Page 109 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

CALEB

C ock-blocked by a seven-year-old.

Not that I blame my niece. When Joha overdosed, Nala had been with her.

She sat next to her mother’s dead body for an entire day until I came to check on them.

She’s been seeing a therapist, and she’s making real progress, but that kind of trauma leaves a lasting impact.

Once or twice a month, Nala will wake up in the middle of the night, sobbing her heart out, and there’s not a damn thing any of us can do except hold her and be there for her.

I called my mother when I woke up this morning. Nala’s up, chattering about everything under the sun, demanding her favorite sugary cereal for breakfast.

And yes, I’m a selfish bastard, because the instant I knew that Nala was suffering no ill-effects from her nightmare, my thoughts returned to Kiera. Is it wrong that I’m hoping that she’ll want to pick up where we left off last night?

She spent the night; I didn’t really expect her to. When I turned into my driveway at four in the morning, I’d been bracing myself for the possibility of finding her gone. Then I saw her car, and a powerful surge of relief had run through me.

There’s a voice in the back of my head asking if this is wise. For the moment, I’m ignoring it. I’ve been listening to that voice for more than six months. Maybe Nolan is right; maybe I’m being too cautious about Kiera.

Nolan pours himself a second cup of coffee. “I feel like hell,” he grumbles. “I used to be able to pull all-nighters in college. Once, I did two of them in a row.”

“Last-minute paper?”

“Something like that. Let’s talk about Dratch. I need to find him, Caleb. He’s Martinez’s former IT guy, one of the few people who can identify him. Dratch is the key to this puzzle; I can feel it. Can you put a team on it?”

Luis Fernando Martinez is scum. Arms dealing, human trafficking, he’s involved in it all. Martinez has never met suffering he doesn’t want to profit off. The only thing he won’t touch is drugs, and that’s not from any sense of virtue; he’s smart enough not to interfere with the cartels.

Nolan’s been chasing him for three years, but every time he thinks he has a lead, it evaporates. Greg Dratch is his best lead in months.

“I’ll get my best people on it,” I promise him, opening my laptop and pulling up the photo Nolan shared with me. “Megan Matuki is a genius. Everyone leaves a footprint, Nolan. Even Dratch. We’ll find him.”

I get a coffee refill as I dial Megan. It’s Saturday morning, but my best analyst always has her phone with her. Sure enough, she picks up on the second ring. “What can I do for you, Caleb?”

“I’m sending you a photo.” I hit send , and head outside.

It rained at dawn, but the sun’s out now, and it’s shaping up to be a glorious day.

I want to savor it. Soon enough, it’ll be fall and I’ll be grumbling about the upcoming winter.

“The man’s name is Gregory Dratch. Most recently, he worked for Luis Fernando Martinez.

Before Martinez, he bounced around a lot.

He’s worked for the Croatians, the Colombians, the Italians, and the Russians. ”

“Got it. What do you want me to do?”

“Find him. To the best of my knowledge, he’s in the North-East corridor. Start with DC, New York, Philly, and Boston. Oh, also Jersey.”

“You’ve just listed off four of the top twenty-five cities by population in the United States.”

“I don’t pay you the big bucks for easy, Megan. He’ll be using an alias.”

Just then, Kiera comes down the staircase, and I swear to God, the world seems to go still.

Fuck me, I have it bad for her.

She smiles at me and makes her way toward the backyard. “It’s urgent, Megan,” I say into the phone, finishing my conversation. “Pull in as many resources as you need. If people grumble, tell them to talk to me.”

“Yes, boss.”

Kiera crosses the living room, and her gaze happens to fall on the open laptop. I’m about to berate myself for the security breach—I should have shut it down, it’s not like me to be so careless—and then I catch her reaction.

Kiera freezes. Her eyes widen, and her face goes white.

“I’ll call you back for updates,” I say and hang up. She’s reacting to Dratch’s photo. She obviously knows him. How, when, where? A thousand thoughts batter my brain.

Nolan catches it too. He inhales sharply. “Well, well,” he says. “That’s interesting.”

It’s not fucking interesting, Nolan. Not at all.

Dratch is bad news all the way. Nolan hit the highlights of his resume this morning, and in a sick, twisted way, it’s impressive.

Eight years ago, he embezzled some money from the Kitai Bratva, but he faked his own death and fled San Diego.

It’s a miracle he’s even alive, but the guy seems to be coated with Teflon.

How does Kiera know him?

Her phone rings. She answers it, and her shoulders stiffen. I’m good at reading body language, though I don’t have to be an expert to know that this phone call is trouble.

She hangs up, and moves again, not looking at the laptop. She slides open the porch door and steps into the backyard, a fixed smile on her face. “Hey.”

I have a split second to decide how to play the situation. I return her smile. “Coffee? Breakfast?”

