When Ian and I arrived at the door to my suite, I turned to him. “Ian, I’d like to move some of my things to the third floor. I believe I’ll spend some time upstairs.” Something else occurred to me. “I will also need someone to help me with the handle and lock on the third-floor suite. Can you help me?”
Rett
The pressure I applied to my teeth endangered their survival, threatening to splinter each one as I watched Emma walk away. No one spoke as she led Ian through the outer office. If I pushed a few keys on the keyboard, I could watch longer, seeing the way Emma kept her head high, her voice measured. She was a fucking queen. It didn’t take marrying me to prove that. After all, she too had the ancestry to prove her regal heritage.
“Fuck,” I grumbled under my breath.
“Boss, if you call Michelson or Clark, what are you going to say? Word isn’t out on the judge’s death. No one knows the certificate is gone.”
I had an idea. “Who is Judge McBride’s assistant, the one he emailed the picture of the certificate to?”
Leon pulled out his phone. “I have her name.”
“Good. I’ll have Clark check on the filing. As my personal attorney, when the certificate is not where it should be, he can call McBride’s assistant. Everyone present in the front office last night saw McBride email the photo. It makes sense that we’d follow up on the filing.” I slapped the surface of my desk. “Fuck, this wasn’t an accident.”
Leon nodded. “Yeah, that’s Noel’s thought too, but whoever did it was good. The search warrant should come through any minute. Forensics has already gone over the vehicle and McBride’s belongings in the car with no significant findings. Soon, they’ll be looking through his house. Right now, it appears he was just an old man who started his car and forgot to open the garage door.”
“I don’t buy it. Someone wanted the marriage certificate to not be filed.” Someone besides Emma. I didn’t say the last part, but I felt it.
Leon nodded. “Your plan works. I can call Clark if you want.” Before I answered, Leon tilted his head toward the closed bookcase and passage. “Sorry if I interrupted something.”
Closing my eyes, I exhaled. “I fucked up.” It wasn’t an admission I made lightly, and I’d only make it to certain people. Maybe it was because Leon had been honest with me about something personal earlier in the day, I now felt free to do the same. “She’s upset.”
“But she’ll sign again, right?”
I stared at the monitor another few seconds, seeing the empty hallways as the lingering scent of sex and lust clung to my skin. Emma said she regretted marrying me. It hadn’t been even twenty-four hours. Her simple answer ofyesrang in my head, the disappointment in her fucking eyes as well as her damn defiance at every turn.
How fucking hard was it for her to go clean herself?
Emma pushed me at every damn turn.
“Boss?”
I turned my attention back to Leon. “Yes, she’ll sign.”
“Good. Since I’m here, I have news on Ingalls and Boudreau if you want to hear it.”
I lifted my hand. “Let me call Clark and get the ball rolling on the marriage certificate.”
Of course Boyd Clark took my call. I filled him in on the information that was known and that which wasn’t. Naturally, he was distraught to learn of McBride’s death. Overall, the call didn’t take long and there was nothing I said that Leon didn’t know. As I spoke, he sat back, casually waiting. Once I hung up with my personal attorney, I leaned back. “What is the update on Ingalls and Boudreau?”
Leon sat forward. “Jaxon had an idea.”
I shook my head. “Tell me he didn’t fuck up. I just installed him as—”
“No, he didn’t,” Leon interrupted. “He planted a tracker on Ingalls before sending the two men on their bayou adventure. From the information it yielded, it’s safe to say the tracker went unnoticed for long enough to give us some good info.”
Leaning back, I made the mistake of bringing my hand to my chin. The scent of Emma’s essence threatened my concentration. Quickly, I gripped the arms of my chair and moved myself forward, lifting a pen from the desk. “Talk to me.”
“Hit the screen, boss. I can show you.”
A push of a button descended a large monitor from a hidden compartment in the ceiling. It was another of the office upgrades my forebears wouldn’t understand. My trusted men, the ones who had access to this inner office, could then project their information from their phones, be it videos, maps, or statistics, onto the screen, allowing viewing for everyone in the room.
A satellite image of greater New Orleans came on the screen.
“The capos,” Leon began, “made sure neither Boudreau nor Ingalls had phones to call for help or use for GPS. They’d already frisked them for weapons. Hell, they didn’t even have a fucking blade to cut the ropes.”
“How long did it take them to find their way out of the bayou?”