by Emma Slate
“I’m sure you do. I’m sure a man like you has done his homework.”
Hawk got a little testy when I stopped handing him cereal. The last thing I wanted him to do was start to cry and wake his brothers. I couldn’t deal with them and Filippi at the same time. So I gave Hawk more cereal and waited for Filippi to tell me why he’d come to me, now, when I was in the park with my children.
“Is this about Flynn?” I asked. “Are you going after Flynn because he has something you want?”
Filippi began to laugh and shake his head. I frowned. “I don’t know why that’s so funny. It’s a logical conclusion. Flynn has enemies. You wouldn’t be the first.”
“I have nothing against your husband,” Filippi said when he finally got himself under control. “Actually, I admire him. Reigning supreme, king of the city. He has the respect of the criminals and the politicians—who, let’s face it, are also criminals. The man is untouchable. And he has some powerful friends, some powerful allies.”
“And let me guess, you want to be one of his powerful allies?”
“Ah, you’re getting ahead of me.” He had the audacity to chuck me under the chin. “Powerful allies. One of whom is Sasha Petrovich.”
A feather could’ve knocked me over and I didn’t even bother hiding my surprise. “Sasha? This is about Sasha?”
“I know what happened on the docks with Fred Winters and Giovanni Marino.”
“I don’t—”
“Before you spit out a lie, let me tell you this: I know the night that Fred Winters killed Giovanni Marino, I know your husband was there with Petrovich. Petrovich took over Italian jurisdiction—my jurisdiction.”
I frowned. “So you want justification for Marino’s death?”
“Fuck no,” Filippi spat. “Winters taking out Marino saved me the trouble. But I want my territory back.”
“I can understand that,” I began slowly, my mind a whirl. “But why can’t you speak to Sasha about this? Why involve me at all?”
“Do you really think Petrovich is going to give up lucrative territory just because I asked for it back?”
“No.” Not to mention, most of Sasha’s enterprises now were legitimatized. The FBI was no longer on their backs, and the Russians funneled clean money to the SINS. Sasha losing territory hurt not just the Russians, but it hurt Flynn too. It hurt our cause for a free Scotland.
“Again, I ask, why involve me?”
“Your husband has his pride, no? As does Petrovich?”
Filippi seemed to want my agreement, so I just nodded.
“Right. So I figure, if I come to you, I have a better chance of being heard.”
“I’m not involved in my husband’s affairs,” I lied.
Filippi smiled, that cool, calm, about-to-strike viper smile. “Fine. If that’s the way you want to play it. Let me put it this way: you help me get back Italian territory and I’ll tell you who wants to destroy your husband.”
“Destroy?” I asked faintly.
The air suddenly seemed colder.
“Yes.”
“Lila St. James,” I guessed. The woman was relentless and money hadn’t silenced her.
“You’re not only beautiful, you’re actually smart. I like that in a woman.”
I nibbled a lip. “And if I don’t help you and get Sasha to relinquish territory?”
Filippi’s dark brown gaze held mine for a moment before sliding to the direction of the stroller. “It would be a shame, wouldn’t it? If innocents were hurt?”
The acrid stench of fear rose up to meet my nose. It was the equivalent of a man shitting himself just before he died.
Filippi leaned over and brushed his lips across mine. “You have my number. Use it.”
Chapter 23
“Are you ready to see The Met?” I asked, leaning down to kiss Hawk’s nose.
He clapped his hands and then reached for the rest of the Honey Nut Cheerios. I forced myself not to look around because I knew Filippi had men in place watching me. It was the only reason I could think of for why he had known I was in the park. So I did what I had to do: I pretended I wasn’t shaking on the inside.
Alessandro Filippi had threatened the lives of my children.
Fear morphed into anger, but I kept a lid on that, too. Otherwise I might just lose it in public.
Iain woke up and then so did Noah. Before I knew it, I had three cranky children and my immediate attention was turned to caring for them. After giving the twins their bottles, I got us on the road. I pushed the stroller along the sidewalk, trying to think of a way of out of this.
It made sense that Lila was working with someone. If she’d been working alone, she would’ve taken the money and run, but she hadn’t.
I nearly groaned aloud. Now Sasha was involved in all of this? He couldn’t give back territory.
My head felt crammed full, worries and fears shoved into every spare space of my mind. Even though I should’ve cancelled on Alia and called Flynn to discuss all of this immediately, something about it made me pause. I refused to let Fillipi’s men tell him that I’d run home to Flynn. I was a woman, and I wasn’t going to cower and let my husband handle this. So when I saw Alia waiting for me on the steps of The Met, I made sure my smile was extra bright and my laughter loud.
Alia’s features had the cast of Asian descent including her long, straight black hair, but she was also tall. She’d been an amazing dancer at the burlesque club and then taken over the position of manager after Lacey had left.
“Wow, not a nanny in sight,” Alia said after pulling back from a hug.
“I gave them both the day off. You okay braving a museum with these little devils?”
“Hey, as long as I can give them back to you when they start crying.”
I grinned. “I respect the honesty.”
“Where’s Ash? You guys are two peas in a pod.”
