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I don’t answer her. I’ve never once told her who I am or dealt business—real business—in front of her, not even way back when. In the years since, I’ve exchanged pleasantries if I see her and cut it short.
FBI and mafia being buddies isn’t a good fucking look, and she’s acting like she’s got me.
She fucking might.
Rush…
Shit.
“I need your help to bring him down. If you help, Rush will be released. If not…Alcatraz isn’t a good look for a pretty thing like him, and the FBI can put him in with the lifers.”
I want to snap her neck. Fear thrums hard in my veins. What if we don’t get him out in time, what—
I shut those thoughts down.
“Threats don’t become you, Adelaide.”
“Just the truth. You know your team of lawyers can’t do anything until we’re done with him. You’re a person of interest. We might not have anything on you,yet, but your little cousin is a different story.” Her gaze flicks to the bedroom door. “You can stop it. Help me.”
She really fucking has me. There are chances the lawyers fail and the FBI charges stick, and I have enemies who can buy death and retribution in prisons, who will hurt or kill Rush.
Until I get every last detail about the charges, I’m trapped.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I put everything aside and lean into my legit businessman role. She might force me to help—somehow—but I can do the same to her.
She outlines how she wants all the information I can get, the details of all the associates, the players Field works with. She name drops Popov, Hanlon, Milovic. There are some others that I don’t know, others so big it’s laughable, and somewhere in there is something vital. I mentally note all names.
What I need is to find a way to get Rush the fuck out, now, and do it without making a real deal with the FBI.
I can deal with Popov, if he’s a problem, or whoever the fuck is causing the whispers and questions and ripples of unrest, but if I get labeled as a snitch, I’m as good as dead.
Worse, Rose and Rush will be.
It’s clear I need to work out—fast—why the fuck Adelaide thinks I’m a perfect in on a man I met so briefly. There must be others she could try and manipulate, easier targets for her.
Clearly, I’m missing something. I just don’t know the fuck what.
“How would I do that? I know a few shady people, it comes with any business, but I just met that man.”
She smirks. “You’re smart. You’ll think of something. I need to get everything. I think he’s tied up working with big mafia and Bratva families. Bring them down, and…”
“The world’s your oyster?” I ask.
Adelaide’s always been ambitious, so if she’s interested in Field and the Bratva or some Russian player, maybe I should be, too. More than I already am.
The real question iswhyattempting to blackmail me into helping her.
A steppingstone? Using a past relationship to her advantage? A way to bring me down or set me up? The possibilities are endless.
So, I do the one thing she doesn’t expect.
I ask.
“Why me? What’s in it for you?”
“You’re marrying the biggest Queenstown mafia player’s daughter. Derek Finnegan’s left a lot of people looking to his home turf, your base. He had holdings and territories here. People want it, and you—”
