Chapter 27
“Nice to see you, Detective.” Adalyn half smiled at Camila Flores as she slid into the booth across from her in the noisy restaurant and bar.
The detective had chosen a hole-in-the-wall place about three blocks from the PD. It seemed to have an Italian theme, though most of the walls were covered with green, gold and purple streamers. And even though it was only eleven in the morning, the place was packed and people were already tossing back drinks. The noise was welcome as a cover, however, and would block anyone attempting to listen to them.
Not that Adalyn was actually worried that the detective had called her there for that reason, but she always had her guard up out of habit.
“Camila is fine.” The woman nodded at a bartender who stopped at the table, dropped off a Bloody Mary. “Thanks, we still need a few minutes.”
Adalyn simply nodded at the woman, then raised an eyebrow at the drink.
Unrepentant, Camila grinned and it took years off her face as she leaned back in the cracked red vinyl booth. “I’m off the clock and a freaking hero because of the intel you passed me so I’m taking the win because they don’t always come.”
“Is that why you asked me here?”
Slightly sobering, she shook her head and leaned forward. Sighed. Paused. Sighed again. “Look…I’ve gone back and forth about this over the last few hours, and screw it,” she said, taking a big sip. “If anyone can keep a secret, I’m guessing it’s you. I take it you know what went down last night?”
“Warehouse raided, weapons and drugs retrieved, gang members arrested and Ali was killed. Does that sum it up?”
The detective blinked, then nodded. “Yep. But I’ve got more on Ali. After his men were arrested, we secured more warrants to raid his house and a couple judges’ homes—though that has nothing to do with him.” She shook her head slightly. “I just wanted to tell you that it looks like Ali was behind your sister’s roommate’s murder, the bombing, and Rory’s murder as well.”
“What did you find?”
“Not me personally.” Lowering her voice, she leaned forward. “But I used to date one of the guys who was part of the raid on Ali’s house and he owed me. This can’t leave this table, but I figured you had a right to know since he wanted you dead.” She slid her phone across the table. “You can look, but that’s it. And swipe right to see more.”
Adalyn pulled out reading glasses from her purse that weren’t actual reading glasses at all, but a way for Hailey and Gage to record anything she saw. She hadn’t planned to bring these but Hailey had insisted at the last minute.
She scanned the first image, then started scrolling even as she schooled her expression. “Your friend must have owed you big to let you take these pictures.”
Camila snickered slightly as she took a sip of her drink. “Eh, he did owe me, but he doesn’t know I took these pictures. He just let me see the info.” She shrugged, clearly apologetic. “He cheated on me with my cousin so I don’t feel bad at all. And that’s what he gets for taking a phone call and stepping out of the room.” Another shrug, her grin feral now. “Apparently they found all this in Ali’s filing cabinet. A small file packed with information they’re still combing through. But it seems clear that he was behind a lot of bad shit over the last week. And he’d planned to blow up even more places.”
Adalyn scanned the info, knowing the others, or at least Hailey and Gage, were seeing what she was. Omar Ali had been hunting for her for a while, but had been using covert means to find her, which was why his searches hadn’t shown up on any of their alerts. He had schematics of the school he’d bombed, of Rory’s place, her aunt’s bar, the condo complex she and her sister owned, even schematics of various places she’d frequented when she’d lived here over a decade ago. There were notes on her sister’s and aunt’s schedules, on more plans to bomb different historic places in the middle of Mardi Gras that would never take place. “Jesus,” she muttered.
“I know.” Camila shook her head. “If he’d had his way, this city would…” The woman’s expression darkened. “It’s some scary shit and I’m glad he’s dead.”
“Me too.” She kept flipping until a photo of Camila in a bikini popped up and the other woman grabbed her phone back. “Thank you for sharing this. You didn’t have to.”
“I know I didn’t, but you called in something huge and saved my city from a lot of heartache. When I think about what kind of devastation he could have wreaked with those bombs…” She shook her head. “And now Rory’s family and Clara’s get justice. And that matters, the closure of knowing who did it, even if it doesn’t make sense why.”
“They won’t know why?”
The detective sat for a long moment, looking out at the bar, at the laughing, definitely tipsy if not drunk people as they got louder. “Maybe eventually,” she finally said. “But I don’t know. All I know is that I can tell Clara Fournier’s mom that the man who killed her daughter is dead. And the same goes for the Collins family. Their killer won’t be hurting anyone else again.”
“What about his people? The men with him last night?”
“All going to jail. Naomi Winters is definitely cutting a deal because she has a lot of information, but Ali’s people are all going away, for at least a decade. I’m guessing more if our prosecutor can prove that they were involved in anything related to terrorism or any of the recent murders or bombing.”
Well, it would have to do, even if Adalyn felt as if things were unresolved. “Thank you for this information. Seriously.”
“We’re even. So did you tell Kayla that you were meeting with me?”
She blinked. “My attorney? No.”
Camila laughed as she shook her head. “I figured not, because she’d have ordered you not to come. She’s my cousin—not the one my asshole ex cheated with. She drives me crazy, but I love her. Anyway, I’m sorry for your loss, for your sister’s loss and for the shit show you’ve had to deal with.”
Adalyn simply nodded and started to slide out of her booth, but paused. “So whatever happened with the Feds watching Ali?”
