No Mercy
Vera
“So, you’ve got a plan?” Saph asked, eyes narrowing.
“Yep.” I grinned, flashing my teeth.
“Yep.” I let a grin flash across my face.
“You’re seriously badass. But will Saira actually fall for it?”
I raised a brow. “All you need to do is call her. Today. Tell her you want to talk about Julian. Play the part. You know, act like you need her. She’s a narcissist, like Alistair says. She’ll eat it up.”
“And when do I meet her?”
“Next week. At the domestic airport’s only café .”
She wrinkled her nose. “That place is a dump.”
I leaned in. “Then humble up. You’re David, she’s Goliath—and you’ve got one stone in that sling. One chance.”
Saph tapped her temple. “One stone, one shot only.”
“Exactly. Let her think she’s above you. That’s how you win.”
“Wouldn’t a café downtown be better?”
I shook my head. “No. You’ll need Alistair’s jet. That trip will be one she’ll never forget.”
“Wait—you want me to get her on a plane? Are you fucking insane? You’re talking about leaving me trapped on a jet with Saira?” Saph dragged a hand down her face and rolled her eyes. “Oh, Lord, help me. This won’t work. She won’t even meet me.”
I groaned, leaning in. “Listen, Saph. No offense, but you’re a pebble in her shoe. She wants you gone more than you realize.”
Her brows knit. “Meaning?”
“She’ll meet you. She’ll be dying to. Because she wants to see you beg. She wants to watch your face crack while she grinds you under her heel.”
Saph shook her head. I caught her face in my hands, stilling her. Her baby-blue eyes locked on mine, and for a moment my chest kicked hard—I understood exactly how Julian had fallen under her spell.
“Believe me,” I said quietly, “Saira will say yes. Right now she’s the cat, and she wants the mouse. She’ll be waiting for you to crawl to her, desperate and broken. That’s what she craves. Let her believe it. Play along.”
“Then what happens?”
I held Saph’s gaze. “Jules already did the hard part. His statement about Saira’s role in the rape and her illegal activities is being handled. The police will search her home on the day you take her inside the jet.”
Her mouth parted, but I cut in before she spoke. “So you meet her at the café. Let a few tears slip. You’ve got the chops for it.”
She snorted a loud laugh. “You think?”
“Sweetie, you can pull it off.” I slid my hand over hers. “Beg her to stop, make it sound like you’re breaking. Then tell her Julian’s flying in and hint he wants to make peace. I’ll give you the gate. She’ll follow, because deep down, she can’t resist him. She’s obsessed.”
“Right, I’m listening.” She nodded.
“The thing is, Jules won’t be at the gate,” I said. “You’ll keep walking. Security will wave you through, straight onto the jet. Saira’s ego won’t let her question it. She’ll follow. She thinks you’re harmless, and she loves a challenge. Picture Cruella de Vil strapped into a roller coaster.”
“Vee.” Saph’s cheeks flushed crimson. “I told you, I cannot be trapped alone with that woman.”
I smirked. “Who said you’d be alone?”
Her brows knit, suspicion sparking in her eyes.
“You’ll have Alistair, a cop, and maybe Julian onboard if he agrees,” I went on.
“By the time the jet’s in the air, the police will have raided her house and dug up everything they need.
Every crime Julian laid out in his statement.
We’ll time it to the minute. She’ll be arrested while you’re above the clouds. ”
Saph’s lips parted. “So we’re taking her down while we circle the sky?”
I tilted my head, a slow smile spreading. “Exactly. You’ll be giving her a trip she’ll regret for the rest of her life.”
Saph laughed, eyes alight. “God, I love it. When did you turn into such a bitch?”
“Honey, I was born with it.”
A few minutes later, Damian emerged from his room, taking the stairs two at a time before slowing at the entrance. “Vee, can I go to Jake’s?”
I watched him shrug into his water-resistant jacket. Outside, rain streaked down the living-room windows in heavy sheets.
