A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(29)

“Who knows. That room downstairs smells like a sewer.”

Pajn grunted in response to Demetri as they carried him downstairs.

I waited, giving them time to set him up down there.

“The information we got was that he was a religious nut.” Ashton was looking around. “Not seeing any religious items in this house.”

He was right. There were no crosses, no Bibles, no Bible verses anywhere. No rosaries, if those were a part of his religion. The walls were sparse, empty. The rooms each had the minimum of furniture. A couple chairs in the living room. The kitchen had only a small table, big enough to be a card table, and two chairs. The second chair was pulled back, sitting against the wall as if when he sat to eat, she sat there to wait on him.

The built-in shelves were empty as well.

I’d walked through the kids’ rooms earlier, knowing they had three younger children. It was the same there. Bed mattresses on the floor. A pillow. A blanket, if even one. One of the closets had some children’s books in the corner, a flashlight next to them.

“We won’t be working with this man.”

Ashton’s head snapped to mine. “Your uncle is firm.”

I shook my head, my gut flaring. “He deserves a slow and tortured death. We’ll reach out to his supervisor, make sure whoever is put in his place will work for us instead. We’ll handle it if we need to.”

“And when this guy disappears? If someone starts asking questions?”

I gave him a very dark and long look. “You really think anyone is going to ask questions?”

“She might.”

“Then she and I will have a conversation when that happens.” I was going with my gut that if this guy disappeared, everyone would consider it a blessing.

Demetri called up from the bottom of the stairs. “He’s ready.”

Questioning or interrogating someone wasn’t new to us, but Ashton was the one who looked forward to it. He thrived on the cruelty of it. Me, it wasn’t my specialty, but this time was different.

With what I wanted to do to this man, this time I was just as excited.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


JESS


I wasn’t ready, not by a long shot, when I saw my aunt. Sarah was a shadow of my mom, and my mom was already a shadow of herself, so that was saying a lot there. Then a little girl lifted up her head, and I was staring at a female version of my brother.

Same eyes. Same shape of eyes. Same coloring all over and the same almost-white hair color. My brother had a boyish look to him, at least he did when he wasn’t trying to be fierce, and this girl had the same. It was in the cheeks—both had the same round cheeks.

I was struck speechless, my throat closing up before I took in the other two kids. A little boy playing with trucks in the corner and another girl, this one with frizzy red hair sticking out. All of the kids were taking me in, but they weren’t scared. They weren’t curious.

They were staring at me because I was one more stranger to them.

I pulled my gaze back to my aunt, and she was also watching me, waiting.

She was tiny, but those eyes were seventy years old.

“You look like your mother.” Her words were soft.

I gave her a half grin. “Please don’t say that again or I’ll think you mean it.”

A flare of something showed in her gaze, just briefly before it was gone just as quick. “She won’t want us at her place.” Her gaze trailed down to my hand, where I had placed it resting on my gun, under my shirt.

I hadn’t realized I’d put it there and moved my hand back at my side. “I talked to a lady who runs this shelter on the way up. She’s going to make some calls, find a shelter closer to the city.”

She was noting the invitation wasn’t for my place, and for the life of me, I couldn’t tell if she liked hearing that or didn’t. After a beat, she gave me a small nod before bending down and whispering something to the little girl who was wrapped around her legs, whispering it into her ear.

The little girl kept staring at me before her mom straightened again and gently nudged her on the back. “Go ahead, honey. Take your brother and sister too.”

She broke away. Once all three were out of the room, my aunt ran a hand through her hair. “They don’t know who you are. I figured it’s easier on them not knowing, not unless we get situated, and we can go from there.”

“Who do they think I am then?”

“They think I know a lady in New York who is connected to all the big police that can protect them. That’s what I told them. And I need a favor. I mean, another one before we leave.”

I frowned because for some reason, my gut took a nosedive at hearing that. “What’s the favor?”

“I left something at the house. I can’t leave without it.”

I found myself resting my hand once again on my piece. My fingers slowly wrapping around the handle, but knowing it wasn’t her that was making me feel this way. “What is it?”

“My kids’ birth certificates and my own ID. I had everything packed in a run bag, but not those items. I was too worried they’d get lost if I left them out. They’re in a safe that he doesn’t know about.”

Lovely.

I checked the time, but I couldn’t call for any reinforcements, and I didn’t know the cops here. Interdepartmental cooperation sometimes didn’t come so easy.