Chapter 45
45
S ince he insisted on tagging along, Bo and I sat in the car staring at the video feed on my phone. My blood boiled, and my mind raced as we waited.
“I don’t know how I missed this shit. I can’t believe it,” he mumbled for the fiftieth time.
“I missed it, too. Never crossed my mind,” I said absently. I was ready to get this shit done. I just needed Montana to do her magic with the surveillance and alarms.
“But you did catch it. You figured it all out.”
I lifted my eyes from my phone and looked at his pouting ass. “You mad I’m smarter than you, Mr. Pierce?”
Turning his head to look out the window, he said, “Fuck you. I hope a damn possum jumps out these woods and attacks your long head ass.”
I laughed so hard that tears welled in my eyes, but my mirth was interrupted by Jerryn’s voice in my ear: “Raja, we have an issue. You see this?”
Holding a finger to the earpiece, I said, “What happened? I’m looking at the video feed of the mayor’s house right now, and…” I lost my words as I returned my attention to the phone where I could see a group of people, some in suits and others in casual clothes with FBI emblazoned on their jackets, approaching the front door of Mayor Shari Watts-Young’s house. One of the suits was my sister…Umber.
The feds were raiding the mayor’s house, and my sister was with them. I’d never seen her in anything other than a jogging suit. Where’d this motherfucker get real clothes from?
“What’s going on?” Bo asked. He was connected to comms, too, so he’d heard Jerryn.
I felt him move in closer to me and knew he was seeing what I saw when he said, “The hell is she doing there with the Feds? Wait...”
His voice trailed off, and my mind stuttered. My sister planned hikes and killed wildlife and foraged for dandelions and shit. My sister lived in a cabin with her dog and pissed in a dry toilet. I was waiting to ambush the mayor’s house because her maiden name on that card led me on a search that revealed Nealy Watts, Bo’s would-be assassin, was her cousin. That information led to us uncovering her plot to eliminate the one person who had the type of dirt on her to ruin her congress bid—the man she hired to kill her husband whose death catapulted her political career. Once we had the correct target, it was easy for Montana to unearth the proof. But…
Umber was there because she was a federal agent?
Nah, couldn’t be. There had to be some other explanation.
All doubt was erased when Umber, who seemed to be in the lead, flashed her credentials. Either Umber was a fed, or she was doing a damn good impression of one.