Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1)(75)

“I’m done pretending that’s possible. I’m done with you.” I step around him.

He calls out, “You’ll never win.”

I don’t turn, and my lips curve with satisfaction at the words everyone I ever beat had said when they started to feel fear. I start walking and I don’t look back. Not now and not ever again.




My next stop is at the bank to wrap up the purchase of the apartment Emily and I had looked at yesterday. I’m just finishing up the meeting when Seth calls to let me know he’s arrived at Denver ground zero and is headed my way with company and the need for discretion. Seth arranges a showing at another downtown high-rise apartment as a cover for the meeting. By the time I step off the elevator on the twenty-fifth floor it’s nearly lunchtime.

Once I’m inside the unit that is filled with modern, artsy furnishing, I find myself at the head of a glass table. To my left is Seth and to my right is Nick Snyder, a man casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his blondish hair starting to gray.

“As you know,” Seth says, “Snyder X Security is the company I’ve contracted to work with us. Nick is the founder and the reason why I chose them.”

“We met on an FBI-CIA combined task force,” Nick offers. “And I was undercover in a biker gang for seven years. A gang that has some dealings with the Santos cartel, Martina’s biggest rival.”

“He took a bullet for me and saved my life,” Seth adds.

I flick Nick a look. “Your credentials are good but I don’t know you. I don’t trust you. I trust Seth, and since he trusts you, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Good thing,” Nick says, his glacier-green eyes glinting hard. “Because you need me.” He drops a small sealed baggie on the table. “That’s what your trucking company is transporting for Martina.”

“Coke,” Seth says, confirming what I’d assumed, and sending a rush of anger through me that I quickly tap down.

“How long has this being going on?”

“Two weeks,” Seth replies. “And we know this not from Riker, who won’t talk to us, but from his right-hand man, who did. He’s in this and wants out.”

I have a small bit of relief with the news this is only two weeks old. “At least they don’t have their teeth sunk in yet.”

“But it won’t take them long to,” Nick warns. “They’re testing the waters. If they like how this goes, this is just the beginning. They’ll expand into all of your operations.”

“How do we know they haven’t already?” I ask.

“We don’t,” Seth says, “which is why we need to expedite your plan to control the rest of the stockholders.”

“If we know your exposure is limited to the trucking division,” Nick adds, “I have a friend at the Feds who can help.”

“No Feds,” I say. “The last thing I want is my family in jail and our company name all over the news.”

“Understood,” Nick says, “but my friend does side work for me. He can go in and nose around, flash his badge and then show up at Martina’s restaurant and connect the dots. You’ve then successfully shut down your brother’s attempt to go from dating to marriage with the cartel.”

“Step one,” Seth says, setting a folder in front of me. “That’s the ammunition I have on the stockholders you wanted. Nick and I can split them up and have this done in the next few days.”

I open the folder and the first thing I see is the only female stockholder’s name, and next to it the word “miscarriage.” My gaze shoots to Seth. “You have to be kidding me. You want to use a miscarriage against this woman?”

“Her husband is infertile,” Seth says. “So yes. I do.

My temples begin to throb. “Let me get this straight. You’re suggesting I become my family to fight my family.”

“Better this than a cartel running drugs and killing people in your name,” Nick states.

“Killing people in my name,” I say. “That’s the way to cut to the chase.” I shut the folder and slide it to Seth. “Do what you have to do.”

I stand and they follow, and I look at Seth. “I need an update by this time tomorrow.” I don’t wait for a reply, eager to get out of here and try to actually breathe again.

By the time I’m in the parking garage and sitting in my car, there is only one person on my mind. Emily. I remove my cell phone from my jacket to call her and it beeps with a text, from her of all people.

It appears that I’m going to lunch with your mother.





I like to be myself. Misery loves company.



—Anthony Corallo





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


EMILY


It’s no coincidence that lunch with Mrs. Brandon, or “Maggie,” as I am now to call her, is at Jeffrey’s Restaurant, the same place I’d gone with Shane the first night we met. It’s her way of telling me she knows about Shane and me. Thankfully when we arrive, Susie isn’t working or I’d be utterly cornered. Not that I think I’m going to escape some sort of full-frontal attack before this is over anyway, and of course, the white elephant is Mrs. Brandon’s offer to pay me for information.