Page 156 of Boardroom Ties
“You know what this means. He’s on the move. Today. Whatever you’ve got cooked up for tomorrow, scrap it. You don’t have that long.”
I close my eyes for one second and picture her.He doesn’t get to touch you. Not now. Not ever again.I made her that promise barely a week ago.
I am going to be very, very angry if I have to break it.
I open my eyes. “Plan A is dead,” I announce.
“So what’s B?” asks Jillian.
“B’s dead, too. So’s C, D, E, the rest of the fuckers. We’re on Plan Z now.”
She winces. “Dare I ask what Z implies?”
“Z is shoot first and ask questions later.” I’m already moving. My coat is on the stool by the door; I yank it down and shove my arms in. The Glock is at the small of my back where it hasbeen since I left the hospital yesterday, and when I check the magazine, I see that it’s full and ready. The sonogram, folded along its old creases, sits against my ribs. “I’m getting in a car right now and driving to the detention center. Kir, tell Yasha to do whatever the fuck he needs to do to give me a way in.”
“Hold up one sec,” she protests. “Let’s just think this through and?—”
“Did you not fucking hear him?” I roar, whirling around on her. “DeMaris is going for her! We don’t have time to think anymore, goddammit! I willnotstand by while one more man touches a woman who’s been through the shit that she has been through. No. No fucking more. Not one fingertip on her. I made her that vow, and I have every intention of keeping it.”
Jillian is not one to show fear, but even she has shrunk back in her chair a bit at my outburst.
I soften. “You’ve been a saint to me and to Cass, Jill. I won’t forget that. What I need you to do now is get eyeballs on this. The more, the better. ProPublica, CNN, the Times, whoever. I wouldn’t be mad if you took out a goddamn billboard in Times Square. But you start sending emails as fast as you can, so everyone in the world knows who DeMaris is and what he’s done. Am I clear?”
She hesitates. “But if we’re wrong, or if he’s outmaneuvered us somehow, then?—”
I shake my head to stop her. “Then the heat falls on me. I’ll bear the burden. I’ll pay the price. If DeMaris wants to crucify me, he’s welcome to try. But until that happens… I’m coming for his motherfucking throat.”
It’s only when I hear a heavy sigh that I realize Kir is still on the phone.
“You hear all that?” I ask him.
“Unfortunately,” he replies. “You’ve been waiting your whole life to be a damn martyr. I’m glad you’re finally getting your chance.”
“Go fuck yourself,” I fire back, though I say it with love.
Kir has been my brother-in-arms for a long time now. If I lose today, I may never see him again. So much hangs in the balance.
“There is one more thing,” I say. “If I don’t make it out of that building, you finish this for me. Cass and Afon are the only ones that matter anymore. My life isn’t so important.”
A long beat of silence. I can hear Kir breathing on the other end.
“We’ll do it,” he promises quietly. “I’ll make sure of that. But you don’t get to die today, brother. Not when she’s been waiting for you.”
“Don’t worry; I don’t want to die, either. I’m way too fucking handsome to kick the bucket this young.”
I hang up before he can get a retort in.
Call ended, I jam the phone in my pocket and charge for the door as the route takes shape in my head. It’s forty minutes in light traffic, twenty-five if I drive like I intend to.
I’m in the foyer when I hear Afon’s loafers behind me.
“You stay here,” I say without turning around. I yank the door open, and February air surges in, wet and miserable. “Help Jillian work the phones.”
“You may think you’re a hero right now, nephew, but I’ll be cold and dead before I take orders from you.”
I turn around in time to see him flipping up his collar against the cold and stubbing out the last quarter inch of his cigarette into a piece of decorative pottery on the side table.
“No,” I object, “I’m not dragging you into this. You’re free of your debt either way. There’s no point in you risking your?—”
