Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
brOOKS
I look at the report and sigh. “What do you think?”
Pascal looks as frustrated as I feel. “I think I wish we had more, but we’re not getting anywhere.”
Damn.
He’s not wrong—as fucking much as that pisses me off.
It’s been almost two months since I brought Briar back to my apartment and we’re not getting anywhere with the investigation.
Every time we tease a lead loose, think we’ve found the location of the people who were hurting Briar, who were fucking with our businesses, it doesn’t pan out.
Hell, I’d even take a criminal connection to the Lyon family, something concrete and not just rumor or general knowledge.
I’m not above using blackmail to keep Briar safe.
But we don’t even have that.
Sighing, I lean back in my chair, ask, “Next steps?”
“The way I see it, you have two options: pull back the security measures—or at least give the appearance of doing so—and see if we can get these fuckers to bite.”
“Draw them out and take them down,” I say.
He nods. “I don’t think they’re dumb enough to fall for that, though.”
I agree. “What’s the other option?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Probably not but tell me anyway.”
“You make it look like Briar’s on her own again, and when they take advantage of that then we take them down.”
“I’m not using Briar as bait,” I snap.
“You guys can’t continue living like this—Briar cooped up in your apartment, you limiting your own movements to your office and the couple of places we know are safe.
” His hands clench into fists. “As much as it pains me, this investigation could go on for months, for fucking years. So you need to either be prepared for that, or you need to give them a push and hope they make a mistake.”
“Putting her at risk isn’t acceptable.”
He sighs.
I scowl. “Weren’t you the one who was saying we should keep her far away from this shit?”
“Yes. But she’s had some time to heal now. She’s stronger, and that strength won’t continue to grow if she’s stuck living in the shadows.”
“What?” I mutter. “You’re a philosopher now?”
He rolls his eyes. “She’s a survivor and I want what’s best for her.”
“Well, I don’t think what’s best for her is swinging her ass out there.”
“Just talk to her, see what she thinks. Trust her enough with the reality.”
I scowl.
Mostly because I know I need to do exactly that. “Fine,” I mutter. “As long as you promise to keep digging.”
He just gives me an affronted look and stands, but before he can disappear into the shadows, my cell rings.
My eyes flick to the screen, see it’s Briar, and I swipe. “Hi, baby.”
“Is River sick?”
“No.” I frown. “River’s not sick.”
Pascal had been turning for the door, but my statement has him stopping.
He moves back over to me, gestures at my phone.
“I’m putting you on speaker, okay? Pascal’s here.”
“Oh, uh, sure.”
I jab at the button. “You there?”
“Yes.” Her voice is laced with worry. “I’m here, but River hasn’t shown up yet. I know she kind of makes her own hours, but we planned on trying out a couple of new recipes today and she mentioned being here by now.”
“Is there anything else you see that’s out of the ordinary?” Pascal asks.
She pauses, breath coming through the speakers. “No, I don’t think so. Buttercup and Tulip are sleeping together on their bed and the front door is locked. The internet is working and the phone too, obviously.” Another sigh. “It’s all just…normal.”
“Except, there’s no River.”
“Yeah.”
There’s a knock at my office door and we both look up, see Thorn pushing through, his scowl even fiercer than normal. “You need to see this,” he snaps, tossing down an envelope on my desk that has my heart convulsing.
The picture—
“Fuck,” Pascal hisses.
“What?” Briar asks through the phone, voice frantic.
Thorn’s gaze comes to mine and I have to force the words out through clenched teeth.
“They have River.”