“Okay,” she said again, and she found she had trouble pushing the word past the emotions that clogged her throat.
She wasn’t sure what he saw in her eyes, but there was something in his. Something a little bit victorious, that had her wondering what emotions were written on her face.
“Okay,” she said one more time, and gave him a nod. And wondered what she was agreeing to—and was thrilled by it.
“Okay,” he said, and there was a definite gleam in his eyes. “Let’s get to work.”
11
I could tell Margot was nervous. She kept clenching and unclenching her hands, wiping them on the apron we suggested she wear—it would look like she’d just taken a break from work to talk to Rowan, and she could keep a knife in the pocket. I doubted she’d need it and knew she wasn’t trained, but I think we all felt better knowing she had the option.
And yet, for all that, there was something bright in her eyes. An excitement I hadn’t seen in a long time.
Ethan, me, Catcher, and my grandfather were stationed in Ethan’s office, watching the front lawn via the video surveillance feed. The Ombuddies’ rather obvious white van was parked in the underground lot so it wouldn’t give anyone away. Kelley and Lindsey were positioned outside, and we’d cleared all but a few vampires from the first floor so the House didn’t seem suspiciously quiet. Jonah and Luc waited in the second parlor.
We were hoping to get Rowan into the second parlor, where he’d be physically contained. Margot would wait for him, and I’d walk through the foyer and say hello. If we were lucky, he’d make a move on me, and we’d make the case against him even stronger.
Rowan was five minutes late when Brock, another guard, sent the alert that Rowan was walking toward the gate. He wore slacks and a button-down shirt, and he carried a bouquet of flowers and a drink carrier with two cups. At least he hadn’t lied about bringing the coffee.
And then all hell broke loose.
More than a dozen men swarmed through the gate, more than the guards posted there could handle, and they surrounded Rowan before he made it to the portico.
The beating began immediately.
“Shit!” Luc said, and we ran for the foyer, found Margot already opening the front door. I grabbed her arm before she could leave the portico. “Stay here,” I said, and followed Ethan down the stairs.
Ethan drew his sword and strode forward, pointing it at the crowd of men who surrounded Rowan. “You’re on Cadogan property!” he said. “Put the weapons down and step back.”
“We ain’t afraid of swords,” said one of the men.
“Okay,” Catcher said, stepping beside me, gun drawn. “How about nine millimeters?”
The man who held Rowan dropped him, took a step back. But their weapons stayed raised.
Another man walked through the gate. He had pale skin, short gray hair, and the chiseled good looks of a corporate manager. He was lean as a runner and wore a collared shirt with jeans and what I guessed were expensive running shoes. His smartwatch and wedding ring were his only accessories.
“Corbin.” My grandfather’s voice was clear, authoritative, and it echoed across the yard as he came down the sidewalk behind us, cane in hand.
“Corbin McClelland,” Brock whispered through the comm earpiece. “He controls a lot of the racketeering on the South Side.”
So the mob had found their man. And who had dibs?
“Mr. Merit, I presume.” Corbin looked at my grandfather, then the rest of us.
“Do we have a problem here?” my grandfather asked.
“We have this rat bastard or what’s left of him. And he’s mine.”
My grandfather looked down at Rowan, bruises already blossoming on his face. My grandfather’s expression was perfectly bland. “I’ll agree on the rat bastard, but I can’t agree that he’s yours.”
“We have a business arrangement he hasn’t yet made good on,” Corbin said, voice tight with anger.
“I’m aware,” my grandfather said. “And I believe we can make a deal.”
Corbin’s gaze lifted, narrowed. “A deal for what?”
My grandfather pulled out the notebook. “He kept records of his debts. With names.” He flipped the notebook open to a seemingly random page, showed it to McClelland. “And this isn’t the only copy, of course. You forget his debt and your interest in him. And in return, I don’t give this notebook to Vice.”
I wasn’t the only one whose eyes widened at the offer. My grandfather was going to deal with these guys?
“You, a cop, are willing to lose evidence for this piece of garbage?”
“Oh, not for him,” my grandfather said. “For my granddaughter and her husband. It would be easier all around if this entire matter was put to bed. He has a certain connection to the House they’d rather forget about.”
McClelland’s advisor stepped forward, whispered in his ear. A long pause later, he looked at my grandfather. “I’m willing to, let’s say, push pause on the debt while he’s in prison. Once he’s out, the clock starts over.”
“Deal,” my grandfather said, and they shook on it. “Have a pleasant evening, Corbin.”
We waited in silence while they walked back through the gate again, and the cars rolled down the street.
“Is he worth the loss of the evidence?” Ethan asked. “The possibility of bringing down the mob?”
“Oh, definitely not,” my grandfather said. “But the notebook doesn’t actually name any names, just amounts.” He looked at us, grinned. “It wouldn’t be worth anything to Vice. McClelland doesn’t need to know that, of course, and I suspect Rowan will keep his mouth shut about it.”
Ethan’s grin spread slowly. “You just conned the mob.”
“I did. Sorry I didn’t mention it beforehand,” he said, giving me an apologetic look, then patting my hand for good measure. “I thought it would be easier if I was the only one who had to stretch the truth just a smidge.”
“We are in your debt,” Ethan said. “Margot will rest easier this way.”
“I hope so,” my grandfather said. “I believe she deserves a break.”
“She deserves more than that,” Jonah said. “Can I have a minute with him?”
Catcher and my grandfather shared a glance, and my grandfather nodded. “I imagine you have things to say.”
“I do,” Jonah agreed, and strode forward, crouched in front of Rowan Cleary.
12
It took every ounce of Jonah’s impressive control to crouch beside the piece of garbage masquerading as a man and keep his hands to himself.
Rowan looked like shit. Eye bruised, lip cut, nose probably broken. Jonah didn’t care much about that; Rowan was a vampire. He’d heal. But there were boundaries that needed to be set. And Jonah decided he’d make sure that happened.
“I’m a friend of Margot’s,” Jonah said, and Rowan’s gaze flicked up to him, still full of arrogance.
“I don’t know the complete story of what you did to her,” Jonah continued, “but I can glean enough of the details to believe you deserve every inch of the beating these men obviously want to give you.”
Jonah could see the challenge in Rowan’s eyes, the desire to argue. Jonah welcomed it. A fight would have felt better. He’d have loved an opportunity to show this parasite how it felt to be bruised and defenseless, to give back some of the pain he’d no doubt inflicted on others during his miserable life. But Jonah was a man of honor, and he wouldn’t stoop to beating a man who was already down.
But he wouldn’t be down forever . . .
Jonah leaned over Rowan, tugged him up by his shirt. Rowan’s eyes fluttered, went hard.
“Here’s one last lesson for you, Cleary. If you so much as think about contacting her again, I’ll know it. And I will put you in the sun myself and dance around your ashes.”
He dropped Cleary again, enjoyed the thud his head made against the sidewalk, then stepped around him. “All yours,” he said to Catcher, and walked into the grass.
Jonah looked like a warrior battling for control. He strode into the shadowed yard, and it took Margot only a moment to follow him.
She found him pacing back and forth, hands linked behind his head. The air was thick with magic.