Chapter 31
Poison
Clues aren't for fools
––––––––
“S o, we’ve found nothing linking to the number?” I ask irritatingly, leaning over the extra swivel chair by Bedford. My nails dig deep into the leather, the pressure from the friction taking some annoyance away. It’s not Bedford who I’m annoyed with.
It’s this whole fucking ordeal. I wanted to put it past me once and for all and move on. Continue to build this academy, take down another vile fucker that's involved in trafficking and Anita beside me the entire way, burning shit down in our wake.
My only goal was to get vengeance, but shit been coming out of the woodwork like a long-lost sibling.
“None. It shows that exact night the number was disconnected from all signals and satellites. Nothing can be traced back to him or her.” Bedford shakes his head in fascination. Meanwhile, I’m here gnawing my fingers into a fabric that I know has ripped through by now.
I cross my arms and take a seat, releasing an exasperated sigh. “Motherfucker,” I grit.
It’s been flooding in my brain, even in the middle of the night while Anita lies on me. It ruins my mood until she shifts her leg on my dick and places her hand on my chest where my heart rests. She’s never questioned sleeping in my room with me, and I don't know if she ever wanted to, but I also don't care because it's where she belongs. With me. Taking care of her and her wounds.
She’s supposed to sleep upright due to her ribs, but somehow by morning, her position changes, her arm wrapped around me like an anchor, and there in that split moment, everything feels okay. I feel okay, like everything can disappear besides us, and I’ll be satisfied with that.
She doesn’t realize she’s become my anchor. A ship that sailed into the pitch-black parts of my soul and sparked a tiny bit of light that now became something brighter. Burning Victor alive together deepened my feelings for her, and I want more of her. I want a life with her. But I fear if I come on too hard, she’ll push me away like she did after the hotel. I need to tread carefully.
I don't want to...but I need to, only to ensure the snake doesn't get away from the trap.
“Good news, you all can see who this maniac is in another week and a half,” Bedford adds, sucking me straight out of my thoughts.
I snap my eyes at him. “I need to know who that fucker is now.” I lean forward, jamming my pointer finger into the desk.
Bedford straightens his lip into a line with a shrug. “Unfortunately, without a connection, you’ll never know.”
“I’m aware. I just don’t like it.” I roll my eyes again, putting my elbow on his desk and pressing my two fingers to my temple. Problem with that is, once again, I’ll be going in more blind than we did at the gala. I despised what transpired after, only worse, I’ll discover the person behind the mayhem, and it stirs the rage, fear, disappointment up like a blender mixing ingredients.
I stuff my hand into my pocket, pulling out the circular pendant with a letter and flipping it around between my fingers. “What about this? Any information you've found on it?” I toss the ugly symbol to him, and he catches it swiftly.
“You’ll be glad to hear, Mr. grumpy. That I did.”
The doors open ahead. Anita strolls in with Mal, and my stomach turns upside like someone doing a front flip.
“What did we miss?” Mal asks, flopping down on the extra chair Bedford has.
Anita takes a chair, swirling it closer to me. I would have rather her sat on me. Parked her ass right on my cock. I graze my thumb over the bandages on my middle and pointer finger as I continue to admire her. She surprised me with that dinner. I don't like mushrooms, but the effort she put into having it there and ready instantly made me love the disgusting vegetable. Then the game. That fucking game...a grin folds over my lips. Let's just say that's an interesting game that I wish I’ve known about before. To play with my enemies, of course. I’ll be incorporating that into my next torture session when I get the fucker behind it all. Instead of missing the limb, I’ll deliberately stab them in each finger with a gigantic smile on my face.
I’m guessing she can feel my eyes burning into her because she turns her head to me and her brows dip, creating a pretty crease that her nose scrunches and a low smile plays on her lips. Her dark eyes glaze over with a gleam, and she tilts her head slightly. I want to kiss her bad, I need to feel her soft lips on mine like last night and subtly this morning. I’m ready to say fuck it and fuck you to everyone around.
Tread carefully.
The voice in the back of my mind warns. To trap the snake, you must give it bait, make it come to you. I nod at her and look back at Mal, pulling myself together before my dick gets hard.
