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Roland clicks off, and I sigh, trying to think and make a list of names that Joshua doesn’t already have. Alone in the study, all I can do is go over every name I’ve ever known.
When I left, he spent years cleaning up the mess, so to speak. Everyone assumed it was an altercation over business and a supposed accident, although rumors spread that it wasmalicious. Every whisper was dealt with. Blackmail is a useful tool, but it’s not one that’s foolproof or one that’s effective forever.
Joshua’s tracked down every name on the list, finding their locations, verifying where they’ve been for the last week. Every single one is accounted for, every associate who had any idea of what happened that night seventeen years ago.
Who the fuck could be coming after me?Not that I don’t have enemies that have been freshly made, but Roland and the team have already accounted for nearly all of them. Most are still overseas and nowhere near the East Coast.
I wouldn’t have come back if I thought this could happen.
A knock shakes me from my thoughts. It’s a dull echo from the front door, and there’s no message on my phone.
Anyone who’s able to knock on my door has either already been cleared by my security team, or my security team’s dead in the hallway.
I peep through the fisheye lens, and within seconds I have the door open as an old, familiar face stands on the other side.
“Joshua,” I greet him cautiously.
“Gabriel,” Joshua says, stepping inside without invitation. Joshua’s always been a little cold when on a task, a little bit detached from the rest of the world. It’s not that the man doesn’t feel. I know he does.
He just knows how to divide his life into compartments. And business is business.
As soon as the door closes, he turns, smiling a little. “How are you doing?”
“You can guess. Is this good news or...?”
“No leads, but I wanted to check in with you.” His hand rests on my shoulder, and I realize this isn’t about the threat.
We embrace, brotherly, clapping each other on the back hard before turning and heading into the living room. “Want a drink?”
“Not until tonight,” Joshua says, shaking his head. “I’ve got family duties.”
It’s almost shocking to think of Joshua as a family man. When we were young, he was the man who we knew of as a fixer. You had problems... he fixed them. For a price, of course. But he earned every cent, and I can only guess at what secrets are filed away in the back of his mind.
Now, while he’s still imposing, almost uniform in his dark suit, there’s hints of gray at his temples, and the ring on his finger is worn, slightly dulled from age and the minor scratches that gold always picks up unless it's polished regularly.
“Good... I’m not feeling like a drink either,” I admit, sitting down in the corner chair of the living room. Looking Joshua over, I feel unfamiliar nostalgia sweep through me. “It’s been too long.”
“It has,” Joshua says, unbuttoning his suit jacket and leaning back on the couch, crossing his legs.
“How’s Kiersten?” he asks, and I shake my head, looking toward the doorway. “She’s pissed, she’s upset, she’s a wreck.”
He gives a nod of understanding and then one of sympathy.
“I’m worried for her,” I admit.
“She’s alright. My team is with her.”
“No... I’m...” I clear my throat. “I’m worried about finding out who it is and then how she’s going to be after. I remember what you told me about her when I left.”
Joshua leans forward, shaking his head. “It’s grief. It comes and it goes. She’s strong.”
“She is.” I nod, knowing she’s every bit the woman I loved back then, but more.
“Kiersten is as close as family to me. Hell, she introduced me to my wife. So we’re going to figure out who the fuck this is and get rid of him.”
“I keep thinking over the messages,” I tell Joshua, trying to move on before the feelings rise up again. “Trying to connect them somehow to Ivan, or maybe Ron Johnson.”
“Not Johnson,” Joshua says. “He’s dead.”