My heart contracted when I was reminded of my best friend and the secrets I was keeping from her. “She and Duncan left this morning for Dornoch.”
“Private jet?”
“Commercial. First class. We kept the jet.”
“Ah, yes, flying with three children is different from flying with one.”
I grinned at her as we made our way to the entrance. It was busy despite it being a weekday. The Met was always crowded—people came from all over the world to see the exhibits.
“Carys isn’t even a child. I swear, she’s secretly a well-behaved twenty-year-old who can’t speak yet,” I said.
Alia and I donated a good amount to the museum and then proceeded. I was always in awe every time I came to The Met. It wasn’t just the architecture that floored me, but the exhibits, the art and culture. It was a mecca of beauty.
“Where to first?” I asked, leaning over the stroller to see how the boys were doing. Iain had fallen into a doze, but the other two were awake, yet quiet. I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
“They have this tapestry exhibit on loan from the British Museum. You mind?”
“Nope. I follow you.”
Alia smiled.
“How’s Jake?” I asked.
“He’s good.”
“And you guys are good? I mean I know you’re good and married life is good, but I meant the fact that you’re not working right now because of the fire—”
“I’m actually really glad you brought that up,” she said, shooting me a sidewise glance as she hit the elevator button. “Jake and I want to open up our own restaurant.”
“That’s great,” I said, genuinely meaning it.
“Yeah, the thing is, this ideal spot became available and we kind of jumped to sign the lease. And with the club being temporarily closed, it made the most sense to—”
“Jump ship?” I supplied in good humor.
She wrinkled her nose. “You mad?”
“No, of course not. I’m happy for you guys. You have to do what makes you guys happy. So the club is losing both of you?”
“Yeah.�
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The elevator doors chimed and then opened. We stepped inside and then Alia hit the button.
“Oh, I’m such an idiot,” I said with a wry grin. “The only reason you wanted to hang out with me was so that you could tell me you were leaving and then I’d be the bearer of bad news.”
“I really did want to see you,” she protested. “But yeah, I thought he’d take this news better from you. Especially if you were on top of him. Naked.”
I let out a laugh as the elevator door opened. We stepped out and headed towards the tapestry exhibit. I asked Alia about the space and she admitted it was in Brooklyn. I pretended to be shocked, but Brooklyn was actually pretty cool. From what I’d heard—not that I’d spent a great deal of time there. My life when I’d lived in New York had been pretty Manhattan-centric.
“So how was the opening,” Alia asked.
“Good. Extravagant. Campbell fashion.”
“Sorry we couldn’t be there,” she said.
“If you’d been there who would’ve been running the club?”
Alia grinned. “Point. Hey,” she said heading over to a gold-threaded tapestry. “Look at this one.”
The tapestry was at least ten feet high and twice as long and didn’t look like any of the others. For one thing, there was no depiction of an ancient scene, no story that was being told. No king triumphing or dying on a battlefield. The tapestry was yellowish gold with red fibers woven throughout. It was difficult to see what had actually been woven into the tapestry, so I moved the stroller back towards the middle of the room to take in the piece.
“There’s a bunch of Italian words I’m not even going to try to say because I’ll butcher it. But the tapestry is called Falco. Italy, 1363. That’s Falcon in Italian, right?”
“I’d think so, yeah,” I answered. I frowned as I saw what looked like the outline of a wing. “I’m not seeing much.”
“The description says to look at it at an angle. You’re not meant to stare at it straight on.”
Alia and I moved to one side of the tapestry. It was a large bird of prey, what I assumed was a falcon, its wings outstretched, a sword dripping with blood grasped in its talons.
“Cool,” Alia said. “Kinda gruesome.”
“Gruesome,” I repeated, something nagging at me. I pulled out my cell phone from one of the stroller pockets and unlocked it. Scrolling through my email, I found the flagged message from Flynn. I clicked on one of the pictures and zoomed in. I stared at it for a moment and then looked up at the tapestry and then back down at the photo.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.”
Alia glanced at me, brow furrowed in confusion. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Am I allowed to take pictures in here?” I asked.
“Yeah, I think you can. I don’t see a ‘no camera’ sign. Just make sure the flash is off.”
I tried to get a good angle on the camera but the glare prohibited me from a decent shot. Giving up, I walked to the description of the piece, thinking I’d just take a photo of it and research it in the library. I was old school that way. Maybe I’d try Google first, though.
Raising the phone again, I peered through the screen and tapped it into focus. My breath stopped. I read the words Alia didn’t try to pronounce.
Compagnia Bianca del Falco. The White Company. A group of Italian mercenaries that went back to the medieval age, but that were still very much active today. The White Company had been hired by Arlington to assassinate Malcolm and Duncan. They’d only gotten one target.
I knew who was responsible for killing Arlington and Birmingham. The White Company had left their calling card in the form of a white ink tattoo of a falcon. The question begged: who had hired them?
Chapter 24
I needed a reason to leave The Met and Hawk came to my rescue. Granted, he came in the form of a temper tantrum, but I would take what I could. Shooting Alia an apologetic look, I headed for the exit. She was going to stay and enjoy the rest of the afternoon in the museum.
