22. Ava
AVA
W hat are you saying?” Ava asks, her brows knitting in concern. She steps further into the room, dropping her voice. She glances toward the closed door as if she can still feel Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum loitering just outside.
“The Burelli Crime family,” I say slowly, “The one case I wasn’t able to finish before I left my job.”
Her head tilts. “Left?”
I give a single nod, my jaw locking. “Left.”
Her eyes search mine. “Why would you leave?” She shakes her head, still piecing it together. “Furthermore, what could they want from you now?”
“The Burelli Crime family has been linked to a string of deaths. The most recent being Senator Wright. To top it off, we believe they control the ports.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they control the drugs on the streets of Seattle.”
She blows out a breath through her teeth, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.
“Jesus . . . But that still doesn’t explain what that has to do with some stupid little flash drive. I mean, if you were no longer a DEA agent, why would they still be coming after you?”
“Because I know their secrets.”
“Like?”
“That’s not important,” I murmur, the edge in my tone making it clear the subject’s closed. “What is important is that they’re dangerous.”
She groans and throws her head back, as if I just told her she was grounded for life.
Little brat.
“I haven’t gotten a text in a week.”
“And you think that means they’ve stopped watching you?”
Her gaze sharpens. “Why do you care?” she snaps, but the bite in her voice sounds more like deflection than anger.
I give a lazy shrug that’s anything but casual. “You signed a contract stating it’s my job to protect you. That means whatever I say goes.”
She scoffs, folding her arms in a way that pushes her shoulders back—whether she realizes it or not. “Well, I think you’re overreacting. So, they got my number because I live here. It could have been anyone.”
I take a slow step toward her, letting the space shrink until she has to tilt her chin up to keep looking at me. “You really think so, baby girl?”
The nickname rolls off my tongue like a warning and a promise all at once.
Her cheeks flare hot, a blush that blooms fast and betrays her before she can look away. I see it. I feel it. And it’s enough to make me smirk.
“Thought so,” I murmur, not breaking eye contact.
“You’re impossible,” she growls under her breath.
“And you’re a brat,” I counter.
“So, if this is the Burelli’s, then who is Black?”
Lead fills my chest, but I shake the feeling off. I don’t have time to dwell on it.
“There’s a place I go to. Called the Tomb.” My voice flattens. “I don’t go by Levi or Cross there, Ava.”
She stares at me, the silence stretching long enough that I can almost hear the gears turning in her head. Then her eyes narrow with dawning realization.
“Let me guess . . .” Her voice is quieter now, colder. “You go by Black.”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to. She knows.
“This is getting far too confusing,” she mutters, sinking onto the corner of the bed and scrubbing a hand over her face. “I mean, why would someone be pretending to be you to blackmail me into stealing . . . from you?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I grunt. I lean my shoulder into the doorframe, the wood cool against my arm. “Though, if they’re pretending to be me, I don’t think it’s so much of a coincidence that you were being followed.”
Ava’s lips flatten, the kind of tight line she makes when she’s holding back more than she’s saying. “Then that would mean they know about . . . us.” Her cheeks flame, and she looks anywhere in the room but at me.
“Exactly.” My voice is low, clipped. “And if they know about Black, they know about the Tomb. That means they’re not just some random street hustler with a vendetta. They’ve been inside my world. They’ve seen the shit that doesn’t make it into police reports.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, something like fear—or maybe recognition—flickering there. “So . . . what happens now?”
I push off the frame, crossing the short space until I’m standing in front of her. The air between us feels warmer here, charged. “Now? I find out who’s playing dress-up with my name. And when I do, they’ll wish they’d picked anyone else.”
Her jaw tenses, but she doesn’t break eye contact. “You can’t do it alone.”
“I’m not asking you to help me,” I say, though the words taste like a lie the second they’re out. She knows it, too.
Her gaze hardens. “Then you’re an idiot. Because if they’re after me, Levi, then we are already in this together—whether you like it or not.”
Something coils low in my gut, dark and unshakable. She’s right. I hate that she’s right.
I sit beside her, elbows resting on my knees, our shoulders almost touching. “Then start telling me everything they’ve said to you. Every word. Every threat. No holding back.”
She hesitates only a beat before nodding. “You’re not going to like it.”
Her voice is brittle, quiet in a way that makes my pulse slow.
“Try me,” I murmur, watching her closely.
Her fingers twist in the hem of her shirt, knuckles whitening. “The last message they sent . . . it wasn’t just about the flash drive. They said if I didn’t get it, they’d take something from me.”
My chest tightens. “Something?”
Her throat works as she swallows. “They said—someone.” She finally looks up at me, and the weight of her stare lands like a fist to the ribs.
The room is so still that I can hear her breathing—shallow and controlled.
“They won’t get to you,” I say, my voice low and dangerous.
She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “I’m not worried about me, Levi. I think they meant you.”
The words land cold and sharp at the base of my spine.
I lean back, jaw grinding. “Then they’ve just made their first mistake.”
Because anyone stupid enough to put themselves in my crosshairs won’t walk out of them.
Ava studies me like she’s trying to decide whether I’m about to run headfirst into a trap or burn the whole city down. She’s not wrong on either count.
The air hums between us, charged with something volatile.
“You think they’re bluffing?” I ask.
“I think…” she says slowly, “…whoever this is, they want us chasing the wrong thing. They want to keep you distracted while they get whatever’s on that flash drive.”
I stand and start pacing, the movement keeping the tension from boiling over. “Then we stop playing defense.”
Her brow furrows. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I’m done waiting for them to make the next move. If they know about the Tomb and me as Black, then they’ve been close. Too close.” My tone hardens. “So we draw them out. Make them think we’re giving them exactly what they want.”
Ava blinks, torn between thinking I’ve lost my mind and wondering if it might actually work. “And if they take the bait?”
A slow, humorless smirk tugs at my mouth. “Then they meet the real Black.”
Her breath hitches almost imperceptibly, but she hides it well. “So . . . what now?”
“Get dressed.”
“Why?”
I chuckle under my breath as I head towards the door.
“We’ve got work to do.”