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“We’ve been tailing her for days,” Finn says, propping his hands up behind his head. “And she hasn’t done anything that even remotely suggests involvement in this whole ordeal.”
“She’s a fucking con artist,” I say, scanning the monitor again for any signs of her blonde hair and pressed pantsuit. It’s obvious she comes from wealth, most of which she probably accumulated from the trafficking ring itself, but we’ve not been able to get a good look at her face. It’s almost as if she knows she’s being watched, knows how many cameras are stuck in the corners of every building in King’s Trace.
“Kieran’s right,” Gia, who’s been helping out with the investigation when Elia can’t or just plain doesn’t want to, says, sitting forward with his hands on his knees. “We shouldn’t be looking for signs directly tying her to the long list of crimes, we should be looking for details that might make her stand out among civilians. Think of her like a crime boss, expect that air of arrogance and pride, the belief that she’s untouchable. Look at her gait, the people she interacts with. Count how many times you see her glance up at corners and around at others, ensuring she’s not ever caught off guard.”
“You hear that, Boyd?” I speak into my comms unit as he comes into view on the screen, Fiona tagging along because she was bored and didn’t have anything better to do. She begged me to let her join, to let her “be a real Ivers,” and I figured an intelligence mission at a fucking christening was probably the safest thing she could do for us.
I hate that I’m not the one there right now, especially considering I’m the only one who got the actual invite; Juliet had asked me before I left this morning, a slight quiver in her voice that I’ve come to recognize as her demons manifesting themselves.
And Christ, I fucking hate that she has demons other than me.
So I pushed her to her knees and made her suck my cock, apologizing for thinking I might notwantto do something with her. And when I came down her glorious throat, I hauled her up and lapped at her little pink cunt until she cried from the pleasure, drenching my chin like a goddamn waterfall.
It’s the kind of give-and-take I know she’s most comfortable with; physical pleasure is so much easier to explain away than emotional attachment. And even though I can tell therapy is changing her, alleviating some of that darkness, I can tell the self-doubt from years of abuse and shame hasn’t disappeared completely.
Which is why it damn near broke me when I told her I couldn’t attend, but that I’d send my sister in to at least say hi.
Boyd sighs into his mic, the sound crackling in my ear. “Your sister is a fucking nightmare.”
“So ignore her. You’re there for a job. Don’t make me send in a replacement.”
“I’m not a fucking kid, Kieran. I can do this, I just thought you should know that I might end up binding and gagging your sister and tossing her into my trunk before all of this is over.”
I don’t comment on the threat, because I know he doesn’t mean it, and also because I spot the figure as they crest the small, grassy hill and approach the grand church. Its stone walls are dull in the sunlight, but the stained-glass windows glitter off on screen, a prism of color you can almost get lost in.
The woman has her back to us, naturally, as my father switches to the security camera mounted above the front doors of the church. My heart plummets into my stomach when I see who the woman approaches, and fury laces my veins as I watch her grab her arm.
Juliet doesn’t look scared, though, or even slightly alarmed at the contact, which makes me bristle. Discomfort settles in the chambers of my heart, pumping blood furiously through my body in an attempt to calm me.
It doesn’t work. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight, and I lean forward, glaring at the screen. “Boyd, who the fuck is touching my girl?”
His head tilts as he and Fiona get closer, shaking almost imperceptibly. “No clue. Let me get closer and—”
On screen, Fiona says something snarky; I can tell by the way her lips curl over her teeth, a snarl marring her face. The group stills, Juliet cocking her head at my sister, and I watch Boyd reach for his ear. A soft click cuts off our communication, and I see bloodred as the white noise between my ears amplifies, a raging rapid come to life.
“What. The fuck. Just happened?” I bite out, slamming my fist on the table.
“Christ, boy, don’t get your panties in a twist,” my father says, pointing at Boyd as he grabs my sister’s arm, holding her back. “Looks like the ginger trait is in full effect. You know your sister is a hothead.”
Clenching my teeth until my jaw starts to ache, I watch as Boyd’s hand falls away, a nasty look etching into the lines on his face. His mouth turns down, his eyebrows draw in, and he steps back, shoving his hands into his suit pockets. He says something, then turns and walks off, leaving my sister there with a woman who wants the entire Ivers clan dead.
When his unit comes back to life, I hiss, “You got a death wish, Kelly? Because I’m about three seconds from hopping in my car and driving over to mow you the fuck down for leaving them alone like that, and for cutting off the conversation. I don’t fucking tolerate insubordination, and right now, your ass works forme.”
“Goddamn.” I can practically hear him roll his eyes. “She was about to blow our fucking cover. I had to intervene, had to walk off before she caused trouble.”
Fiona turns after a brief pause and chases after him; I can hear her calling his name in the distance, even as he reaches the parking lot. My father zooms in on them as they meet up, her arms gesturing wildly, words inaudible through the unit.
“Did you see who she was?”
“No, I didn’t stick around long enough. Didn’t want her to recognize me, in case she can make a connection.”
“Isaw her.” Fiona yanks out Boyd’s earpiece and disposes of her own on the ground; hers is the only one without a microphone. “That’s their mom. Lynn Harrison, or something? Don’t you remember she fled town right after all that stuff with the senator went down?”
Time seems to stop for an eternity at her words, the reality of my situation settling in like a flood around me. A flood I’m ill-equipped for and can’t escape.
Of fucking course.
Who else would know I’d killed Dominic, and be eager to tell Juliet in an attempt to turn her against me?
