CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Griffin
T wo hours later, I move down the hall of Rand Miller’s hotel like a dark shadow, the tension in my gut coiled like a spring. Connor and my cousins are in sync with my silent steps. Shane stays in a car on the street to manage a drone flying outside Miller’s hotel window. He’s also keeping an eye out for any protection Miller might have lurking on the street.
Connor is at my back with Trace and Rhys flanking him. It’s nearly two a.m. The dingy hotel the great Captain Rand Miller has chosen is as dim as it is quiet. It’s a perfect setup to stage a crime-of-passion murder.
After tonight, he will no longer be a thorn in my side.
They’ll find his body dead from a drug overdose by a scorned victim. Shane has the social media posts ready to go from a fake account. I motion for Trace to halt when we reach Miller’s suite. I pull out a keycard that Shane had made up. He’s an expert in hotel technology from his days working at The Sterling with Sabine.
Yeah, the irony.
Rhys crouches in front of the door and slides under it a camera on the end of a wire to give us a lay of the room.
The video feed hits Connor’s tablet. “The woman is still in there,” he whispers.
“Fuck,” I hiss, really not wanting to kill an innocent prostitute.
A faint moan vibrates from behind the door. This might work in our favor if he’s distracted .
Dressed in black, we quickly pull down our ski masks. I count on my fingers, one, two, three, and after a swipe of the keycard, Rhys rushes in with Trace on his six.
A few turns later, I find Trace, Rhys, and Connor with guns drawn, trained on Miller’s head. He’s sitting naked on the bed where a young brunette, his date for the night, is servicing him. Now she’s about two seconds away from being a wide-eyed complication who starts screaming.
Connor points his gun her way. “Get dressed, sweetheart. We’re not here for you.”
She bolts up, hands covering her tits, and looks at Miller for direction. But a glance at Connor’s menacing stance has her dressing without another word.
Seeing no weapon around, unless Miller’s got one hiding up his ass, I trust Connor to make sure the girl leaves. With clothes on. Paying her extra to forget what she saw.
Shane will further deal with her on the street if needed.
After a signal from me, we remove the ski masks and Rand Miller hardly looks surprised. His gaze darts between Trace and Rhys, finally sensing danger like an animal facing down a pack of wolves.
“It’s different, isn’t it,” I say, stepping in front of my enforcer team. “When you know someone is mafia and dangerous, but then their army shows up and shoves guns in your face.”
Miller’s grin only widens. “I got an alert that you saw my Navy file. I’ve been waiting for you to come knocking, Quinlan. Thought maybe you lost your nerve, so I decided to get my dick sucked.”
“Do you even get hard?” Rhys asks, cringing. “Or are you scared shitless to see us?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Miller barks.
Connor comes back, and with him, our special guest.
“Someone order a Fentanyl overdose?” Dr. Cormac O’Rourke stands there holding a medical bag.
Jesus, he does one heck of a transformation from classy medical school professor in sharp suits and nice shoes, to combat boots and a long ominous dark trench coat covering his muscles and ink down both arms.
“How much pussy are you getting at that college where you teach now?” Trace asks his best friend.
Christ, it’s only been a couple of weeks, but Cormac blushes.
Before we start hearing about the co-eds he’s banging, I bark, “Brats, we’re on the clock. Chit-chat later.”
Neither Trace’s nor Rhys’ aim falters.
Miller looks up at me, eyes glinting with a strange sort of pride as if he lured us here and orchestrated this himself. “A drug overdose. That’s the best you can come up with?”
“With all the complaints against you about to go public from those records we hacked?” I smile because Miller’s grin is finally wiped from his ugly face. “Detectives and the Capitol Police will believe it’s a revenge hit.”
Connor puts his gun right to the prick’s temple. “Men who hurt women see little mercy from us.”
Miller’s eyes sparkle with sickening malice as he fists the pendant around his neck, holding it up like a shield. “Go ahead, kill me.”
I frown, looking closer at it. My blood goes cold, seeing that dagger amulet with a ruby-eyed snake wrapped around it. The same one worn by the guy who tried to kill Ava.
“Griffin,” Shane’s voice crackles in my ear. “Wait. Don’t kill him.”
