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“Do you mind if I talk to you?” I gesture around as though there are cameras floating above my head. “In private.”
Rick twists his mouth to one side and looks hesitant, but in the next second, he opens the door and steps aside.
Before I even cross the threshold, I kick my shoes off and then carry them inside with me. Rick gestures to a rug next to the door where I can leave them and then pads down the hallway in socks.
“I wasn’t expecting company, so excuse the mess.”
I look in each room we pass, searching for any kind of mess, but I can’t find it. The house is spotless. Which makes sense considering Rick’s profession.
He is the leader of a “cleanup crew.” The most popular cleaners in the entire city. They work with everyone and have been on the scene of every major Mafia hit for the last ten years. If anyone wants to ensure their murder scene is cleaned and free of DNA, Rick is the guy to call.
“The house looks beautiful,” I assure him.
Rick smiles at me over his shoulder, and it is genuine.
A lot of the guys in our business do not appreciate Rick’s particular talents. They respect that he keeps them out of prison, but they find him a bit too eccentric.
And to be fair, he is eccentric. Borderline obsessive. But I am willing to look past personality flaws if someone is loyal and a good worker. Rick is both, so he has earned my respect.
Rick leads me into a sitting room. The furniture is white and crisp. Every throw pillow is resting at the perfect angle as though he measured to ensure the coasters on the coffee table are each exactly one inch from every corner of the table. The room looks like it belongs in a museum.
“It has been a long time since I’ve heard from you,” Rick says, gesturing for me to take the chair closest to the fireplace while he sits in the direct center of the couch. Rather than sink back into the cushions, he perches on the edge like a nervous bird. “You usually call.”
“I’m usually not in the midst of an emergency,” I say.
His brow furrows and his hollowed cheeks take on an even more sunken look. “Are you in need of a cleanup?”
“No, not today,” I say. “Actually, I just need information.”
Rick waves me away. “That isn’t my specialty, Luka. You know I am a businessman, not a point of contact.”
“And under normal circumstances, I would accept that response, but I’m afraid I can’t today.” I sit forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “I need to know everything you can tell me about the LeClerc Cartel.”
He takes a deep breath in, and his eyes sag as he exhales. “I’m sorry, Luka. You understand. One of the many unfortunate dangers of being a powerful man such as yourself.”
“You are a powerful man, too,” I say. “You have a lot of information that could be very useful to me. Crucial, even.”
He gives me a sad smile and shakes his head. “It is a key part of my business plan that I don’t share any trade secrets with anyone.”
“I know, Rick—” I start.
“I mean,” he continues. “Imagine how it would look for someone like me, who is dependent upon every criminal in this city trusting him, to throw all of that away. And for what?”
“Justice,” I say. “I know justice isn’t always clear. It looks different to everyone, but you know me. We’ve worked well together in the past, and I’d like to think you trust my judgment. So, if I tell you I need to know where the Cartel is holding their auction, I hope you’ll believe me when I say it is dire.”
I haven’t allowed myself to think about Milaya much. Not directly, anyway. I can think about the fact that she is gone, but dwelling too long on what she is going through is simply too much. It starts a fire in my chest that is impossible to douse. But right now, I fan the flames. I let my veneer crack, revealing the desperation beneath. I want Rick to see how much I need his help. Because I want him to help me willingly. I don’t want to hurt him.
“I do trust you, Luka,” Rick admits, twining his fingers together. “And you know I would love to be of help to you, but—”
“But nothing,” I say, cutting him off. “All I need for you to do is tell me everything you know about the LeClerc Cartel.”
“Can you tell me why?”
I shake my head. “No.”
Rick’s mouth closes, and his eyes meet mine, and I know he understands how bad things are. And for the first time, I think I understand it, too. Getting my family back won’t be easy.
“Please,” I say. I’m not begging, and Rick knows it too. His eyes follow my hand down to my waist, and he can see the bulk of my gun tucked away beneath my waistband. He knows what I am capable of. After all, he has cleaned up plenty of my crime scenes.
