Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Hudson

S he stands like a perfectly sculpted statue before her shoulders drop, and she walks away without a word.

I head back out to the car to grab my bag and Starlings school bag from yesterday when my cell phone rings, making me frown.

I pull it out and see that it's Kenzo. Nothing good ever comes from Kenzo at six-thirty in the morning.

"Fuck's sake," I answer as I walk back into the house and drop the bags on my way to the den so I can look outside. I see the cherry blossom tree swaying in the breeze and think about Starling's wedding band and what that will look like wrapped around my cock. "It's six-thirty, Kenzo."

"I know. I've been up for fucking hours. You're lucky you took the plane, or I would've called you at three."

I don't ask him how he knew I had the plane or that I was back. Atlas probably told him, and the plane has tracking just like all our vehicles do.

"What happened?" I sit down. Jokes aside, Kenzo wouldn't call me at this time just to chat.

"Got a hit. Two more bodies were found last night with numbers carved into them."

"So it wasn't Kelly." I sigh. Of course, it couldn't have been that easy.

"Nope, and whoever it is, they aren't even trying to keep a low profile anymore. The bodies were found in a dumpster outside a military recruitment center about two hours from here."

"Crossing state lines like this is going to end up with the feds coming in. Fuck, we don't need this."

"Tell me about it. The only thing in our favor right now is that we didn't report Emma's death, so there's no obvious tie unless someone reports her missing and they look at previous employers."

"Which they will."

"Which they will, but we have expensive fucking lawyers for this reason. Besides, Emma hasn't worked at the club for months. A lawyer will point out that while she was here, she was safe and looked after. What she does when she leaves and what risky business she might expose herself to is not our problem."

I rub my hand over my face. "Somehow, I don't think things are going to go quite that smoothly."

"We'll deal with it. We always do."

I look out at the cherry blossoms again, wishing I was in bed with my wife.

My wife. Fuck, that will never get old.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Shit, sorry. It's been a long night."

"Something to do with why you needed the plane?"

"Yeah."

"Tracking said you went to Vegas. You check out this Jessica chick's murder?"

"No, I got married."

He's quiet for a second before he bursts out laughing. "Damn, you almost had me there."

He keeps laughing until he realizes I haven't said anything.

"Are you serious?"

"You know me to joke?"

"Holy fuck! You've been hanging around Atlas for too long. Who'd you marry?"

"Starling."

"Who the fuck is Starling?"

"The girl that lives with me," I answer wryly.

"Wait, your son's girlfriend?" He whistles. "And you don't think that's going to cause issues?"

"You seem to think I care. I don't. Can we get back to the subject of dead bodies?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure lack of sleep is making me hear delusions, anyway."

"Haha, very funny."

"Jokes aside, congratulations. I hate to throw this out on your wedding night or day or whatever, but I'm flying out to check out these dead guys. I could use a second set of eyes, and Atlas has a meeting with Benito."

I feel my lips twitch. Benito is the New York City underboss waiting to slip on his father's crown, but the guy's a fucking tool. I respect his father. Like, even. But I see none of him in his son. His mother must have swallowed the best parts of his father's DNA.

"What time do you want to leave?"

"As soon as possible. I want to get in and out before the feds get involved."

I close my eyes and sigh. "Fine. I'll meet you at the plane in an hour."

Kenzo hangs up, leaving me to curse my luck.

I head to my room to let Starling know I have to leave, but I find her already asleep. Kissing her temple, I decide to let her rest and quietly leave the room, closing the door behind me. I'll text her later.

I'm going to need caffeine to get through the day, so I head down to the kitchen to make some coffee. I brew a pot and grab a travel mug from the cupboard. While I stand waiting for the coffee to brew, I sense someone behind me.

I whirl around, my gun in my hand and aimed at Abbot before I even think about it.

"Fuck, sorry."

He stands there, wild-eyed, clearly not expecting that reaction from me.

"You're not usually up this early." I put the gun back in my pants and take in his face. It's less swollen than yesterday, but his eye is black, and his cheekbone is a dark purple.

"I needed to get a workout in before school."

