest in it?”
Harlow eyes me, then shifts her attention to Tucker before returning it to me. “You two are in over your heads. This is so far beyond what you can even begin to wrap your mind around.”
“Try me,” I growl, ignoring the insult. It’s not the first time I’ve been underestimated, and it won’t be the last.
“Your dear Emmaline—or Gwendolyn, as Felicity called her—will be the sole heir to the Karver family once the rest of them are out of the way.”
“I thought you said Gio is broke,” Tucker counters.
“He is—on paper. But the man has his sticky fingers in millions of dollars’ worth of real estate, as well as connections to high-power drug manufacturers.
Heath wants to take full control of the entire empire.
Emmaline allows him the opportunity to do that.
Once the rest of the Karvers are out of the way, she’s the last living blood relative. Which means—”
“She gets full control of it. She can liquidate the assets,” Tucker says. “It would only take a DNA test to prove she’s their biological daughter.”
“Exactly.” Harlow crosses her arms.
“Then explain the text messages. Why did it read like you were working with Felicity to keep this deal from happening?”
Harlow is quiet for a moment. She purses her lips, and her gaze darts from side to side.
“Because I want my son to pay for all of the evil he’s committed.
I want the legacy my husband was so determined to protect to be burned down until it’s nothing but ash,” she growls.
“Felicity felt the same. Neither one of us signed up for this when we got married.”
“You expect us to believe that you both accidentally married the heads of separate crime families? Those odds don’t quite add up,” Tucker says.
Harlow glares at him. “I found out after the fact that the only reason he married me was because he knew I was friends with Felicity, and he was hoping to have me pump her for information on Gio. So no, Mr. Hunt, I suppose the marriages weren’t by accident.
However, I never would have married him had I known the type of man he was. ”
I almost feel bad for her.
“Then why didn’t you leave?”
She turns to me. “I had a son. And despite everything, I wanted him to know his father. I thought that I could keep him from following along in his footsteps, but by the time I realized I was wrong, it was too late.” Her eyes fill, but she blinks the tears away.
“Did you help Felicity rescue Emma?”
She swallows hard. “I had a hand in making sure Gio let her leave the house. He was intent on keeping her there up until the wedding, but when I spoke to Heath that morning, I told him he needed to make sure he could get Gio alone so they could discuss the parameters of the deal. I also made sure to mention that the woman would likely be less of a headache if she had another reason for wanting to stay around.”
“Such as a relationship with her mother,” Tucker finishes.
“Exactly.”
“But how could you know it would work?” I ask.
“I didn’t. I merely started the dominoes so Felicity could get her out.” She dabs at her eyes with a small paper napkin. “Then they killed her for it.”
“And here I thought it was a robbery,” I say, my attempt to gauge her reaction.
She glares at me. “We both know that’s not true. Gio had her and that boutique owner killed for rescuing your Emmaline. And instead of staying in hiding so that Felicity’s death wasn’t for nothing, what do you do? You go poking your nose into places it shouldn’t be.”
I ignore her. Pretending there isn’t a threat doesn’t make it go away. It only makes it harder to react when the predator finally strikes. And he will strike. “Felicity told us that we needed to keep Emma safe until after November 1st. Why?”
Harlow lets out a heavy breath and takes a drink of her coffee.
“As I told you, I want to see both organizations leveled to nothing but ash. So Felicity and I started a chain of events that will—” Delta lets out a warning bark seconds before glass shatters, and I dive to the ground, taking Tucker with me.
Without hesitation, I crawl over and tug Harlow down to the ground. She lands on her back, blood saturating the front of her blouse. “Tucker, she’s been hit!”
“On it.” Tucker presses both hands to her chest while I crawl toward the window ledge to peer out. Jesper stays where he is, weapon in hand, watching the back door just in case they flank us.
“What is happening?” the barista screams.
“Stay down!” I order. With adrenaline surging through my system like molten lava, I scan the street, looking for our shooter.
It doesn’t take me long to see him because he’s not even trying to hide.
A man dressed in black waves at me from the top of a building across the street.
“He’s there!” I yell as he ducks back out of view.
Delta snarls, ready for a fight.
I turn back around as Tucker raises one blood-stained hand to remove some gauze from the tactical backpack at his side.
My gaze drops to Harlow and the blood pooling beneath her.
And when I see Tucker’s bloody hand retrieve more gauze, I’m thrown back to the server room with him, watching the life drain from his eyes.
I’m thrust into the past. Back even before I nearly lost my twin.
Flashbacks slam into me—one after the other.
Blood dripping onto concrete. Deafening screams. Excruciating pain.
It’s all there, firing one right after the other in rapid succession.
Delta whimpers and rests his head against me, but I barely feel him.
My heart is hammering—yet everything is moving slowly at the same time. The walls begin to close in, suffocating me with memories I desperately want to keep buried forever. Why can’t they just stay buried?
Lean on Me.
Those three words silence everything else. And Emma’s words follow. “God doesn’t forget people. People forget to pray.”
As I close my eyes, my breathing begins to steady.
Lord, please don’t let me lose myself. Not now. Keep me in the moment. Help me, Lord. Please.
The world begins to come back into focus as a sense of calm washes over me—a peace that makes no sense, given our current circumstances.
“Dylan, you good?” Tucker questions, half yelling in a way that makes me wonder if he hadn’t been trying to get my attention while I was teetering on the edge.
“Yes.” I come to Harlow’s side and kneel down.
Her eyes are wide and full of tears. “He’s going to kill all of you,” she says. “Anyone who tries to stop him will die.” Her bottom lip trembles.
“We’re not easy men to kill,” Tucker tells her. “Save your energy.”
“Ambulance is on the way,” Jesper says.
“Just let me die,” she says.
“No,” Tucker and I reply in unison.
“You get a look at the guy?” Jesper calls out.
“Not really. Wore black. Arrogant enough that he waved at me.”
“He waved at you?” Tucker asks.
“Yeah.” Sirens blare as police and paramedics come to a halt in front of the coffee shop. “We can’t leave her here in Jersey,” I tell him as I look down at Harlow. I think she’s still alert, though her eyes are closed and her breathing ragged. “If she lives, we need to get her back to Pine Creek.”