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“You want assets? You fix it. You want to be in the good graces of Aren? Your place, your camera. You the one I’m holding responsible.”

“I’ll get data on that fucking camera and I’ll figure out who put it there. But I’m not making any promises about anything else. See how far you get without the money from my ‘assets.’”

Aren is a crazy fucker, but he’s never shown that side of himself to me. I think he usually doesn’t, unless he’s threatened or he thinks you double-crossed him. Even then, I’d like to see how far he thinks he can get in a war against me. He might be crazy as shit, but I’ve got a hell of a lot more people—and more money.

“I’ll be back in touch. Don’t call me in the middle of the night, Aren.”

I hear him whispering some threat before he ends the call. I wait till five a.m. before I make one of my own. Then I get out of bed and throw on my running gear.* * *EliseThere’s a task force—on the Arnoldi stuff. I commissioned it the day I got the stockpile of evidence, which police from multiple precincts sat on for more than a year, waiting for turnover in my office.

The task force peeps have had a month to work, and now it’s time for them to brief me. As far as I know, there’s nothing direct on Luca. Anyway, I’m moving forward. We have closure now…and it was more than I had ever hoped for. I can’t imagine a gentler conclusion to that situation. Not that it was gentle. It was anything but. Adult Luca was—

I shake my head. Like, literally give it a good shake. My face and neck feel hot. My heart is pounding.

I glance around the conference room, but no one’s watching me pull out the leather chair at the head of the table. No one’s watching me as people trickle in with briefcases and stacks of papers. No one’s watching me—except when I’m speaking—until the halfway point, when Chris Rutherford, my predecessor, steps into the room. He takes a seat in a chair beside the door, and right away, I feel his eyes on me.

As Wimberly starts her slides, showing in methodical detail what we have on the Arnoldi family and the Fent trade. As Rupert analyzes the heroin situation—something we don’t have much good evidence on—and explains how he’s got a good connection for more recent info. As Fatima shares her presentation about human trafficking and I tell myself that isn’t true, and Kai points out the trafficking of women is the Armenians’ stock and trade, and Imani, who serves on all the Armenian task forces, points out that Luca’s brother does some money laundering for Aren Alexanian—the Armenians’ leader.

Imani stands up in her pea green pants suit, high heels snapping on the hardwood floor as she walks to the podium, and gives a lengthy presentation with some pretty ironclad financial deets that look bad for Luca’s little brother. I remind myself that I don’t know his brother, that I never got to meet him. Which makes me think of my sister, and when I look up, Chris is looking at me again.

Is this weird? Because I feel like it is. Why the hell is he here?

Right after Imani finishes, Chris stands up and covers the distance to the podium in three long strides. He pushes at one of his shirtsleeves—always with the droopy shirtsleeves, which is so odd; I know everything he wears is tailored—and he looks down, and I realize he’s got a tiny mic pinned to his lapel.

W.T.F.

“Thanks for having me in.” He nods at me, and I smile tersely as my heart starts pounding way too fast and heavy…because I didn’t ask him to come today. “I just had a few things to mention.” He frowns down at his phone, like he’s made some notes in notepad, and then looks up, smiling that smile that he does when he wants to look affable.

“I’ve got a contact for Rupert. Someone who’s knowledgeable about the heroin side of things. They’ve talked to me in the past, but I think they would talk to Rupert.” I blink twice, fast, keeping my face carefully neutral.

“Also, there’s a bit of history that you should know about.” He looks around the room, and I can feel the blood drain from my cheeks. Holy shit. This is the moment that they all find out— “Luca Galante’s father was an informant for the FBI. It was highly confidential, and few in law enforcement were ever briefed.” A low buzzing starts in my head, making it hard for me to focus as he goes on: “It’s been years since we had a real Arnoldi task force. Really years since there was anything tangible against them. Roberto has been careful. He’s still seen by many in this city as a relatively legit businessman.

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