Now she laughed out loud, practically cackling. “Got run out of town apparently. I’m not totally sure, but the DEA and ATF were equal parts pissed that they were encroaching. Someone high up made a call and they’re gone, so if they were a problem for you, they shouldn’t be anymore.”
“Thank you.” Adalyn just held out her hand, shook once before leaving. As she stepped out onto the crowded sidewalk, the sunshine hitting her in the face, she slid her sunglasses on.
Unsettled by everything she’d seen, she couldn’t seem to shake off the lingering fear for her sister, herself—and the guilt over the people who’d been killed because of her.
“So what do you think?” Rowan fell in step with her, automatically carving a path with his big body as they strolled down the busy street. There was a parade in two hours and some people were already setting up on balconies as they got ready. They had camp chairs to relax, coolers with drinks, and empty bags to haul their loot home in.
All the shops were open on the strip they were walking along, with doors and windows alike propped open to welcome people to step inside without any barriers.
“That I didn’t need you to come with me for this.”
“Well besides that.” His tone was light, steady, totally unruffled. “What did she show you?”
“A whole lot of evidence I want to go over more thoroughly later.” She was also debating if she should visit Rory’s widow when she returned home. As far as Adalyn knew, the woman and her kids were still gone, likely staying with her sister for the time being. Because even with the evidence, their home wouldn’t be deemed safe—and she couldn’t imagine they wanted to return to it right after his murder.
“It’s over, Adalyn. You’re allowed to feel relief.”
She glanced to her left as they reached the crosswalk, stopped even though they had the signal to go because a clearly drunk woman on a bicycle was barreling down the middle of the street wearing only a bikini despite the chilly weather.
A group of men behind them cheered as the woman passed.
“I know,” she murmured. “I’m just…processing everything, I guess.” And she didn’t feel relief. Not even close. As they reached the other side of the busy street, she swiveled, glared at the teenager who’d tried to pickpocket her. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
The boy’s blue eyes widened before he disappeared back into the crowd and raced off in the other direction.
“You said something before I could.” Rowan shook his head slightly. “Little shit.”
Freaking pickpockets.She shook her head but didn’t let it bother her—she wasn’t carrying a purse or wallet, though clearly the kid had thought so when he’d tried to reach into her back pocket. Quick hands too, she’d give him that. The only things she’d brought were the glasses around her neck and some cash she’d shoved into her bra.
“Hold up,” Rowan said as they stopped by a restaurant on the corner of Chartres.
The entire corner of the restaurant was open, with the long glass doors open so that people flowed through as easy as air. He moved to the big bar and yep, people moved right out of his way. To her surprise—though maybe she shouldn’t have been shocked at all—a cute blonde bartender stepped right up to him and took his order ahead of at least five others who’d clearly been waiting. Minutes later, Rowan returned, two to-go cups in hand.
“What’s this?” She frowned at her cup that had a woman’s name and phone number scrawled onto it.
“Mimosas. I know it’s early and I know you don’t drink on the job, but we’re taking this time. Just for now.” Then, to her surprise, he took her free hand in his as they headed past the park in Jackson Square on their left and a string of shops on their right toward Decatur Street.
She wasn’t sure what he was doing and part of her thought to protest or ask questions, but she was too exhausted.
After crossing the busy street full of carriages running historic tours, they passed Café Du Monde to their left and headed up a set of stairs to…view the brackish water. She shot him a sideways glance.
“Yeah, yeah, the view sucks, but whatever. We’ve had worse.” He guided her to one of the free benches and sat, clearly expecting her to follow suit.
“True enough.”
“So what’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?”
She glanced at him, eyebrows raised.
“What? Is it the gorgeous thing? Because I’m allowed to say that now, not just think it.”
She felt her cheeks heat up and glanced away, glad she had sunglasses on. Adalyn knew what she looked like but she wasn’t used to compliments, wasn’t used to anyone like Rowan. Probably because there was no one like the big, annoyingly sweet bulldozer of a man. Ignoring him, she sipped her drink and watched the people milling by them along the water, talking and laughing.
In their own worlds, as it should be.
Rowan slid an arm around her shoulders so she ignored it as much as she could. Which was basically not at all because his touch was scorching.
“We should probably get out of here.” She was in disguise with a short-bobbed wig and glasses, but she was still feeling itchy. Out of sorts.
“Ali’s dead.”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t think he was behind everything?”
“I didn’t say that. Everything just feels too…I don’t know, easy.”
He snorted. “Nothing about the last few days was easy.”
“Fine, wrong word. I just… I need closure, I guess, and I don’t think I’m ever going to get it.”
He was silent for a long moment, his fingers idly tracing the nape of her neck. “Maybe you should talk to your friend’s widow. Is that what’s holding you up?”
“That’s part of it.” And she was glad that he understood that. She took another sip of her drink, realized she was almost done.
“We’ll do whatever it takes to help you get the closure. We’re not leaving for a few days anyway until the geniuses are sure that things are settled and you and your sister are safe.”
The way he so casually said we made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Or more likely it was just the mimosas that gave her that feeling. Yep, it was the alcohol. “Thank you,” she murmured. For the drink and for just being a rock. She kept that part to herself, but he nodded, his arm still wrapped around her shoulders.
And she had no idea how to handle all the warm fuzzies inside her. No idea at all.