20. Kai
Twenty
Kai
The best part about last night?
After the first two times we made love—wait, did I just say made love?
Jesus Christ.
Listen to me.
I'm Kai Montego.
My dating history can basically be summed up as wham bam, thank you ma'am, and don't forget your phone charger on the way out.
Women who used me just like I used them.
No attachments.
No drama.
No feelings.
No staying for breakfast.
Hell, most mornings I couldn't tell you the last name of the woman beside me.
But Mary?
Shit.
Mary Donahue has apparently broken my brain.
Because not only did I stay the night, I woke up wanting her all over again.
And making love to her—fuck you, because that’s what it was—with the soft morning light spilling over her peaches and cream skin?
Fucking perfection.
Hell, I even made her coffee before I left.
And yes, I had to leave—albeit reluctantly—because her mom was coming home.
But before I walked out the door, I set up another date.
An actual date.
And I even made dinner reservations on the way to my apartment to shower and change my clothes.
Who the fuck even am I?
Apparently, I’m a man completely gone over a curvy little redhead who wears cardigans and threatens children with math worksheets.
And the worst part?
I don't even mind.
Because the best part about last night wasn't the sex.
Okay, don’t get me wrong, the sex is definitely in the top two.
But the best part really came afterward.
When she smiled and closed the distance between us again.
When her hands slid into my hair.
When she looked at me like I was something worth wanting.
Like I wasn't some screwup on administrative leave.
Like I wasn't a guy who solved problems with his fists.
Like I was hers.
That image has been stuck in my head ever since.
Through breakfast.
Through my workout.
Through the longest damn conference call in human history.
And now?
Still there.
Like a permanent fixture in my brain.
Not that I'm complaining.
Okay, maybe I'm complaining a little because the conference call is currently killing my buzz.
“You know he's a motherfucking crook, right?” Noel growls through the speaker.
“What?”
Shit.
I need to pay attention and stop daydreaming about curvy little redheads.
“Earth to Kai, we’re talking about Jonas, for fuck’s sake,” Noel growls.
“Yeah. He’s a crook. And?” I rumble.
“And why the fuck are you poking him with a stick?”
My boss isn’t wrong to ask me.
And my reasons are definitely personal.
I lean back in my chair, and I give him the only answer I can.
“Because he put his hands on Mary when she told him no and he’s been trying to crush the school’s fundraiser for a new gym because of it. What kind of sniveling prick does that? Punishes an entire school because the woman he wanted refused him?”
“Fuck, Kai—”
“No, listen,” I say, and I sit up straighter in my chair, “I know he’s connected to some bigwig politicians, but you want to know why I’m poking him, and the truth is somebody has to, Kane. And right now, that somebody is me.”
“Jesus Christ,” Noel mutters.
Across the line, I hear papers shuffling.
Keyboard clicks.
The sound of Ego laughing.
That asshole.
“Don't encourage him,” Noel snaps.
“I'm not,” Ego says immediately.
A beat passes.
“He's right, though,” Ego says, defending me.
He’s a still prick, but he can be a good brother sometimes.
“Of course you'd say that. You share the same caveman DNA.”
The line crackles and I shuffle the phone against my ear.
“No, seriously,” Ego continues. “So, I’ve had Jack digging deep into this guy, and he pulled some records.”
Now I'm paying attention.
“Talk.”
“Jonas is a slimy motherfucker. He’s been getting his palms greased every which way he can, skimming from local campaigns, withholding permits until certain demands were met—usually financial—and steering municipal contracts for years.”
That gets my attention fast.
I sit up straighter.
“What kind of contracts?”
“Construction.”
Noel sighs heavily.
“Municipal building renovations. Park improvements. Public works projects.”
“And anything with grant money attached,” Ego adds.
“Prick.”
“Yep.”
I scrub a hand down my face.
“That's shady, but proving it’s illegal is difficult,” Noel begins.
“Wait for it.”
Ego clears his throat.
There it is.
Usually, it’s a phrase nobody wants to hear.
Wait for it.
Because it means the bad part is coming.
But I’m fucking salivating for my brother to keep talking.
Fact is, this guy is coming for my Firecracker, and I want to stop him.
Okay, I want to hurt him and stop him.
Ego whistles.
“Three of the contractors Jonas keeps recommending?”
“Yeah?”
“Connected to organized crime.”
My jaw tightens.
“Who?”
“The Sarkisian family.”
“Armenians?”
Well.
Shit.
“Nothing proven,” Ego says quickly. “But there’s enough smoke that several state agencies are currently looking into them, and Jonas’ name has started popping up as a person of interest in New Jersey, according to the Feds.”
“And? Why haven’t they pushed him out of office or questioned him, for fuck’s sake?” I ask.
“He’s insulated. There’s just no hard evidence, Kai.”
“Of course.”
Because people like Joel Jonas never get caught.
Not really.
They just keep collecting money and shaking hands while everybody else pays the price.
“What does this have to do with Our Lady of Grace?” Noel asks.
A pause.
Then I answer.
“The proposed gym project, Jonas must have told his mob friends they’d be getting this contract, but he let his ego get in the way,” I say and the wheels are turning now.
“So, if he’s supposed to get it for them, it reasons they’re pissed he’s delaying the project, right?” Ego asks.
And it’s a really good question.
I go still.
“Okay, listen up. You are supposed to be on leave, Kai. So, none of this conversation is on the record for Sigma. Anything you may or may not do with the information learned here is entirely a result of your own reasoning and actions. Got it?”
“Got it.”
And I do.
I completely understand what he’s saying.
Next, I hear a click. It’s Kane leaving the conference call.