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“We’ll figure it out,” I tell him. “Together?” I don’t mean for the last part to come out as a question, but it does.
He nods, his eyes going to my mouth, and he leans forward to kiss me, his arms wrapping around my waist. I can’t believe how natural it feels to kiss him back. How I have no concerns about standing in my office in his arms. How quickly things seem to have changed.
“We have one more lead to try,” I say when we pull apart. “Get ready to meet The Daos, detective.”
30
HARVEY
The man across the desk is known to me but I’ve never met him before. Although Dao territory didn’t fall within my branch’s jurisdiction, we were all made aware when Lance Preston took over the mantle as their leader. Sydney, his predecessor, was a cruel and hard man who definitely had dirty cops on his payroll to keep his name clear from any records. Since the son has taken over, we’ve heard very little from the Daos. Although, like I said, they weren’t my patch so maybe the guys on the Northeast corner of the city would know more.
He’s a good-looking guy, more fitted to a runway than the head of a crime organisation. And he’s young. Why are all these crime bosses so fucking young? Annika sits in one of the chairs across from him, seemingly casual with one leg crossed over the other but her lightly bouncing foot, strapped into her fashionable heels strikes me as odd. Annika rarely fidgets. She’s not entirely comfortable here. The thought puts me on edge. I move slightly closer to the back of her chair, standing close by with my arms folded over my chest. The man on the other side of the desk tracks the movement, and his lips tip the slightest bit as if he reads something into my actions. To my right, Preston’s own security is leaning casually against a line of cabinets. He’sa big fucker, taller and broader than me, the top buttons of his crisp white shirt are open to reveal a heavily inked chest, and the tail end of one tattoo creeping up his neck. His eyes stay fixed on me, the look on his face completely unreadable although I get the impression that he’d be ready to pounce at the first sign of any trouble. I wouldn’t say this about many guys but this one could definitely take me out.
“I still can’t believe you moved your entire operationhere.” Annika narrows her eyes at Lance Preston, giving him a sceptical glare.
He’s unaffected, giving her an easy and somewhat amused smile. “My wife works here. I like to stay close.”
Annika grunts at that, clearly not convinced but before she can actually say anything, the door behind me bursts open. I turn, ready to tackle whoever is intruding, but neither Preston nor his guard dog seem bothered as a tall, slimmer guy comes in. Wearing a wide and boyish smile which is completely at odds with his all-black suit and darkly lined eyes, he looks as unbothered by us being here as they are of him being here. When his eyes find Annika, his smile turns almost mischievous, and I bristle at it. He rounds her so he stands in front of where she sits and gives an exaggerated bow.
“M’lady, might I say, you look ravishing this evening?”
“Mr Pullman,” Annika greets in a flat tone, clearly unaffected by his charms.
The new guy stands straight and heads to the other side of the desk to stand behind Preston, leaning coolly against the wall. “How the hell are you, darling?”
She shifts slightly in her seat, uncomfortable with the familiarity. “I’m just fine.”
He gives me a slow once over, raising an amused brow. With his eyes on me, he’s still speaking to Annika when he says, “Tell me, anything in particular giving you that radiant glow?”
“Hayden,” Preston warns the new guy with a roll of his eyes. “You’ll have to excuse my husband,” he says, addressing us now. “He has no filter.”
Well, I’m confused. “Husband?” I ask, my brow creasing. “I thought you said you have a wife?”
Preston smirks at me now. “What can I say? I’m a greedy man.”
“You have a husbandanda wife?” I ask for clarification.
“Actually,” Annika steps in for him, with a knowing smirk. “It’s a wife and two husbands, isn’t that right, Preston?”
The man just shrugs, unbothered by her teasing. “Brent’s my cousin and straight,” he says, as if that’s supposed to explain something. I have to admit to feeling completely lost.
“Oh, I don’t know.” The goth guy smiles widely at the surly bodyguard. “I think the big guy is getting curious,” he says with a wink.
The bear of a man off to the side rolls his eyes. “I told you, I slipped. I didn’t mean to—”
Preston holds up his hand and the guy I’m assuming is Brent stops talking. “If you really want, I can give you the inner most workings of our personal relationships. But I doubt very much that’s why you’re here. So, what can I do for you, Annika?”
She lets out an annoyed breath because she doesn’t like anyone using her name. But once again, her attitude doesn’t put the other man off at all. “There’s been a couple of incidents recently that, in light of our new…” she waves her hand between them, “alliance, I feel I should bring to your attention.”
Brent pushes off the cabinets he’s been leaning on and joins the other two on the opposite side of the desk to Annika and me. “What kind of incidents?” His impossibly thick arms are folded over his chest as he fixes her with a steely gaze.
There’s a thickness to the tension, and I suddenly feel like we’re in some kind of standoff. Preston and Annika sit on eitherside of the desk, deceptively cool and casual. Brent and I stand behind our bosses, each glaring and holding ourselves as stiffly as possibly. I’d say we were unevenly matched as there were three of them, but the goth guy is lounging back and inspecting his black nail polish. My detective nose tells me that he isn’t doing it as a façade, he just isn’t worried.
“Kukris have been popping up in Talon territory.” Annika is all business in the way she speaks. “I caught one idiot filming girls at The Diamond Dozen and there was an incident at another of my properties. Also, Grigoriy Volkov was at a fundraiser I attended; it was in my district.”
Preston looks at Annika, eyes narrowed in thought, and takes a long moment to contemplate her words before turning to his cousin. “You think it’s coincidence?”
“I don’t believe in coincidence,” he grumbles.
