A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(52)

“She saw you at Easter Lanes. I told her about the hockey stairway guy and let it slip that it was you. If she saw you, she knows. She might say something.”

We drove for a bit in silence.

“My guess is that she didn’t see or she would’ve said something on the phone, and Justin won’t bring it up. Who would when he’s hoping to introduce his new girlfriend to his family? Guys like Justin don’t say anything unless they have to.”

He was right. Justin would wait, ask me about the situation. He’d feel me out first before deciding how to handle it. I nodded, settling back into the seat. “I’ll make something up, cover.”

“I think that’s smart.”

That was all sorted out, and so now I had at least an hour to sit in the same vehicle with Trace.

The understanding was dawning on me as I looked at him, and he met my look before needing to watch the street. A whole hour or more depending on traffic.

This would be fine.

All fine.

My body wouldn’t react to him.

I wouldn’t think about kissing, or touching, or . . . yeah. It would be all good.

Why wasn’t I believing in myself?

“Viv said you weren’t there when we arrived. When did you come?”

He grimaced before answering. “I had a family thing not far away. Ashton texted when he saw you show up, and I considered not coming. I thought about respecting your wishes, but I’m glad I didn’t.”

I closed my eyes. “Why did you decide to come?”

He didn’t answer at first.

He didn’t answer in the next minute, or the next five.

Ten.

It was a full thirty minutes later. His voice was hoarse when he finally answered. “Because when it comes to you, I have absolutely no fucking control over myself.”

I wished I hadn’t asked.

But I was glad I had.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


TRACE


I was walking into my downtown office when my phone started ringing.

“Hello, Mr. West.” The doorman gave me a nod, opening the door for me. I was pulling my phone out, ready and needing a full day in the office, when I saw who was calling.

Uncle Steph calling.

I stopped a few feet inside. The front desk receptionist was waiting for me. She always had a greeting for us as we came in, and I’d been rarely coming in during normal hours. I’d been working remotely, but I wanted a normal day in the office. I wanted to talk to my colleagues, hear the bullshit stories about how much money they’d traded the day before. Half was bullshit. Half was testing if we’d heard anything. Half was just connecting to each other. Most of the guys who did this job lived for it. They drank, ate, shit stocks, but some were like me. They did the deep dive research, and when one of us was found, we’d always get “visitors” dropping by to “shoot the shit” or wanting to grab a drink.

But if my uncle was calling, I knew none of that would happen.

“Mr. West?”

I held a hand up to the receptionist but didn’t move any closer. I knew. I just knew—work or family.

She stood from her desk, still watching me, and after a moment, she frowned just slightly. Stepping out from the desk, she smoothed down her skirt and shirt and began to cross the lobby toward me. A few other guys were coming in, going around me.

“Hey, buddy! Long time no see.”

“What’s up? Two o’clock lunch?”

“Tristian, my man! Drinks on me tonight. You in?”

I didn’t answer them as my phone fell silent, and suppressing a curse, I moved to the side and hit the call-back button.

“Mr. West?”

I held a hand up. “One minute, please.”

She coughed just as my uncle answered. “My nephew! My boy. How are you?”

“Mr. West.” She raised her voice, inclining her head toward me.

I frowned, saying into the phone, “One second, Uncle Steph.” Pressing the phone to my chest, I raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes?”

“You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?”

She gave me a tight nod. “In your office. She was very insistent.”

“She?”

“Yes, she. She informed me that you share blood, and her name is Remmi.”

This day went from bleak to even bleaker, but I could see the evidence of Remmi. She liked to lay a path of destruction wherever she went, and it made sense now why the receptionist came out to tell me of her presence.

I grimaced. “If she threatened you in any way, I apologize on her behalf.”

The receptionist gave a tight nod and an even tighter but grim smile before heading back for her desk.

I lifted the phone back up, saying, “I’m usually happy for a call from you, Uncle, but I’ve been informed of a disaster waiting in my office for me.”

He began chuckling. “I heard, but listen. I need you to come around today.”

“When?”

“Earlier than later. We need to revisit our talk we had a while ago, about my health and what that might mean for you. And about other matters too.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I was very aware my uncle’s line was tapped. FBI continuously listened in, and because of that, we had a code. A very serious code we used on certain phone lines, but he just broadcasted to whoever was listening in that they needed to start looking my way.