Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
declan
“Leon Fuentes.”
Roark’s voice is flat through the phone. I pace the sidewalk outside the brownstone, my heels digging into the concrete while Seamus loads Lola into the car for the emergency vet. The cat’s still breathing. Barely.
“Tell me everything,” I growl.
“He’s Ignacius Fuentes’s only son. Roja Cartel royalty, except he’s not. He works for the Cinco Cartel instead. Has for years. His old man’s not happy about it. Never has been. Leon embarrassed the family when he dissented.”
“Why’d he leave and go to Cinco?”
“Because Ignacius thought his son was weak. Soft. Not fit for the family business,” he says.
“Leon took that personally. So he went to Cinco to prove himself and became their money man. He does laundering, moves cash, facilitates deals. He’s good at it, but he’s also greedy as fuck.
Cinco found out he skimmed from the wrong accounts.
Now he owes them more than he can afford.
And they’re gonna kill him if he doesn’t pay up. ”
Roark pauses. “My intel says he latched onto Marlowe because one of the guys he was supposed to shakedown fucking disappeared off the face of the earth.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Briggs?”
“Briggs,” Roark repeats.
Everything clicks into place with sickening clarity. The helpful friend. The concerned ally. The man who was always there when Marlowe needed someone.
All of it was a fucking con.
“He was using her to find Briggs,” I say. “So he’d have someone to hand over to take the heat off his ass.”
“That’s my read. Cinco wants Heston Briggs real bad. The man owes them millions from gambling debts. Blood sport betting circuits. But the guy didn’t have enough cash liquid to make the payments. So Leon was supposed to deliver Briggs, or leverage to draw him out of hiding.”
“And when Briggs stayed hidden—”
“Leon got desperate. His deadline’s coming. And now he’s got a new play.” Roark’s voice chills me to my bones. “A Murphy is worth more than a Briggs. If he hands you over to Cinco, he clears his debt and then some.”
My grip on the phone tightens until my fingertips numb.
“Where is he?”
“At an abandoned warehouse in Sugar Hill. I’m sending the address now.” A pause. “I already talked to Ignacius.”
“You what?”
“Called in a favor. Asked him about his son.” Roark lets out a sharp, humorless laugh.
“He gave Leon up without a fight. He wasn’t willing to go to war with the Irish mafia over his double-crossing asshat of a son.
He told me Leon’s been a problem for years.
And that him crossing over to Cinco made Ignacius look weak. He’s still pissed as hell over it.”
“So he’s willing to let his own son die?”
“He can’t pull the trigger himself. Leon’s mother is dead, but Ignacius is superstitious. He said her spirit would haunt him.” Another pause. “But if someone else does it? He turns a blind eye. He’s hoping you’ll do it to clean up his mess for him.”
“Gladly.” I grind my teeth together.
“Dec.” Roark’s voice sharpens. “Don’t go in there with your head using your ass as a hat. Leon’s desperate, which makes him dangerous. He’s got nothing left to lose.”
“Neither do I.”
I hang up. The address pings my phone a second later.
Cal’s beside me before I can move. “I heard everything. We’re coming with you.”
“Fuck that. This is my fight.”
Cal shakes his head. “Marlowe’s family now. That makes it our fight.” He lights a cigarette, takes a long drag. “Seamus and Ava are taking Lola to the vet. Tor and I are coming with you.”
I want to argue. I want to tell him I need to do this alone.
But the truth is, I need my brothers. And Molly needs me to not be a fucking idiot about this.
“Fine,” I say after a long pause. “But Leon’s mine.”
“Wouldn’t dream of taking that from you.” Cal claps me on the back. “Let’s go get your wife back.”
The warehouse in Sugar Hill looks like it’s been condemned for years.
My gut churns as we approach. Every second that passes is another second Molly’s in danger. Another second that bastard has his hands on her, and Christ only knows what else.
I should have seen it coming. Leon was wrong from the start. I fucking knew there was something off with him. But I was so focused on the active threats—the stalker, the cartel shit, the people shooting at her. I never guessed he might be behind it all, and I missed the snake right in front of me.
He was always there. Lurking, watching. Coming between us. Always the concerned, helpful friend. Always edging in where he didn’t belong under the guise that he gave a shit about her and finding her da.
And I let him in. I let him hang around without being more observant of his true motives.
Wrath pounds between my temples.
“Cameras on the front,” Torin murmurs, studying the building through binoculars. “Two on the door. One on the corner. Back entrance looks clear.”
“Alarms?”
“Probably. Give me a few minutes.”
