Page 70 of Holding On

“I hate to turn this into a situation room,” says Finn gravely, his voice low, gray eyes clouded and dark. I’ve seen him like this before. When he fell in love with Claire, he took us on too, and no one messes with the Russo-Colton clan. He looks like he hasn’t slept in three days.

The reason is because Nic lied to him. I know it. I can feel the distance between them, and it makes all of us uncomfortable. Jackson’s peering out a window at the sea, Bryce has his arms folded, and Mateus, the only one sitting down, also looks uncomfortable.

Finn clears his throat. “I think there’s been enough going on—and individuals trying to protect one another—that we need to put all of our cards on the table.” He directs a glare in Nic’s direction. In response, the guy shakes his head, shoves off from the desk he was leaning against, and stands, legs apart, arms folded.

Nic starts to speak, but Finn shuts him down. “We don’t need apologies now. I get it. You were approached by law enforcement and Audrey. You thought the plan had merit. You believed that their concerns about having the Russos or their loved ones involved were valid. That our involvement would corrupt any investigation and future findings.”

“Yes,” says Nic slowly, as if repeating himself once again.

“Well. The outcomes weren’t positive, and Jackson is in violation of his contract.”

Jackson’s only reaction is to start thumb twiddling.

“No, he’s not,” says Nic.

“He didn’t include the boss. I saw no reports. I don’t know what else could be more in violation.”

Jackson, usually so casual and upbeat, sits quietly, muted. Cleary, Nic told him to remain silent.

Nic’s voice is low. “Actually, you vacated your position for two years, Finn, and I ran the business, and I hired him. So technically, I’m his boss. This really isn’t adversarial. You know we have a point. You know this is important. You’re just pissed that there’s nothing you can do and you weren’t part of the investigation. Frankly, this is bigger than you. It’s bigger than the Russos. This is about nailing a corrupt judge who’s been involved in money laundering, the sex trade, and a thriving drug trade that innervates this part of New England. We’re just looking for one little piece of information we can grab him on. Unfortunately, if the Russos are involved, Barr will turn our claim at justice into a revenge story where he’s the victim—just like he did twelve years ago.”

I’ve known Nic for a year and a half, and that’s the longest speech I’ve ever heard him make.

There’s a light knock on the door, and Carlson steps in looking rumpled.

After he takes a quick inventory of who’s in the room, he wipes a hand through his hair, and says, “So everyone’s here. Great. This is how we’re playing it.”

There’s something about the fact that this is a statement instead of a question that almost makes me see red. Bryce told me once that he literally sees red when he gets really mad, really fast.

I finally have an idea of what that’s like now.

“Play? Play? You had a civilian spying on a judge and it nearly got her killed. This isn’t some game. We don’t just push chest pieces around and hope somebody wins. I’m with you, Finn. I’m fucking pissed. Nic, you guys fucked up. You made her lie to me and my sisters.”

Nic looks directly at me, his dark eyes a deep navy blue. They flash, but not with anger. “That’s not the worst of it.” He waits a beat. “You were almost lost too.”

I’m not expecting this. For a moment, I’m mute.

Carlson raises his hand. “Okay, as the evil mastermind of this plot, I got skin in the game too.” He smiles. “He’s going down.”

Nic leans forward slightly. “Did she find something?”

Carlson nods to one of the five computers against the wall. Finn directs him to the middle one, and Carlson sits down in the chair and brings up Google.

“Can I get on my email? Firewall?”

Finn’s eyes are fixed on the screen. “No, go ahead. There’s none on this one.”

Within thirty seconds, we’re all crouched around the computer screen, looking at photographs.

“The outcomes are actually pretty good. Maybe not worth the risk, but we have something,” says Carlson.

At first, I’m unclear what we’re looking at. I glance at Bryce. He gives a long, low whistle. “Is that what I think it is?”

“It’s simply a ledger with dates, no times. But there’s money—cash in, cash out—and we’ve been able to figure out four names. They’re coded, but there’s at least another dozen in there.”

Finn strokes his chin. “Anybody important? Anybody critical to any other investigation?”

“One,” he says. “But one is all we need for a search warrant.”