“Nothing. There’s nothing tracing back on the number.” I filled them in on everything, including the pendants I’ve been finding since this all started.
That information perks them both up, their eyes glaring at the screen that Bedford switches to.
“A symbol?” Anita says, glancing back at me curiously, then at the screen again.
“It's atrocious. Someone needs a better designer,” Mal jokes, kicking her boots up onto Bedford's desk.
He glares at her and pushes them off. “Don't put your disgusting shoes on my things. Do you know how many germs you carry, especially your shoes?”
Mal scoffs with a playful glint to her eyes, placing her hands up. “Alright, Charming.”
He shoots menacing daggers at her, then plasters a stiff smile for Anita and gets back to business. “You can find this symbol all over. And by all over, I mean it.”
He clicks his keyboard, and a spread of photos appears.
“What the fuck,” I murmur, sitting straight up, a dreadful twist curling in my chest. Pictures of different people, walking idly on the street, some caught at dances, some men, and women, some wearing long black wool coats, fancy attire. Jewelry brightening the pixel pictures with the centipede either fully shown or halfway tucked beneath a collar of a suit. It's not the rich fucks that makes my head throb but the ones that snapped with mayors, senators, popes, the goddamn presidents of different countries.
“Is that Richard Cree?” Anita grits, looking at Bedford. I can see the rage rolling to the surface, ready to scorch the computer.
“I said I meant ‘all over.” Bedford points his black painted nail at the photo. “It goes back as far as 1994.”
“Well shit.” Mal glowers at the photos.
“This symbol.” Anita stares at it then tilts her head. “I’ve seen this symbol.”
I frown. “When?”
She turns to me and nods. “I’ve seen it on Joe. It was tattooed on his chest after I carved it. I thought it was so odd.”
I shake my head, my pulse rising along with my temper. If I see any of these people on the street, I’m murdering them in plain sight.
“Wait, you carved a man’s chest?” Bedford asks, looking at Anita in awe.
I continue thinking. “So, you don't need to have a pendant. It could be anyone on the street, inked with that symbol, and not even know.” I clasp my hands, and my eyes naturally look around the data room. My paranoia inches in like fog on the horizon. I glance at each person besides Mal, Bedford, and Anita.
No, no. None of my people or my team would be involved in this shit. I relax against my seat, but my shoulders are still tight with tension.
“Should we find each person involved in this? And kill them?” I gaze at Anita as her hand gravitates toward her dagger.
“Oh, I love the sound of that. Count me in,” Mal quips with vicious excitement.
I shake my head at Anita specifically. “You’re still hurt; you can't go back out on the field.”
Her eyes darken. “I only need my hand, my dagger, or a gun to kill someone, nothing more, nothing less.”
I pinch my nose. “You have orders to stay put and not to overexert yourself. You need to heal. I’ll go to the first man on the list. Richard Cree.”
Our own damn mayor. I can't wait to snap his neck.
“While I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing. I’m not staying,” Anita says, looking me in the eyes.
I clench my jaw. “Yes. You are.”
“I’m not.”
My nostrils flare, and I flick my cold gaze at Mal, who wears a grin on her face. I expected her to back me on this, but she’s enjoying the act. And Bedford ignores the whole thing, bouncing back idly in his chair, flipping his rings between his fingers.
“Don't look at me. I’m team Venom. Ten toes down as they say.”
I roll my eyes stiffly. Knowing Anita, she won’t take no for an answer this time. She’s stubborn to the bone, and the fucked up thing is I like it. No, I love it.
I rest my elbows on my knees, clasping my hands. Anita continues to challenge me with her stare, and I give in.
“Fuck it. But you do nothing,” I emphasize heavily.
A low, devious smirk curls on her mouth and that flickers a jolt in my stomach. “I’ll have men on standby. I’m sure he’s guarded on top of his fancy home on the mountain.”
Mal growls like a dog. Literally. “Ah yes, let's blow that bitch up!”
Widened eyes from around the room fly to us, including Bedford's dry stare at her.
“We may need a leash,” Anita murmurs.
“There’ll be no blowing shit up, but there will be much worse things coming to Mr. Mayor.”
