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Makes sense. The Skulls are bad news. No doubt this will end in a heap of bloody carnage.
“Got it.” I scratch the scruff on my jaw, my gut tingling with unease. “It wasn’t an accusation, Frank. We’re aware of how thorough you are, but I can’t find anything confirming what’s in that fucking book. Without understanding what it is they believe you have, it’s difficult to anticipate the scope of this. Just attempting to spark something.”
“Fuck if I know. I’ve racked my brain, but I’ll tell ya, my patience is thinning.” The threatening timbre in Frank’s voice intensifies. “They’re fucking with my family, which is a sure way to find themselves on the wrong end of my business.”
By that, he means buried beneath one of his countless home developments in the Midwest. Frank Carver is a valuable resource to The Order and KORT. Aside from laundering money, specializing in land investments, and several other services provided through Carver Homes, that’s how he contributes. Burial grounds deep below a concrete and cinder-block foundation, housing years of family dinners.
Hearing the exasperation in Frank’s voice, Wells waves me off and takes over. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, Frank. These things take time, but I suspect we’ll find them covered in dirt at the end regardless. We’re ready.”
That’s a promise that we won’t shy away from taking the Skulls out, which is more out of respect for Tom—Ivy’s deceased father, Wells’s beloved mentor, and Frank’s closest friend—than KORT business.
I stumbled upon the contract out on Frank—or his company—and even though it should’ve been handed to Jared Austen, the leader of The Order, this isn’t a family we’ll leave unprotected. No matter the cost. Jared would’ve handled it fine, but it would’ve been with The Order as a whole in mind. That’s where Tom’s wishes would have varied. He’d want those he cared about, those in the most immediate danger, protected first. And we feel the same.
“Have you sent a threat to back off?” Frank asks.
“No,” Wells says. “This is a delicate situation. Showing ourselves too early could lead to bloodshed. We’d like to avoid as many casualties as possible, and in order to do that, we need more insight. It doesn’t appear that they’re working alone, and we don’t know what the hell they’re after. War without the spoils doesn’t pay. No KORT involvement will be revealed until we have a better handle on it.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “I’m not thrilled with the time this is taking, but I appreciate your help. My wife is a wreck, even out of the country.” Frank and his wife, Ava, vacation every January in Fiji, which is why Frank was comfortable with Celeste spending the month with us. Extra protection. “Regarding my other Carver girl, Celeste doesn’t know about the break-in or any of this. Please tell me Ivanna is instructed not to spill.”
“We never informed Ivy,” Wells admits, to which I shake my head and guzzle a bitter swallow of coffee.
It’s not KORT business, but our girl is going to riot when she finds out we’ve kept all this from her. As her husband and my boss, it was Wells’s call though. I’m off the hook, other than having a front-row seat to the ticking time bomb disguised as a redhead.
“Do me another favor,” Frank continues. “After everything happened with Ivanna, Celeste started poking around, wondering about getting involved with my business—not merely the home-development side. My little girl is smart and fierce, but I want her as far from this shit show as possible. This isn’t the life she deserves.”
That information has me nearly choking on my coffee. Celeste interested in his business, getting her hands dirty? Working? What the hell is that about? What happened to the princess riding into the sunset with her fake-as-fuck senatorial prince?
“We’ll take care of her, keep her distracted,” Wells promises, relaxing into his chair, clearly not as thrown off by that admission as I am. He smiles, and I know he’s about to talk about his wife. “Ivy is elated to have her here, especially with the baby coming.”
“I’m sure,” Frank says, his voice conveying reservation that intrigues me. “My father knows a couple of hotshots in the political arena, sons and grandsons of his colleagues. He’s hoping she’ll get acquainted with them, see if she hits it off with either one. I’m not much for that scene, but I think it’s best. Can you ask Ivanna to encourage that?”
Encourage her? Isn’t that what Celeste wants? My head is fucking spinning with this conversation.
Wells chuckles, dragging a hand down his face. “My wife makes her own decisions in matters of Celeste and isn’t a fan of politicians, but I’ll see what I can do. She’ll want to thoroughly vet the guys first.”
“Vetting is appreciated,” Frank agrees, hedging for a beat. “But bottom line—and I mean no disrespect—I’m hoping Celeste connects with someone who takes her far away from my world and yours. I had the utmost respect for Tom. Hewas my dearest friend. I trusted his judgment more than anyone’s, but this isn’t what I want for my little girl.”
Fuck, that pisses me off.
“Understood,” Wells says, eyebrows compressing in rumination. “It’s certainly not for everyone. We’ll do our best to steer her toward a different path and keep her safe until she takes it.”
What the hell?
“Thanks, Wells. Contact me if she needs anything or something new develops.”
“Will do, Frank.” Wells ends the call, silent within his own thoughts as Mozart croons the background playlist to my seething.
Frank may have been Tom’s best friend, but that is not indicative of the way Frank conducts business or the clarity in which he views the ins and outs of this life. While Tom was privy to corruption and nefarious dealings, he did whatever he could to conduct himself with integrity. No one in this life is clean, but Tom was among the best. That didn’t stop him from championing friends who were knee deep in dirt, including us. Like the lost-cause neurology cases he took, identifying a new approach, he saw the best in even the most depraved—a quality he passed on to his daughter.
He also knew there was no one better than us to protect Ivy. Frank can piss off.
“What the fuck did you agree to?” I snipe.
That snaps Wells out of his thoughts with a quirked brow. He’d ordinarily go all Chief on me and put me in my place, but he must sense how combustible I am because he tempers himself. “Ivy will never abandon Celeste, but I can’t fault the guy for wanting his daughter out of the line of fire.”
I scoff, shocked that he’s not as outraged as I am. “A line he’s put her in, not us. He’s the one fucking up enough to garner the wrath of the Skulls.”
His eyes squint in consideration, but he shakes it off. “Frank didn’t deny that. What’s going on? Why are you so pissed? You can’t stand Celeste. This should be your best-case scenario.”
