“Bran and Hunt came back with intel. Poppy’s credit card receipts show purchases of flowers, underwear, a luxury handbag, and a five-figure sum spent at this jewelry store.” Her finger points to a name that immediately invokes visions of pale blue boxes and white ribbons. I have to consciously resist the urge to pick up the phone and order something sparkly for the girl upstairs. She doesn’t need it, nor do I think she’d welcome it. I force myself to concentrate on Kailler’s summary.
“Do we have an ID of the recipient of these gifts?” He obviously had a woman and based on where he died, we’re all assuming it’s a Vieth orphan—which one is the question.
“Not yet.” Kailler frowns. “His apartment doesn’t have any signs of cohabitation. One toothbrush in the bathroom, no clothes other than his own. His fridge was mostly empty but for juice, some beer, and bottled water.”
“Poppy the type to drink bottled water?” I ask.
Kailler nods. “Yeah, he didn’t trust the tap water. Even brushed his teeth with filtered water so it’s not likely that was a sign of someone else in his place.”
“If he didn’t bring her to his place then he was staying at hers.”
“Right. Hunter is trying to hack into Poppy’s phone, and once he’s in, we can download his GPS history.”
There’s a knock on the door and then Bran peeks his square head inside the office. “Mallard is here.”
“Show him in.”
“Wait—” Pole appears. “Ashford wants to see you. Like ASAP.”
A frown crinkles my forehead. “Ashford? What the hell does he want?”
“Don’t know.” Pole shrugs.
Ashford runs drugs and guns in a territory to the west that runs parallel to mine. We’ve had skirmishes over the years but no actual deaths in the recent past. If there are fights, it generally stops with broken bones because death means war, and no one has wanted to take us in a battle since we avenged Jason’s death ten years ago. I haven’t had a real casualty, which is why Poppy’s death has us all on edge. We’ve enjoyed a measure of peace, and no one wants to go back to the days when it was more common for me to come to the office and see a body on the desk than a piece of paper.
“Unless Poppy was seeing one of Ashford’s crew, there’s no reason for him to be here,” Kailler murmurs.
“And the likelihood of that?” It’s not like I keep track of the sex lives of my people. As long as it doesn’t interfere with their work or their loyalty to the family then they are free to do whatever the hell they want.
“Very low,” Kailler replies.
“All right. I’ll see Ashford first and then Mallard. Get Mallard some lunch and make sure you send a food cart up to the tower.”
“Should I question the girl about Ashford or Poppy?”
“No. I’ll do it later.”
Kailler looks disappointed. Her eyes drop to my neck where Cora bit me. She left a mark behind for anyone to see. I fight myself to not reach up and touch it right now. I’d gotten hard all over again when I saw it in the mirror while changing my clothes. I didn't want anyone to see the wet spot on my thigh. Not because I was embarrassed by it but because it was mine alone. I was the one who got her off. Every drop of her orgasm belonged to me and no one else.
Kailler’s probably concerned that I’m putting myself into danger again, and while I know I should stay away, I can’t. It would be easier to gouge my eyes out or cut off my arm than to stay away from Cora. Even if my second is unhappy, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she fetches Ashford, returning with the fifty-year-old man a minute later. Ashford was Jason’s contemporary. He likes to claim they grew up as petty thieves in the same gang, but Jason had always denied this. Either way, Ashford is a reminder that this business favors the young. People of a certain age either accumulate too much power, don’t know how to manage it, or gather weapons to protect that power that are eventually used against them.
“My boy,” Ashford proclaims as he enters the office. His arms are spread wide and welcoming. I make no move to budge from behind my desk, and eventually Ashford gets tired of waiting for a response. His hands fall to his side, and his smile is replaced by an indignant frown. “No welcome for me?” he chastises. “We’re not enemies.”
We aren’t friends either. “What do you want, Ashford? I’ve got a lot of things on my plate.”
“I know.” He rubs his hands together and takes a seat in front of me. “I hear you have Karin Vieth’s daughter locked up in your tower room, and I’m here to take her off your hands.” He raises a palm. “No need to thank me. I’m doing it to prevent a civil war between you and Vieth. Inevitably someone will die, and I don’t want that someone to be me caught in the crossfire.” How does he even know about Vieth’s daughter if she’s been kept a secret? Someone is out there spreading the word, it seems.