Chapter 16 Eian
EIAN
Eian:
Doing something very stupid.
Call the Altons if you don’t hear from me in an hour.
I don’t wait to see if Harrison writes back and instead look at Seamus’s texts. He confirms that Brent and his wife have arrived at the fundraiser, and then it’s go-time.
Blake and Rory are down in the fucking sewers looking for the spot Seamus identified for them on a map. Mac and Duffy are in the car one block away, waiting with the engine running in case they need to come get us quickly.
I pass the heat-vision goggles to Colby and he nods as he scans the five-story building.
“I can’t see anyone in there.” He passes them to me, and I agree with his assessment, so I stuff the goggles back into the duffel bag full of tools we brought.
Two minutes later, all the lights in the block go off, and then I get a text from Blake.
Blake:
Done.
Eian:
All good.
I send back the confirmation, turn off my phone so it’ll stop vibrating with Harrison’s probably frantic texts, and then we move as quickly as we can.
We come to the steel trap door that’s right where Lucian said it would be, and I dig inside the duffel bag for the bolt cutters to snap the thick lock then throw them back in.
I pull back one of the steel doors, and Colby goes in first with his flashlight, turning it on as soon as he’s all the way in.
We come to another metal door, two steps off the staircase, and as soon as I’m done picking the lock, I slide the duffel onto my shoulder and push Colby inside—we’re on the clock.
We shine our flashlights into every corner of the hallway. There are three doors, two down one side of the hallway, and another at the end.
The first one turns out to be a laundry room and there’s no generator there.
The second one . . . bingo.
“Just unplug it,” Colby tells me as I move forward. “We can plug it back in on our way out.”
I have no clue if that will fuck up our plan to get out of here unnoticed, but I nod anyway and pull the cable sharply from the outlet to the circuit board.
We stand there, waiting to see what will happen, if the alarm will start blaring.
But it doesn’t.
I let out a sharp breath of air then take Colby’s arm. We walk back out of the room and down the hallway. Beyond the stairs that lead to the main house is the last door.
That’s where we’ll find everything we need to get rid of Brent, to make sure no one is dealing with human trafficking in my city.
I feel the sense of victory start to flood my veins, then twist the doorknob.
The two beams of our flashlight show . . . nothing.
“The fuck?” Colby mumbles.
“He fucking lied.” I spit the words out.
“He sounded so convincing,” Colby says, sounding confused and lost.
I can’t say anything to that, because yeah, he fooled us and that burns, but more importantly, I need to figure out what the hell we’re supposed to do now.
“Eian.” The urgency in his voice as he grips my arm tightly is enough to get my attention. “What are the best lies?”
I shake my head at him, and can barely make out the desperation in his eyes.
He wants this to be done and over as much as I do.
And I can . . .
His words from earlier today bring back such an uncomfortable feeling, my shoulders snap back. I’m not letting him go. I told him last night, and I don’t care what he has to do with his life to be happy, but he’s going to do that next to me. I won’t allow any other option.
“Eian,” Colby snaps and brings me back to the present.
Right, Mayor of New York, more important shit to deal with—for now.
“What?” I demand.
“The closer they are to the truth, the better the lies,” Colby says urgently.
That’s . . . true.
“So . . . they probably did meet here.”
“Yes!” He jumps excitedly. “The stairs lead right to the house. What do you wanna bet they met in an office up there?”
This wasn’t the plan, we have no clue—
“I remember the floor plan, so I know where it might be, on the ground floor. Come on.” Before I can say a word he’s sprinting away, and there I am, running up the flight of stairs behind him.
I take my gun from my shoulder holster, and once I catch up with Colby, I stand in front of him and hold it up, pointing it and my flashlight down the dark hallway.
I turn back to the front of the house and half the hallway is blocked by the stairs, but the rest looks clear.
“I think it’s there,” Colby whispers, and points to the back of the house, the last door on the left. We move steadily but slowly, and when we get to the door, I find it unlocked.
This room is not empty at all. It seems too crowded even. Again, Colby rushes forward before I’m ready for him to move. He’s behind the big desk and opening drawers as I take in the two walls of bookcases full of bullshit awards and dusty old books.
“Eian,” Colby whispers urgently. “This one’s locked. Stop admiring the damn decor and come open this for me.”
“Always so damn snarky,” I mutter, and as I approach I point my light to the desk. “There’s a computer right there.”
