A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(5)

See. Busting my balls. I had nothing to do with what my parolee did. “How’d you find this out?”

“I was here when he was brought in. Team Leader wanted an update for the board. He’s doing a call with them, right about now.” He said that so casual and slow as he was pretending to look at his wrist, the one without a watch.

I cursed because this guy. It was none of his business, and our team leader knew that.

Leo should’ve waited for me to let him know what was going on.

I tossed my things in my office and walked right into our team leader’s. “Hey.” A quick head nod to him and I sat down, grabbing the file he had open on his desk.

Leo, short for Leland Aguila, was my boss, but also like a father-slash-mentor to me. He was the reason, or one of the reasons, I came into this line of work. There was a time I needed guidance and I needed the world to make sense again. Leo gave that to me. Because of that, I didn’t like seeing the thin line of disapproval on his flat mouth. Or how the wrinkles on his forehead were pushed together.

He was a big man, over six feet. Two eighty. Bald, because he said this work didn’t allow him to grow any hair, but he kept himself mostly in shape. A solid lineman.

He was putting his phone away. “What are you doing?”

“You’re calling about my guy, right?”

Leo paused, his big head tilting to the side. His eyes gentled. “No. That’s for you to do. You got time. Why are you asking?”

Oh.

I gave a tight shrug. “Travis.”

Understanding dawned. “Ignore him. You know how he is. He wants to get a reaction from you.”

Yeah. I didn’t appreciate it.

Leo gave me a grin and motioned for the door. “Get out of my office, Montell. Go find Officer Hartman and do whatever you both need to do today.”

I gave him a mock salute, which he snorted at, and did just that.

Hearing Val’s tone, hearing the irritation from her, I knew exactly where she was and headed over to her office. She was on the phone but just setting it down. Seeing me, she wheeled back her chair. “Ready?”

Home visits. Not fun.

I clipped my head in a nod. “Ready.”





CHAPTER FIVE


TRACE


“She works at Katya?” The laughter in Ashton’s voice was barely contained.

He was reading a copy of the report our guy had put together in the last two days of following her. I’d gotten it earlier in the day, but that didn’t mean hearing it again was any less of a rub than when I’d first found out that she worked for me.

I made good money. Had a good life. And I slept with women when I wanted them, but it hadn’t always been like that. I’d had a steady girlfriend in high school and another one in college. I’d been faithful. Felt appropriate. If they were giving me their heart and body, I’d do the same. But I got older, and my dad’s “helping” in the family business was him “fucking it up,” and my uncle started calling me to take over and fix the mess my father always made.

I was tired of it. My uncle was tired of it.

But that part of my life began rearing up more and more, and I knew it wasn’t right to have another girlfriend, not in this life. It was too much with the two worlds already. So, casual sex or women who knew the score. They got dinner, drinks, a night where they felt important being on my arm, and I got sex with no strings. They were women who didn’t want a relationship, either, so it was a win-win for both of us.

But now, I wanted her, and for the first time in a long time, I was considering throwing out my rules.

For her.

But only one weekend. That was it. That was all I could take. Fuck her out of my system and move on, go back to my normal routine. All would be well then.

“You’re so screwed.” Ashton was back to laughing.

I gave him a dark look. “I have a gun in my drawer, you know.”

That made him laugh harder, and he leaned forward, shaking his head. “You want her to know you own Katya?”

“We own Katya.” It was our club, his and mine. Ashton had his family, too, similar to mine, but Katya was one of our endeavors that had no connection to either of our families. We wouldn’t allow it. If anyone tried to push in, it would be an internal war.

“Yeah, yeah. You know what I mean.”

Did I want her to know? No. “Call Anthony. Tell him the arrangements. I don’t want her to know, not yet.”

Ashton was pulling out his phone as my own began buzzing. It was our PI.

I answered. “You have something more on her?”

“She bowls.”

I frowned. “Bowls?”

“You wanted the file quick, so I didn’t get it in there, but every Sunday, her and her roommate go to Easter Lanes. It’s almost a religious event.”

That . . . was helpful. “When do they go?”

“They’re there by six, play till eight, and hang out till nine thirty.”

Easter Lanes. “Who owns the place?”

“Molly Easter. Bought it from her father, turned it around, and it’s doing well.”

“Who’s her father?”

“Shorty Easter, real name is Marcus. Gambler. He owes big to Ashton’s family.”

I glanced to Ashton as our PI was telling me this, and feeling my gaze, Ashton looked back to me. His eyebrow rose. “What?”