Chapter 13
Trick/Jase
After back to back training sessions with some of the fighters, I turned my focus to working out the details of our upcoming Fight Night, this one featuring one of the Rossi underlings in the octagon against the head of security from the Flanagan organization in Chicago.
Apparently, one of the Flanagan boys had married one of Rossi’s many nieces.
The two families had formed an alliance of sorts, based here in the city, with Flanagan sending one of his men to head up security for the new alliance.
The security guy, Liam, had started coming to the gym a few months back, and he was a beast. Rossi’s man was good though, and hungry for a win. It should be a close match-up, and from what Rossi had told me, the bets were coming in fast and furious from all over the world.
I left the gym mid-afternoon and when I stopped by the front desk to tell Rod I was leaving I noticed Flanagan’s guy standing by the door as he answered his phone.
I did a double take at seeing a wide smile cross his face.
He was normally a stern-faced sonofabitch, and an absolute beast in the octagon.
“Hello, princess,” he murmured into the phone, listening for a few seconds before laughing softly and telling the woman on the other end that he would be home soon, then told her he loved her before hanging up.
I walked toward the door, causing him to look up.
“You had another strong workout today, Liam. Gonna be ready for Fight Night?” I asked, opening the front door to the gym and stepping out ahead of him.
“Yes, although my wife isn’t happy about it,” he answered, a slight Irish brogue accenting his words. At my questioning look, he explained, “Lila’s rather fond of my face without any bruises. I’ve had to promise that this will be my first and last official match in the octagon.”
“Got it,” I said knowingly. “Happy wife, happy life, or at least that’s what my married friends tell me.”
“They aren’t wrong,” he agreed, before unlocking his SUV and sliding in.
Jesus, it seemed like even rumored mafia assassins could be pussy-whipped, provided it was the right pussy, anyway. Maybe I shouldn’t give Rome and Jagger such a hard time, after all, especially since I knew I was well on my way to being whipped myself.
I stopped by the clubhouse to grab some clothes before I headed to Lauren’s place.
I was worried about leaving her with just a prospect looking after things, although I did feel better since Brick had texted a couple of hours ago letting me know that they had the cameras and new system up and running.
The common room was pretty empty when I walked in, with only two of the bunnies sitting around watching TV.
I ignored both of them and went straight to Bull’s office, finding King in there, too.
“Hey, am I interrupting?” I asked.
Bull shook his head and waved me inside. “No, I’m just filling Prez in on the latest on the situation with Lauren.”
“Viking told me most of it earlier. How’s she doing?” King asked.
I shrugged, setting down in the chair next to King, in front of the desk. “She thinks we’re overreacting and isn’t thrilled about having me stay there, but she hasn’t put up too much of a fight about it, yet.”
I directed my attention back to Bull. “Do you have anything on those emails?”
He sat back in his chair and grimaced, rubbing his hand over his shaved head in frustration.
“Not as much as I’d like. They’ve been a bitch to track.
I’m still working on it, but they’re bouncing off IP addresses all over the fuckin’ world.
Seriously, they pinged in a half-dozen places, from the east coast to the west coast, and then Japan, Chile, Greenland, and back to the US. ”
“How the fuck is that possible?” I growled, rolling my shoulders to try to ease the tension gathering there.
He spent the next few minutes droning on about using a VPN to mask the original sender, spoofing IP addresses, and encrypting metadata, before I finally interrupted.
“I don’t understand a fuckin’ thing you said, man.”
“I don’t, either,” King groused. “Give it to us in plain English. Use small words.”
Bull chuckled, knowing that neither of us knew a damn thing about this shit.
That’s what we had him for. “It means that whoever did this knows about hacking and computer technology, and they’re damned good at it.
They’re also going to a hell of a lot of trouble to cover their tracks just to send a few emails.
My gut’s screaming at me that this is gonna escalate,” he warned grimly.
King and I traded looks and nodded our agreement.
“Do either one of those assholes have the kind of knowledge to pull this off?” King asked before I could.
“Beau studied computers in college. I didn’t find any record of formal training for Dustin, but he could have picked it up on his own. I mean, hell, I don’t have any formal training either.”
“That’s not fuckin’ helpful,” I said sourly.
