He shakes his head. “No, in the legit world. In society and politics. He’s been trying to kiss the asses of some of the wealthiest players in Detroit. People like Sebastian Raines, Alec Beckham, and Jeffery Warren.”
I frown, turning those names over in my head. I know them by reputation, just like anyone else who does business in Detroit. They’re wealthy as fuck, moving in the kinds of circles that do whatever they want because they have the money to make almost anything happen.
It’s interesting that Julian is trying to cozy up to people like that. Climbing the social ladder and gaining more power on the legit side of things makes sense in a way, but it begs the question of what he wants to do with it.
“I guess it gives us another way to bring him down,” I say with a little shrug. “That sister fucking murderer isn’t getting any higher up in society if I have anything to say about it.”
Knox laughs and drags me back down so he can kiss me firmly on the mouth. His eyes are bright with amusement and something that’s probably bloodlust. His shaggy hair is a mess, and he looks a little feral, but it works for him. Like it always does. Once again, I can only be glad that he didn’t have to end up marrying Natalie after all.
“It’s hot when you get all ready to fuck someone’s life up,” he says, hands roaming over my body aimlessly.
“I’ve been ready for that since you met me,” I point out.
He just grins wider. “Maybe that’s why I’ve been hot for you since day one.”
I laugh a little, and it feels good. It feels good to have a plan and to have them with me and to know that we have a path to doing what needs to be done.
I feel better after sleeping too. So I pull myself out of bed and go get dressed, not even minding that all the men are there, clustered in the room. They’ve all seen me naked before anyway, so feeling their eyes on me when I pull my shirt over my head and swap it for a new one is no big deal.
They all watch me as I move around the room, putting dirty clothes in the hamper and neatening up a little. I grab a bottle of nail polish and shake it, eyeing the color. It’s a shimmery, color shifting purple, and it feels right for the moment.
My old polish is chipped all to hell, battered and fucked up from the wedding and the church and everything that went down. Kind of like me, it didn’t make it out in one piece.
But I can sit down and take all the old polish off, cleaning my nails until there’s no trace of the old color any more. It’s not so easy to do that with the memories from that alley, but in a way, rubbing off the old polish helps wash away some of the pain that still clings to me.
Swiping on neat, even coats of the new color helps even more. I try to let it make me a new person.
A better, stronger person. One who can do what needs to be done for Hannah.
Gage, Ash, Priest, and Knox just watch me as I do it. They seem to understand that this is one of my little rituals, and they’re quiet, lost in their own thoughts and giving me the space to do what I need to do.
Once I put away the little bottle and start blowing on my nails to dry them faster, Knox and Priest move to get up from the bed.
“We should get to work,” Gage says, getting up and stretching his arms over his head. “We have a lot of ground to cover and some leads to track down.”
The men move like a well-oiled machine, and this might be the first time they’re going after someone like Julian in the name of someone else, someone who they didn’t even really know, but it’s definitely not the first time they’ve destroyed someone. They all know how this goes.
“We need more information,” Gage continues. “Anything we can find. River, you’re with me.”
I’m used to working alone when it comes to things like this, but I know I don’t want to be alone now. So I nod and grab my shoes and jacket, following him down the stairs to the car.
We go to meet a few of the contacts the guys keep—informants and people they’ve worked with before when they need information.
I don’t need Gage to tell me that we have to be careful and quiet about all this. The last thing we need is Julian finding out that we’ve been poking around in his affairs. Either he’ll get spooked and start shutting shit down, or he’ll retaliate before we have enough to really stick it to him.
And neither of those will have the satisfying end that Hannah deserves after everything that fucker put her through.
We pull up to a motel, just off the highway, and get out of the car. Gage takes the lead, and I’m happy to let him. Instead of going through the front, we head around to the back and meet one of the housekeeping staff who’s on a smoke break.
As soon as he sees Gage, he straightens up and stubs out the cigarette against the side of the building.
I let Gage do most of the talking. He knows how to handle this kind of thing, and the informant already knows him anyway. Plus, I’m still fucked up inside. When I close my eyes, I can still see Hannah falling and then laying there, never getting up again. I can feel her blood on my hands and see her mouth moving as she tries to say our little mantra to me one last time. The pain is raw and ragged around the edges, and it feels good to have something to distract from it, but I know that’s not the same as healing it.
If I let it, it’ll creep back in time and time again, get too big for me to handle. I’m trying to soldier through and get shit done, and I want to be here doing this, but I’m glad that Gage is taking point since my head is still a mess.
Gage says the name of who we’re looking into, and the informant, wearing a name tag that says Frisco, does a low whistle.
“Big name,” he says, glancing around like he wants to make sure there’s no one there to overhear us.
Gage nods. “It’s not small. But it is important. What do you know?”
Frisco shrugs. “Not much. Honest. I know the name and reputation. Know he’s big in the drug scene around here, but that’s all I’ve got off-hand. I can do some digging though. Maybe get you some more.”
“Good,” Gage says, nodding again. “And I don’t need to tell you what happens if this gets traced back to us, do I?”
Frisco shakes his head, sending dark hair flopping across his forehead. “Nope. I know. My lips are sealed and all that.”
“Good,” Gage says again. “Reach out if you find anything.”
We get back in the car and head to another location. This time a restaurant that I’m not familiar with. We go through the kitchen to the back and talk to a dishwasher, thankfully alone in the kitchen, up to her elbows in hot, soapy water.
Just like Frisco, she doesn’t know much about Julian that we don’t already know, but promises to keep an ear out for anything that she can find out.
“They’ll get us more information,” Gage says as we head back to the car one last time. “Those two are our best for stuff like this.”
I guess that makes sense when I think about it. People who work in service are always ignored, and they have front row seats to people’s conversations. Plus, Gage seems confident about it, which is good enough for me.