“Like I said, we’re not dating. Barely friends.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” Bradley shakes his head.
I knew spending so much time with Jazzy would put her on their radar. I fucking knew it, and I did it anyway. Because I’m a fucking idiot. As much as I want to run out of this office and find her, I can’t do that. Like Bradley said, they are watching, and they’ll be expecting me to act irrationally after his warning.
I always was smarter than him. I also know when he’s talking shit out of his ass. He knows exactly what his father and the other four—well, I guess it’sthreenow—are planning.
I pick up the phone and put a call through to Logan Carnegie. I might not like the asshole, but I know I can get him on my side before the others get to him. I can convince him that this is the work of The Court, just like it was with my parents.
“Jacob,” Logan answers.
“I just heard what happened.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to say thatI’m sorry for his loss, but knowing how much I fucking hate hearing that load of crap, I don’t.
“Yeah, it’s fucking shit,” he says. “I’m on my way back to town now.”
“I’ll have a car waiting for you. We need to talk,” I tell him.
“About?”
“Our parents have been murdered in a span of weeks, Logan. That’s not a coincidence.”
“I hear it was the cartel. Why the fuck my father was doing business with them, I have no idea.”
“Do you believe he was?”
“I believe he was trying to,” Logan says. “I don’t know for sure if he made it happen or not.”
Huh, interesting. Is that why The Court is targeting Jazzy’s father and uncles? To make way for themselves to take over the local industry? Why the fuck would they want to do that?
“I’ll see you when you get here.” I cut the call. Then I log into an encrypted program and send a message to Carlo Bianchi.
Me:
Wherever she is, lock her down. Now.
I can see the message is read, but no reply comes through. Leaning back in my chair, I fight my every instinct to go to her. To find her and hold her in my arms so I know she’s okay.
Her father will keep her safe. I know that. But fuck, do I want to have her with me.
It’s dark, and the office is empty by the time Logan Carnegie walks in. I’m nursing a glass of whiskey, contemplating my next moves. “Got another one of those?” he asks.
“Sure.” I stand, walk over to the wet bar, and pour him a healthy dose.
“You think The Court is responsible?” Logan asks, taking the glass from my extended hand.
“I know they are.” I sigh and reclaim my seat. Over the past few hours, I’ve dug up every bit of communication I could find between the members of The Court. The idiots aren’t as careful as I am when it comes to sending messages.
Turns out, Carnegie wasn’t game for the Vegas takeover the others want to enact. Fuck knows why they want to play mobsters all of a sudden..
“Read this.” I slide the papers across my desk. “Messages between Levine and Van Baron.”
Logan takes his time reading the incriminating messages, the outline of the plan to make it appear like a cartel hit, even to the point of leaving Lopez’s trademark calling card behind. I can only imagine how pissed off Emmanuel is at someone pretending to be him. I haven’t shared this intel with anyone from his organization. I’m not sure I should. I don’t need an all-out cartel war.
“I’m assuming you got a plan?” Logan asks.
“Let them take each other out,” I suggest. “They’re going after the Wickenshems next. That will leave Levine and Van Baron to do what they want.”
“And then what? You know how this works. They’re going to drag me into it. Then, when they clear off Wickenshem, his son will get dragged in too. We’ll be recruited to replace our fathers.”