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Muse was tall and lanky, and he had a cat-like way of moving that made him seem both relaxed and predatory. Long black dreadlocks woven through with gold accents spilled over his dark shoulders, and he wore a tank top that molded to his muscled chest. His leather pants gleamed in the dim light as he crossed his booted feet, leaning back in his seat as he dipped his chin in greeting.
“Muse.”
Bishop returned his nod, and the man gestured for us all to sit. As we settled onto a couch opposite him, his gaze landed on me.
“Cora Van Rensselaer. I’ve been hearin’ your name pop up all over town lately. Guess congratulations are in order.”
I flushed slightly. “Thank you.”
He cocked an eyebrow, his dark eyes studying me. “And I presume you ain’t here just to tell me you’re gettin’ married. I already know all about that, darlin’.”
“No.” I shook my head, scooting forward on the seat. The three men around me let me take the lead, and I appreciated their silent show of support. “I have some other information I think you’ll want. Something I hope will repay the debt I owe you.”
Muse didn’t lean forward, but I could see his gaze sharpen. He was interested. Intrigued. Cocking his head to one side, he spread both arms over the back of the couch. “Anxious to get outta this deal before you become a married woman, aye?”
I felt the Lost Boys shift around me at that, but I put a hand on Misael’s knee to calm him.
In actual fact, that was a huge part of the reason we’d come here now. With my upcoming wedding into Claudio Vega’s family and operation, not to mention a union that would bring me even closer into Nathaniel Ward’s fold, I couldn’t afford to be beholden to anyone outside their organization—not even someone as generally neutral as Muse, a man who peddled in information and rarely took sides.
But there was no reason to outright admit that to him.
“I’m here because I think what I know is worth at least as much as the information you gave me last time we visited,” I said calmly, and Muse’s gaze narrowed as he assessed me.
Finally, he nodded. “Alright. Let’s hear it, then.”
“You told us last time that all roads to my father’s arrest led to Luke Carmine. And you were right. But it’s more than that.” I met his gaze, watching him closely to gauge his reaction to my words. “He’s been trying to play all sides, accepting jobs from conflicting parties and pitting them against each other. He did it to my father and Abraham Shaw, and I’m sure he’s done it to others.”
As I spoke, a feeling of satisfaction welled inside me. I could see the glint in Muse’s eyes that told me this information was as good as I thought it was. Honor might not exist among all thieves, but I had learned during my time in this world that loyalty was prized above almost anything else.
And Luke Carmine had none.
Muse rubbed a hand over his chin, the thick rings on his fingers shining brightly. “And you’ve got proof of this?”
“Yes.”
I glanced at Bishop, and he pulled out the emails I had printed off in my Dad’s office weeks ago, handing them over to Muse.
The informant unfolded the papers and scanned them, his tongue darting out to lick his full lips. The emails I had
printed were vague enough that I wasn’t sure it would’ve convinced law enforcement to go after my dad—but for a man like Muse, who had his fingers in so many parts of Baltimore’s underworld, it was only one piece of a puzzle.
And this piece had completed the picture.
His gaze snapped up to me. “This is good shit.”
I smiled. “I know.”
“Yeah, alright.” He nodded, still scanning through the papers. “We’re even. I ain’t one to stiff my friends, and this is a fair trade for what I gave you.”
I could feel the men beside me relax slightly. It was done. I was free. I would begin my new life with Misael and the others with no debts or bonds.
A wicked gleam entered Muse’s eyes, and his gaze tracked over all of us. He grinned, revealing white teeth. “You know this is gonna cause a shitload of trouble for Luke Carmine when this gets out, aye? He’ll lose allies faster than flies droppin’ on a hot day.”
Bishop’s answering smile was fierce and feral.
“We’re counting on it.”
Twenty-Four
