Chapter 35

Lincoln

“You got a minute?” I ask as I plow through Ace’s kitchen.

Both he and Grant have their coffee cups halfway to their lips, not expecting me this early. Julep greets Kit on her leash at my side. “Sit.”

She listens and looks up for her reward. I dig into my pocket for a dime-sized cookie. “You saw the article, I’m guessing?” Ace asks, leaning against the counter.

I look at Grant, who passes me the phone. On the screen is a picture of the three of us as school-aged boys. I remember this from the 75th Anniversary of Foxx Bourbon. It was one of the biggest celebrations we’d ever seen in Fiasco at the time. The headline of the article reads: 100 years of Bourbon one of the biggest of my career to hear the approval of my older brother.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself. You’re the one who’s going to have to tell Griz that you want to put fruit in his bourbon. And I want a front-row seat to that shitshow.”

“Did someone say shitshow?” Hadley says, waltzing in.

Ace barks out a laugh. “I forgot that was your calling card.”

She hisses at him like a damn cat.

Grant and I share an amused look as Ace says, “Your maturity level never ceases to amaze me, Hadley.”

She tips her head back and looks at the ceiling, laughing to herself. “Too easy.” Then she focuses on Ace. “But I’m not here for you.” Shifting her attention to me, she says, “I stopped by your house to give you that architect’s information and Maggie was sitting on your porch. She said she needed to talk with you. Figured you’d be here.” Looking down at the bottle on the table, she raises her eyebrows, wordlessly asking how it went. She knew I was going to pitch this today.

I give her a half smile and a wink of success.

“Good. When you’re ready, I’ll take a case. I think it’s an instant kitty winner.”

Ace exhales, “Fucking hell.”

“Anyway,” Hadley says, striding out the way she came. “She’s out in the stables with Griz.”

“Thanks, Hads,” I call out.

I shift a glance at Grant, curious for his two cents. I want to ensure I’m making the right call here before I put it anything into motion. “Grant.” I nod toward the hall. “I need a second.”

His brow furrows, but he doesn’t question it. Once we have some privacy, I say, “A hypothetical for you.”

Grant crosses his arms. “Alright,” he grunts out. The grumpy bastard. “Hypothetical,” he says on an exhale.

I mimic his stance, crossing my arms. “If someone was trying to build a criminal case, but obtaining search or surveillance warrants could alert the person of interest and jeopardize it, what would you do?”

That crease between his eyebrows only deepens. “Do I want to know?—”

I shake my head.

He takes in a deep breath. “Alright, I’ll play. Following the rules is what keeps a case airtight. But I’m assuming gaining access to warrants isn’t possible because maybe a judge or higher-ups might be too close to the situation?” Ding, ding, ding. He keeps talking without my answer. “Sources and witnesses would be the best option to build out a case like that.”

That’s what Cortez had been doing. It’s what puts Maggie at the center of whatever Finch and King are up to.

I nod and grasp his shoulder as I move past. “Thanks.”

Grant calls out just as I reach the door, “If there was a public outcry.”

I turn back to listen.

He looks down for a minute weighing his words before he says, “If there was enough social media attention or if the person of interest was mentioned in the news being in anyway associated with that crime, it could push things forward. It’s hard to ignore a situation, when it’s staring you in the face. Building pressure could be an option.”

That’s what I needed to hear. I knock my fingers along the door frame and nod. “Thanks.” He gives me a tight-lipped nod and adds, “Careful here.”

I don’t add anything else even though a part of me wants to. When I make my way down to the stables, Griz and Maggie are leaning over the stall to one of the foals that was born late last autumn. I overhear Griz tell her, “Making this right is not going to bring her back. Whatever you’re doing, it needs to stop before someone gets hurt.”

“He’s got good advice most of the time,” I say, pulling their attention. “Griz, you mind if I talk to Maggie?”

He gives her a kiss on the side of her head, and then wraps his hand on my shoulder as he leaves. “Go easy, yeah?”