I turn and fill the travel mug, then grab a regular mug and fill it for Abbot. I only have a brief thought about throwing it in his face, but now that Starling is mine, I feel slightly less homicidal than before.

Handing him the mug, he frowns but takes it before grabbing the milk from the fridge and adding enough that it no longer resembles coffee.

"You don't like coffee?" I ask.

"I don't mind it. I have practice again later. Can you pick up Starling?"

I take a sip of my coffee, and Abbot's eyes zero in on my tattoo. Fuck, I can't just drop it on him and leave Starling to deal with the fallout.

I wait for him to ask, but he doesn't. Then it hits me—I have a B on my finger, not an S. Maybe he hasn't made the connection yet.

"I've got to fly out of town for a last-minute appointment. But if I'm not back in time, I'll send someone to pick her up."

He opens his mouth but hesitates. I wait him out, sipping my coffee.

"She won't like being in a car alone with a strange man."

I pause. "She takes the train and subway, which are both filled with strangers."

"And with people who will hear her if she screams." His face pales, letting me know he didn't mean to say that.

"Explain," I bark.

"It's not my story, but I think you can figure out enough from what I said."

"Abbot—"

"Don't ask me again. You don't know me or her. That's not a dig at you, just the truth. If you did know us, you'd know we're vaults when it comes to each other. We're best friends. She's the only person I trust. I'm not going to blow that by spilling her secrets."

I bite my tongue because I can't force him to tell me, though I'm sure I'll drag it out of Starling eventually.

No, for the first time since I started this ball rolling, I feel something other than anger and jealousy. I feel guilty. And I don't like it one fucking bit.

"Fine. You want to tell me what this was all about yet?" I motion to his face and see him shut down.

"I told you it was a football thing."

"You want to know how many people I've beaten the shit out of? More than years you've been alive. I know the difference. You don't want to tell me, fine, don't tell me. But if you're gonna lie, at least make it believable."

I refill my travel mug before turning back to him. "We don't know each other, like you said, but I'm really good at fixing problems. You ever get to the point where you can't handle it, all you gotta do is let me know. I'm not a good dad. I'm never gonna be one. It would be too little, too late, and it would be an insult to both of us if I tried. But that doesn't mean we need to be enemies."

I'm not convinced that's the truth, but something tells me Abbot's the key here. If he leaves, I might very well lose Starling too. Well, assuming she knows how to hide, because I would leave no stone unturned searching for her.

He swallows, but instead of lashing out, which seems to be his usual MO, he nods.

"Good. I've gotta go." I head out, feeling his eyes on me as I leave.

Thinking about him on the way to the airfield, I go over the things Starling has said and their interactions and can't help but feel like there's something off about them.

There was no mistaking him coming home reeking of sex the other day. That helped me justify taking Starling from him. He doesn't get to cash in on her youth if he isn't willing to treat her like a treasure. I get it—when I was his age, I was no angel either—but Starling is one of those rare ones that only come around once in a lifetime.

His cheating aside, there's an odd dynamic between them. There's clearly love there. Starling would never have let me get away with half the shit I have if I wasn't dangling Abbot over her head. Abbot, I'm not so sure about. Maybe I'm not reading between the lines enough. But underneath it all, he's protective of her.

I still haven't figured it out by the time I get out of my car and walk over to Kenzo, who's beaten me here. I put it aside for now.

"Let's get this show on the road. Trix has a doctor's appointment later, and I don't want to miss it."

"Is she okay?"

"It's just a regular check-up to make sure both her and the baby are good. She's anxious, though she thinks she's hiding it well."

"I'd say it's normal. She went through something horrific, and now she's happy again. She's probably waiting for something to come along and pull the rug out from underneath her."

He looks at me. "Have you been watching Dr. Phil again?"

I give him a look and climb on board, nodding to the new flight crew. I take a seat near the window and strap in. "Wake me up when we get there. I need to grab some sleep while I can."

"Wifey keeping you up?"

I flip him off, and that's when he sees the tattoo.

"Jesus, is that your wedding band?"

"I wanted something she couldn't take off."

