Page 13 of Free to Judge (Amaryllis Heritage #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

The room is shrouded in smoke and shadow despite its floor-to-ceiling windows on the fortieth floor. It offers a glittering nighttime view of the city. Inside, the room is carved out of ice—the kind of cold that isn’t about the number on the thermostat.

I stand at the far end of the table wearing exactly what they expect me to—an expensive suit and a sharper expression. I don’t take my seat. Not yet. Not until I’m advised to.

Doing so before I’m told could earn me a bullet from either side of the table splitting representatives from the largest crime families in the United States.

Three men from the Italian side occupy one side of the long table. Salt-and-pepper hair. Black suits. Hands too still. They haven’t touched the espresso in front of them. The silence between them is practiced. Tense.

The Irish contingent is sprawled across the other half.

I almost did a double take when I sauntered in to find Keene’s biological father—Jack Marshall—as one of the men included on behalf of the Byrnes.

My intel didn’t let me know he’d moved up in their ranks far enough to be attending a strategy meeting of this caliber.

Instead, the bastard leans back like this is a poker night, one boot kicked up on the leg of another chair.

In the background, Sid Tiberi’s aligned with the other lower ranked officers, quiet yet watchful.

“Should I be offended no one offered me a drink?” I mock as I lay my briefcase on the table.

The Italians immediately launch in. Vito Spiori, middle-aged, sharp-nosed. “You made a decision last week regarding the Barresi seizure. The paperwork delayed funds moving out of Florence. That interruption cost us.”

“It protected you,” I return evenly. “There was a tip-off in play—quiet, but close. My contact in the Rome courts confirmed a clerical eyes-on. You were about to be exposed.”

“We could’ve handled it our way,” Vito snaps. “You stopped the transfer. You disrupted operations without clearing it through us.”

“I stopped a collapse. You’d rather have the Guardia freezing your assets in real time?”

A cold beat of silence followed.

Then, from the Irish side, Jack chuckles. “Always the savior, aren’t you, counselor?”

I don’t blink. “Saviors preach. I read the fine print.”

That draws a soft laugh out of Sid. Even Jack’s lip curls with mild amusement.

But the Italians' faces don’t change.

“Your judgment has always been… disciplined,” says the eldest Italian, a man named Bellini, his voice smooth and slow. “But lately, there’s been chatter.”

“What chatter?”

Vito reaches into a leather portfolio and slides a glossy photo across the table.

My pulse hitches. I don’t let it show.

The photo was grainy. Black and white. The courthouse. My face is fully visible. Her face turned away, likely out of embarrassment.

Kalie.

“You’ve been…preoccupied,” Bellini says, steepling his fingers. “That’s not like you.”

“I have a personal life but she doesn’t factor into it. She’s a nuisance. One I’ve taken care of. I had her arrested to teach her a lesson. It won’t touch the business.”

“Everything touches the business,” Jack says, finally sitting forward. “You know that. Hell, you taught that to Sid here when he was still slinging coke out of the shop office.”

“True story,” Sid grins.

I don’t look away from the Italians. “What are your concerns?”

“That you are giving your all to our famiglias case.”

“I am,” I say with conviction.

“Maybe,” Vito says. “Or maybe we should help you keep your mind where it’s supposed to be.”

Jack pulls the photo toward himself and examines it like a bored teenager. “She’s got good legs,” he murmurs. “Wonder what her face looks like?” He pushes it aside.

I have to force myself not to rise to his bait. If he only knew…

“We have always reported to our friends,” Bellini nods across the table in deference to the Byrnes, and Jack returns the gesture with a firm nod.

“You have our best interest at heart. It’s part of why we trust you.

But we can’t help but be concerned when you do not consult us, Declan.

We’re smart men but cautious ones. Wary, even. ”

“Especially of ones who think they can play both sides,” Vito adds, a little too loudly for my liking. His warning hangs in the air there, palpable. Tangible.

I slowly reach forward and tug the photo in my direction. “I protect this family’s interests. That doesn’t change.”

“Let’s hope not,” Bellini says. “For everyone’s sake.”

“Women,” Jack mutters with a grin, already losing interest, “put on this planet for one reason.”

Vito can’t help himself. “What is that, Jack?”

“To service us or to serve us up on a platter.”

There’s a scattering of laughter around the room, which cuts off when I snap my briefcase closed. “Is this meeting over?”

Bellini nods. “For now.”

I turn, walking out with the photograph tucked into my briefcase. I don’t let them see the burning desire to cap each and every one of them behind my calm facade.

Not yet.

Not until it is time to burn their entire world down.

After that meeting—after the veiled threats and cheap laughter by men who would be better off offering their organs to feed daisies—I don’t head home.

I drive fast. Faster than I should. As fast as I can to outrun the ghosts of my past. These same men are the ones who took out Tanya. I’m certain of it.

Instead of going home to plan my next strategy, I need to feel free so I can get the sick images out of my mind.

Kalie.

She’s in their sights.

I yank my tie loose as I try to outrun the city lights that dim as I abandon the high rises in search of something else.

Something pure. Something untainted.

Knowing they deliberately pulled a photo with Kalie’s back to the camera means they know exactly who she is. But still, they made me aware of what could happen to her if I didn’t take care of their problems myself. Is that what’s really the issue?

Then, I face my reality. No, that’s not what’s bothering me.

It’s the idea of her appearing back in my life at absolutely the worst time.

To avoid killing myself or someone else, I whip my car off the Merritt and pull into an underground garage six blocks from my condo. Not my usual spot. I switch the Ferrari I drove into the city for the Lamborghini—one registered to a dead man in Kentucky who’s been under Hudson’s guard.

I’ve taken as many precautions as I can, always have. But tonight, I almost crumbled when I saw the photo.

Fifteen minutes later, I pull up to a nondescript storage unit—one of my off-the-books safe spots. From a steel box bolted into the floor beneath a crate of rusted engine parts, I pull out a phone.

Not a real one.

A burner I only use for my handler.

I dial.

One ring.

Two.

Then Jon’s voice comes on the line. “Talk.”

“They’re piecing things together,” I say. “Not everything. Enough to make veiled threats.”

“Who?”

“The Italians. Possibly Jack. They implied that I’m deliberately bungling legal jobs. Used a photo of Kalie to try to smoke me out.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Do you think you need to walk?”

My bark of laughter is hollow. “Do you really think I can walk now and live?”

“If they know what you’re doing—”

“They don’t. Not really. But they’re circling.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Move up the timeline. Have Cal hunt the next trafficking route and go to the Feds to see if it’s enough. We prove Jack’s alive and has been using the Byrnes to cover his ass. Not to mention helping them launder side deals that the Italians don’t know about. If we split them—”

“You’ll be expected to testify.”

“I was always going to have to,” I say. “But if we do it fast, I can do my best to keep your cousin out of it. Cal’s intel is accurate. They’re looking at her, Jon. It’s the last thing I want.”

He doesn’t speak for a while as he considers everything. “You sure about their interest in her?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my goddamn life.”

Another pause. “Then it’s time to finish it. We have to bring in the family. Then we start to burn it down.”

The line clicks dead.

I bury the phone again before leaning back against the concrete wall, breathing like I just ran ten miles in dress shoes.

Kalie didn’t sign up for this but because of her own brand of family loyalty, she’s in it now.

Still, if I get a whiff, if they so much as breathe her name again, I’ll go to war for her.