“Good. Glad to hear it. Give them my best, will you?”
Remy smiled. “I sure will.”
Keegan gestured around the office. “This is quite an outfit you got here. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you, sir,” Remy murmured, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not the same as being in the Teams, but it’ll do for now.”
Keegan snorted. “Who’re you fooling? Between you and your billionaire brother, Roderick—not to mention Royce and River—some folks are predicting that the Brand boys will be running the Windy City before too long.”
Remy chuckled wryly. “I don’t know about all that. And speaking of running the city, how are things going at Mayor Norwood’s office?”
“Good, good.” After retiring from the service, Keegan had returned home to Chicago and gone into politics, becoming a trusted senior advisor to the mayor. “We’re gearing up for his reelection campaign, so I’ve been scouting the field, assessing the strengths and weaknesses of the other candidates.”
Remy nodded. Of course Keegan would approach politics as if he were preparing for a combat mission—gathering intel on the enemy, checking the maps and charts, doing the necessary reconnaissance before planning an attack strategy.
“What can you tell me about Landis Kennedy?”
Remy frowned, his gut tightening at the mention of a name he hadn’t heard in years. “Is he running for mayor?” he asked, answering Keegan’s question with a question.
“He’s expected to throw his hat into the ring any day now,” Keegan replied. “And so far, he’s the one we’re most worried about. He has the financial resources and name recognition as an alderman, and he’s been gunning for the black vote by cozying up to church leaders on the South Side. Hell, he even has the support of some Teamsters who’re soured on the mayor after that whole city budget fiasco last year.”
Remy’s frown deepened at the idea of Zandra’s estranged father becoming the next mayor. Though Remy generally regarded politicians as scum-sucking bottom feeders, Landis Kennedy was particularly abhorrent. He was a cold, sadistic motherfucker who’d tormented his wife and daughter for years, robbing Zandra of her childhood and warping her perception of men. Some of Remy’s most violent fantasies involved him cornering Kennedy in a dark alley and dragging the blade of his KA-BAR knife across the man’s throat. Slowly, so the bastard would see the promise of his own death in Remy’s eyes before he took his last breath.
Yeah, he hated the guy that much.
Watching the play of emotions across his face, Keegan observed dryly, “I take it there’s no love lost between you and the alderman.”
“Let’s just say I’d sooner vote for Osama bin Laden than Landis Kennedy,” Remy muttered darkly.
“I see.” Keegan eyed him knowingly. “Your animosity wouldn’t have anything to do with your long-standing friendship with Kennedy’s daughter, would it?”
Remy regarded Keegan for a long moment, then leaned forward in his chair and asked in a very low voice, “What’s this about, Lieutenant?”
The air crackled between the two men as they stared at each other.
Keegan was the first to glance away, his lips pressed into a thin line. “The reason I came here today is to tell you that the mayor knows about Zandra Kennedy, and he’s planning to use her escort agency against her father.”
Remy scowled. “That’s ridiculous. Zandra has nothing to do with the old man. She hasn’t seen or spoken to him in ten years.”