Chapter 31 Brady #2
The second the door clicks shut behind Hal, I’m moving. Snatching the remote off the table, I power up the largest of the wall monitors, as adrenaline spikes through my nervous system. Elation burns in my chest.
Fucking finally.
I pull out the chair beside me and tip my head toward it. “Sit.” Elizabeth slides into the seat, close enough that I can feel the heat of her thigh against mine. I keep one hand resting on the table; the other squeezes her thigh before letting go.
“I’ll read off the names. Someone type.”
Rhodes drags the nearest laptop toward him, settling into the chair. “Ready.”
I call them out. Line after line. Hearing each name aloud feels like another puzzle piece slotting into place.
The air in the room sharpens. Finn cross-references the names on the second laptop, sharing his screen with one of the smaller monitors on the wall.
Vincent sits straight in his chair, shoulders squared like a man ready for a fight.
The more names I voice, the more evident it becomes that that is exactly what’s coming.
Sera paces back and forth before finally dropping into the chair across from Elizabeth.
Elizabeth looks around at our expressions and frowns. “Okay, what am I missing?”
Sera glares at me. “Yeah. What’s going on?”
Vincent sits back, arms crossed, expression grim. “The names. They’re not just rich assholes.”
Elizabeth angles toward him. “Who are they then?”
Finn highlights several of the cross-referenced results, and headshots pop up on the monitor.
“We’ve got the CEO of a defense contractor that supplies weapon system components to half of NATO, two suspected war criminals from Eastern Europe, and a known Russian dissident who went off-grid in 2015.
And this…” He points at the screen. “This guy’s been tied to more than one domestic terror case.
All on different sides of the spectrum.”
“Hold on,” Elizabeth’s face is pale. “Those people shouldn’t be in the same room, much less in the same group.”
“No,” I agree. “They shouldn’t.”
She blinks. “Are you saying this is a… membership list?”
Rhodes looks up from his screen. “Looks like it.”
Vincent crosses his arms. “If this list got out? There’s no spinning it. Government-funded weapons ending up in the hands of enemies? You’re getting fired, and that’s before you get brought up for treason. The odd thing is some of these names are enemies of each other. It doesn’t make sense.”
“They all worship the almighty dollar.” Finn shrugs.
Rhodes adds quietly, “This is really fucking bad. There are the heads of tech and communications companies here. The damage they could cause…”
Elizabeth stares at the screen, then at me. “Keith knew.”
“Or they thought he knew. The engravings aren’t visible to the naked eye, but the second he took that necklace to get appraised, I’m sure they would have told him.”
“And as connected as this list is,” Finn points out. “It’s possible whoever did the appraising tipped off the bad guys that they’d lost one of their lists.”
“That’s exactly what Carrow said. Except the appraiser just assumed it was stolen,” I confirm.
The energy in the room sizzles. And for the first time in days, I don’t feel like we are on defense.
“Pull up images.” I nod at Finn. “Start with the names that are based in the States. For proximity purposes, they are our most likely targets for who is behind this. Look for events, parties, security conferences, galas. Anything public-facing.”
I can tell he’s swallowing a snarky response, but his tattooed fingers are flying across the keyboard.
Elizabeth leans forward, arms braced on the table. “There’s going to be overlap,” she observes. “Powerful, wealthy people tend to end up at the same dinners and fundraising events. Being in the same places won’t prove a conspiracy. Just that a certain status gets you invited to the same events.”
I glance over at her. “You’re right. But we’re not looking to convict anyone here. We’re looking for an angle.”
“An angle for what?”
Rhodes’s voice is matter-of-fact. “An angle to keep you alive.”
Elizabeth flinches, and her shoulders pull in. I growl at Rhodes before I can stop myself and push my chair back so that I can pivot toward her. Spinning her chair to face me, I pull her closer until her knees are between mine. I cup her face. “Nothing’s happening to you while I’m here.”
Her breath shudders, but some of the fear leaves her expression. When she gives me a little nod, I lower my hands and squeeze her knees.
I know every set of eyes in the room is on us. I can feel Sera’s hot stare drilling into the side of my face, but I don’t look at her. I don’t care who knows anymore.
My hands move to cover hers where they are clutched tightly together, my thumb stroking across her knuckles. “You’re safe,” I murmur, keeping my gaze locked on hers. “That’s never changing.”
She swallows hard, and when she nods, the enormity of her trust settles in my chest, making me smile. When she gives me a smile back, the vise around my lungs loosens a little.
“You mean an angle to keep all of us alive,” Sera snaps. “They know she came to us, so we are going to be collateral damage.”
Elizabeth lowers her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, my attention still solely on Elizabeth. I refuse to look at my sister, not wanting to say something I’ll regret. “Don’t be. This landed in your lap same as ours. You didn’t ask for it.”
