Page 60 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

Bryce

My phone vibrates on my desk. I take a quick break from reviewing a motion I need to file, in case it’s Fiona needing something.

She says she doesn’t want to bother me during the day, but I love it when she texts me with food she’s craving.

She’s gotten over chocolate, but now she can’t get enough of Korean glass noodles.

Apparently, a friend of Lareina’s fed her some and now she’s obsessed.

–Unknown: I deserve more than one. I should get three. I’m your uncle, damn it.

I frown at the message. Harvey . It’s been two weeks since we spoke, and I thought he wasn’t going to bother.

Still… What does he mean three ? He doesn’t explain further, probably to avoid implicating himself. He trusts me as much as I trust him. I don’t ask for clarification, since I don’t want anything to come back to haunt me later.

However, Harvey knows if I don’t see how he “earned” it, I won’t give him anything. I Google Jude’s name to see what pops up. Several articles, all of them less than an hour old.

I click on the top one, skimming. Two males.

Out on bail after allegedly kidnapping and attempting to rape a local woman.

Apparently were drunk and got into a bar fight the night before.

Likely beaten to death by somebody holding a grudge, because the bodies were bruised and mutilated.

Discovered by a YouTuber who put it on his channel.

I pull up YouTube. The guy is breathlessly recounting the condition of the bodies, his face pale. “Genital mutilation. Holy shit. Their mouths held the missing dicks. Guys, I almost threw up,” he says wild-eyed, sweat beads under his nose.

I turn off the video and drop the phone on the desk with a soft sigh.

I honestly don’t know what I expected when I asked Harvey to “earn it.” But I wanted Jude and Aaron punished for all that they’d done, and the state of California would only have meted out justice for the kidnapping and attempted rape…

and even that would have been plea-bargained down.

I was never going to get the kind of justice I wanted, where all their crimes were listed for the world to see, so that everyone could condemn and spit on those two pathetic excuses for men.

Is this heaviness in my heart remorse? No. I’m not sorry they’re dead. Just frustrated that the legal system’s justice will always be incomplete.

When a couple of detectives drop by to ask about my whereabouts last night, I tell them I was home, with my pregnant wife, to help her get over the trauma, and I’d be more than happy to provide security footage of my being inside with her the entire night.

They have nothing. Harvey’s annoying as hell, but his men do good work, which is why he’s been able to expand into the U.S. despite the criminal organizations already established here.

I have a special courier deliver three sonograms in an envelope for Harvey.

–Me: I’m sending you the last three sonograms. You’re staying at the Aylster, right? I’ll leave them with reception.

–Unknown: I’ll have them picked up tonight

–Me: Enjoy them. Quid pro quo.

I block the number. He’ll understand the subtext: stay the hell away.