He looks at me, considering.

"You're gonna get tattooed wedding rings, aren't you?"

"I mean, it makes sense. She can't lose it, right?"

"I'm surprised you haven't dragged her to Vegas already."

"She doesn't want to be the size of a house—her words—and she wants to wear a white dress."

"Well, she won't be pregnant forever. Plan the wedding, and once the baby's born, surprise her."

"What the fuck do I know about planning a wedding?"

"You managed to figure out how to dismember someone and get them through airport customs undetected so you could collect the recovery fee. I'm sure you'll figure it out. Now let me sleep."

He grunts but, thankfully, shuts up.

It feels like I've only just closed my eyes when Kenzo's nudging me awake.

I groan as I stretch. "I'm getting too fucking old for this."

"You and me both," Kenzo complains.

We get off the plane and into the waiting rental car. Kenzo opts to drive, which is fine by me. I'm more than happy to play passenger. I contemplate going back to sleep, but Kenzo turns the radio on and blasts Radiohead loud enough to make my ears bleed.

I know damn well he's doing it out of spite. But if I say anything, he'll break into my house and make Alexa blast Christmas music at three a.m. or something.

I pull my gun and set it in my lap, warning Kenzo that my patience is wearing thin. I mean, sure, Atlas likes him, but does he need both of us? He'd probably understand. Kenzo has a knack for getting under people's skin.

I don't shoot him, mostly because I'd have to take over for him, and that's not going to happen. Doing Kenzo's job would increase my body count exponentially. And like I said, I'm getting old now. It's time to slow down a little.

I'm so glad when we pull up to the morgue that I'm out of the car before it's even stopped. I head inside, only slowing down for Kenzo to catch up to me.

"Something wrong?" he asks innocently.

"I want to fuck my wife."

He grins as we make our way down the corridor. His mood shifts, and he straightens when a door on our left opens and a guy in a white coat steps out.

"Mr. Kenzo?"

"That's me. This is my associate, Pete. Detective Andrews told you we're consulting on this case with him?"

"He did, though I've also had a call from the feds. They're planning on dropping by on Monday." The face he makes when he says "feds" makes me think he's not a big fan.

"Next week? They sure as shit don't rush themselves. We got on a plane the moment we could," I tell him.

"They care about cases, not people. The guy I spoke to said they're understaffed right now and stretched too thin with other cases," he scoffs.

"That's where we come in. We work with the local police as private investigators. We don't have to wade through as much red tape as they do."

He blows out a frustrated breath. "Ain't that the truth? Sorry, it's been a crazy morning. Follow me."

We head into the cold room, with me following behind Kenzo. There are two gurneys waiting, each with a body covered by a white sheet.

"Have they been identified yet?"

"No. No formal identification yet. The family's coming by later to make one."

The sound of a phone ringing draws all our attention to the open door.

"Sorry, I need to get that. I'll be right back."

He hurries toward the door, but before he leaves, something hits me. "You said family, as in just one?"

"What? Oh, right. Twins. It's a double whammy."

He rushes out to answer the phone as Kenzo and I look at each other.

"Not much fazes me anymore, but I'd have to be dead not to feel for their mother losing them both like that."

Kenzo walks over to the first body and pulls the sheet back to their waist. The first thing I notice is the number 4 carved into the guy's stomach. As my eyes move up his body, they land on a tattoo that covers his heart. Moving closer, I see it's the inked version of a set of dog tags.

I squeeze my hands into fists and walk over to the other table, pulling the sheet back. This one has the number 14 carved into his stomach. He has the same tattoo on his chest, only it's inked on the opposite side, like a mirrored image of his brother's. I press my hand to it, not needing to read the names because I already know what they say.

Looking up, I stare at a face I haven't seen in over a decade.

"Pete?"

"They worried that if they got caught in a roadside bomb and ended up in pieces, they'd mix them up."

"You know these guys?"

I look at the second face. "Once upon a time. Kyle and Conner Evans. We served overseas together."

I look at Kenzo as the pieces click together.

"This isn't about me or Atlas."

"I'm the target."