Finn glances up from his screen. “You don’t need to apologize. This is what we do.”
Sera exhales through her nose. “They’re right,” she mutters. “This isn’t your fault.” Her tone’s not exactly warm, but it’s not her normal barbed tongue either.
“Here we go,” Finn says, straightening as the screen lights up with thumbnail after thumbnail of high-profile events.
A military charity ball in D.C.
A G7 after-party in St. Moritz.
An art auction in Brussels.
“Okay,” Finn says, already pointing at the screen. “There are two Americans from this list in that Brussels shot. That’s Blackwell on the left, right?”
“Yup,” Rhodes confirms. “And that’s Marani with him.”
Vincent leans forward. “The third is Henri Valas, French telecom CEO. He’s suspected of financing cyber-attacks in East Africa. He was on the list.”
More photos roll in. Some photos have captions from social media or printed publications, while others are grainy, at odd angles, as if someone snapped them from afar through a telephoto lens.
“Holy shit,” Finn mutters. “That’s the Golden Orchid gala. Rhodes, remember that one?”
“Yeah. State Department was very interested in it because half the donor list was red-flagged.”
In the photo, two men are shaking hands. Next to them is a muscular third man with a buzz cut, wearing a dark three-piece suit and a gold pinky ring.
Something cold coils in my gut.
“Wait,” Rhodes says, cocking his head. “Is that—”
“That’s Ray ‘The Hammer’, right?” Finn cuts in. “He’s in… a lot of these.”
He types on his computer, and the screen images are replaced with multiple images of the famous boxer at several events with various Lapidarists.
I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t dare look toward Sera.
Vincent’s arms uncross, and his eyes shift to me and stay there with a hard stare.
“He’s not on the necklace, though,” Rhodes reminds us. “We didn’t see his name engraved.”
“No,” Vincent says through his teeth. “We didn’t.”
Sera’s breathing is audible across the table, and Finn glances up from his keyboard to look at her with concern. “You okay over there?”
Rhodes looks over at Sera, his sharp eyes assessing, then they move to me. I know my posture is tight. I’m giving it away. Rhodes’s gaze rises to the images glowing above us.
A yacht photo is prominent in the middle of the collage. Ray is lounging near the rail, cigar in hand. Standing next to him is the bitcoin douche we’d identified earlier and a woman I recognize only because she bankrolls arms deals through shell companies and a charity for displaced youth.
Another shot of him in Vegas. I know this one. It was taken two years ago, after an exhibition fight, standing with the same woman. What’s her name?
In a social media shot of another party, he’s surrounded by at least three other names on the necklace.
Another social media post of a casino event. He’s with the same people.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuuucckkkk.
My stomach swirls with unfamiliar nerves.
“Brady?” I hear Sera’s voice hesitant and worried, through the buzzing in my ears. Elizabeth’s hand turns over in mine so that she is now stroking mine.
“Brady?” she asks quietly, her other hand lands on my forearm.
The room is silent, tension wound so tight it’s snapping like a live wire between us.
Finn clears his throat. “So… want to share with the class, or should we all just continue pretending like we don’t notice that you and Sera look like you’re about to shit your pants, and he”—he jerks a thumb at Vincent—“looks like he wants to kill you.”
Rhodes narrows his eyes at me, but I don’t answer the question.
I take a slow breath. Then another.
“I have a plan.”
Elizabeth blinks. “A plan?”
“If we can get into one of these parties, one of these events. We can approach one of them, someone who knows how this thing operates—”
“Sure,” Finn interrupts, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Sounds awesome. And how exactly do you intend to get invited to a black-tie shadow-cabal soiree when they have to know who you are by now?”
My hands curl into fists in my lap. I unclench them. Clench them again.
Say it. Get the fucking words out.
“Because The Hammer,” I say through gritted teeth, “is our father.”
Every single face in the room processes it differently.
Rhodes is silent, one brow raised unsurprised. I think he’d already worked it out, but I don’t love his expression. Like he’s reevaluating every moment since he met me.
Vincent’s face is unreadable, but his eyes are locked on mine, bracing for the fallout. He’s known the truth. When we’d joined forces, I’d told him in the interest of transparency.
Finn’s eyebrows have practically disappeared into his hair, and he blows out a long stream of air. “Well, that explains a few things.”
Sera doesn’t say a word. I don’t know what’s going on in her head, but I know it can’t be good.
Elizabeth sits completely still beside me. I’m not sure she’s even taken a breath in the last minute, but her eyes never leave my face.
“Ray ‘The Hammer’ is our father,” I repeat unnecessarily. “And he fucking owes us. He’ll get us in.”