What the fuck?
Connor steps forward, nostrils flaring. “Where did you get that?”
“It’s my little insurance policy,” Miller singsongs. “You think you’ve got me. You’re so wrong. Kill me, and there’s a network of very angry, very powerful people who’ll unleash a hell on you that will make your head spin.”
My fucking phone rings, and my throat goes tight seeing it’s Shane. I step away to answer it since Miller is still staring down three guns and one needle to end his life. “What?”
“Get out of there. That pendant, I traced it from the guy who attempted the wedding hit.”
“And you’re telling me this now?”
“I’ve been...digging. Didn’t want to worry you. If Miller is wearing it, he’s a member of a dangerous secret society called the Crimson Vow Masters. Or CVM. They’re all over a 4chan board I’ve infiltrated.”
No wordplay there. “Let me guess, they vow to spill blood?”
“If they’re messed with, aye.”
“Like I give a fuck!” Cults are psychos who aren’t the best at planning or protecting themselves. “We’re the fucking mob, Shane.”
“We’re one mob family. Two if you count the Greeks,” Shane argues. “CVMs are everywhere. They are cold-blooded and fanatical. Once they set their sights on a target, there’s little that can stop it. Get the fuck out of there. I’ll figure out another way to get to Miller.”
I clench my fists, feeling intense heat on the back of my neck. Miller doesn’t just have his father, an old goat ready to retire. Or the Navy to drum up charges against my wife. Now he’s got this fucking nationwide ring of brainwashed killers behind him, too?
“Where is Ava?” Miller looks around. “Are you here to drop her off to me?”
“You’re not getting Ava. And you’re going to tell your father to vote for the UN project. I don’t care what cult you’re a part of. But now that I know about it, I’ll find your hook and bend it. Break it. I promise you.”
Miller leans back again, oddly comfortable with his nakedness. “If I disappear or get disconnected from them, my associates will get creative.” His eyes flick up to me in a knowing malicious sneer. “And I won’t stop at your wife. I’ll also make sure your sister is taken, too. Congratulations, by the way. It’s always nice to see a family growing. Shame if something happens to Siobhan and her unborn child.”
I see red and punch him in the face. I draw my hand away, his nose bloodied, but he just laughs at me with infuriating smugness.
“You know what? I’ll let that go.” Miller waves me off, wiping his nose. “Any fucker who threatens a pregnant woman deserves a punch in the face. Do you feel better?”
“We’re not even.” I bring my face level with his, speaking in a low, dangerous tone. “If my wife or sister or anyone with my name gets as much as a broken fingernail, you die. And not floating off from some shite Fentanyl high. You will go out like the stuff nightmares are made of. And to sweeten the deal, if your father votes against the project, I’ll kill him and your mother, too. Myself .”
First, I need to find his cult hook and disconnect it. Or make sure Rand Miller’s death never leads back to us.
He annoyingly doesn’t flinch. He just sits there, fingers toying with the pendant, a sly grin twisting his mouth. “Exciting, isn’t it? To see who’s stronger. The mafia or my brotherhood.”
Something halts my thoughts. The guy Ava killed is part of the same cult, so why hasn’t this firestorm burned us yet? “You sent someone in your brotherhood to kill Ava on our wedding day, didn’t you?”
Miller looks pissed for the first time. “You know what they say. If you want something done right, do it yourself. He was supposed to just kidnap her.”
“I killed one of your brothers.” I glance around. “I’m still alive.”
Miller’s cheek ticks. “He owed me a favor. The brothers have him marked as missing. Happens all the time. Families abduct their loved ones back.”
Something else clicks. “You set up Brandon Keller’s mother?”
Miller smiles. “Guilty.”
“Did one of your guys hang her, too?” I bark,
Miller shakes his head. “She did that all on her own after hearing about her son’s death.”
I let slip a long exhale, pursing my lips. At least that thread is snipped and tossed away. If I never hear the name Keller again, it will be a day too soon.
Connor gets in Miller’s face, radiating tension. “I don’t know who your brothers are, but we will find whoever the hell is in charge and send them all the complaints against you. How you raped a fucking vice admiral. If you think cult members don’t eat their own, or rid themselves of liabilities, you’re fucking delusional.”
