“Agent Love,” a woman says. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get to you.”
“Who am I speaking with?” I ask.
“I’m not telling you my name yet, but eventually the police will at least interview me. And I’ll tell them I know nothing.”
“And me? What will you tell me?”
“Everything I know,” she says, “but it can’t be from me. I’ll end up—I don’t know—punished.”
I glance at Kane as I respond. “Punished?”
He arches a brow at that. Yeah, my feelings exactly, I think.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” she says. “And what they will do to serve their own needs. I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you, but then I want out.”
“Tell me your name.”
“Not until I meet you and trust you.”
“You called me. You asked for me. You must trust me.”
“You have skin in this game even though you don’t know you do. You and Kane Mendez. And that’s part of the deal, by the way. If I tell you what you need to know, I want his protection.”
My eyes meet Kane’s. “Kane decides who he protects and who he doesn’t. I don’t.”
Kane’s expression pinches with amusement and he downs his whiskey.
“We both know that’s not true,” the woman argues. “You influence him.”
“If you have something to say about Kane and you want something from him,” I counter, “he’s coming to the meeting.”
“Just you,” she states firmly. “I’ll meet you in Midtown. I’ll call you in two hours. If you’re there, I’ll give you an address.” She hangs up.
Kane is now at the bar in the corner refilling his whiskey. I join him there. He offers me the glass and repeats my words, “Something is going on. And it involves me.”
I set the glass down. “A woman called Chief Houston on a throwaway phone, which you remember is how these people all play that Banking the Billionaire game. She said she knows all three of the victims. She has information to give us on the murders, but will only talk to me. She wanted my number to set-up a meeting for tonight.”
“How did I get involved?”
“She says we’re connected to all of this, that we have skin in the game. And that she’ll only talk if you offer her protection.”
“She knows too much if she wants my protection.”
“Like it or not, you have a reputation. I don’t know if we can assume intimate knowledge of you or your operation.”
“Who is she?”
“She won’t give me a name until I meet her. She doesn’t want to talk to the police. She says she has information I need to solve these murders. Information about us.”
“Where does she want to meet?”
“Midtown in two hours. She’ll call with a proper location at that time.”
His jaw flexes but he says nothing. He walks to the table, downs his whiskey, and grabs his phone. He punches a number and says, “We’re going to the city now, tonight.” He listens a moment and then says, “Don’t call ahead and we’ll need extra security once we get to the city.” He disconnects and turns to me. “Kit and Jay will meet us at the airport.”
“We can drive,” I say. “If we go now—”
“Then you’d have to spend the drive talking to me about the wedding. And committing to plans.”
“We already talked about this. New Year’s Eve with a few friends, nothing more.”
His hands come down on my waist, possessive and snug, as he pulls me closer. “You still want to do it here, by the tree?”
“No. Anywhere but here. I want a break from New York as a whole. You pick.”
“We’ll pick,” he amends. “And what about a dress, beautiful?”
“I have to do my mother proud. Something beautiful.”
The people in the Society have taken from me my mother, and the father I once knew and loved. They almost took Kane. I step back from him, uncomfortable with where I’m going with this, aware that last night is affecting me, but I can’t not say this. And maybe, just maybe, it’s the most logical thing I’ve said in a long time.
“What is it, beautiful?” Kane presses.
“I’m not a person to run. I’m in your face, fuck you, I will kill you, but I also know strategy matters. But we can deal with Pocher and the Society from a distance, and leave this Godforsaken place, Kane. You could move your corporate office. We could get out of the eye of the storm. We’re in the Society’s territory. Let’s make our own and draw them into our own web.”
“This is my territory and that’s why they hate me.”
“Because of the cartel,” I state, the words bitter on my lips, and it’s not the question. It’s simply the elephant in the room, over and over and over again. I push away from him. “We need to go.” I start to move away.