“I know, man. I’m still digging into both of them, but I can tell you what I’ve found so far.”
He rummaged around his desk, shifting the pile of papers until he found the one he wanted.
“I checked public records, credit and criminal histories, dug into their social media, and did internet searches on their names…the usual bullshit.”
He consulted the paper in front of him.
“Dustin Ellsworth, thirty-one years old, bought a condo last year. Good credit. He got a business degree in college and went to work for his Dad’s car dealership when he graduated.
He started doing radio commercials for them on the side, then got into voiceover work fulltime six years ago after the dealership was sold.
One broken engagement, four years ago. Seems like a decent enough split since they still follow each other on social media.
No criminal record – not even a speeding ticket.
The worst thing I’ve found is that he played the bass in an emo band in high school called – I shit you not – Four Guys with Eyeliner. ”
I snorted, and King muttered, “Good God.”
Bull grinned at us before continuing. “Beau Mulroney, twenty-nine. Has worked for the Pittsburgh Bureau of Fire for seven years. Went to college for two years and,” he paused and gave us a pointed look,” he was a computer science major.
I found his college transcript which shows that his classes leaned heavily toward software engineering.
He was placed on academic probation and dropped out when he was accepted into the County Fire Academy.
He co-owns the condo with Lauren, credit is good.
Has a couple of traffic tickets on his record – speeding and aggressive driving – but that’s it.
I did a little reconnaissance mission into the PBF personnel files, and he got a write-up from his fire captain last year for not following proper procedure, and again a few months ago for insubordination. ”
“Seems like he doesn’t think the rules apply to him,” I observed.
“That’s the feeling I get,” he agreed. “While I was poking around, I discovered that they do a twenty-four hour on/forty-eight hour off rotation. He’s working today, so he’ll be off for the next two days.
“Anything else?” King asked.
“Not really. He’s been tagged in a lot of social media over the years, mostly him with multiple women. He’s a player.”
“So I’ve heard,” I agreed, thinking back to the rumors I’d heard about their break-up.
King tapped his fist on the corner of the desk.
“Well, we’ve got one seemingly upstanding citizen – if we overlook that fuckin’ ridiculous band name – with the hots for Lauren, and one asshole who has problems with authority, some computer training, and a history of harassing Lauren since their split.
” He looked at both of us, then shrugged.
“My money’s on the ex, but we should keep tabs on the eyeliner fucknut, just in case. ”
I chuckled at his assessment and agreed.
After instructing Bull to let us know as soon as he makes any progress with the emails, King and I both left his office and walked back to the common room.
“I’m grabbing some clothes and then I’ll go back to Lauren’s for the night. I’ll call Viking with an update, too.”
King waved me off. “I’ll tell him. I’m headed out to the garage anyway to see the paint job that Lucky just finished.”
I jogged up the stairs to my room and packed my small duffel bag and backpack, then headed out again. When I pulled into Lauren’s driveway, the garage door was already open, so I was able to pull straight in and park next to her car.
Tony was leaning against the front porch post and walked over as I was getting my shit out of my saddlebags.
“It’s been quiet since Brick and Joker left. No sign of trouble. Lauren’s inside.”
“Thanks for the update,” I said, clapping him on the back. “I’ll check with her on her work schedule, and text you later to let you know the plan for tomorrow.” He nodded and jogged over to his bike, firing it up as I headed up the steps to the porch.
Lauren opened the front door right as I got ready to knock.
“Hi honey, I’m home,” I joked, stopping to drop a kiss on her cheek on my way inside.
She gave me the eye roll that was quickly becoming her normal response to me.
“What’s all this?” She gestured to the duffel bag and backpack in my hands.
“This,” I said, dropping the bags on the floor by the couch, “is enough clothes and shit to last me for a couple of days.”
She arched a brow and pursed her lips but didn’t offer any objections.
I strolled into the kitchen, slipping off my cut and carefully draping it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, then pulled the salmon from the refrigerator.
She leaned against the counter, looking at me with interest. “You’re going to cook for me?”
“Yeah, parmesan-crusted salmon, herb-roasted potatoes, and asparagus with lemon butter.”
She looked impressed as I turned the oven on to preheat and began scrubbing a few potatoes.