“I doubt he uses that one for this nasty shit,” he snaps back and points at the fourth drawer on the left side of the desk.
With a sigh, I get down on my knees and slide the duffel from my shoulder to the ground, then get to work. Colby helpfully shines light on the lock for me, and it’s a very basic one, so it takes me no time.
“That’s it,” he whispers excitedly.
I take the laptop out and hand it over to him.
“Yes!” He cheers a little bit louder. “God, these old motherfuckers are so stupid.” He points to a laminated piece of paper that’s on top of the keyboard when he opens the laptop. It has a string of letters and numbers then “Owner,” then what I suppose is another password.
Colby puts the first password in and unlocks the computer. He clearly has that under control, so I look in the drawer and find about a million papers.
I put my gun down on the desk, holding the flashlight in my mouth so I can flip through them easily and . . .
“I have it,” I mumble at the same time as Colby shouts with excitement.
“The site is still open!”
And then light blinds us.
“Shit,” I hiss. “Take pictures of everything! We need to get the fuck out of here.”
“On it.”
The second he’s done with one paper, I put it back in the drawer, then the next, and the next.
He’s taking pictures of the computer screen when I hear it, a creak of the floorboards, and I grip Colby’s shoulder.
Why can’t anything ever go to fucking plan?
As soon as he takes the last picture, I grab his phone and stuff it in my shoe, then grab the laptop and stand with it in my hands. If nothing else, I bet I can use this as a shield or a bargaining chip.
“This has to be my birthday.” Carl Brent’s voice sounds even slimier than normal as he walks in, pointing a gun at me. “I’m gonna be a goddamn hero to this city after this,” he mutters. His upper lip curls into a feral snarl when he sees Colby. “You just won’t go the fuck away, huh?”
I squeeze his forearm, and hope he understands it’s a warning.
I look down and see my gun, trying to think of any way at all that I can reach it, point, and shoot before Brent kills Colby.
“Nah, ah, ah,” Brent singsongs, then kicks the door closed behind him. “Why don’t you shove that gun off the desk, Colby? Before I kill you.”
“You’re going to kill us anyway, though, aren’t you?” Colby asks, leading with his snark again.
“Do it,” I mutter.
I’m not going to let Colby die here. I won’t let him be another victim of this asshole. I don’t care what I have to do but he’s getting out of here alive.
Colby doesn’t seem convinced, but he keeps the promise he made to me, and reaches in front of me to push my gun over the desk.
“Very smart,” Brent praises Colby, and the skin of his face, wrinkled and full of spots from his fake tan, stretches almost unnaturally with his condescending smile.
“I’m going to mess with the front door after I kill you, and then I’m going to call the cops.
Poor Colby Major was Eian Dempsey’s hostage while they were breaking into my house. ”
The pout is so fucking theatrical.
“This isn’t a fucking movie,” I snarl. “Stop telling us your shitty evil plan. You know it won’t look good, you know people will wonder why Colby was here, so let him go.”
“No.”
Brent shows no hesitation there. He thinks he’s unbeatable, and fucking hell, he might be.
“We got to Lucian,” I tell him, hoping to buy more time to .
. . fuck, I don’t know, come up with an exit plan for Colby.
“He’s dead, and we’re not the only ones who know.
All the other heads know about you, and if I die, they’re going to come for you.
They already spent all day upstate.” I see that hits home.
Good. The angrier I can get him, the more control we’ll have.
“How are you going to supply your clients now?”
“And how are you going to pay your hacker friend?” Colby asks. I want to sigh in relief because he caught on to what I’m doing. Still, he should be making himself scarce, not being stupidly brave.
“How are you going to get out of this now that every criminal in this city knows what you’re doing?”
My question seems to push him over the edge. His face screws up in anger and he takes one step closer as he points his gun at me.
At least it’s at me.
At least I texted Harrison.
At least Rory, Mac, Duffy, and Blake are nearby. The second they hear a shot they’ll know something is up.
Colby will survive this.
He will.
“Good thing you don’t have to worry about that,” he says with a sneer. “Since you’ll be dead.”
“Mr. Brent, please put the gun down.” A voice sounds loudly through . . . speakers?
My body freezes with shock. I know that voice. How the fuck is he seeing this? How the fuck is he controlling the speakers in the office?
I unfreeze and look around. There are speakers in the ceiling.
Brent is also looking around frantically, and oh boy, he’s scared. I have never been more grateful for—or angrier at—my fucking cousin.
