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“So you took the watches?” Sydney prodded.
“I earned them.”
“And you were going to frame Lee Vance for De Wispelaere’s murder and the theft.”
“She wasn’t pulling her weight. Jimmy should have gotten rid of her years ago.”
“Where are the watches now?”
“Fuck you! They’re mine.” Tony hurled a small stool at the bars.
Sydney’s low, husky laughter filled the drawing room, then the video cut off.
“That’s only part of the questioning. Wait until you see the rest. Especially the part where Tony tells my interrogator he planned to oust you and take over the family. It’s all saved on the tablet.” John’s cool, businesslike tone made him sound like a lawyer or banker.
“I’ll kill him.” In his anger, the younger Jimmy I remembered bled through the wrinkles and white hair.
“I don’t care what you do to him. But we’ll only give him to you if you meet my demands. Number one, I’m out. Number two, I don’t want to hear about those watches or De Wispelaere’s murder ever again from anyone associated with this family.” I held his gaze, looking for any sign he might lie, but there was only anger.
“Done.” Jimmy boiled with rage. I would make my peace with sending Tony to hell later.
“Do not think about backing out of this deal. Or coming after Lee. I’ll make it my life’s newest ambition to take your operation down. I don’t expect it would take me more than a few weeks.” Smith passed the rest of the documents from inside the folio to Jimmy. “I have enough information on your dealings to make a case that the New Jersey district attorney would be a fool not to prosecute. I don’t care what happens to the watches, but to alleviate some pressure, try returning them to Gigi Mills’s charity.”
Jimmy looked over the documents that Smith gave him. His face started losing color, and I feared he might have a heart attack. “Who the fuck are you again?” The old man was white as a ghost and gasping for breath. The nasty cough punctuated his question.
“John Smith.” John wrapped an arm around my waist and turned to leave. Onyx was happy to follow at heel. “We’ll be in touch with details of the handoff.”
John and I each grabbed one of the closed pocket doors and slid them open. In the foyer, Derek and Steel stood against a wall across from Rossi and the three thugs.
“Gentlemen, it’s time to go home,” John said, breezing toward the front door.
As we crossed the marble foyer floor, I caught Derek’s gaze, and a thrill ripped through me. We’d fucking done it. I flashed him a secret smile before I ducked my head and kept walking.
Right now, the CIA or Homeland Security, whoever John Smith struck a deal with on my behalf, was having a field day. The tablet loaded with hours and hours of interrogation footage was some super spying device. It had listening and hacking capabilities I didn’t understand and, frankly, didn’t care about. Getting that device inside these walls had been my ticket to freedom.
Mission accomplished.
As soon as we were safely inside the Range Rover and backing out of the drive, I closed my eyes and tipped my head back on the seat cushion. “I’m never coming back to fucking New Jersey.”
Onyx licked my face while Derek and the others gave me an amen.
Chapter 43
Derek
“WelcometotheSunriseLux.” I had to pitch my voice louder to be heard over the jet noise.
“Lux? That’s supposed to be ironic, right?” Lee had a point.
The Sunrise Lux was a thirty-year-old mid-rise condo building with a beautiful view of the runway at Miami International Airport. Over the years, the Smiths, through a collection of holding companies, had bought enough units in the building to control the condo association board. So, while the parking lot had potholes and the landscaping was pathetic, the security was top-notch and monitored by The Smith Agency. Most of the other condo owners were retirees that loved the safety improvements and low association fees.
The unit we normally used as a safe house was currently being occupied by Sydney O’Connor. She’d yet to find a place to live after relocating to Miami to work for us.
“I’ll tell you if it’s ironic when we get inside. I’ve never been in this unit before.” It was a newly vacated rental. I wiggled the key in the sticky lock and jammed my shoulder to the door. With a final click, it gave way, and I stumbled back in time to about 1972.
“Oh, my.” Lee put a hand to her mouth to cover a giggle.
I stabbed the alarm code into the state-of-the-art keypad that was mounted to the vintage-style gold and avocado green velvet flocked wallpaper. “It’s…shagadelic? I don’t get it. They built this building in the 1990s.”