And I can’t wait to be the one to deliver it.
***
“W hat's the plan?”
Anita says, looking to me for an answer, adjusting herself in the passenger seat. It's raining outside, the droplets pattering heavy around the windows, angry as fuck—as if it knows what we’re about to do. I wasn't expecting to be paying our mayor a little visit, but to get closer to the source, we must find anyone who's connected to this asshole. Going in blind is not an option again.
“We go in through the back. The nighttime also plays in our favor, we don't need any other eyes on us. Bedford and his team have eyes on the whole place.” I tap on my window. “He has two bodyguards and cameras set up around the house, but only behind the pool house, the front door and foyer.”
“Plan Z?”
“If shit goes left, the team will fly through his windows immediately and handle the rest.”
“Speaking of the team, where the hell is Boone?” Mal asks, placing her face between the seats.
I don't look at Anita, but I swore from my peripheral she stiffened.
“He had to handle some business,” I say, grabbing my knuckle gloves.
Anita doesn't respond to it, and I don't indulge in her silence either. That whole situation between Boone, her sister sounds messy, and I don't need that to get in between us.
“He could've warned me at least,” Mal murmurs, sitting back. There's a stretched silence for a second before Mal taps her window.
“He sure has a fuckload of security and a big, fancy house as mayor,” Mal chimes in from the back.
Come to think of it, she has a point. What kind of mayor has the funds to pay for two bodyguards, live extravagantly, and not suffer financially? “I never thought much about that until now,” I admit.
Anita fixes her dagger in the holster on her thigh. “We see where it's coming from now. Its dirty money. I would have more respect if he were selling illegal guns or drugs but making profit from trafficking people? He was living his best life while others suffered.” Anita doesn't finish, disgust spews from her words, her upper lip curled in a snarl.
“Not anymore.”
“The asshole has a wife and two daughters; how does he sleep at night?” Mal adds cocking her pistol.
“He sleeps well when he knows the ones he loves aren't harmed,” I say, grabbing my burner cell.
“I need to contact Detective Gear. Normally, I need him out of GenCre’s business, but today this goes much deeper, it taps into their jurisdiction, and I don't need anything blowing back on us.”
“Do you think that he knows about all of this and just kept you out of the loop?” Anita asks.
“He could be involved, Ro.”
I grind my teeth as hot heat rushes to my neck and up my face. “If he is, then he’ll die along with them. But I don't think he’s stupid enough to be involved in it or know about it and not tell me.” He’s not obligated to inform me about everything, but he would if he knows what is best for his life. Besides that, Gear may be an asshole, but he has honor and moral decency.
I shoot him a text.
Me: I found out some news about the mayor, and it's best you know now before you find out on the news.
Dots quickly appear.
Gear: What the fuck are you talking about, Alvarez?
Me: Your mayor is involved in X Y & Z.
Dots appear, then vanish. My brows scrunch. Then they appear again.
Gear: Stay out of that mess. And let me handle it. I don't know how deep this shit goes.
I narrow at the screen.
Me: You’ve known?
Gear: I didn't tell you because I knew what you would do. You’ll go in massacring people before we have the facts. I need to gather all the information to present a solid case.
Me: The facts have been there in your face the entire time you’ve just been harboring.
I have a sense of betrayal in my chest, but I won't let it led me down that path. I end the conversation, and get out of the car while the cold rain sprays inside. The heel of my boots slammed onto the small device, leaving it smashed to pieces. It's untraceable, but it's no longer needed.
I hop back into Anita and Mal looking at me confused. “He's known.”
“That fucker,” Anita hisses.
“He’s working with them.”
I shake my head. “No, apparently, but he’s been gathering a case around him.”
“And you believe him?” Mal quips.
“I believe he kept it to himself because he knows me.”
“Well, he doesn't need a case anymore, GenCre has determined Mr. Mayor is guilty,” Anita responds.
I gaze at her, measuring out her words in my head. Perhaps she’s decided she wants to stay...I hope she does. If Mal wasn't in the back, I’d kiss her for good luck.
“No mercy.” She ends it off.
“No mercy,” Mal hisses.
I grab the camouflage face paint. “Then let's go.”