34. Mac
34
Mac
Who meets for dinner on a Tuesday at 10:30 PM?
After I wake in the morning, I lay there and listen to her even, shallow breathing for a while. My dick is hard, like it usually is when I wake, and I’m sorely tempted to recreate the dream I was having, but I doubt she’d appreciate regaining consciousness in surprise bondage. She needs to rest, anyway.
Instead, I slip out of bed, toss on enough clothes so I won’t catch any shit for my nudity or hard on, and head downstairs. I leave the gauze wrap in place, in spite of the fact that I don’t really need it since the wounds aren’t oozing, because it reminds me of her. It reminds me that she cares enough to want to help heal me; that she soothes me.
I smile, remembering the way she handled my wounds. I like how tender she was with me. No one else does that, which could have something to do with my chosen profession. But somehow her gentle treatment isn’t emasculating, like I thought it would be. If anything, it makes me feel stronger, more manly. It’s an addictive feeling.
Like I needed another reason to be addicted to her.
Wes is in his cave, as per usual, staring at his screen with a pensive frown.
“Hey man, what did you find?”
He glances at me, then sits back. “Nice face.”
I scrub my jaw where I know the skin has turned black and blue. I can feel the puffiness that tells me it’s still a bit swollen, but something being tender to the touch doesn’t faze me anymore unless something is broken. “I’m thinking of going into modeling, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, ugly mug like yours.”
He grins. “Let me get Dimitri on a call. Go get some coffee and an ice pack.”
“Where is he?”
“At the address you sent us. It was purchased 25 years ago by Lucy Silvie. It took some digging—life was so much more offline 25 years ago—but I found her. Get this, she’s Kevin Anderson’s former mistress.”
“The mayor?”
“None other.”
I mull that over as I walk from the room. Why would Rossi be staying at the mayor’s former mistress’s house? Are they having an affair? Does the Mayor know?
The fancy espresso machine gets to work on my drink—so loudly it sounds like it’s trying to achieve lift off—as I nuke some of the egg muffin things Eleanor baked us. I cram them into my mouth, fist the coffee in one hand and the ice pack in the other. I hear the noise that means the call is starting up as I close the office door behind me.
“Well, he is definitely in there. He sits in the living room in an open bathrobe. That is a sight I cannot unsee,” Dimitri kicks us off immediately.
It’s hard to believe we finally know where he is. It’s even harder to believe he’s somewhere so unprotected. Why stay in a random suburban two bedroom when you have a home like a palace with armed guards? Clearly, he wasn’t expecting to be followed, or for anyone who might be after him to find the connection to the mayor.
“Thanks for getting Eleanor out of there last night,” I say as I pull a chair around to sit next to Wes. He rolls to the side to make room.
Dimitri jerks a nod, his acknowledgement of my thanks. “I read your message that explained what happened after you left the table. You should know that Grigori and one other are dead. They arrived just as we were leaving.”
I nod. “I figured it was something like that. I’m sure the cleanup crew brought enough bleach.”
Dimitri huffs a little sound of amusement that’s basically like his version of a laugh. “It is what they are paid to do. What have you found, Wesley?”
Wes taps a few keys, bringing up a browser. “He definitely thinks it was all Dimitri—the weapons and the row at Rouge Elephant. They upped the reward significantly. ”
“Let him think this,” Dimitri says dismissively.
Wes glances at me and his lips flatten. “I’ve got worse news. He also thinks Eleanor is involved—Dimitri’s accomplice, maybe.”
When he brings up the ad, I stiffen. There’s an image from the restaurant, slightly fuzzy from a long zoom in dim lighting, with about half of Eleanor’s face as Dimitri rushes her out. His back is to the camera. I scan the ad and curse when I see the last line.
…and information on the whereabouts of Eleanor Wilson, 28, Caucasian female, last known address in Ulysses, NJ.
My blood boils, even as a cold kind of fury settles in my chest. He’s going to put out a hit on my girl? “He’s a dead man.”
