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“Well,Dairo,“ Eoghan smiled at me. “Can we officially say you owe me a marker now?”
Chapter 15
Rose
WetracedtheCCTVfootage to this property. The large compound was protected by red brick walls topped with iron rod spears. There were CCTV cameras all around the perimeter. It was guarded on the inside, and outside, by black clad mercenaries, and there were sensors that would alert them if anyone jumped the wall.
It was as guarded as any military base.
Its occupants? The descendants of the Irish mob. The Green family, who started with street soldiers and gangs, like the fucking peaky blinders, rigging bets and breaking knee caps. Now, they werelegitimate. The Green Fields Corporation owned shipping ports, large industrial buildings for manufacturing, and was heavy-handed on construction. There were rumors that Eoghan Green had aspirations to run for governor, but that didn’t seem likely with his reputation for cruelty.
He was a cross between his father, who made Hannibal Lecter look like a teddy bear, and the Devil. Between a sick painting he had on the front parlor, and the rumors of his cruelty and creativity with both art and torture, I was worried about meeting the man.
But I had double and triple checked.
Ajax LeBlanc was shot in the stomach. Someone in a suit, and probably armed, had dragged him into an SUV. LeBlanc didn’t struggle against the man, but that didn’t mean they were friends. After all, he was suffering from a bullet wound. I’m sure any help would have been appreciated.
I followed the car through traffic cameras until they went on the freeway. I pegged the license plate at a stop sign before the car entered this place. No SUV ever came back out. There was some foot traffic in and out. There were delivery vans, the occasional personal vehicle driven by gardeners and maids.
Brett and I worked hard to hack into the closed circuit cameras. We sat in a rented campervan on the other side of the road for hours, just searching for a vulnerability. It came in the form of a wi-fi enabled printer. They hadn’t closed the back door, and from that little opening, we got into their wi-fi and had eyes and ears all over the place.
At least on the outside of the building. There was a camera peering into every window. Personal rooms kept their curtains shut, but the living spaces like the dining room, the kitchen, and other places for servants were wide open.
Brett pulled up a photo of Eoghan Green. He resembled my British man in so many ways. The blonde hair, the particular square jaw, and good looks were uncanny. Maybe they were related somehow? The only difference was the strangeness in Eoghan’s eyes. They were black, instead of blue, and had a depth to them that looked cruel.
“This is the guy that’s in there.” Brett instructed, before coming to another photo. “Here’s his usual right-hand man. Rohan.”
Rohan had a scar on his neck, which was the dominant feature of an otherwise bland appearance.
“This is going to be your first mission.” Brett said, scratching the five o’clock shadow that showed up seconds after he shaved. “By yourself.” He almost looked excited for me. “You don’t have to…”
“Yes, I do.” I said with conviction, a small smile coming to my lips. “We need LeBlanc back.”
I had concocted the plan. It was a crazy one, but if I kept cool, it would work.
Brett had acted impressed by my little scheme, and if he thought I was ready, then I was.
He shook his head, his resolve wavering. “I can…”
“You can’t do shit,” I interrupted him with sass. “They know you’re Jericho Vasiliev. They’ll kill you on the spot. What the fuck is all this misery you’ve put me through for if you don’t let me use my new skills?”
I gave him a teasing pout, and he cringed.
“They know who you are too, brat,” he countered. “Your face is famous, and we know there were Irish there at the fight.”
“But they have no reason to try to kill Rose Legaspi.” I shrugged. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? Being Rose may actually be my advantage.
“Right. You being you might keep you alive.” He clenched his jaw, running his hand over his stubble, deep in contemplation. He’d see things my way, eventually. “Okay, this might be your last time being Rose, so enjoy the use of your own name.”
“You don’t use the name Jericho very often, do you?” I asked.
“Not outside of New York, and sometimes Boston,” he mentioned absentmindedly, clicking through the various CCTV camera videos. Each one had a small tag on the bottom, noting where they were. He was making a diagram of where they were, superimposing it onto the overhead imagery we had of the compound. He noted each angle as he muttered, “I’ll introduce you to my sister some time. You two will get on like witches over a cauldron.”
I found a rag, poured water on it, and wiped my makeup away. Having a clean face made me feel wonderful.
“No heroics. I’ll be out here the whole time,” he told me. “If something feels fishy, you get out of there, okay?”
“Okay.” I confirmed.