“I can't,” she says, feigning regret. She doesn’t meet my eyes. Her mask is back in place. I’m not getting Kiera's real smile now; I’m getting the tight-lipped, working-for-tips-forced-to-tolerate-you smile that she gives her least-favorite customers at the club.

I’ve been downgraded, and boy, does it sting.

“I can’t stay,” she continues. “I just got a call. I have to go into work. Thank you for last night.”

Before I can ask if there is going to be a repeat, she gives me another of her forced smiles. “I’ll see you at the club.”

Message received. Loud and clear.

There’s nothing I can do about it, because to refuse to accept her decision is the first step on a slippery slope that leads to me becoming Brett Fisher, just another creepy guy who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

Fuck.

But this isn’t about me. I might not be able to pursue her, but I’m still going to figure out what's going on. How she's connected to Dratch.

I walk her to the front door. When she’s gone, I turn to Nolan. “That reaction was out of place.”

He nods soberly. “I think it’s time to do a background check, Caleb.”

My phone rings. It’s Xavier. Wonderful. The cherry on this shit-sundae of a morning. I put the conversation on speaker. If I’m about to get chewed out for asking Kiera out, then Nolan might as well shoulder part of the blame. “I thought you were in Belgium.”

“I got back last night,” he replies. “I reviewed the security footage from my office.”

Nolan rolls his eyes. “You need to get a life, buddy. Did someone ever tell you that? Also, since when do you have cameras in your office?”

“I have cameras everywhere,” Xavier says crisply. “But only I have access to the feeds from my office. Did Kiera spend the night with either of you?”

“We didn’t sleep together, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He’s relentless. “But you would have, had the opportunity presented itself?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m about to give the two of you a lecture, so listen up. If you review your membership contract, you will realize, that according to section ten-point-five, it is not strictly against the rules to engage in sexual contact with a Club M staff member.”

“That’s in the rulebook?” Nolan quips. “It must make riveting reading.”

“Color me unamused,” Xavier snaps. “As I was saying, while it is not specifically against the rules for Kiera to sleep with either or both of you, it is absolutely against the rules for you to pressure her in any way. Don’t play with shades of gray here, because if you do, I will come down on your ass so fucking hard you won’t know what hit you.

I have standards to uphold, Caleb. I don’t care that we’ve been friends since college.

In fact, it’s just going to make me tougher on you, because my employees cannot ever believe that my friends can get away with breaking the rules. ”

I take a deep breath before I say anything I’ll regret. “I understand. Kiera has left my house. Any subsequent move is going to have to come from her.”

“Yes, I know she’s left. I called her. I’m going to give her the same lecture in an hour.”

I grip my coffee cup so hard my knuckles go white. “Xavier, if she's in trouble because of last night, then I’m going to lose my shit.”

“She’s not in trouble,” Xavier says bitingly. “If anything, you are.”

Nolan holds up his phone. There’s a picture of Dratch on the screen. “Stop your pissing match, you two. There are more important things at stake.”

“What are you talking about?” Xavier asks.

Good thinking. Xavier is paranoid about security—he has cameras in his own office, for fuck’s sake—and he would have done a background check on Kiera when he hired her.

I fill Xavier in on the situation. Luis Fernando Martinez, Gregory Dratch, and finally, Kiera’s reaction.

“Kiera definitely recognized Dratch. She might be mixed up in something, and I need to know what that is. I’m going to have my people run a background check, but if you want to help, you can turn over your files to me. ”

There’s silence on the other end. I wait while Xavier thinks through the situation. “Okay,” he says finally. “I’ll email you her file. Only,” he adds, “Because I know that you're more than capable of finding everything out yourself.”

“Give me a high-level overview.”

“She’s in witness protection,” Xavier replies.

“Eight years ago, Kiera saw Vladimir Sirkovich, the head of the Kitai Bratva, shoot two people in the head. She testified against him. Sirkovich got life with no possibility of parole. She changed her last name, got a nose job, dyed her hair pink, and moved away from San Diego.”

Wow. “How do you know all this? Even I would have had a difficult time accessing that information.”

“The cop in charge of her case talked. Let's just say that he has a rather flexible moral compass. He won’t take money from the Mafia, but he has no qualms taking money from everyone else.”

“Reassuring.”

“There’s more.”

Something in Xavier’s voice gives me pause. “What is it?”

“They really wanted to put Sirkovich away,” he says. “Kiera was their star witness. But she wasn’t in that bar that night by chance. She went in there to look for her sister, Bianca. At that time, Bianca was fifteen.”

My mouth goes dry.

“She was also,” Xavier continues grimly, “Gregory Dratch’s girlfriend.”

Nolan’s eyes narrow.

“Armstrong told me that both Dratch and Bianca had died in a fire,” Xavier finishes. “That’s the only reason Kiera testified. You don't go up against the mob if you have loved ones you want to keep alive.”

My world comes to a stop. “The cop lied to Kiera. Dratch isn’t dead.”

Not just Dratch. There’s an above-average chance that Kiera’s sister is still alive.