There had been exactly two people that had survived shit, witnessed shit, and tried to pin him. They’d both disappeared. From protection. And this wasn’t a semi-retired cop guarding a cheap motel room. These were Feds. DEA. Agencies that should’ve been able to keep a civilian safe long enough to testify.
They hadn’t.
Which meant Kitsch’s reach went all the way into the institution—which wouldn’t be surprising considering how crooked law enforcement was underneath it all—or he was just that fucking dangerous. Could be a mix of both.
“Someone knows that she’s not gonna be safe with uniforms or undercovers,” Keltan continued. “No matter what. And that someone knows that we’re not gonna leak, we’re not connected, and we’re the best.”
All true.
But if Kitsch knew they were caught up in this shit, then they were up against it. Kitsch would figure out the connection. Eventually. Through the process of elimination more than anything else. He’d go looking for her through friends in law enforcement, he wouldn’t find her. Men like him were smart enough to know not many outfits could make actresses disappear, and he’d eventually figure out Greenstone was involved. They were the best. He would use everything he could to get them. To draw blood. To get what he needed. No one was off limits. Women. Children. Fuck.
Every man in this room had something precious to lose. Something that they’d already almost lost.
Keltan would not have taken the job if there wasn’t more. He wouldn’t endanger his wife or his kids. Not for a second. He looked carefully toward Heath. “Wire’s found connections to Fernandez. Kitsch had a business relationship before we took him down.”
Another swift intake of breath. Heath went still.
Rosie muttered a slew of curse words that would’ve impressed truckers and sailors alike.
Fernandez was the man responsible for Polly’s kidnapping…and more. It had been one of the biggest blows to them all. Polly had somehow stayed human, stayed bright after inconceivably dark shit.
Not dark like midnight. Dark like a fucking abyss leading straight to hell.
Duke still had nightmares about the vision of her being chained in the back of that truck. Walking around for months with no light, no life in her. She’d managed to get herself out of it. Get fucking Heath out of it. Didn’t mean those marks weren’t still there.
More proof that these women were stronger than all the men in this room put together.
“Goes without saying, we get this fucker behind bars, we get a piece of justice for ourselves in addition to sparing others from his shit,” Keltan continued. “She’s on her way up now. But I’m not gonna take this job unless each of you is solid on this.”
“She’s a woman in need,” Luke said immediately, glancing to his wife. “She’s most likely gonna die an ugly death if we don’t take this.”
Keltan nodded. “Odds are high.”
No one at the table hesitated.
I was not someone easily intimidated. It had taken training, obviously. But life had given me enough shit that I’d learned that being intimidated was the same as being afraid, and being afraid was weak.
I was both intimidated and afraid sitting at this table.
Of course I wasn’t showing it. My expression was carefully crafted into that “I’m better than all of you” expression I’d mastered over the years. It was born out of the need to survive by lying to myself. In truth, I was the worst of the lot. Born into trash and dirt. It hid somewhere underneath expensive body creams, a fake tan, and perfume.
“Ms. Edwards, you understand the gravity of the situation you’re in?” Keltan asked me after we’d all sat down. He hadn’t introduced me to anyone, something I was used to being as famous as I was. But I didn’t think this was about fame. This was about infamy. I’d worked with many of the men at this table. I’d been a total fucking bitch to each of them. I hadn’t wanted to. No matter what people thought, I didn’t want to be thought of in this way. Not by men who had shown to be nothing but decent. A lot of decent men would’ve walked out on me, and I wouldn’t have blamed them. But the Greenstone men had a reputation for keeping their word.
So they’d worked with me. I’d paid them handsomely. But it wasn’t about the money. It was the respect I’d failed to show them because I was utterly fucked up.
I purposefully looked only at Keltan and not the rest of the table. Specifically not the muscled, blond-haired, blue-eyed Nordic god that hated me.
“I think I’m aware that witnessing a murder is somewhat serious,” I said dryly.
The man did well to hide his own loathing for me. He clung to the professional mask well, they all did, except the beautiful woman staring at me. To most other men, her look might’ve been seen as mild. But her eyes were narrowed in a way only women could recognize. In a “I know your game, and I’ll rip your hair out if you try and fuck with me” way. She scared the heck out of me. I also loved her leather jacket. I didn’t think there would be an opening for me to ask her where she got it from.