“ Da. That is the job,” Dimitri reminds me dryly.
“At least it’s not an APB,” Wes says, like it’s some kind of consolation. “It tells us they still aren’t doing anything above board.”
The mention of possible police intervention scratches at something in the back of my brain. Something Eleanor said. Why wouldn’t a man like him—up for reelection—plaster his face everywhere, unless it was easier for him if people don’t know what he looks like?
I sit back and cross my arms. “I’ve got a question. Who meets for dinner on a Tuesday at 10:30 PM?”
“Someone who doesn’t want to be seen with their company,” Wes suggests with a shrug. “They don’t want people to know about their connection because Rossi’s buying the mayor off?”
“That’s what I thought, too. But if you had the mayor in your pocket—you go to dinner, he takes your money, gets some building permits pushed through, some petty crime expunged, lets you stay in his safehouse—why wouldn’t you just go to the cops to track Dimitri down?”
“And say what?” Wes asks.
I shrug. “Anything. He broke in, he assaulted him, he stole something… My point is, the reason doesn’t matter if cops are going to do it anyway as a favor to the mayor. Surely it would be easier for Rossi if he could get some help from law enforcement, especially since he knows Dimitri is still local and he’s got at least one guy on the force under his thumb. ”
Dimitri frowns into the middle distance. “Police do have resources that would be valuable in the search.”
“And a mayor is effectively in charge of local police.”
“Why go underground if you don’t have to?” Wes asks, thinking aloud. “It’s expensive.”
“And discreet.” I adjust my ice pack to take a sip of my coffee while I think. “Rossi hires cleaners, which means he doesn’t want to get the police involved. For a guy like him, that probably means he doesn’t want his name or any of his associates on the record. But if he could just get the mayor to look the other way, why wouldn’t he?”
“So, there’s no record of it,” Dimitri says. “Or, the mayor would not want to help with this for some reason, perhaps.”
“Maybe the mayor answers to someone and it looks suspicious if he’s too involved in police matters,” Wes suggests.
I shake my head. “Locally, the mayor only answers to taxpayers. No one above him is even around to notice any excessive involvement with local law enforcement.”
“So, Rossi does not want to involve the mayor in these affairs. We still do not know why,” Dimitri declares.
“I just… have a hunch. What if we were wrong and it’s not just Rossi? Let’s look into the mayor—follow the money. How much does a public servant like him make?”
Wes blows out a breath. “Before bribes? $100K at most.”
“Does he live a $100K a year life? Or, does he make large deposits in offshore accounts?”
Wes grins. “I’ll find out.”
“It does not change that we still know Rossi is involved. And now we know where he is hiding and it can finally be a simple matter of your rifle from 500 yards,” Dimitri goes on.
“Not if the mayor will keep up this operation after Rossi is dead,” I argue. I’ll never be able to leave Eleanor here if I know the mayor of her town was in bed with a weapons smuggler. Especially not now that her picture has been in this forum, even for a minute. She’ll either have to move or come with me—another option that’s being taken from her. “Give Wes some time, see what he can dig up.”
“I can’t take too long. Now that he thinks Eleanor is involved, the clock is ticking on her family being put at risk.”
Dimitri grinds his jaw. “Fine. But I will be taking the day watch again.”
“Fine.” I should have known that would be his stipulation. “How’s that new cell phone coming?”
Wes grabs it off the edge of the desk. “Got it here. I’ll give it to her when she gets up.”
I stand, draining the last of my coffee. “You mean when she gets down here. She’s about to be up, but she won’t be coming down for a while yet, if you know what I mean—”
Wes groans and Dimitri disconnects the call with a resentful, “Of course we know what you mean.”
“Lucky sod,” Wes mutters as I leave the room.
She’s still asleep when I return to the room, and looking so peaceful, my erection prompts a heated internal debate. The softer side of me wins, and I grab my sneakers on the way back out of the bedroom to work off some of this energy the solitary way.