Page 39 of Devil’s Azalea (Nightshades #3)

I watch, transfixed and terrified, as she slips into a building. A few minutes later, two men enter the frame. Even from this distance, I recognize the way they move, the cut of their clothes. Russians.

Goddamn it. Now, I not only have the Italian dons to contend with but Russians as well? All because she won’t stop poking and poking.

She’s in grave danger. Does she even realize?

The familiar frustration boils up in my chest, mixed with something that feels suspiciously like panic. How the fuck do I save someone who’s hell-bent on turning the entire underworld upside down?

My office door bangs open and I glare at the intruder, directing all my fury at Enzo, who throws his hands up when he sees my expression.

“Jason Moore has just been released,” he announces.

And there it is. Right on fucking schedule.

I exit the message thread and close the site with movements that are calm and controlled despite the hurricane raging inside my skull.

“Tell Martin to get a burner phone to the councilor immediately.” I need to know if Jason has been compromised.

And we can’t risk leaving digital footprints or getting our call intercepted.

“Already done. The councilor is on the line.” He waves the phone as he walks further into my office. He hands it to me, and I lift it to my ear.

“Hello, Rafael,” Jason’s voice is low and wary. He must have seen me in the restaurant after I shot the man trying to kill Emilia. I never mentioned I’d be there.

“Did someone come to see you in custody? Were you offered a deal?” I get straight to the point.

There’s a heavy pause before he answers. “Yes. A woman. She didn’t bother to introduce herself.” His voice drops even lower. “She wanted to know about my relationship with you… asked me to keep an eye on you. Spy on you.”

Bingo. Just like I thought.

“Describe her.”

My suspicions are confirmed as he speaks. “Older Latina woman, probably in her mid-50s or something but still youthful. Not a single strand of grey hair. And she seems to hold a high position—the other agents treated her with deference.”

Stacey Rodrigues.

My grip on the phone tightens.

So I’ve definitely gotten on her radar—though, to be fair, I’ve probably been there for over a decade. First when she sent Emilia after me ten years ago, and especially after I witnessed her murder Tomassi.

She’s most likely fueling Emilia’s hatred because she’s scared I’ll expose her.

The raid at the restaurant last night, hell, even Emilia’s investigation into Jason Moore from the start—none of it was about keeping the corrupt councilor in check or stopping his crimes. It was about me. Perhaps it always was.

She has a personal interest in me.

“What did you tell her?” I ask, though I already know the answer. Jason’s survival instincts are stronger than his loyalty.

“I took the deal to save my own ass, obviously. But here I am, ratting her out to you. Fuck, this is all way above my pay grade, Rafael. I don’t like this. First Sergey, now this? I feel like I’m trapped in some spy thriller. I want out.”

“You’re doing great. You’ll be fine.”

“Can you give me your word—your actual word—that you can protect me from the Russians and the feds once shit hits the fan? If so, I’ll keep being your mole. But if not, this is the last favor I can do for you. I need to prioritize my own survival here.

I’m going to tell them everything I know about you—and fuck you and those videos you’re holding over me. You can leak them all over the internet. I don’t care anymore. I just want to live .” His voice breaks at the end.

Pathetic. But predictable.

“You should protect yourself then.” I have no need for him anymore. He’s given me more than enough to go on.

“One last thing,” he rushes out. “Before Sergey was released from custody, he came to see me. Bragged about having a contact who got him out the second they heard about his arrest. He all but said that the new FBI director was his contact, but I didn’t take the bait.

That can’t be true… can it?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer before pushing on.

“He was also curious about how you knew to be in that restaurant. Thankfully, he didn’t suspect me, but he was very interested in the woman you saved—wanted to know who she was. ”

Damn it. “Thank you, Jason. Stay alive.” I end the call and stare blankly at my desk for a long moment.

The pieces are all shifting—slowly falling into place. Jason’s words only confirmed what I already suspected: the newly appointed director of the FBI, who has a personal vendetta against me, is on the wrong side of the very law she’s supposed to be upholding.

That is, if she’s really working with Sergey.

And Emilia… my beautiful, reckless, infuriating Emilia is stuck right in the middle, making herself the perfect target for a woman who’s been lying to her for years.

My jaw clenches as a gnawing concern grows in my gut.

Fuck, I have my own battles to fight. It pisses me off that I have to worry about her on top of everything else.

But the alternative—letting something happen to her—isn’t an option. It’s never been an option.

“Get Emilia here,” I tell Enzo, who does a double take. “I don’t care if you have to kidnap her, drug her, or carry her here kicking and screaming. Just get her here .”

I’m done playing this cat-and-mouse game with her.