“Oh, look at that.” Rhys holds up his phone. “Is this your bank account at Marshall National? Bye-bye, retirement plan.”
Miller shrugs, looking almost bored. “CVM will take care of me.”
Trace keeps his gun drawn, his jaw ready to snap. He’s seen it all. Mafia. Military. A psycho prison warden with an army. He’s just waiting for my permission to finish this once and for all.
God, I want to. Fuck Ares and this damn deal. I’m ready to throw it all away. I have my wife. I have my crown. I don’t need this bullshit. Everything in me is screaming to end Rand Miller right there, to ignore his threats, his posturing.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm, to think strategically. According to him, if I kill him, it will call to arms a pack of maniacs who will destroy me and my family.
Fuck, it’s not just about me anymore. Right now, without more intel from Shane, I don’t know exactly what will happen. I’m the head of a family. I have to protect everyone.
And sometimes that means walking away.
“Griffin?” Connor’s voice rings low, a question laced with impatience.
I back away from Miller, my gaze cold and steady. “I need someone posted at this fucker’s door all night until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“On it,” Rhys says.
My enforcer is married, I wouldn’t expect him to do it.
“Me, too,” Connor offers.
Trace still looks seconds away from snapping. With his jaw tightened, his eyes go darker than I’ve ever seen. “Are you sure, Griff?”
“Aye,” I say firmly, glancing at Rand Miller one last time. “Watch your back. I will make good on my threats. Find another woman to marry so you can run for your father’s seat. Buy one. Take the money the committee is getting for the approval and grow up. Stop cosplaying with your stupid cult like you’re five. Shame on you. You’re Navy, you swore an oath to this country first.”
His eerie gaze burns through me, but I turn my back on him, motioning for my men to follow.
The air in the corridor feels even thicker, the elevator downright suffocating. We leave the hotel, each of us quiet. The fire in my gut hasn’t lessened. If anything, it burns hotter with each step, but every inch will bring me closer to home.
To my wife.
On the street, Cormac says goodbye. He puts on a baseball cap and then disappears into the shadows. Lighting up bad guys by jabbing them with poison is his new addiction since he’s been clean for almost a year.
Once we reach my car a block away, Connor says, “Trace, get someone on my sister. Two guys if you have them. I’ll call Grayson myself.”
Shane hops out of my car, looking shaken. “I had no idea.”
I want to grab him and ask him why he never mentioned he found this Crimson Vow Masters cult before. Right, we’re the fucking mob and we eat cults for lunch.
“I need a full report on this fucking cult, Shane. I need you to find someone on the inside who can be bought to kick Miller out.”
“I’ll do my best.” Shane gets closer to me. “You know Miller is going to tell his father not to vote for the project.”
I voice my earlier inner thought, but low so only Shane hears me. “I don’t give a fuck.”
He nearly cackles. “Ares will.”
“And last I counted, he’s got two brothers and a whole network to destroy Miller, too.”
“What did he mean when he asked you, did you bring Ava?”
I ball my hands into fists. “After the meeting today, he cornered me. Told me he’d make sure his father voted for the project if I gave him my wife. He’s running for his father’s senate seat. And he thinks a retired Navy lieutenant wife who he romantically met at SEAL training would ensure him votes.”
“Christ.” Shane dumps his head into his hands. “What a mess.”
“That vote is in two weeks. I need you to make sure that Hadleigh’s identification is wiped out of existence, if Ares hasn’t done it already,” I say through clenched teeth. “She gave blood at her physical. They have her DNA. Get it wiped off their system. Miller can’t take her if he can’t use her Navy record to identify her.”
“On it.” Shane’s got some fucking to-do list. But he’s single, and considering what happened with Lennox Donnelly, I doubt he’ll ever trust a woman again.
We pile into my Escalade, and I call Grayson Hart to update him on the threat to his pregnant wife. He answers on the first ring and is angry but appreciative of the upfront information and how we want to protect our sister. I just hope Sabine doesn’t kick my ass for going behind her back and putting a bodyguard on her.