Maybe the gratefulness wins out when Brent slowly lowers his arm. I have no clue what Harry will say next, but I just about dislocate my jaw when the door opens behind Brent and there he is, walking in like he doesn’t have a fucking care in the world.
And he’s not alone.
“Holy shit,” I hear Colby whisper, but it’s low enough that I think I’m the only one who heard him.
I grab his forearm again and pull him behind me.
As Harrison—in the most Harrison move ever—simply holds out his hand for Brent to pass him the gun, I look from face to face.
A short blond guy holding a tablet . . . two girls, mid-twenties I’d say . . . two other guys, one slim, one very bulky, also in their twenties . . . and Iris.
My princess shouldn’t fucking be here.
She shouldn’t be staring at me with a blank face, as if she doesn’t know me, as if—
No, of course that’s how she has to look at me.
Because the seven other adults besides Harrison?
Yeah, they’re not supposed to know that Harrison knows me.
Except Baron Alton—I’ve never gotten confirmation from Harry whether his attorney knows we’re cousins or not. I don’t know all their names, but I know who they are.
Billionaires, each and every one.
Titans of industry, each and every one.
The people who rule this city—at least the legal side of the city—and their families have for damn near two hundred years.
Brent places the gun in Harry’s hand, and just like I taught him when we were stupid kids one time when he was home on break from college, he expels the cartridge then plucks each bullet out with his thumb so they fall on the hardwood floor with delicate pings.
Those are the only sounds in the office as Harry stares right into Brent’s terrified eyes.
How come he’s so terrified of Harry but not of me?
That’s a spectacularly petulant thought to have for a fifty-year-old, I muse.
As that’s happening, I stop feeling Colby’s body behind me, and moving only my eyes downward, I realize he’s on the floor and he’s taking papers out of that damn drawer and sliding them into a folder.
I can’t fucking snap at him and bring more attention to us. All I can do is hold my breath and hope no one realizes what he’s doing.
I send him the most vicious glare I can muster when he stands back up, but then turn back to the doorway when Harry speaks again.
“Tucker, you think you can keep him from running out of here?” The young, bulky guy nods.
“Sure,” Tucker murmurs and stands right behind Brent, but doesn’t touch him. My guess is he doesn’t need to.
Then Harrison turns and nods at me. He’s looking at me, in front of all these people.
“Evening, Mr. Dempsey.”
“Crawford,” I greet him, not knowing what else I’m supposed to do. How I’m supposed to react. This is just too fucking much, and my nerves are still shot to shit from thinking I was going to die, from thinking Colby would never get out of here alive.
Harry stares at me for a long moment, enough for my brain to come back online, enough for the familiarity of those blue eyes to slow my heartbeat.
He knows me too fucking well, that’s the damned truth, and only walks closer when I’m in control once more. He bends down and grabs the gun Colby pushed to the ground, then holds it by the barrel and offers it to me.
That’s such a ballsy move, and I know Harry just as well, so I don’t know why the fuck it surprises me.
He stares at me for a few endless seconds, and I see in his eyes what he’s trying to tell me—the plea to trust him.
It’s not difficult, there’s no one I trust more.
I grab the gun and holster it back under my suit jacket so no one gets nervous.
“You may leave,” Harrison says, and I can tell he’s trying to sound dismissive and just a little threatening.
Hell, to literally anyone else in the world he probably does sound scary as fuck.
But not to me.
No, I am instantly furious.
I can see it in his eyes, he wants me to keep trusting him.
I don’t care how much power he has, I don’t want to leave him here, but he keeps asking with his eyes, he keeps reminding me of who he is.
And fuck, he’s already proven to me he can handle this.
Brent still looks like he’s barely controlling his bladder.
So despite every instinct inside me telling me to stay right here, I nod. I place the laptop I’m still holding on the desk, grab the duffel and throw it over my shoulder, then reach behind me and pull Colby next to me.
All the damn people shuffle around to make space for us to pass, and we’re almost at the door when fucking Harry speaks again.
“Mr. Major?”
Colby and I freeze, and though I hate to see the abject terror on his face, I don’t stop him from turning around.
“Y-yes?”
“The folder,” Harry instructs simply.
Colby’s mouth drops open, and I can tell he wants to refuse, but I can’t let him do that. I nudge Colby’s side and so he hands the folder over.
“Much appreciated,” Harrison says like a fucking aristocrat.
I’m going to give Harry hell for this.