Jazz shrugs. “Uh... I know that she’s somewhere in France. I don’t know why, though. I’ve been staying here, so I haven’t seen Charles or Madeline since before Christmas. But I think your theory is a good one.”
Fuck. I need to have a talk with Ainsley soon. I know Jazz and Reed are having a hard time hiding things from her. Plus, I need to prepare my sister for when the FBI makes their move. I’ve been keeping it from her because she can’t lie to save her life, but I don’t want her to be completely blindsided. Maybe I’ll tell her once we get into the new place, and there’s no chance of her running into our dad.
Jazz has been staying with me every night since the Lucas incident. She didn’t even argue when I suggested—okay, maybe demanded —it. We went back once to retrieve her things, and haven’t returned since.
“When’s move-in day, dawg?” Bentley takes a giant bite from his slice of pizza.
“Just over three weeks from now.”
Bentley’s brows draw together. “Why sho long? I fwought you were able to get cash out of your trush fund.”
“Jesus, dude. Is it that hard to wait until you’ve finished chewing?”
He chews a couple of more times before swallowing. “Fine. Why so long? Is that better?”
I shrug. “The people I bought it from needed time to pack up, so I agreed to rent it out to them for a month.”
Ainsley bumps Jazz’s shoulder to get her attention. “Are you excited, Jazz?”
Jazz smiles when her mocha eyes find mine. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this feeling. When she looks at me like that, like she’s truly happy—that I’m responsible for that —I feel like the luckiest bastard on earth.
She nods. “Belle is too. She thinks it’s super cool she gets her own room, even though she doesn’t live with us. Hopefully, that will change one day in the near future. Kingston’s going to order this beautiful princess bed and surprise her with it.”
Whoever thought I’d be buying frilly little girl shit? I’m glad Jazz is finally loosening up on allowing me to spend money on her. Granted, she won’t let me go overboard like I want to, but she is getting better at accepting gifts. Especially when they involve her sister. Leave it to me to fall for the one woman who has no interest in my fortune. Go figure.
I pull my stubborn girl into my side and kiss her temple.
Ainsley places an open palm against her chest. “Aw, that’s so sweet. Look at you two—all domesticated and shacking up. I can’t wait to be roomies!”
I give her the stink eye. “It’s not much different than it is now. Jazz is with me every day already, and you’re in here at least twice as much as the main house.”
“True.” She points a stern finger at us. “But I’d like to set a rule for no sex on the couch. Or anywhere out in the open. I don’t need to accidentally walk in on you two getting freaky.”
“On second thought, maybe you should get your own place,” I deadpan.
“Haha, funny guy.” My sister yawns. “So, when are you going to order my pretty princess bed?”
I scoff. “If you want a princess bed, knock yourself out. You have plenty of money to buy your own shit.”
“Yeah, but it’s much more fun when someone else buys me shit.” Ainsley stands up and extends her hand to Reed. “And on that note, I’m out. Madame Rochelle was brutal tonight. I’m beat. You coming, Reed?”
“If you’re cool with that,” Reed answers.
Ainsley rolls her eyes. “Duh.”
Reed raises a hand as they’re walking out the door. “Later, guys.”
“Later,” Jazz, Bentley, and I say in unison.
“I guess that’s my cue to take off, too.” Bentley rises from the couch and heads for the door. “I’ll let you two kiddos get to the wholesome part of your evening. Have fun! Don’t do anything I would do.”
Jazz laughs. “Night, Bent.”
“Night, baby girl.” He winks before blowing me a kiss. “Sweet dreams, sugar lips.”
I flip him off in reply.
When it’s finally just the two of us, I wrap my arms around Jazz’s back and pull her into me. “You feel like getting started on those wholesome activities? I’ve got chess, or Sudoku, or Monopoly, or—”
“Shut up and kiss me, you jackass.”
I give her an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose we can do that too. If I have to.”
“Oh, yeah. You definitely have to.” She cracks her imaginary whip. “Get to work, buddy.”
Without any warning, I crouch down and flip her over my shoulder. With a solid smack to her ass, I say, “You’re going to pay for that, sweetheart.”
Jazz reaches between my legs from her upside-down position and rubs my junk. “Counting on it.”
This girl.
*
“You’re never going to believe the luck we’ve run into.” I can practically see John’s shit-eating grin.
“Even better than the video of my father with Madeline?”
“We may have footage to bring Callahan in.” He clears his throat. “And another informant who’s willing to testify in exchange for immunity. The FBI is getting close to making a move.”
“Holy shit.” I grab a drink from the fridge and take a seat on the couch. “What footage, and who’s the informant?”
“Oh, nothing big. Just Charles Callahan killing one of his employees. As for the informant, that would be none other than Mrs. Callahan.”
Water sprays everywhere as I choke on the sip I was taking. “Explain. Start with the employee.”
“On Christmas Eve, shortly after Lucas Gale’s body was found, Callahan is caught on camera injecting a needle into Darlene Williams’ body. Williams was sitting in front of Callahan’s desk when he came up from behind and jabbed the needle into her neck. She slumped down in the chair, unconscious almost immediately.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “How do you know she’s actually dead?”
“Because a while later, Callahan returns with two henchmen. Charles placed a finger on her wrist and said the words, ‘No pulse.’ Then, the mystery men rolled her up using a large piece of plastic and duct tape—which they conveniently had at the ready—and hauled her off.”
“Holy fuck. What’d they do with her body?”
“No clue,” John says.
“How has she been missing for two weeks, and nobody’s asked about her whereabouts?”
“She lived at the Callahan house and had no next of kin. Who would bother?”
“Another employee at the mansion?”
“Callahan could’ve easily told them she quit or got fired.”
“She worked for him for as long as I can remember, and the woman rarely took a day off. So much for loyalty, huh?”
“I guess Charles wasn’t willing to take the risk when covering up a homicide.”
“What’s the deal with Madeline?”
“Mrs. Callahan attends the same hot yoga class three times per week. After the feds viewed the footage we sent them, they knew it was the perfect time to approach her, so they did so after her most recent class. Once Mrs. Callahan heard the FBI planned to charge her as an accomplice if she didn’t cooperate, the woman couldn’t spill their secrets fast enough. Madeline fell right into their hands, playing the victim card. She told them she’d do whatever she could to escape those tyrannical monsters .”
I scoff. “Right. That woman wouldn’t know innocence if it smacked her in the face.”
“Agreed, and her handler is well aware. But Madeline gave them intel we’ve been trying to gather for years, including the location of the warehouse your father was referring to. If it all checks out, the feds will have what they need to move forward.”
“What’d she tell them?”
“She validated what we knew about your father’s high-class prostitution ring and the fact that Charles is blackmailing officials, though she claims not to know any details about the latter. Most importantly, though, she did confirm both patriarchs are trafficking young women, mainly from Mexico and the Caribbean. That’s where the big money comes from, especially since they’ve joined forces with a cartel. Their operation has become such a well-oiled machine, Callahan and your father have taken a more passive role in the day-to-day.”
“How does Madeline know so much? I wouldn’t think they’d entrust her with sensitive information like that.”
“The feds asked the same question, which is when she demanded immunity before giving them anything else.”