I don’t know how Griz knows some of the shit he does sometimes. Maybe it’s my body language or how I’m glaring at someone who is kicking up a lot of dust and I’m worried it’s going to hit the people I’m supposed to protect.

As soon as Griz is out of earshot, I’m saying what I need to, my tone one of warning. “I know you’re playing in some deep water. Don’t bullshit me here, Maggie. What are you doing with Finch & King?”

She hums a laugh. “Why do you care, Linc? I’m still doing what you and Ace hired me to do. I just sold out most of what you guys have on reserve. Your bourbon is in some serious circulation, and you have the profit to prove it.”

“I’m aware, and we both know it’s got nothing to do with that.”

“Faye?” she asks as she passes the horse a carrot.

“If anything happens to you, she gets hurt. If you end up on the wrong side of whatever it is you’re planning, then she becomes leverage. I become leverage. My family. My girls. And I won’t let that happen.”

“Linc,” she says, resting her head on her folded arms along the stable door. “She told you everything, didn’t she?”

I give her a nod. “She’s not going to just let this linger and hope for the best.” When I look at her pointedly, I can see in her eyes, she knows I’m right. She’s nervous, not that she’ll admit it.

Pulling out my phone, I filter through my contacts and make a call. “Hey, Murray.” I smile into the phone when he picks up on the second ring.

“Lincoln Foxx, I wondered when I might hear from you,” he says in an upbeat tone. “What did you think of the piece?”

Maggie watches me curiously as I say, “It was a great article. I wanted to personally thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he says kindly. “I visited a number of distilleries and not a single one left me feeling the way yours had after our interview. You do have something special there.”

I take the compliment. “I think so too.” I glance at Maggie, hoping this is going to go how I want it to. “Listen, Murray, there’s someone here who might be able to answer your questions about what’s happening in horse racing down here. Thought you might want to hear what she has to say.”

That’s got her attention, but not in a good way. Straightening, she’s shaking her head to shut me up.

Murray shuffles something in the background, likely a recorder or something to take down anything else I’m going to say. “Any chance you have a name for me so I can follow up?”

But I don’t give him much else. “I’m going to leave that in her court. Just wanted you to know I hadn’t forgotten you asked.”

We exchange a few more niceties before I hang up.

Maggie crosses her arms, nearly shouting, “What the fuck, Linc?”

I lean against the chair to her right and level with her. “You’ve put all your faith into the FBI figuring this out and making sure the people who hurt you and your family will end up getting justice. I don’t like those odds.” She understands racing and gambling, and I see when what I’m saying clicks in her mind. “If all of this doesn’t end how you want it”—I hand her Murray’s card—“now you have another option.”

She looks down at it, not convinced. “This isn’t going to fix anything. This would create a mess.”

“Sometimes you need to make a mess in order to make things right.”

“I’ve already made bad calls here, Linc,” she says, tilting her head and turning over the reporter’s business card, her tone shifting. “I kept things from my sister, from my mom. And Cortez. The fucking FBI is leaning on me. I don’t care about anything more than making Waz pay for what he’s done.” She chokes back a sob. “And it’s gotten?—”

I give her a Foxx shoulder squeeze and cut her off. “I know what it feels like to be stuck. To feel like you don’t have any other choices in doing what someone else wants. Doing the right thing sometimes is as simple as protecting the people we love.” I look at the card she’s holding, tapping it once. “That’s another way.”

She searches my face for what I’m really saying. And then she lets out a breathy laugh. “You love her,” she says, like it isn’t something she had considered.

My chest warms as I smile. “I protect what’s mine, Maggie. And that includes Faye now.”

She looks down at her nails, reminding me of Lark when she gets into her head.

“You had to keep a secret for a long time. I know how that can feel like you’re drowning in it. But you’re strong, Maggie. Just like your sister. And now you’re in a position where you hold all the cards. If it gets too dangerous for you. For her.” I look at the business card in her hand once more, before I step away. “That right there is your failsafe.”