“I traced the text messages from last night to Richard Montgomery, CEO of Hallstrom Group.” His jaw tightened. “And a frequent patron of The Ferryman.”
“I thought the club’s records were confidential.”
“They are.” A beat. “I built their firewall.”
My head snapped toward him.
“And I’ve erased your file from their system.”
“Um, thank you?”
He didn’t respond. Just opened another set of windows—police blotters, Richard’s mugshot, news articles in three languages.
“He’s been investigated before. Sexual battery. Stalking.” Luka’s voice lowered, something controlled and dangerous beneath it. “Nothing ever sticks. Charges are always dropped. Complaints withdrawn.”
I stared at the screens, at the dozen smiling faces of women who had no idea how they looked, archived like evidence.
“You weren’t the first.” Luka rested his hand on my shoulder blade, warm and grounding. “But if you want him stopped, I can do that.”
Dread slithered along my spine, cold and reptilian. I didn’t want to imagine what “stop” meant to Luka. I didn’t want to know what he was capable of, even if it was justified. Or what it would make me complicit in.
“You’re not…going to hurt him.” I tried to make it a statement, but it tipped up at the end, leaving it swinging and fragile.
He glanced at me, pale blue eyes catching the monitor glow. “For you,mila, I would.”
I flinched. “No. You can’t.”
“I can.” The certainty in his words dropped the temperature of the room.
“I don’t want to be the reason something bad happens to someone. Even if he’s…” I gestured helplessly at the array of women on the screen—frozen smiles, lives suspended at the wrong moment.
“A predator.” Luka exhaled sharply, a hiss between his teeth.
“Please.” I swallowed. “Don’t make me someone who wants that.”
“I am not an assassin, Alex. Besides…” He tipped his chin toward the monitor, where Richard’s lineup photo rendered him smaller than his reputation. “Death would be a kindness to a man like him.”
My mouth went dry. “So, what then?”
He folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head. “I imagine his life would become…complicated if this information were made public.”
“You can do that?” The question slipped out before I could dress it up.
“Say the word,” Luka said, as casually as if he were offering to order us coffee.
I stared at the monitors, at the collage of damnation waiting to be unleashed.
I should have said yes.
I should have let him hit send and detonate the nuke, burn Richard’s life down to the foundation. But the truth was, I just wanted it all to disappear. I wanted my body back, my mindback, my footing back. Retaliation felt like letting him live inside my head rent-free, forever.
“Not that I don’t think he deserves every bit of it and more,” I said, my voice brittle, “I just want this to go away.”
Luka leaned back on the edge of the desk. “And what happens when you go back to work tomorrow?” The way he asked it made it clear he already knew. “You think he will take no for an answer?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but a pulse of light from Luka’s phone cut through the dark. He checked the screen, jaw flexed, then angled it toward me.
“Someone’s ringing you.”