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CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
ETHAN
It was a beautiful afternoon in the city. One couldn't feel much from behind my sedan's tinted and bulletproof windows, but we could see everything around us. The road wasn't too congested, and there were plenty of exits in case you needed to get away.
We were cautious as we moved quietly through the streets, making plans. I'd gotten nothing on Fred Westbrook, and I hadn't expected to because he was a master of concealment. I didn't mind because I knew he wouldn't leave without Vanessa.
There had been some movement from the Robinsons indicating that action was imminent, but nothing from the Mullens.
I was in the backseat of my car, with Tristan in the front passenger seat and Ryan driving. With those two by my side, I'd been able to divert Vanessa's concern when she saw me leave the house.
Focus.
I reminded myself as I waited for our informant to arrive. I had considered contacting Dylan for help because he had a reliable source who had saved us from Sean Mullen and his men the night before. However, given Tristan's suspicions, I decided to keep my plans hidden from him and my uncle until I made a decision.
"I believe we should leave. This might be a trap," Tristan proposed. He had been antsy since we left.
"He'll be here any minute now," Ryan promised, returning his gaze to mine, awaiting my decision.
"We wait," I resolved.
When I looked out the window, I noticed a man approaching the car. He was dressed formally and carried a folder under his arm.
As I waited for him to open the door, I rested my hand on my Barretta inside my jacket. Tristan walked up to the vehicle with his pistol aimed at the man.
Except for his unusual clothing and disregardfor firearms, there was nothing remarkable about the man. He acted almost as if he didn't fear them.
He appeared to be in his early forties, but he was clean shaven all the way to his scalp. His brows were the only hairs left on his face.
"I see everyone is upset about my tardiness," he said, turning to face me and bowing his head. "Please accept my apologies. I mean no offense. But it's a necessity in my line of work because men like me are targeted more frequently than the Mafia."
I didn't know what to make of the man, but I reached out to take the folder from him.
"Let me see what you've got," I said firmly, emphasizing the importance of the job.
"All right," he said as he handed me the folder.
Taking it in my hands, I discovered that it was heavier than I had anticipated. It was a significant improvement over the findings my men had brought me. This one was also more expensive.
I opened the folder and began reading the transcript. The information shocked me. The Robinsons had indeed been prepared and had set a date for the attack, a day on which their success would be certain had we notdiscovered them.
"It's good. Pay him," I told Tristan, whoput down his gun and handed the man a duffel bag.
"Are you not going to count?" I asked even as the man reached for the door.
"Nobody wants to offend the Levines. This includes myself." I believed him because he responded immediately but not because I believed what he said. Rather, I assumed him to be a wise man.
He got out of the car, and Ryan immediately started the engine. Neither of the men inquired about the contents of the folder, instead waiting for me to decide whether or not to share the information with them.
"I know when they intend to strike."
* * *
Vanessa was just as tense and worried as she had been for a few days now since Sean Mullen. Nobody could blame her for the expression on her face. She'd handled it better than I'd expected, and I was proud of her.
"You sure you don't want me to accompany you? I mean, it's a cemetery, after all," Vanessa asked.
She asked me every day, trying to figure out what I was up to. Was I going to pick a fight or had my mind changed?
