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“I know her,” Goldstein interrupted, interest gleaming in his eyes. “She’s got a missing finger, doesn’t she?”
“Something like that.”
“Why isn’t Davidson wading into this and whispering in the director of National Intelligence’s ear? He can make the FBI behave, can’t he?” I demanded, peering at Conor.
He blinked at me. Nodded.
That was it.
Fuck.
That was his way of telling me he’d speak with his da’s old friend, the director of the FBI, and get him to stop being so fucking stubborn.
“Once we prove their ranks are sullied, I’m sure we’ll be in a better position,” Anton said easily.
“So, we’ll reconvene after the FBI are under control?” I queried.
“Yes, we can—”
Nodding, I got to my feet and, without waiting for a reply, wandered out of the office and headed into the bathroom off our suite.
There, I ran the shower and started stripping off.
Once I was naked, I headed inside the cubicle. Tipping my face against the spray, I ignored the sound of my cell phone ringing and washed up from the sweat of cooking soup and the colder sweat of confessing an unsavory truth to Conor.
When that was done, I tucked the towel around me and moved into our bedroom, only to find Conor there, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Though I didn’t exactly ignore him, I made for the walk-in closet where my stuff took up over half of the space now thanks to Savannah and her shopping spree.
As I dragged on some sweats and a tank, I returned to the bedroom and was about to leave when he darted upright and grabbed my hand on my way past the bed. “Where are you going?”
My heart stuttered.
Did he want me out?
“Back to the office," I said, hating how hesitant I sounded. "There’s a brothel in Queens that was staffed by Sparrows’ victims.”
“How did you find out about them?”
“That idea I had to have an anonymous tip line came through.” I didn’t even have it in me to be smug.
“What are you going to do with the women who are working in the brothel?”
“Rachel’s conferred with some women’s shelters to get them out of there, but it’s not going to be enough for long. We need our own shelters.
“We're planning the gala with that in mind now. She says that it isn’t sustainable for Lily Lancaster or me to fund everything.”
He grunted. “She has a point but that’s a lot slower route.”
“I know. She hasn’t turned our cash down yet, but we’re waiting for the facilities to get the appropriate licenses from the city.”
“Goddamn bureaucracy.”
“I’ve tried to grease the wheels as much as I can, but we’re to blame for how slow shit is right now. The government is whacked up on a local, state, and federal level because of our exposés.”
“Fuck.”
That about summed it up.