“Have you asked your father?” I asked.
“He told me to check with you since you’re in charge of dinner tonight.” His green eyes locked on mine, wide and pleading.
“Be home for dinner by six o’clock,” I said, placing my hand on my hip. “Don’t forget to wear a helmet if you’re biking there.”
“Yes, Mom,” he teased, grinning ear to ear.
Julian and Alistair stepped out of the office as Damian tugged on his helmet and slipped into his sneakers. He gave Julian a polite nod, then tossed me a salute. “Bye.” With that, he ducked out the door.
Julian chuckled. “He’s quite a kid.”
Sapphire’s gaze wandered upward, taking in the glitter of the chandeliers.
“Damian’s great,” I said. “Too much screen time, though. I keep pushing him to spend more hours with real kids instead of computer avatars.”
“Let’s get straight to it,” Alistair said, settling onto the divan. I stood behind him, resting my hands on his shoulders while Saph and Julian took the sofa opposite.
“Alistair, thank you for everything you’ve done for Julian,” Saph said, her fingers lacing through my brother’s.
“There’s no need to thank me,” Alistair replied evenly. “Julian, Jessie’s out of your life. Lester Harbor Women’s Correctional Facility will be her new address.”
Saph squeezed Julian’s hand tighter.
I spoke up. “She and I already talked about taking out the trash, meaning Saira.”
“I’ve agreed,” Saph said, glancing at my brother. “But only if Julian’s on board.”
Julian’s eyes hardened. “Alistair filled me in on the details. I want Saira Quinn to rot in hell, but not if it costs anyone.”
“There’s one more person whose career deserves to burn.” I turned to Saph. “Your colleague Raphael tried to ruin my brother’s life by going after you.”
“He failed,” Saph said coolly. “And he’s terrified Alistair will finish him off. He knows exactly who you’re connected to.” Her gaze flicked to Alistair.
He stroked his chin, thoughtful. “Want me to call Paul about him?”
“The guy played a hand in destroying my brother’s life. Show him no mercy.” I dropped my thumb down.
Julian muttered, “Pollice verso.” It was our old inside joke—he’d point his thumb down whenever I was in trouble with Mom. But this time, the meaning was deadly serious. No mercy for the wicked.
“You’re right,” Alistair said, pulling out his phone. He pressed dial, then switched to speaker. “Paul, it’s me. I need a favor.”
Senator McGrath’s voice came clear and casual. “Yeah? What can I do for you?”
It took a few minutes to convince Paul to end Raphael’s career. Once the senator agreed, Alistair slipped out when another call lit up his phone, retreating to his office.
Julian sat with his arm draped around Saph. “Ad Augusta per angusta,” he murmured, then translated, “Vee, you’re the eagle rising high, overcoming hardship.”
If only he knew half of it. But Julian carried his own wars. We all did. My thoughts turned to Damian.
“Alistair wants full custody of his son,” I said quietly. “The appeal’s already in motion. It’s a war with Saira—and Damian’s the one paying the price every time he’s with her.”
Saph’s cool eyes softened. “You’re becoming attached.”
“Damian’s my son, too. Not in blood but in spirit,” I answered. “He and Alistair love me. I love them.”
Julian pushed to his feet and began pacing, circles etched into the rug. Silence thickened until he stopped. “I told Saira to leave me alone. Peace for peace. She refused.” His dark eyes lifted to mine. “Her time’s up. She’s going down.”
Alistair
“Frank, I trust you didn’t call me about the weather.” I pressed the phone to my ear and shut the office door, locking out the world.
“Scotty, I’m glad we could talk. Montville State Statutes authorize peace officers to—”
“Enough. Get to the point,” I cut him off.
“The judge signed and executed a search warrant in connection with Saira Quinn.”
“Connection?” I snapped. “Legal jargon, I get it, but don’t dress her up with the respect she doesn’t deserve.”
