Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I swallow my bite of ziti as Mama Louisa brings a fresh loaf of garlic bread.
Frankie grabs a slice and sinks his teeth into it. “Spill it,” he says. “What can we do for you, Mr. Black?”
“I hear you’re willing to travel,” I say.
“Within reason,” Frankie says, his mouth full of bread.
“Well,” I start, twirling the last of my ziti onto my fork, “I need you to travel to Boston.”
Dino raises an eyebrow, a spark of interest flashing in those icy eyes. “Why would we be going there?”
I place my fork onto the plate, glancing at each of them in turn. There’s something satisfying about having their undivided attention. “Because there’s a prick there who thinks he can take what he wants and hurt whoever he pleases.”
Frankie wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Sounds personal.”
I take a sip of wine. “It is.”
Isabella leans forward, her fiery hair cascading down her shoulder. “Who is he? This prick?”
“Pricks,” I say. “Plural. It’s an architect named Beau Reardon, his son, Peter Reardon, and another junior architect at the firm, Garrett Ramirez.”
“They hit on your lady or something?” Frankie asks.
The thought nauseates me as I recall the image of Skye with Peter Reardon. What happened to Tessa.
God.
What could have easily happened to Skye.
“They drug people. Make them cooperative. It started as a way to get business, which is bad enough, but now—”
“They’re using drugs to get sex,” Dino finishes for me.
“Stop with the euphemisms,” Isabella says, her tone angry and cold. “They’re raping women. Plain and simple.”
“Any proof?” Frankie asks.
I nod as I reach into my pocket and retrieve a thumb drive. “I’ve been having them watched for a while now. There’s surveillance footage, witness reports, and a few medical records.”
“How’d you get medical records?” Dino asks.
I meet his cold gaze. “How do you get what you need?”
He nods. “Touché.”
I’m not proud of how I obtained Tessa’s medical records. But sometimes you have to break the rules to make sure justice is served.
Isabella is seething now. It’s clear she loathes men like Beau Reardon, men who prey on the vulnerable just because they can.
“What do you need us for?” Dino asks. “Seems with your wealth you can take down whoever you want.”
“He doesn’t want to get his hands dirty,” Frankie replies.
Anger curls at the back of my neck, but I hold myself in check.
Cold plunge. Forced meditation.
And Frankie’s not wrong.
I could bring the bastards down on my own, but the Unholy Trinity specializes in this kind of stuff.
“Do we have a deal?” I ask, pushing a manila envelope of cash toward Dino.
“Give us a minute,” Dino says.
The three of them rise and leave the back room.
I pour myself another glass of Barbera and reach for a piece of garlic bread.
Again I think back to my time in South Boston—the simple days of honest labor that seem a universe away now.
We live in a world where men get away with atrocities just because they can. Hell, I’ve done it myself. Getting Tessa’s private medical records wasn’t my finest moment.
But the Reardons and Ramirez aren’t going to get away with this.
I take another bite of ziti. The longer the trinity are gone, the less likely they are to help me. According to Dimitri, they’re the best on the East Coast.
But there are others.
I take another bite—
I jerk when my phone buzzes. I’ve told everyone in my employ not to disturb me during this meeting.
Unless it’s an emergency…
My hackles rise as I look at my phone.
The text is from the doorman at my residential building.
The building where Skye will be returning to after her dinner with Eugenie.
Mr. Black, it’s Charles Thatcher, your doorman. I’m texting from another person’s phone. I was held at gunpoint by two men who entered your residential building, so there’s currently no security. I’ve called 911.
My stomach drops, and my pulse races.
The Reardons. Or Ramirez. It’s got to be. No one else would get personal.
Mama Louisa enters the back room with a plate of cannolis. “You leaving, Mr. Black?”
“Yeah. Please tell Dino and the others that something came up. I’ll be back in touch.”
“Will do.”
I throw a few hundred-dollar bills on the table. “Thanks. Everything was delicious.”
And it was.
Though it all may come hurling back up any minute now.
First another call to 911. I may not need the Unholy Trinity after all. If the Reardons are behind this, I’ll get them on several other felonies—including rape.
The police are dispatched to my building, but this is New York City.
I’ll get there first.
I’m on autopilot as I text my security company. As I suspected, it’s offline at the building.
Within ten minutes, it’s back up.
And I arrive at the building.
Chapter Forty-Nine
I hurry out of the car as soon as it stops in front of my Manhattan residential building.
No doorman. Not a surprise.
The words of his text echo in my mind.