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What he said could be true.
Clay will show up when his men don’t deliver what he wants.
Namely, me.
“I mean…a few cameras and townspeople on the lookout for bad behavior won’t keep him away.” I scratch my head, fighting the sensation of ants crawling all over me when I picture that maniac coming here. “I know you mentioned friends helping you go after him, but—”
“But nothing. Just like I told Nelson, my guys are good, and so am I. Unless you want to hear war stories, where I tell you about the time Faulk and I took down fifty guys with spoiled MREs…let’s save the details for later. Okay, darlin’?”
He parks the truck in front of the drugstore.
We lock eyes. Whatever else this thing is between us, I trust him. I have to.
Gripping his hand, I nod firmly.
“Want to come inside or wait here?” he asks.
“I’ll wait. Doors locked, of course.”
He lifts an eyebrow and smiles as he opens his door. “Be right back.”
A thrill zips through me and I shake my head.
This time at myself.
I’m hopeless, and I push those thoughts aside as I question what, besides cameras, Ridge has lined up. I can’t imagine what he’s referring to with his buddies, but I try to imagine it’s enough to stop Clay and save us from the black depths we’ve fallen into.
When Ridge returns, I try not to think about what’s in the bag he stows in the back seat, what it means for us tonight.
“How much do you know about the Old Town Boys?” he whispers, starting the engine.
He checks the screen on the console, focused on backing up. I can’t help but admire how his profile looks as handsome as the rest of him.
No wonder he was such a star. All chiseled lines, features that are flawless, yet human. He has the kind of looks people fret over. Either because they’re as smitten as I am, or they’re jealous they don’t have it.
He glances my way, and I suddenly remember his question.
“Old Town Boys? I’ve barely heard of them. Dad hardly ever said the name.”
“You know it’s what Clay Grendal calls his group of men.” He glances at me darkly. “You know they’re dangerous. What I’m asking is, do you know what they do?”
My skin crawls, a shiver of pure dread turning my stomach. “Dad never told me much, and to be honest, I never wanted to know more than I had to. I guess I just…I always thought if I didn’t know, it wasn’t fully real. Or maybe I could pretend it wasn’t as bad as it really is. Stupid, I know. But part of me never wanted to believe Dad was part of the mob.”
“Not the mob,” he says. “An insider crime syndicate based in your own backyard. They’ve been operating for years, a couple decades, barely ever showing up on anyone’s radar.”
“What’s the difference?” I ask, wrinkling my nose. “A gangster thug by any definition is still bad.”
“Not my point.” He glances my way again, those eyes flashing with energy. “Who protects them, Grace?”
Not following, I shake my head. “What do you mean?”
“Clay Grendal’s uncle is a former Congressman. Runs a huge lobbying firm in D.C. now. His cousin is a Milwaukee police lieutenant. Narcotics division.”
“He’s a drug runner?”
“Grendal isn’t running the whole show. He’s just the biggest gear in the machine, the overseer of a major operation based out of Milwaukee. His family keeps his shit under the radar and collects their cut.”
Jesus.
I always felt like something bigger was going on, but never would’ve guessed it was this. Goosebumps pepper my arms as my mind races. “That’s why Dad could never go to the police…”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to wrap my head around how deep this goes.
“How do you know all this?”
“Faulkner helped me dig it up. I’ve had him checking into it, and he’s gone a hundred feet down. On the outside, Grendal seems like an upstanding citizen. An angel investor who funnels money into several Milwaukee auto shops, food places, and other small businesses. He even sits on the coalition to address the opioid crisis in Milwaukee.”
“Holy crap…that animal?” I want to vomit. “All those connections, friends in high places…it must be how he’s laundering his dirty money.”
I’ve seen enough crime shows to know that’s key to any successful black-market business.
“Damn right.”
I wish I could thank him for the information, but it’s more like I’ve been whacked on the head with a brick.
Sure, I always knew Clay was evil and powerful, but…
I never imagined it went to this level.
Never wanted to believe my father was a part of something so sinister.
“Does Dad know about all of this?” I ask, holding my breath, dreading the answer.
“Haven’t asked him yet, considering his recovery and all, but I believe he knows most of it.” Ridge looks at me. “He never told you?”
