Chapter 36
Sean
Sitting in the hall outside my own damn apartment, I load a fresh magazine into my Sig Sauer while Dante talks my ear off. It all boils down to: Grams and Rebecca are fine, Liam landed in Teterboro, Pearson is ready to talk, and Fitzpatrick is fucking gleeful because his reputation has skyrocketed.
“Glad it all worked out.” I could give a rat’s ass. Without Lillian, everything is meaningless.
In response to my flat tone, my friend amps up his enthusiasm. “We’ve been monitoring everyone involved in Parkhaven. Could be another LLC is trying to take them over.”
“We chop off the head of one snake, another grows in its place. It’s a game of whack-a-mole.”
Dante sighs. “Listen, I’ve given you lovebirds two days to iron out your shit. In the morning, you both will report to work amicably, or don’t bother to come at all. Ireland was a huge win. You put Parkhaven out of business. Now, we can concentrate on finding Liam Boyle. You should be celebrating.”
“I will,” I lie. Plenty of time for champagne once Boyle is dead. Until then, my nights will be spent here on the floor outside my door.
Around midnight, I tap on the barrier keeping me from my former life.
When Mace opens up, I ask, “She asleep?”
Before he can answer, Buddy jumps off the fridge onto the table. Purring, he nudges my hand, no doubt hoping to be fed. As I pet his furry head, I wish like hell it was a couple of weeks ago. I could use a do-over.
“You should talk to her.” Mace scowls, but what the hell does he know?
“And say what? Sorry I let our boss kidnap you? …No can do. I screwed up.”
“For fuck’s sake, she’s miserable. Fix it.”
For a moment, I consider walking down the hallway to take her into my arms. But what happens afterward?
Rather than rehash my pathetic life with a guy I just met, I keep it light. “Did I mention her MMA skills? She can literally break my balls. Anyhow, I only knocked to tell you I’m going to circle the block. Check for anything sus. Be back in a few.”
He punches my shoulder. “Head on a swivel.”
“Copy that.”
As I’m about to trot down the stairs, he calls out, “Wait. Has Rebecca mentioned me… or ah… asked about me?”
Poor guy’s got it bad. I suspect even worse than me.
Turning, I shake my head. “She’s siding with her sister and my grandmother. In their minds, we’re all equally guilty. Sorry.”
It’s probably for the best. Love sucks.
After circling a few times, I return to my spot on the linoleum. My weapon nearby, I keep watch.
The couple next door returns at two a.m. Laughing, they wave at me before staggering into their abode. Around six, a guy in a suit from 3A waves as he leaves. Other than them, there’s no movement.
Soon after, Mason hands me a cup of coffee. While I sip, Daed’s voice rumbles in my comms. “Morning, happy campers.”
I grunt. “What’s up?”
“The boss wants you in his office. Pronto. Time to interview Pearson. He says take one car. Also, I’m supposed to remind you. Make up with Lillian.”
If only I knew how. I’m still trying to solve the mystery, aka Lillian Boyle, when she steps out of her bedroom.
My chest constricts. I should’ve slept beside her last night, made love, apologized, done whatever it took to help her understand how much I care.
Wearing her go-to comfort clothes—black leggings, a long T-shirt, and sneakers—she ignores me, making a beeline for the coffee. When the cat lands on the table with a thud, begging for breakfast, I wait for her eyes to lift to mine. They don’t.
“Gotcha, pal.” She pats his furry head, so full of love… damned if I’m not jealous of the feline.
Hating the ache in my gut, I grab the keys. “I’ll bring the car around.”
A short drive later, I park in Dante’s underground garage in Williamsburg, then join Mace and Lil standing next to Dante.
“This way.” Our boss strides toward the back wall, enters a code beside a gray door, and opens it.
A mildew-infused breeze dampens our faces as we follow him under the string of bare bulbs.
The harsh lights brighten the turn-of-the-century brick tunnel.