“Listen, I’m on your side,” Frank reminded me. “Your informant’s confession contained enough to put her away, provided it holds up. The judge found it credible. Reliable.”
“Good.”
Frank hesitated. I heard his breath hitch before he went on. “There’s more. My team recovered a body last night. Head, feet, hands all gone. But the ink was still there. An executioner tattooed across the right bicep.”
I leaned into the silence. “Oh?”
“The victim fits the description of the man who assisted in the assault on your friend, Julian. We also recovered another body not long ago. Decomposed, washed up on the shore. Same story. Head, arms, and legs cut off. When we finally located the head, the tongue was gone.”
My jaw locked. My hand slipped out of my pocket, fingers twitching against my thigh. “What are you saying, Frank?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Nothing at all. We’ve got suspicions.
Some men from a motorcycle club, but nothing that will stick.
As far as I’m concerned, these are cold cases.
” He paused, then muttered, “Right now, we’re in the middle of a drug war.
The department’s stretched thin. We need resources. ”
I drew a slow breath, let it out, forcing the tension from my hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Scotty. I knew I could count on you. You’re a saint.”
“I’m no saint,” I scoffed, then steered the conversation to a more pleasant topic. “Hey, about the house by the coast that you’ve been talking about. How’s that going?”
“It’s a nice early retirement gift,” Frank said, warmth slipping in his voice. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. Now, I need one last favor. Do you like flying?”
“It depends on what you mean.” Frank chuckled. “Will I land in one piece, alive, and unharmed?”
“Of course,” I promised. “We’re friends. You’ll join me on a short flight to meet the woman you’ll arrest. We’ll time it with your search of her home.”
“My team will have to confirm all the evidence before I make the arrest.”
“Everything will be there,” I assured.
Julian’s confession had it mapped out clearly: Saira’s stash of narcotics, files on drug trafficking and illegal prostitution, and the loaded gun near Damian’s room.
Still, one call to Lou would ensure plenty of evidence in her home.
Better to salt the ground myself than risk a single seed slipping through.
I never left stones unturned when it came to my enemies.
“Scotty, I’ve got to go. Promised my wife I’d take the grandkids to the park.”
“I won’t keep them waiting. Enjoy your day.”
I set the phone on my desk. Vera stood in the doorway, arms folded, eyebrow arched. She didn’t need to ask what I’d been discussing. That curve on her lips gave nothing away, yet promised everything. A Mona Lisa smile, and mine to read.
“Jules and Saph left,” she said. “They both agreed it’s time to strike.”
“Indeed,” I replied, yawning. It had been a long day.
“I want that viper to pay for what she did.” There was no snarl, no malice, and no anger in Vera’s face. Her dark eyes were cold like basalt. I knew basalt well: once heated, it could scorch through flesh and bone.
I shifted the subject. “Don’t forget tomorrow night. We’re meeting Angelo, Lou, and their partners at the country club.”
“Angelo Lucciano.” Vera’s mouth curved. “Handsome man. He’s a great poster boy for the mafia in this city. Will his baby cousin be there too?”
“No. Vanessa won’t be there this time.” My frown deepened at the memory of my eighteen-year-old ex-lover shooting daggers at Vera during Angelo’s birthday party last month.
“Has Angelo spoken with Liam O’Reilly?”
“Yes. Liam cut ties with Saira. She’s bad business. No profit, no future value.”
“Good.” Vera pivoted with ease. “I’ll start on risotto for dinner.”
“Uh, about that.” I arched a brow. “Just follow the instructions this time.” The last round of her risotto still lived in infamy: more paste than perfection.
“Do you want to cook?” She planted her hands on her hips, lips pursed in challenge.
“I cooked last night. It’s your turn, sweetheart.” I winked, unable to resist. I’d once suggested cooking lessons with the Michelin-star chef, Pietro De Luca, but she refused flat out, claiming she’d had her fill of chefs.