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But as Wander had made clear, the decision didn’t lie with Roman. It was Caleb’s call, and ultimately Wander’s, and Roman would have to deal with it one way or another. And he would. Didn’t mean he couldn’t be a little salty about it.
“Let’s get started,” Wander said, and Roman focused on his brother. Ryan and Alex had returned from Boston and had a lot to share, so Wander had called another team meeting. He had refused to give details, but something told Roman it wouldn’t be good news.
“Let’s start with the bad news,” Ryan said, and Roman mentally braced himself. “Rumors are circulating that there’s a price on Roman’s head.”
Roman jerked his head up, his heart skipping a beat. “What?”
“Two people confirmed they’ve been approached to take Roman out. The preference is to take him out of commission permanently and not kill him, but if there’s no other way, murder is acceptable. The reward is a million dollars.”
Roman’s lungs seized. A million dollars? Jesus, he was done for. For that much money, there would be a line out the door.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said.
Roman held up his hand, unable to speak. He wasn’t sure what the expected reaction was when one found out there was a contract on one’s head, but surely shock would be okay.
“How credible are your sources?” Lowell asked.
“Very credible. I talked to a high-ranking Boston PD cop. And by the way, I do suspect Whitman has some cops on his payroll because my source said as soon as the rumors about Roman popped up, they were squashed hard by his superiors and labeled as unsubstantiated. Someone’s going to great lengths to make sure this credible threat on his life isn’t taken seriously.”
Roman swallowed. He’d suspected this for a while, but to hear it confirmed was still hard. How could he fight an enemy he couldn’t see? Whitman’s reach was so much longer and deeper than Roman could ever have imagined.
“I’m already trying to establish possible connections between Whitman and any LEOs,” Caleb said. “So far, I’ve found a few suspicious donations the senator made to relatively small and unknown law enforcement-related charities. One is linked to a Boston PD lieutenant, so my money is on him being dirty.”
Lowell muttered a curse. “I hate nothing more than dirty cops. They’re the ones who give us all a bad name.”
“Hear, hear,” Ryan agreed. “It’s the worst betrayal of everything that badge stands for.”
“Keep digging, Caleb,” Wander said. “In the meantime, I’ve called in a second team from a friend of mine to support us so we can focus on getting this bastard because we’ve already seen some activity. This weekend, two unwelcome guests showed up at Jesse’s club. Two men with Boston accents. These guys were asking about you, Ro.”
A cold shiver ran over Roman’s spine, the sensation too familiar. The kind of chill that crawled up your skin when eyes lingered too long, a presence in the shadows watching, waiting. His gut twisted.
“So they know where I am,” Roman said, but it came out in a near whisper through the tightness in his throat.
“Sure looks like it,” Lowell said with a sigh.
“High alert, everyone. No screw-ups.” Wander’s words fell like a gavel, final and resounding. His eyes, shards of ice, locked on Roman. “You’re grounded, Ro. No more leaving the house.”
Roman’s throat constricted even more, and he felt as if the walls of the meeting room were pressing in close. The familiar itch to push back, to claim his autonomy, surged through his veins. But this was no courtroom where he wielded power, no professional situation where he was in charge. This was real, raw chaos snapping at his heels.
“Understood,” he said, the heavy taste of confinement on his tongue. His very life was on the line, but he could still resent it, hate it.
“We also have good news,” Ryan said. “We discovered Penelope Whitman, the senator’s wife, is having an affair with her gardener. Yes, it’s very cliché, but also very true.”
“Can you blame her?” Alex quipped as he put a picture of the gardener on the screen. In his midthirties, with a powerful build forged by manual labor, a beautiful complexion, and soulful brown eyes, the man in question was indeed attractive.
Roman leaned forward. Thank god for the change of topic. He’d ten times rather focus on this than on the sickening realization of the danger he was in. A gardener, huh? Power plays were second nature in his line of work, but infidelity was a wild card that added a dangerous unpredictability to their strategy.
Ryan was relaying the details of late-night trysts and hushed conversations overheard by others, but Roman’s mind raced. How could they use this info?
“I talked to her,” Roman said when Ryan finished. “But she sealed up tighter than a damn vault.”
Ryan shrugged. “We found out from others, then pressed her into telling the truth. She wasn’t happy about it, but once she started talking, she didn’t shut up.”
Roman tapped his fingers on the table. What had caused Penelope Whitman to change course? “Do you think she suspects something’s up?”
“Oh, I’m certain of it. This woman deserves an Oscar for playing the dumb trophy wife because she’s anything but stupid. And her survival instinct is finely honed. She senses trouble, and she’s gonna make sure she comes out on the other side and not go down with her husband.”
“We should be able to use that,” Lowell said. “It’s evident she married him for the money and the social standing, so if we make it clear she could lose all that, it would provide a powerful motive for her to cooperate. Threaten her with the fallout of Whitman’s crash and offer her a way out that keeps her name clean and her pockets lined.”
