Page 91 of Marked By the Devil

But having him face pressure from his boss—if any of them weren’t also complicit with corruption—was icing on the cake.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my pocket while keeping an eye on all that was going on in the disaster of a press conference. I assumed it was Wren, waiting to weigh in on this while she watched it at home. It wasn’t her.

Lev had texted me from the other side of the room.

Lev: If you try to shoot him now, it might be too much of a public hit.

I lifted my head and smirked at him. He shrugged and texted again.

Lev: You look like you’re about to run up there and snap his neck, the broadcast be damned.

As a matter of fact, I was tempted to end this asshole right now. But even I knew I had to watch it. If I killed him with so many witnesses around us, I’d be fast-tracked to the police station. While our legal services were top-notch, it’d be damn near impossible to get away with executing a law enforcement officer in front of so many eyewitnesses. I intended to spend the rest of my life with Wren, and that was the only thing that held me back.

Eventually, when things got so out of hand with Smithson and the agents arguing and trying to reach the reporters who all teamed up to stubbornly demand the truth, I knew it was time to go.

The damage had been done.

Smithson would know that we were one step ahead and unwilling to back down from the fight.

Gregori would also learn of our interference and understand that he could forget about claiming a victory as the mastermind of his network designed to weaken us.

Lev, Nikolai, and I left with our small team of men, and with our exit, I wanted to be confident that Smithson would think twice about fucking with us again.

When I got home and checked on Wren, I was distracted from wondering if Smithson and his corrupt friends would retaliate. With Wren acting down, I wanted to devote all my attention to her.

After a large family dinner, where Adrik updated us about how hard it was to track down Rico Johnson all of a sudden, I watched Wren and worried about how this was impacting her personally.

Hearing Smithson accuse her of being a liar on national news couldn’t have made her feel good, but I had to have faith that she knew she was fighting the good fight, even if it was with us instead.

When I stopped through the kitchen after we were done eating, I tipped my chin up to acknowledge Elena coming through that way as well. “Hey. How did Wren handle the news earlier?”

She sighed, letting her shoulders drop. Leaning her hip against the counter, she frowned at me.

Okay. Message received. She didn’t handle it well despite kind of acting happy for me when I got here.

“She was bothered about what he said. Obviously. But I think we all contributed to making her see that she has a place with us, you know? That she doesn’t have to prioritize or worry about what Smithson says or what the rest of the world thinks of her. Because she really matters to us. A lot. I know it’s been hectic and she’s been working on this investigation nonstop, but she’s more than just another employee. She’s a friend, and I think that the more we encourage her to see that, the more… stable she’ll feel about counting on us all to have her back on the bad days like today was.”

I gave her a small smile. “Thank you. And I know what you mean.”

She looked relieved, relaxing more. “I really enjoy having her as a friend. A coworker. Just having her in our family.”

“Me too. Thank you for helping her feel like she has a place with us.”

That night, I made sure to show her how she had a place with me, in our bed.

By the time morning arrived, it was clear that the ripples of what happened at that press conference were making their way through the world. I woke up before Wren and got a workout in my gym at the back of my house before I headed in to find Paul in the kitchen.

“What’s the latest?” I asked him.

He let out a deep sigh. “Adrik will be contacting you soon, I imagine.” He finished his coffee at the island. “A couple of agents headed up a task force at one of the warehouses.”

“Fuck.” I set my hands on the edge of the marble surface. I’d been wondering when they’d try something like that. People could move but product couldn’t. We hid where we stored our goods and of course, the sites were patrolled and well-guarded, but the locations where we stored our goods would always be a vulnerability. “Which one?”

“At the docks.”

I cursed and cringed. Those warehouses in the San Diego and Los Angeles areas were more remote from us and harder to man, but they were vital with the waterways in regard to easier distribution.

“LA?”