Chapter 25

TWENTY-FIVE

Jamie checked once more that the rental was locked, then left it parked behind Matt and Rick's cruiser at the mouth of the alley they'd turned into a few streets over from GTK. Like that access street, the alley they were in was lower-level too, and as Jamie followed their group further into it, the already narrow street narrowed further. Only wide enough for foot traffic and barely wide enough for Jamie's shoulders at that. They descended a short, metal flight of stairs, and twenty or so feet ahead, old-fashioned, flame-lit porch lamps flickered on either side of a door, a wooden sign that read Remedy hanging overhead. But instead of continuing to that door, they entered through a closer one in the recessed stone wall, Matt punching in a code on the door's digital keypad to gain access.

As Jamie pushed closed the heavy metal door, Aidan glanced back over his shoulder, curiosity swirling in his brown eyes. Matty Kim had some beans to spill, but that interrogation would have to wait for a time when they weren't in the company of a rogue wannabe mobster .

"Hey, you can't be?—"

Willowy was the first word that came to Jamie's mind about the man who'd appeared at the end of the hallway ahead of them. Tall, leanly muscled, with long hair that flowed in rock star waves over his shoulders. As Matt stepped closer to the stranger, brother was the second word that came to Jamie's mind. At first glance, they couldn't look more different—Matt in a suit and tie, his black hair neat, his sidearm his only accessory; the stranger in torn jeans and a tank, his hair black at the roots then dyed blond to the ends, his fingers loaded with chunky rings and his wrists adorned with dozens of bracelets—but the arch of their noses, their thinner upper lips over fuller bottom ones, the stubborn jut of their chins were exactly the same.

"Can we use the back room?" Matt asked. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an emergency." He shifted enough for his brother to see the beat-up and bruised man in the middle of their group.

His brother grimaced. "First aid kit's in the bathroom. Clean up on your way out, otherwise Ryan'll shit." He didn't wait for a reply. Just turned and vanished around the corner, a door closing and locking in his wake.

A deep breath later, Matt opened the door to their right and led them into a surprisingly large hangout space with a piano in one corner, a table and chairs in the other, various other instruments on stands, and a large U-shaped sectional that took up most of the room. Matt disappeared into the attached bathroom while Rick propped Pudge against the edge of the table.

Jamie stepped in front of him. "You want me to fix that arm?" As a former player and FBI agent, it wouldn't be his first time popping one back into joint; as a coach, he'd watched the trainers do it more than a few times.

"Fucking hell," Pudge gritted out, then nodded anyway.

Jamie didn't give him a chance to second-guess his decision. Grabbing the wrist of his injured arm, Jamie lifted it and yanked it forward while Rick held Pudge in place by the other shoulder.

"Fucking hell!" he shouted decibels louder, and Matt came running out of the bathroom.

"Keep him quiet!"

"It's over," Jamie said as he helped Pudge out of his jacket now that he'd regained some mobility. "That should be the worst of it." He fashioned a sling out of the jacket, then worked with Matt and Rick to clean up their suspect.

"You really have no idea what's going on?" Aidan asked.

Pudge's blue eyes bounced around the gathered group before landing back on Aidan. "I don't know what I can say here without incriminating myself."

"Five minutes free," Matt said. He stepped over to the piano, lifted the lid, and removed a timer. The way he said it, the way he knew exactly where that timer was, gave Jamie the distinct impression it wasn't Matt's first time at his ruse. Or in this room. He cranked the timer, then set the device on the table beside Pudge. "Clock's ticking."

"Who did you get a call from?" Aidan asked.

"A guard at County who keeps us updated. Told me the job was done."

"What job?" Berat said.

"That's what I'm telling you, I don't know. Then Russo comes over at the gala and tells me to go with his men. That I need a reminder of who's in charge. "

"Do you know Darien White?" Matt asked.

"Yeah." He took a sip from the bottle of water Rick offered, wincing as it hit his split lip. "That fucking meth head owes me fifty grand. His—" He cut himself off, hesitating.

Aidan cut a glance at the timer. "Three more minutes."

"His envelopes are always light. I figure he's skimming product for himself."

"That's not all he was skimming," Berat said. "He had an attic full of stolen electronics."

Patrick set aside the bottle and lowered his chin. "Shit."

"You didn't know?"

"No, I missed it." He dragged his good hand through his hair. "I've been so busy trying to juggle my parents and Lara's parents and keep them all from finding out she's pregnant before we can get married. Irish Catholics, Italian Catholics—they'll lose their fucking minds."

"I'm sure they can do the math," Jamie said. "Eventually."

"We'll be married by then." His blue eyes hardened. "They can all fuck off."

"So you don't know about the diamonds?" Aidan said.

Pudge's gaze whipped to him. "What fucking diamonds?"

"The multimillion dollars' worth that Darien White said he stole on your orders."

He shot off the table. "I will fucking murder that junkie myself."

"Too late. Your man inside already did that."

"Holy fuck." He wavered on his feet, and if not for Rick grabbing him by the good arm and lowering him into the closest chair, Jamie was sure he would've hit the deck. " Someone's not a fan, Pudge," Rick said, claiming the chair beside him. "And they're setting you up to take the fall. Got any guesses who?"

He didn't have to think about his response. "Michael Martino," he answered instantly.

Jamie's gaze connected with Aidan's across the table. Now they were getting somewhere, everything leading back to Martino.

"Why's that?" Rick asked, continuing to play the good cop. "Why Martino?"

Pudge glanced at the clock again.

"Forty-five seconds," Matt said.

"And it better be good," Aidan pressed. "Because White said he was delivering those diamonds to Michael's dead brother for you. I don't know that I buy you two aren't working together."

"Okay, listen," Pudge said, spreading his scraped and swollen hand on the table. "After you guys popped Michael's brother, Russo didn't want anything to do with them. Neither did Lara."

"Who was she to Michael?" Berat asked.

"They were engaged."

"And now you two are together."

Pudge nodded. "As for the business, Arty and Michael had their own connections. Some of the business splintered and went Michael's way."

Matt stepped closer. "Like the jewelry theft business?"

"That, high-end financial stuff, cybercrimes. The stuff Russo wanted out of. Big bucks, sure, but a lot of attention if it goes sideways."

"Any idea what Martino's playing at now?" Aidan asked .

"Revenge," Pudge offered. "Set me and Russo up so he can take the rest of the business too."

"And get his girl back."

The buzzer sounded, but not as loudly as Pudge's conviction, his gaze hardening once more. "That's never gonna happen."

"Then tell us where Martino might be."

"There a hockey game in town?"

"Tomorrow night," Berat said.

"He'll be there."

Jamie flashed Aidan a grin. "Guess you're going back to that arena after all."