Fuck, more time. Three minutes has already felt like three years.
Cal leans forward. “She’s alive, Dec. He needs her alive to get what he wants.”
“And what he wants is me.”
“Then we give him what he wants.” Cal’s smile is thin and dangerous. “Just not the way he’s expecting.”
Torin disappears around the back of the building. I count the seconds, forcing myself to breathe. To think.
Leon wants to trade Molly for me. Or for her father’s location. God only knows. He’s desperate. Roark said his deadline’s coming. His time is short, and the cartel will come for him if he doesn’t deliver. That stress means he’s not thinking clearly. He’s making mistakes.
I can use that.
“Okay, cameras are all down,” Torin’s voice crackles through the earpiece. “Alarms disabled. Back door’s open.”
I don’t wait. I jump out of the car and bolt toward the door.
The inside of the warehouse smells like mold and piss and chemicals. Paint thinner, maybe. Or cleaning supplies used to cover up something worse. My gut wrenches at that.
Silence is heavy and foreboding in the air.
I creep down the hall, my gun drawn. Cal’s right behind me. Torin’s covering the back exit in case Leon tries to run.
My hand grips the handle on the door at the far end of the tunnel-like space. It’s the only one with light peeking out of the bottom. I twist it and push the door open. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting everything in a harsh, unforgiving light that makes me blink fast.
My heart free falls in my chest. There’s my Molly, bound on the floor near a chair bolted to the ground. Leon has a gun pressed against her temple as he raises his sinister glare at me and Cal.
“Glad to see you finally decided to show up,” he seethes.
Oh fuck, I wanna put a bullet between his goddamn eyes and end this.
“Let her go,” I growl.
“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Molly winces as he presses the barrel deeper into the side of her head. “Go ahead. But I promise you, I’ll blow her fucking brains out before I hit the ground.”
I keep my gun trained on him. “You won’t.”
“You sure about that?” He crouches beside Molly, gun steady on her. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t make a sound. Just stares at me with those copper eyes, fierce and unafraid.
“I’m sure,” I say. “Because she’s your only leverage. Kill her and you’ve got nothing.”
Leon’s jaw tightens. He knows that I know everything and that I’m right.
“Then we make a trade.” He locks his free hand around her throat. “You for her. Simple.”
“That’s what you want? Me?”
“You’re worth more to Cinco than a dozen Briggses. A Murphy prince? That’s the kind of prize that clears debts. Makes a man valued.” His smile twists. “And after everything you’ve cost me, it feels right to sacrifice yourself.”
“Everything I’ve cost you.” I take a step closer to Molly. I can’t do anything without risking her life. Without one of us alive as a trophy, Leon’s gonna die.
Cal shifts behind me. Cold spreads through my chest because I’ve knowingly put people I care about at the mercy of this fucking guy.
“Tell me about that, Leon. Tell me what I did that was so terrible.”
His eyes spit fire. Rage bubbles up, ready to spew through the cracks in his composure, months of frustration and fear finally spilling over.
“You want to know?” He laughs, and it’s bordering on unhinged. “Fine. I’ll fucking tell you.”
With his hand still around her throat, he pulls Molly to her feet, keeping her close, using her as a shield, the coward.
“I had a plan. A good plan. Use Marlowe to find her father. Get the information the Cinco Cartel needed to find him. Clear my debts and prove to everyone—my father, the cartel, everyone—that I wasn’t the weak little shit they all thought I was.”
“And? How’d that work out for ye?”
“You fucking ruined it.” His face twists, the vein in his forehead throbbing, ready to burst. “That night in Queens. The truckyard. You remember that?”
I remember. How the fuck could I forget that shit show? The purple jacket. Marlowe’s face when she saw me. And Leon, shooting at us.
“I set that up,” Leon snarls. “I’m the one who gave Cinco her location. They were supposed to grab her, to use her to get her father out of hiding. It was going to be a simple fucking exchange. But then you showed up. Playing hero. Blowing my plan to shit.”
He kicks a wooden pallet, sends it crashing against the wall. “But you didn’t stop there. No. You killed my stalker. The guy I was using as a distraction. You fucking shot him.”
“You’re a sick motherfucker,” I say with a shake of my head.
“Then,” Leon says, ignoring me as he continues his tirade, “you fucking married her.” He shakes Molly. “You married a Murphy.” His eyes blaze. “You made her untouchable. Made it impossible for me to use her without starting a war with your whole fucking family.”
“Sounds like you created a hell of a lot of problems for yourself.”