A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(37)

Isaac grunted. “That guy I was telling you about? The one who knows Anthony, he says he knows dirt on your supervisor. He’s not the good guy you think he is.”

I gave him a look. “Anthony? A good guy?” I raised an eyebrow.

He laughed, sitting back. His shoulders lowered, and he rolled forward again, his head bobbing up and down. “Yeah. Yeah. I know. You know him. I didn’t tell that guy about you, though. Don’t want it getting around—”

I hit the intercom. “Hey.”

He stopped, looking up.

“I know.” Everyone had relatives, but sometimes a guy just needed to look for something to target another guy, and finding out his sister worked on the other team could make him an easy target. “It’s okay.”

He went back to bobbing up and down again, a steady nodding movement, before he propped an elbow on the table and raked his hand over his head. “There’s stuff coming down the pipeline in here, and it’s got to do with, you know, your other boss’s family. Anthony’s boss. They put out an order of protection on me.”

“They did what?”

He stopped, his eyes widening at my tone. “I thought you knew. It came out the day after I found out who your real bosses at the club were. I thought . . . Was I wrong?”

My stomach was twisted up in a knot again, one big motherfucker. The truth was that I had no idea.

Liar, liar. Pants on fire.

I cursed at my own inner voice calling me out.

You do too know. He said he’d help your aunt. He’s helping your brother too.

“You okay, Jess?”

I realized I’d been sitting here, quiet, glaring at my brother while I was having an argument in my own head, against myself. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m fine. I don’t know why they did that.”

He looked over his shoulder, checking the inmates and their visitors next to us. No one was paying attention, and he leaned closer to the plexiglass. “You think it’s about Dad? Because he was involved with them?”

My stomach rolled over, not wanting to hear about those days. I shook my head. “No. That was too long ago.”

“But—”

“If that was the case, you would’ve been protected since your first day here. You haven’t been, right?”

He shook his head. “No, just that one guard who looks out for me because of you.”

I clipped my head in another fast nod, because that didn’t need to be spoken out loud either. It was a corrections officer—or CO, as we referred to them. I knew him from taking the same parole officer training. He hadn’t passed, and I had. We got close anyway because we were from the same neighborhood. I gave him a call when my brother ended up in this prison, and he’d asked if I could keep an eye out for his family. It was an easy “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine” sort of situation. His wife was a sweetheart, and the only time I had to look out for them was when their little boy got into trouble at school. I gave him a sort of “scared straight” scenario, one that didn’t break any rules. He met some parolees who never violated and remained on good terms with us, but their little boy hadn’t known that fact when he met them.

“Fill me in. How are things with you?”

“I don’t want to do that. You tell me about Ma, tell me about Kelly. She still ask about me?”

I laughed, but I told him. I left out the part about Justin and the part where Mom was herself.

When it was my time to leave, he stopped me. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” My gut sharpened again, because that tone was serious.

“Quit working at that nightclub. They’re protecting me for a reason, and I don’t know it. That gives me a bad feeling.”

My little brother, four years my junior, and he was worried about me. I reached out, unable to tell him what he wanted, and placed my hand against the plexiglass.

He hesitated but mirrored mine with his, and I gave him a smile. “Love you.”

He dipped his head down in a jerking motion. “Love you too.”



I couldn’t stop hearing his words the entire drive back to the city, and that bad feeling he had—I got it too.

It only grew the closer I got, but it was Thursday. I’d taken the day off from work, and I didn’t have a shift at Katya until tomorrow.

Instead of going home and hanging out with Justin and Kelly, I turned toward a place that I hadn’t visited in a long time. Too long of a time.

I went to an art studio that I used to use, because once upon a time, before my dad died, my mom started drinking, my brother went to prison, I’d wanted to be an art student. The owner was my high school art teacher, and she gave me a key years ago, saying I could stop in and use her products anytime. I barely ever took her up on the offer, and the few times I had, I’d reimbursed her for the products.

That was a whole lifetime ago, but I was feeling the itch tonight.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT


TRACE


I’d been keeping tabs on her, but this place was new. She’d deviated.

Ashton was the one who let me know where she was, and it’d not been in our PI’s report, so I wanted to find out for myself what place this was—or whose place this was.

Sitting in my vehicle, parked on the street, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.