79. CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
Ihire another plane to bring Jillian and me back to Vegas once her ma is settled in the rehab center and noticeably doing better.
My sparkles is stunned about the dead witnesses and will walk into walls if I don’t steer her correctly.
I don’t envy what she does.
At the airport, I grab my rental from long-term parking and drive right to her office.
Jillian doesn’t argue for me to bring her home first to change into one of her suits.
Fuck, she’s scared.
I’m not sure I give a fuck if Vance knows I’m banging his sister. To keep the focus on what I’m about to tell him, I say to Jillian, “Go inside without me. Give Daniel an update on your mother. I’ll call him in a few minutes to tell him I’m here. I’m telling him about the witnesses, not you. Got it?”
Jillian nods.
“I need you as far away from this case as you can be, sparkles. Scava killed three of their own accountants. He’s blowing through cash on expensive lawyers to stop their case from going to court.”
I have to be stronger if I’m going to keep her alive. She may very well be next.
“That won’t work forever,” she whispers, the fight in her voice struggling to survive.
I reach across her to pull on the door handle, so it pops open a few inches. “I can’t get out to open the door for you, sparkles. This is a one-time exception.”
Nodding again, she gets out.
I drive to the rear parking lot, where I call Daniel’s cell phone.
“How did you get this number?” he answers, gruffly.
“That’s the least of your worries, but I’m insulted that you think I can’t get your lousy cell phone number.”
“What do you want, O’Rourke? I’m in a meeting.”
“End it. I’m on my way to your office. Call down to your guards and leave a pass for me.”
“I said…” He stops and there’s rustling in the background. “Why is Jillian glaring at me?”
“I’m coming up to explain. Pass. Now.”
“Fine.” The line goes dead.
I cut the engine and cross to the main entrance to get my pass. Riding the elevator, I take pleasure that this is the last time I have to meet with this man.
In this capacity.
I hope the next time I see him, I’m in a tux, his sister in a wedding dress, and he’ll have to sit through my church vows knowing he can never fuck with her again. I won’t allow it.
I get to Vance’s office and my world rearranges seeing Jillian waiting for me. She moves stiffly. Like she’s afraid of Vance. Or she’s afraid of being who she really is.
Mine.
“You better have a revised brief for me, O’Rourke. Days. My statute runs out in days.” Vance gives me a once-over and then Jillian dressed in her cute jeans, boots, and trench coat. “Looks like you fucking my sister took some of the wind out of those Harvard legal sails.”
I level murderous eyes on him. “I have something better than a legal brief. And your sister is an adult. What she does is none of your fucking business. I also didn’t hear a thank you for what I did for your mother.”
Jillian gasps, pulling my eyes toward her. “Don’t worry, sparkles. I don’t want his thank you. It was a privilege to spend that week with you and your ma.”
“Get on with it, O’Rourke,” Vance seethes, the heartless prick. “What do you have for me? I can have your brother—”
“Scava murdered our witnesses,” Jillian blurts, placing the documents on his desk.
Fury sizzles up my spine. I wanted to tell him. Not because I want credit, but because I used ill-gotten means to get it. I don’t want to dirty Jillian up. More than I already have.
“What?” Vance squawks.
“I got ahold of those three death certificates for you,” I say. “The details match the accountants you deposed. That’s the reason Borgia’s lawyers keep playing games, asking for continuances.” I look at Jillian and nod tightly at her to finish.
“They’re all dead, Daniel,” she says, fear in her voice. “They were buying time to kill them off.”
Daniel’s jaw ticks, hope draining from his face.
“Put your top investigators on this.” I stab the death certificates Jillian dropped on his desk with my finger. “Blow off your bullshit money laundering case. Prosecute them for murder. No statute of limitations.”
Daniel glances at Jillian.
She can’t prosecute a murder case against the Cosa Nostra. It’s simply not in her wheelhouse. Her specialty is corruption and financial crimes.
I’d also never allow it. I’d never allow her to make that kind of enemy.
“As far as I’m concerned, Vance, I’ve given you what you needed, what we agreed upon. I’m going home.” I stomp to the glass door, pausing for one final look at Jillian.
My signal is clear. Go home and pack, you’re coming to New York with me. Forever.
I reluctantly leave her with her boss, her brother. I’m tempted to drag her out of here, but I won’t. I want her to leave with her head held high.
My last order of business was sending a warning to the Borgias that we know they tried to kill Darragh. They conspired with Cormac, so they would have believed me when I revealed what I knew about what went down in Seattle. He was there.
Part of the meeting with Lazaro Scava was to ask for retribution, the heads on a stick of every single man who pulled a trigger against Darragh.
Cormac killed one. It wasn’t enough.
Until today.
Fuck all that. I leave here with the strange satisfaction of knowing Lazaro Scava will be charged with murdering the money-laundering witnesses.
We just spent three years fighting a war with the Bratva. I’m not starting a new one with the Vegas Cosa Nostra.
I’m packed an hour later, and I call Jillian. When I don’t get an answer, I brush it off and send a text.
Me: What’s your 20, sparkles?
There’s no response.
I call Riordan with an update and that I want the plane to come home.
Five hours.I have to wait five hours for the plane, and I plan to spend it balls-deep inside Jillian.
But with each hour that passes and I don’t hear from her, my stomach ties up in knots even more.
I worry she’s begging Daniel for the murder case.
Feeling uneasy, I check the hook-up app. My profile is quiet. It’s hacked to only communicate with Jillian and not receive messages from anyone else.
There is no one else for me.
I breathe easily when there’s no message for Johnny from Gemma7.
Even to say goodbye.
Taryn calls me next, though.
“Aye?” I pick up, figuring he’ll ask for money to spy on the Borgias for us.
“Eoghan, you know that prosecutor you’re banging?” he asks, sounding uneasy.
Anger floods me, but all I say is, “Who do you mean?”
“Give me some credit, Mr. O’Rourke.”
“Sounds like you want a job after you retire from the detective squad.”
“I’m sick of Vegas. New York sounds nice. I bet your family can use someone with my experience.”
“I’ll think about it. Now what about my Jillian?”
“She just walked into a strip club.”