CHAPTER 34
NOW
NICKY
The alternating red and blue lights of the unmarked car behind me switch on, signaling me to pull over. I clocked them about a block after I’d left Daph’s place, wondering when they were gonna announce themselves.
I comply, pulling off to the side and shifting the car into park as I wait for them to approach. Glancing into my mirror, I see two suits climb from the car.
Feds.
Not surprising considering all the cops in Queen City are on my payroll. Certainly wasn’t going to be one of them pulling me over.
“Can you step out of the car for me, sir?” A clean-cut man I’d peg somewhere in his late thirties issues the question as more of a command.
Fuck it. With the mood I’m in right now, there isn’t anything that could possibly ruin my night. After our first round, Daph and I fucked like rabbits for hours. She told me Lucian and Caleb were out having a boys’ night, which I found odd considering I knew he had plans with J tonight. A quick “What you doing?” text to my sister confirmed Caleb had come to watch movies with her at my parents’ place after having dinner with Luc, and was crashing in one of the guest bedrooms for the night, proving once again that Luc is a lying piece of shit.
Fearing that blowing his cover would result in shortening my evening with Daph, I decided to keep this information to myself and asked JP to text me when Luc was leaving the party. The motherfucker was going to get caught anyway, considering his alibi is literally her best friend’s boyfriend. At this point, I’m not sure if he’s stupid or just doesn’t give a shit. It’s not gonna matter soon anyway. Like I said, he won’t be a factor much longer.
I shove open the door, climbing from the car with a smile.
“Something funny?” his partner snaps, pulling my attention to another agent standing off to the side, this one much closer to my age.
“Not at all.” My smile widens, my unperturbed demeanor clearly triggering the younger of the two men. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
“I’m Special Agent Lewis,” the older man introduces himself. “This is Special Agent Bosc. FBI.”
Called it.
“We’re new in town and thought it about time we introduced ourselves.”
“Do you often make a habit of pulling over random taxpayers so you can introduce yourselves?”
“I think we both know you aren’t a random taxpayer, Mr. Conners.”
“Am I supposed to know what you’re implying?”
“Cut the shit, Nicky C.” Agent Bosc—the douchier of the two—sneers my name as though it personally offends him. “We know exactly who you are.”
“Do you?” I snicker at the extent to which this idiot is overcompensating.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Listen, I can whip my dick out if you want to measure, or you could just tell me what the fuck you want.”
The asshole starts to step to me, though is forced to stand down when Agent Lewis extends his arm. “Mr. Conners, does the name Hector Valdez mean anything to you?”
Memories of Rico slamming Valdez’s face into a table flash to the forefront of my mind.
“Nope. Can’t say it does.”
“Really? Well, then I guess you’d have no interest in knowing that as of last week, he’s back in New York.”
Considering I don’t believe in coincidences, that interests me very much. So much so, that alarms sound in my head at the revelation, though my face remains neutral. “If that’s everything, I’ll just be going.”
“Not so fast, tough guy.” Bosc slaps a file folder against my chest, patting his palm against it.
I briefly glance down at the offending appendage before returning my gaze to his. “Do you value your hand, Special Agent Bosc?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because if you’d like to keep it, I strongly suggest removing it.”
He scoffs. “You think you’re so tough, don’t you, hot shot?”
“Keep your hand on my chest and you’ll see how tough I am.”
“Is that a threat?” His free hand drifts down to the gun holstered on his hip.
“It’s a promise.”
“BOSC!” Lewis shouts. “Stand down.”
The asshole glares at me a moment longer, jaw clenching when he’s forced to relent. He retracts his hand, my own coming up to replace it, grasping the file before it falls. He continues to stare daggers at me like I fucked his high school sweetheart or something. Then again, if he’s from around here or any of the towns I competed in over the years, there’s a decent chance I did.
I snicker, shaking the thought from my mind as I open the manila folder, my smile fading as I register the images within.
“We didn’t realize your stepsister was so well connected on both sides of the fence. Perhaps we should’ve been paying closer attention to her all these years.”
“My sister doesn’t have shit to do with anything.”
“Not what it looks like to me.”
The high-resolution photos are of downtown Queen City. Bodies shuffle past one another along a busy sidewalk, with Maverick Bishop at the center. And in his arms—my sister.
She’s staring up at him in each shot, his hand caressing her face as he looks at her like she’s his whole world. I recognize the outfit she’s wearing from Saturday when I dropped by my parents’ place for dinner. It’s the same day she was out running wedding errands with Daph. Which means by the time I saw her, she’d already seen Mav, and had chosen not to say anything about it.
