Chapter 8
Quentin
The Tiki Tabu Bar was owned by Keola, a Polynesian American who'd fought in the Middle East with Stone. The place was low-key, private, and most importantly—far enough from my usual haunts that nobody would think to look for me here.
Stone preferred it for sensitive conversations. No corporate surveillance, no paper trail, just cash and discretion.
Keola greeted me at the door with his trademark smile. "Mr. Vanetti."
"Quentin, please. I'm not at work."
"You got it." He gestured to a corner table with a Reserved sign. "Your usual spot. Old-fashioned?"
"You know me too well."
I settled into the corner booth, back to the wall, view of all entrances. Old habits.
Keola returned with my drink and a knowing look. "Stone called ahead. Said he'd be here in ten."
"Of course he did."
"Whatever you two need to discuss, you're safe here. No bugs, no eyes, no problems."
"That's why we keep coming back."
Stone arrived exactly ten minutes later, moving through the crowd with his usual efficiency. He slid into the booth across from me.
"Quentin."
"Stone." I pushed a menu toward him. "Want something?"
"Just water." He glanced around the bar once—professional habit—then focused on me. "We need to talk about Julia."
“I know you’re not happy about it, but I already hired her. She starts Monday—”
"I’ve changed my mind. I think you need to postpone her starting day until we have more information.
" Stone leaned forward. "My contacts in New York are hearing things.
The Russos are looking for answers, and they're looking in our direction.
She's from New York. She has the perfect cover—executive assistant with full access to your schedule, your meetings, your life. This is textbook infiltration."
"Or it's a coincidence."
"You don't believe in coincidences."
He was right. I didn't.
"Un-hire her. Make up an excuse. Tell her the position was filled internally. Whatever. But don't let her into your inner circle when she could be the person sent to kill you."
I thought about Julia's voice on the phone that afternoon. The warmth when she'd accepted the job. The slight nervousness about the polygraph.
Was it genuine? Or was she an actress playing a role?
"You said it yourself. If she's the threat, keeping her close is the smartest move. I can watch her. Control the environment. Figure out what she's really after."
"Or she can put a bullet in your head when you're not looking."
"She'll have to pass the polygraph first."
"Professionals can beat polygraphs."
"Not Forrest's polygraph. You know how thorough he is."
Stone sat back in his chair. "You're making an emotional decision. You like her. That's clouding your judgment."
"Maybe. But for some reason, I want to see this through.”
"Even if it kills you?”
I couldn’t hide my grin.
Stone’s eyes widened. “Holy hell. This is a game to you?”
“Not at all. A challenge, maybe. But nothing I can’t handle.”
Stone shook his head. "But I'm trying to keep you alive. That's my job. And right now, you're making my job impossible."
"Sorry, Stone. But I'm not cancelling."
"Then at least delay. Tell her you need another week. Two weeks. Give Forrest time to dig deeper."
"There’s nothing more for him to find. No. I’ve made up my mind. She starts Monday. We'll be ready."
Stone shook his head. "This is a mistake."
“Maybe. But it’s my mistake.”
Stone recognized a man entering the bar, and waved him over.
"You remember Reid Bauer," Stone said by way of introduction.
Reid slid into the booth, glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "Stone told me you might have a Russo problem."
"Might being the operative word."
"Not might. Definitely." Reid's expression was grim. "I still have contacts in New York. The Russos are looking for someone to blame for Big Sal's murder. Your name keeps coming up."
The server brought Stone's water and took Reid's order. After she left, he turned back to me. "There's chatter about a professional sent west. High-level target. The timeline matches. Smart money says it's you."
"Any details on who they sent?"
"No name. But the word is they're already here. Embedded. Getting close." Reid's expression darkened. "Whoever it is, they're good. This isn't some street soldier. This is someone with training, cover, patience."
Stone shot me a meaningful look.
"Any theories on motive?" I asked Reid.
"My sources say the Russos think you killed Big Sal. Whether that's true or not doesn't matter if they believe it. The signs are all there. Carlo's closed ranks. Won't talk to anyone outside the family. Classic revenge scenario."
"I didn't kill Big Sal."
"Doesn't matter if they think you did." Reid leaned back as the server delivered his beer. "Thank you, darling."
She gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, then walked away.
After she was out of earshot, Reid continued. "There's also speculation about the Morettis trying to muscle in on your territory. Could be they're using the Russo situation as cover. Let the Russos take you out, then move in on the vacuum."
"Yes. I’ve heard from them. It’s more complicated than you think."
"Always is." Reid finished half his beer in one pull. "My honest assessment? Someone's coming for you. Could be one person, could be multiple plays happening simultaneously. But the threat is real. The who is up for debate."
"Understood."
Reid stood. "Watch your back. And trust no one new." He shot a glance at Stone. "Especially not people who seem too perfect for the job."
After Reid left, Stone and I sat in silence.
"He's talking about Julia," Stone said finally.
"Yeah… I got that."
"She's from New York. She applied at the perfect time. Her background is clean—maybe too clean. She has the exact qualifications you need. And now we know a professional is embedded, getting close."
I couldn't argue with the logic. It all pointed to Julia.
"The polygraph," I said. "Friday. If she's lying, we'll know."
"And if she passes?"
"Then maybe she's exactly who she says she is."
Stone studied me. "You're going to go through with this no matter what I say, aren't you?"
"Yeah. I am."
"Why?"
Because I wanted her to be real. Because she fascinated me. Because the chemistry between us felt too genuine to be fake. Because something in my gut—stupid, reckless, emotional gut—said she wasn't a killer. Something even darker said she was worth the risk, even if she was.
"Because if she is the threat," I said instead, "I'd rather have her where I can see her. Keep your enemies close, right?"
"That saying usually gets people killed."
"Maybe. But it's better than hiding and wondering when the bullet's coming."
Stone sighed. Accepted defeat. "Fine. But we do this smart. Extra security. Forrest monitors everything she does. We watch who she talks to, where she goes, what she accesses. At the first sign of anything wrong—"
"We handle it."
"No." Stone's voice hardened. "I handle it. You're too close to this. If she makes a move, you let me deal with her."
The thought of Stone "dealing with" Julia—of her being a threat at all—made something twist in my chest.
"Agreed." I lied.
If Julia Russell was here to kill me, I'd take care of it myself.
One way or another.