“If he’s waiting for you to talk, it’s better that you don’t. At least until it’s taken care of.”
“Bullets and bombs.”
“How are we supposed to take care of this, Roman? My father committed a federal crime.” He jerked his hand in front of him, waving it around in a circle. “Who the hell even are these people?”
“Ridgemont alumni.”
“Somehow that makes this so much worse.”
Sebastian may have needed time to cope with the truth the pictures painted… but not me. I’d worn my keyboard down, researching until all hours of night, staring at a computer screen until my eyes bled, and then staring at those photos until it dried against my cheeks.
Foster Lake had stumbled upon an extensive, well-run counterfeit ring. Arthur was facilitating the printing and distribution of fraudulent money. He was running it out of an old campus laundry building—one we’d all assumed was being used for overflow storage.
The faces of former Ridgemont students were etched all over the evidence. Some were as young as graduating two years ago. Other’s graduations dated back as far as twenty-two years.
Arthur had built himself an empire of corruption, and he’d staffed it with all the kids he’d taken an oath to protect.
Sebastian rubbed at the wrinkles in his forehead. “Do you think the board knows about this?”
Arm brushing the table’s edge, my fingers walked across several photos until they’d found the one they were searching for. I pinched it between my thumb and forefinger and set it in front of Sebastian.
His jaw dropped. “That’s Frank DuMont. The—”
“Board president, I know.”
Though the photos were in black and white, their faces were as clear as day, each feature a little more prominent than the one above it. Their eyes each glowed with the hint of a riddle, as if they both knew an answer the whole world had been searching for.
Foster had managed to capture the moment they shook hands, and I could almost feel the air of respect they had for each other and the grandiose way they saw themselves.
“President DuMont has been in his position for like eight years longer than my father has been headmaster. That could mean they’ve been running this thing for decades. What the hell are they doing with all that money? It’s not like the school has had any upgrades.”
“Your father is likely running this across state lines. Out of the country, for all we fucking know.”
An expert in money laundering, I was not.
I couldn’t be certain what Arthur did with the money he printed, but it didn’t fucking matter.
He’d murdered a kid…
He’d put his fucking hands on my baby bird and drew blood from his beak…
Men like him wereexactlywho I was trained to kill.
“We have to go to the police!” Sebastian’s hands shot out, gripping the edge of the table so hard it shook. “We have to go to the police, show them the photos, and tell them about Foster before my father figures out we’re onto him. He’s going to come for me, Roman.”
“He can try.”
“If that man takes even one goddamn step in your direction, I will put him flat on his trouser covered ass.”
Sebastian grinned.
“And we can’t go to the police. Not yet.”
He leapt off my lap, the blanket around his shoulders falling to heap at his bare feet. Chest collapsing, his mouth gaped as he stared at me with a fresh sheen of tears in his eyes. “You… you promised you would help me!”
“I’m going to help you, baby bird. I promise.” Wrapping my fingers around his slim hips, I tugged him between my legs and dropped a kiss to his stomach. “If your father has been doing this for decades, it’s obvious he’s smarter than we’d both like to admit. He could have police on his payroll, possibly somebody in the mayor’s office. This whole town could be funded illegally. We have to be careful about who we trust.”
Chin dropping, he pressed his forehead to the top of my head. I felt his breath across my scalp. “What do we do?”