He couldn’t even make it forty-eight hours. Motherfucker.
Teeth clenched, I slap the folder shut, tucking it up under my arm. “Anything else?” I ask, eager to wrap this up.
“There’s a rumor going around,” Lewis continues, “that Valdez”s most recent appearance may have something to do with a certain disagreement the two of you shared.”
While it’s nice to have the tip, I don’t need the Feds to gain access to information. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m the slightest bit curious about their angle in all this.
“Hypothetically speaking.” I slip my hands into my pockets before leaning back against my car. “If a disagreement had occurred between me and this…Valdez, you say? What would the FBI stand to gain from alerting me to his presence?”
“Just a heads up between friends.” Lewis smiles. “Can never have too many friends. Right, Nick?”
“Afraid I’ve got all the friends I can manage, Special Agent Lewis.”
He nods, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and digging inside for a card. “In case you change your mind.” He holds up his hand, the business card affixed between his index and middle fingers, which he then slips into the breast pocket of my suit jacket.
He backs away with a single wave, signaling for Bosc to follow him as he turns to return to his car. Special Agent Douche complies like a good little bitch, though he doesn’t waste the opportunity to flip me off once Lewis dips into the car. Once they’re both secured inside, they bang a U-turn, speeding off into the darkness of the early morning hours.
I slip inside my own car, switching on the interior light to glance at the photos once more. I can’t get past the look on Mav’s face—the way he stares at her with pure adoration, like she’s some priceless treasure.
It makes me want to kick his ass, though surprisingly not for the reason I’d expect. Yes, he essentially lied to my face when he assured me he’d keep his distance, but that’s not what’s pissing me off the most at the moment. The longer I stare at the picture, the angrier I become as I realize I desire an answer to a single question from the universe…
Why the fuck does he have to be a drug-dealing asshole like me?
Why couldn’t he have a boring job like a stockbroker or a dentist? No one’s ever going to love Jones the way he does—the way she deserves to be loved.
But she doesn’t get her happy ending. No. Instead, she ends up being just another example in one of the most common plot lines in history. Men fucking up, and women paying the price for it. And, like a coward, I only hope she never finds out the role I played in all this… because I don’t want to lose her, too.
My cell begins to vibrate, rattling around within the cup holder of my center console as a random number flashes across the screen. It’s Yuri. Paranoid fucker gets a new number every month so he’s harder to pin down.
“Yeah?”
“Good evening, Daniel.”
Glancing at the dash, I notice it reads 3:15 a.m.
“It’s technically morning.”
He offers up a patronizing chuckle, as though I’m a toddler who needs placating. “Always have to be right.”
“It comes naturally to me. What can I say?”
“I’ll cut to the chase, Daniel. I need you to go pick up Maverick Bishop and meet me at Echo in an hour.”
I sit in silence, waiting for him to get to the punchline of the joke. When it doesn’t come, I question him.
“Did you miss the part where it’s 3:15 in the morning?”
“Consider it an early start to your day.”
“Echo isn’t open on Mondays.” Even if it was, it wouldn’t still be open this late.
“Don’t worry, Daniel. I’ll let myself in.”
“Is Mav aware you’re just letting yourself into one of his clubs?”
“I’ll let you break the news to him when you go and fetch him for me.” I can hear the hint of humor in his tone, undoubtedly tickled with how much this is gonna burn Mav’s ass.
“Yuri.” I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my eyes. “In what world would Maverick go anywhere with me? Are you forgetting the whole ‘rival drug kingpins’ aspect to our relationship? I’m pretty sure he’d rather opt for a shot to the dick.”
“I’m confident you’ll convince him, Daniel. After all, it would seem the two of you are practically family.”
Shit.It’s like someone sent out a fucking memo about these two. Who would’ve thought having my favorite person in the world return home would equate to such a clusterfuck?
“59 minutes, Daniel. Don’t make me come looking for you two.” The line cuts out, effectively killing any traces of my good mood that remained.
“FUCK!” I shout, repeatedly slamming my hand against the top of my steering wheel.
Okay, let’s be rational.Yuri’s not going to off us over some bullshit interaction between Mav and my sister. We make him far too much money. He probably just wants an excuse to listen to himself talk. Yuri’s a peacock. He needs an opportunity every now and then to preen. I’ll go get Mav, we’ll let him flex for twenty minutes or so, and we’ll go home. In the grand scheme of things, I’m sure we’ll be fine.