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Amstaff gives Sky one last nod before they disappear beyond the hill base, then looks at me with kind eyes. “We arranged the whole thing,” he says. “We knew the Black Hand would be prepared for any possible scenario, so we went ahead and organized for any possible scenario plus one. I’m just glad we got here in time. As soon as Raylan sent everything over to us, I had enough evidence to get Judge Ross to sign the warrant, and off we went.”
“But wait, what did Raylan send you?”
“Every single piece of digital information they collected from your father’s safes,” he says. “I guess he did it on the way over from the mayor’s residence. That was the arrangement. They’d send everything they could as soon as they had it, and I would pass it on to Judge Ross in exchange for a signed warrant. We’ve been working on this for days.”
“Can we really trust him?”
“Ross and I go way back, and he’s one of the few clean judges I could trust with this,” he says. “Besides, the cabal doesn’t have every cop in Everton on their payroll, as you can see,” he adds, motioning around us. “And whomever they do have on their payroll are likely crapping their pants right about now because more than half of the special unit present here tonight were sent from Quantico directly. The Feds, reputable ones, are getting involved.”
“Masterson was a Fed,” I reply, sharing legitimate doubts on the matter.
“Field office. Cabal goon,” Amstaff shoots back. “Quantico is something else entirely. The Black Hand hasn’t reached that far, and they certainly won’t now or anytime in the future because there’s already an ongoing investigation.”
I glance back at the mausoleum. “What’s going to happen next?”
“We don’t want to alert the Black Hand’s higher-ups just yet, so we’re going to keep this whole thing on the down-low for a few more hours,” Amstaff says. “We’ve got a lid on the whole area, and my FBI counterparts are already getting what they need from the gunmen to make sure we’re properly set up for the morning raids.”
“Morning raids?”
“Yes, every single higher-up is getting snagged in the morning, pending a couple more warrants from Judge Ross. We had to do this by the book in order to make sure that no defense attorney can object when it goes to court.”
“What about Sky, Raylan, and Kendric? Spike?”
Amstaff shakes his head slowly. “They’ll be staying in jail until the storm clears. I’m sorry, but it’s the only way to end this. They knew that going in, and they’re fine with it. Most importantly, they know that you’re going to be okay.”
It hurts to know they’ll be in jail, but at least they’re alive. There is so much pain gathering in my chest that it’s getting increasingly hard to breathe. This speck of life developing in my womb needs me, though, so I struggle and take deep breaths until the earth stops spinning and I’m able to stand on my own.
“And my father?” I ask Amstaff, welcoming the quiet comfort that his presence gives me.
“He thinks he got away with it,” he says. “Last time I checked, he was walking into his mayoral residence, sullen but calm.”
“He also thinks he left me here to die. His own daughter.”
“Well, he won’t be sleeping tonight, of that I’m sure. But first thing tomorrow, he’s got a press conference scheduled. He needs to think that he’s going ahead with it, that everything went according to plan, and that he’s definitely a favorite for that state senate seat. We’ll need a few more days to proceed with his arrest warrant, but I promise you, Ariana, it’s coming. He’s going down for this.”
Amstaff wants my father to almost taste that bitter victory before he takes him down. And honestly, after everything we’ve been through, I’ll admit, I want my father to suffer; I want him to be within inches of his much-desired success—the success he built upon my mother’s bones, nearly upon my bones. I want him to believe he has it before it’s taken away from him before he learns the hard way that it was never his to begin with.
28
Ariana
Amstaff booked me into a hotel room in the city center under a fake name. I don’t mind. All I want to do is sleep and eat, anyway. I spend my hours flipping through TV channels and trying out every meal available on the room service menu. He calls me once in a while, using the hotel’s landline, and gives me updates about the situation.
They’re forming a joint task force: the FBI, the DEA, and the ATF. A couple of agents from the NSA are also joining them since it has become evident that the Black Hand poses a national security threat. The organization’s days are numbered, and I know a lot of people will be able to sleep better because of it.
Sky, Raylan, and Kendric are still in jail, and I hate the idea of not being able to see them, but I’m still working up the courage to tell them about the baby. It’s time they knew, and I have to be honest. I need to know where we stand and how far we’re able to take this.
I’m having this child, there’s no doubt about that, I just wonder if I’m having this child on my own or with the men whom I’ve fallen deeply and irreversibly in love with.
A sudden knock on the door startles me.
I quickly glance out the hotel room window first, my eyes darting and searching for anything suspicious. There’s nothing. Traffic is slow and steady. I see only cabs parked across the street from the hotel and a concierge helping a customer load her luggage into the back of an executive limo. At least Amstaff booked me into one of the swankier hotels in Everton.
I open the door and recognize Sky’s sister. “Shiloh!” I exclaim.
She’s wearing a sling and a grey hoodie to conceal the bandages and bruises. The garage incident was brutal, but at least she’s up and walking again, her black hair pulled into a tight bun and sunglasses covering her eyes. “Hey, hon,” she says. Amstaff told me where to find you.”
“Good. I’ve been on my own for a couple of days, and I’m going stir-crazy,” I reply. “I’d hug you, but—”
