Violet nods as a tear slips down her cheek. “He hurts her. Where is this?”
“New York,” Julian says. “At a museum opening one month ago.”
“And Lincoln is talking to fucking Damiano DeLuca,” I grind out through a clenched jaw.
“Who’s that?” Natasha asks. “I haven’t heard that name before.”
“The head of the Italian Mafia on the East Coast,” Julian replies.
He shows us more. Rose and Lincoln have shown up in Miami, Dallas, Denver, and Boston. Always talking with other organized crime men or at parties where those men would be.
“Who the fuckingfuckis Jeremy Lincoln?” I ask as I pull my fingers through Violet’s hair, trying to calm her. She’s shaking, but I can’t get her away from the screen.
“Until seven years ago, he didn’t exist,” Julian says, and my gaze whips over to his again.
“Alias.”
“Definitely. He doesn’t have a home base that I can find, but his primary business is aviation, particularly private jets.”
“He’s aplanesalesman?” I ask.
“From what I can tell, but that’s obviously a cover. I’ll keep digging, but his security is tight.”
“Did you find anymore pictures of her?” Violet asks hopefully.
“Not yet, but I’m still digging. I’ll text you everything I’ve found so far.”
“Thanks.” It’s a whisper, and I can see that she needs a glass of whiskey and to be held, but before I can take her home, my phone rings, and my eyebrows climb.
“Cillian O’Connor,” I say to Julian as I swipe the screen, accepting the call, and put it on speaker. “Cillian.”
“Mateo,” he says in greeting. “I’ve been keeping my eyes open like you asked, and I have an update.”
I lean forward just as Julian does. “Go on.”
“When you sent the photo of the girl through, I would have sworn that she looked familiar, so I ran through some security footage and sure enough. I’ve met her.”
I wrap my arm around Violet and pull her against me, keeping her upright because even I can see that her knees are shaking.
“Go on,” I say. “And for the sake of transparency, you’re on speaker with my brother Julian listening, along with our girls. It’s just the four of us.”
“Appreciate it. My brother Declan is here too. Now, I have images to send through. Where should I send them?”
“To me,” Julian says. “I’m at my computer.”
“Sent.”
Julian nods, and then we all look at the screen on the wall, and Violet gasps.
“This was two weeks ago,” Cillian says. “She was here, at my house, for a business dinner I hosted.”
She’s in a white dress, and Lincoln is right by her side.
“Who’s this Jeremy Lincoln?” I ask him. “And why is he making the rounds through every fucking organized crime family in the country?”
Cillian chuckles. “Caught that, did you? He’s a piece of work. This asshole, who I donottrust, has decided he wants a piece of every city, and he’s trying to use blackmail to do it. I don’t feel comfortable saying more over the phone, but he has audacity, that’s for sure.”
“What did he try to blackmail you with?” I ask. “And why is he still breathing?”
