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The irony of that statement is profound. I disconnect with Blake and fill Alana in on what’s happening. “Nothing big is going to happen at a coffee shop,” she says. “I think you can relax on that point. But he’s conniving, and so is Caleb. There are too many snakes in the grass to know where to run. Maybe you should call and talk to all the board members one-on-one this afternoon.”
She’s full of good points.
I start dialing, but in the back of my mind is Caleb saying, “Today is going to be a good day.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Kellan
On foot, I follow West Senior and his would-be assassin toward their meeting spot with Mary, where I have no doubt that he plans to fuck her without fucking her. The Russian was easy to turn on West Senior. Everyone hates the man. He cheats everyone he crosses paths with. And when the Russian mob has that opinion of you, you’re pretty fucking low. They want him out of the picture. I don’t know how he pissed them off, but if Caleb doesn’t kill him, they might.
West Senior and Caleb halt abruptly, seeming to exchange sharp words, but it’s a short exchange, and we’re moving forward. Another block. Another. One more to go when we pause at a stoplight, the crowd is bustling, street performs just behind where Senior stands. A homeless person begging for money. A little old man in a torn trench, wearing an oversized hat, steps behind Senior, and unease fills me. Something feels off, and as much as I hate West Senior, my job is to ensure he’s not killed.
I ease forward, closing the space between me and him, when suddenly the old man exaggerates a trip and falls into West Senior. The events go into slow motion. West Senior is shoved in front of a truck, and the end result is brutal. West is hit by an oncoming truck and bounces into a car. Caleb steps into traffic, shouts for someone to call 911, and begins life-saving steps. The old man takes off running.
With Blake in my ear on a mic, I announce, “West is down, hit by a car. I’m going after the guy who pushed him into traffic. I need backup.”
Blake curses. “A block away and on the way. I’m pulling up the camera footage.”
I chase after him, but the fucking crowd is insane, and I’m too slow. By the time I’m at the bottom of the tunnel stairs, he’s nowhere to be found. I eye a bathroom and walk that direction, but there’s no one inside. Once I’m down on the train pick-up ramp, a train is just leaving the tracks. I run up the stairs to the street and report the exit location for Blake to locate on camera and get a man there. But this is going nowhere. The old man is gone. And if I’m right, I’m a witness to the murder of Damion’s father.
“What are my orders, Blake?”
“I’ve called my guy at the FBI. He’s meeting you to take a statement and take control of the scene of the crime. Do you know West’s condition?”
“I’m almost back to the scene,” I say. “Give me about thirty seconds and—” I bring the ambulances into view. The scene is blocked off, but I can see enough of the blood and gore to conclude, “He’s not making it through this.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Damion
The doorbell rings, and Alana shoots to her feet, fidgeting and nervous since I told her about Caleb’s words today. She’s even called her mother, who’d declined her call. One of Blake’s men had to assure her that all was well on that front.
I indicate my phone and the text I just got. “He just texted me. He wants me to step into the hallway.”
“That doesn’t sound good. Why is he excluding me?”
“Because he doesn’t like to put me on the spot and have me make decisions that make me look like an asshole to you. Which I appreciate, though I tell you everything anyway.” I round the desk and catch her shoulders. “I stop and think about what you will think, and I make the better choice. So, you’re still there with me. Give me a minute, baby. I promise I’ll tell you what happens.”
She folds her arms around herself and nods. “Hurry. Please.”
“I will.” I kiss her temple and then step out of the room and cross the apartment to step into the hallway to join Blake.
“Fuck, man, I do not like conversations like this one.” He scrubs his jaw.
A clawing sensation works through my body. “Just say it. What the fuck is wrong?”
“Kellan was following your father…”
I listen to the story, and it’s almost as if I’m in a cave, the explanation is muffled and unreal. When he finally says, “Your father’s dead,” I hit the door and press my hand to my forehead, my gaze stretching to the sky as if there’s an escape route I can crawl through right above.
But there is not.
I huff out a breath and lower my gaze to Blake’s. “I feel—empty. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“Shock is a motherfucker,” he says. “It’s going to be a rough ride.”
“I hate to even say this, but I’m going to inherit the company control. I look guilty as fuck. I have motive. You said that. You were right.”