As soon as I got outside, Hawk settled down. I looked at him. “You have good timing, kiddo.”
He smiled up at me. I was turning in the direction of The Rex when my cell phone rang. It was Jack.
“Please tell me you have something to report,” I said.
“Hello, Barrett. Yes, I’m good. Thanks for asking,” Jack replied dryly.
“Sorry. It’s been a rough day.”
“Can you come to my office? You can tell me about it.”
“I have the kids with me.”
“No nannies?” I heard the teasing in his voice.
“Why is that always a joke now?” I demanded.
“Because you’ve become an Upper East Side snob.”
“Hey!”
“Kidding, kidding. So can you meet me here?”
“Yeah, I can. I’m headed back to The Rex to get a car. So it will be a little while.”
“Take your time.”
By the time I got back to The Rex, the boys needed changing, and they were tired of being in a stroller. I called Jack back to let him know that I was going to be delayed.
“I can swing by after work,” he offered.
“I’d rather meet you at your office,” I said.
He paused. “Flynn doesn’t know what you asked me to do, does he?”
“No. And it’s only gotten more complicated.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Give me a minute to figure this out.” It was stupid of me to think I could do all of this without Jen or Evie here.
My savior came in the form of Katherine, Glenna’s twenty-four-year granddaughter. Flynn and I were supposed to have dinner with her later that evening, but I called and begged her help.
“I have to run out for a little while. The boys are in their nursery and they’ve been fed and changed,” I said the moment she walked into the penthouse.
Katherine stared at me wide-eyed. “I don’t know. There’s three of them and one of me.”
“You’ll be fine,” I promised. “And my phone is on ring.”
I didn’t think it was a good idea to explain to her just how terrifying Hawk could really be. But I had bigger issues at the moment and time was getting away from me.
“Love your bangs!” I called to her as I grabbed my bag and rushed out.
A car was waiting for me in front of the hotel. I gave the driver the address to Jack’s office and then settled back into the seat. My mind was a whirl. After I spoke to Jack, I would have to talk to Flynn and tell him what Alessandro Filippi was up to. Then I would need to tell Sasha.
Not to mention I had this White Company information looming. God, there seriously wasn’t enough time in a day.
My phone rang. I expected it to be Flynn, but it was Ash. I silenced it even though she was probably just calling to tell me they’d landed and were back in Scotland. But I couldn’t talk to her at the moment. My guard was down and I knew I’d say something I’d regret. The easiest thing to do right now was to ignore her.
The car pulled to a stop. Jack’s office was on the Upper East Side, about fifteen blocks from The Rex. On a good day, it took almost no time to get there. Today was a good day.
Climbing out of the car, I took the driver’s offered hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Campbell.” The man was new to our employ—I didn’t recognize him.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve asked your name,” I said, craning my neck so I could study him. He looked like a seasoned man, burly and wide. Another Brad Shapiro type.
“Mason, ma’am. Pleased to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Mason.” I headed into the office building, told the security officer on duty where I was going, and then pushed the elevator button. Jack was a senior partner in the firm, with his name on the door, and he’d earned it. He was good at what he did.
It was the end of the day, but the office was still busy. Legal secretaries sat at their desks, shuffling papers
and typing on laptops. Interns bustled down the halls looking both frazzled and excited.
I greeted Jack’s secretary who called him on the phone to let him know I was there. She moved to get up to escort me to his private office, but I waved her down. I knocked on Jack’s door and gently pushed it open.
“Hey,” he said with a grin. The guy was cute. He hugged me in brotherly affection and then gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
“You look good,” I said, taking him in. Jack was average in height and in his mid-thirties. At a time when people’s bodies started changing due to metabolism and overall lack of care, Jack had maintained his physique. The brown hair at his temples was threaded with gray and made him look distinguished.
“Thanks. So do you.”
I rolled my eyes but smiled.
“Should we get right to it?” Jack asked, heading to his desk. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a file.
“Wow,” I said when Jack put the thick stack in front of me. “You got a lot in just a few days.”
“Most of it is childhood stuff, and I didn’t know what you were looking for, so I just included it all.”
“Your guy is good.” I began to flip through the pages.
“Should be, he costs enough.”
“But he’s discreet. Discreet costs,” I said, knowing I would easily hand over a small fortune for valuable information. You paid for things that mattered.
“What is it you’re looking for, exactly?” Jack asked, leaning back in his chair.
“I don’t know. Right now I’m just hoping to get some information on him.”
“Can I ask how you met the contender for the Italian mafia?”
I frowned and looked at him. “What do you mean ‘contender’? Filippi told me he’s the leader of the Italian mob.”
“Not according to that information,” Jack said, gesturing to the file. “Read the first page.”
My eyes started at the top and I began to read. “Filippi is Giovanni Marino’s bastard? Wow.”
“Yeah, from a Sicilian woman. So you can see why there would be some issue with Filippi taking over. The Italians won’t take orders from a Sicilian boss—not unless he brings something to the table and proves himself.”
