Page 87 of Bitter Lies

“I need you to look into something for me.”

“I’m listening.”

I tell him about what I learned about the Del Markov Bratva and how I suspect Rico got mixed up with them, through Cort.

“According to Alma, Cort Theiss visited Rico regularly. He was here the night shit hit the fan. I don’t like where this may be heading. Those video surveillance tapes needed to be analyzed yesterday.”

I take a deep breath and go for it, sliding the edge of the opener into the envelope and letting it rip. While I’m doing that, I remember one more thing.

“And I need you to look into a shipment coming in that Trent wants me on. I’ll send you more information soon, but Trent’s either trying to distract me and his son from something bigger or…”

I trail off as I unfold the pages.

The header grabs my attention—and for a second, I’m not sure I’m reading it right.

“Or what?” Darius finally asks after I stay silent for longer than normal. “You’ve found something.”

“Maybe. I’ll call you back. When do you land?” I stare at the document, refusing to share more until I know it’s authentic.

“We haven’t taken off yet. The weather is keeping us grounded. It could be morning before we’re cleared. Which isn’t helping King Antonio’s mood.” A sharp click echoes in the background, like a door shutting in another room. “Don’t you dare hold back now. What did you find?”

“I’m not sure. I need confirmation. As soon as I know, I’ll let you know.” I turn the page and lean back, the chair creaking, as doubt creeps in, challenging the validity of the words I’m reading. “Queen Larkin’s an art expert, correct?”

“She has an eye for it, yes. She’s an architect. One of the best. Art was her first love. Why?” Darius waits for me to respond.

When I don’t, he tries again. “Aiden, why?”

“I might need her eyes. That’s all. I know zilch about art.” Setting it aside for later, I close the folder. “I’ve gotta go. Lane will be here in five, and I have a shit ton to do before then. Text me when you land. I should know more by then.”

“I trust you, Aiden. If anyone can figure out what the hell is going on, it’s you. You just do your job and let me worry about how to manage the other details. Find out what Trent is so determined to keep hidden. He’s our target. That’s where I want your focus. Let me put someone⁠—”

“No. I can do both. I’m not letting anyone else in to screw this up. Lane, Pauly, Teddy, and I are the only ones I trust not to fuck up.” I tap my pen lightly on the desk, then retrieve the second packet of folded papers from the envelope, and the words spill out automatically. “Fuck. Me.”

“What?”

“I’ll call you back.” Before he stops me, I hang up.

I’m taken aback by what I’m reading. How the hell has no one uncovered this?

This is a game-changer.

A jarring buzz jolts my phone on the desk, the incoming text message shattering my concentration.

ISABEL:

You didn’t tell me your friend Teddy was hot.

ME:

He’s not.

And a notorious flirt.

He’s too old for you.

He’s only two years older than you. Maybe you’re too old for me.

I am, but it’s too late to go back. Now you’re stuck with me.