The Princess (Filthy Trilogy 2)
“Which, “Eric says, “I agree, fits with them trying to connect you to the union.”
“But what could they be doing with the union that involves the kind of cash we know they’re moving around?” I ask, looking between both men. “Is it payoffs, and moving the cash around in my name, and even Gigi’s, to make us look guilty in case the government catches on?”
“I doubt this is about the government,” Eric says. “It’s more likely about crossing someone they shouldn’t have crossed. Gigi’s not innocent. I don’t believe that for a minute.”
I set aside the argument about Gigi and hug myself with a really bad thought, and a question I don’t want to ask, but it has to be asked. “My mother,” I say, looking between Eric and Blake. “Is she innocent?”
“Your mother didn’t play a part in your attack,” Eric promises me. “I wouldn’t hide that from you.”
“Like your father didn’t have you attacked tonight?”
His jaw tenses. “My father and I are not the same as you and your mother. And Adam was there when she met with Gigi. I told you what he overheard that conversation.”
“I concur on all points,” Blake interjects.
“What about bank accounts in her name?” I ask. “Is she the next fall guy?”
“She has no bank accounts in her name alone,” Blake says. “And I’m of the opinion that she’s too close to your stepfather to become a target. He wouldn’t be insulated from the police.”
 
; “That means we stay the target,” I say. “I’m some fall guy for something with the union and maybe the mob, and we don’t even know what to stop it from happening. This is insanity.”
“We don’t have any proof that the union or the mob is involved,” Blake says. “I’m speculating.”
“But you have enough to connect the dots to the union that’s working with the mob,” I remind him. “You said that. The mob. Does anyone survive the mob if they get angry?”
“Easy, sweetheart,” Eric says. “This is all speculation.”
“You were attacked tonight, Eric. I was attacked. In two different cities. We need to speculate into facts quickly before someone ends up dead, like us.” I face Eric. “Number one,” I press. “What’s your number one thought right now, in this moment, about why you were attacked? Let the savant in you work. First thing that comes to your mind, now.”
“Isaac was scared when he came to your house to see me. Really fucking scared. The kind of scared you are when you’ve fucked over the mob. And you don’t fuck over the mob, or anyone powerful, without a plan to cover your ass.”
“We were that plan,” I say, following where he’s leading.
“Yes, but they can’t kill you now,” he says. “Not when I’m protecting you. My father didn’t come here to kill you. He knows that emotional stress used to set off the savant in me, and become debilitating. I think he came here to trigger me which used to be a lot easier. If he made me breakdown, and need intervention, I’m an easy mark to blame for all their sins. Hell, he might have even hoped I’d kill the guy he sent after me.”
“And you could have,” Blake says. “He was a former cop, turned PI, with no military background. A poor match for you.”
“Exactly,” he says. “He doesn’t know that I’m not the same person I was before working with in the military. He doesn’t know he can’t set me off anymore, but I believe he was trying.”
“Okay then,” I say. “Where does that leave us? When do you actually deal with him and what he did tonight?”
"He needs to simmer,” Eric replies. “Waiting makes him nervous, and a nervous man in trouble makes nervous moves.”
“And we’re watching,” Blake says, giving me a wink. “And we’re badasses.” He lifts his chin at Eric. “Not as badass as your savant right here, but badass enough.” He eyes Eric. “Can you walk me out?”
Eric nods and kisses me. “I’ll be right back.” He starts to move away and I catch his arm.
“Can I use your phone? I need to check my messages, in case they’re helpful.”
Blake interjects, “Mia brought you a phone that I set-up for you with your regular phone number. It should be in one of the bags she delivered.”
I’m surprised and pleased. “Oh. Great. Thank you.”
“I told you,” he says, giving a wink. “I’m a badass.”
Eric’s lips curve with the exchange, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s troubled and with good reason. His father’s a bastard.