A huge rat casts an even longer shadow before he scuttles into a hole.
Underground for another twelve feet, we enter what must’ve been a speakeasy.
Against the far wall, Jeff Pearson sits on the floor, arms behind him, ankles tie-wrapped. His eyes narrow into slits as we pass broken bar furniture.
When we circle him, he smirks. “How sweet. It’s Detective Barbie and her GI Joe boy toys.”
Dante scowls. “You said you wanted to talk, so talk.”
Our prisoner shifts his weight with a glint in his eyes. I know the look, well. He thinks he has the upper hand.
“Mace. Gun!” I snatch my P320 from my holster, aiming it at Pearson. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” No idea what he’s up to, my finger slides over the trigger.
“Bravo.” Jeff chuckles. “The Marine’s smarter than he looks. How about I show you my hands?”
“How about you lie flat and shut up. You know the drill.” My barrel moves toward his center mass.
Snickering, the prisoner rolls onto his stomach, limbs no longer bound. I was right. He’d freed himself.
“Nice catch, Clark.” After my boss lowers his knee onto our prisoner’s back, I squat on my heels. Later, we will discuss Dante’s security protocols.
No way should this guy have been able to break his ties or have access to a gun. Either somebody fucked up, or someone helped him out.
“Tell us about Simone Hart. How did you convince her to commit suicide?”
The motherfucker laughs. “Such a sweet young lady. So eager to please. So wildly malleable.”
To my left, Lillian hisses. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing the CIA hasn’t been doing for years.” Gaze shifting from face to face, he shrugs. “A few suggestions. Hypnosis. Drugs.”
Lil remains impassive. “How did she know about the nondenominational holiday balls?”
“You think your father didn’t bug your favorite hangout?” When a smug, triumphant smile spreads across his face, Lillian gasps.
“How would you know that? …Wait. You’re working for him?”
“Ching. Ching. You’re today’s winner. What prizes do we have for her, Johnny?”
Wishing I could punch the snarky expression off his face, I stand, pull my partner aside, and straddle a wobbly chair. “Boyle would never put his daughter at risk.”
Pearson snickers. “No, but I would. The man is obsessed. Seriously. I was doing him a favor.”
The timing makes sense. Simone had nothing to do with Parkhaven. It was Pearson’s doing all along.
“The penthouse? Was this your idea, too?” Recalling how easy it would’ve been for him to kill Lillian, I raise my Sig.
“Yeah. I needed to hide some cash. Figured I could get rid of her in the process.” He fucking winks at my fiancée. “Boyle got wind, so I had to bring her to the hospital instead.”
My trigger finger curls. The world would be a better place without him in it.
Catching my eye, Dante clears his throat before shooting me his favorite calm-the-fuck-down face.
At the same time, Lil’s hands rest on my shoulders. “It’s okay, honey.”
Jesus. Has she forgiven me?
I’m so surprised, I almost miss Dante’s next question. “Tell us about Parkhaven.”
“If you haven’t figured it out by now, you should take down your shingle.” For a smart aleck, the guy is an absolute idiot for pissing off my friend.
“Parkhaven. Explain.”
With more pressure applied to his back, Jeff’s smile finally fades. “People give us cash. We make them more. Bank accounts grow. Greenbacks change hands. What’s not to love?”
“You’re laundering money. Aiding human trafficking. Accessory to rape.” Fists clenched, Lillian kicks a broken chair leg before stepping forward.
As I pull her back, our prisoner turns his head and shouts, “Parkhaven was your father’s competition. You putting them out of business? Exactly what he wanted.”
I almost hate to ask, “And what about Roger Clark? What’s his involvement?”
Pearson sneers, dropping the veneer. “I offered him a way to make money, and he bit… You’re a lot like him, you know. He craves big bucks. You go after criminals. Neither gives a fuck who’s hurt along the way.”
Is he right? Have I put my loved ones at risk?