Chapter 21

Ariana

21

It takes a while, but with some help from one of the Steel Knights' IT kids, we manage to arrange a meeting with Thierry Estes a couple of miles north of the city. The Golden Plum estate is the perfect rendezvous spot for businesspeople, and it's secluded enough to allow us to sneak onto the property without attracting any attention.

We needed a few days of planning, however.

All I needed to do was figure out the best route in and out of the estate, get our hands on a luxurious-looking car that wouldn't draw attention from the estate's security, and sync our ingress to match a shift change for their restaurant's service staff.

"You sure do know this place," Sky says as he walks with me through one of the hallways that connects the staff quarters to the restaurant. "I can tell."

"Dad had a lot of business meetings here. I've never been on this side of the building, mind you, but once I saw the blueprints, I realized that this wing is a mirror of the public wing. Same corridors, same layout, same entry and exit points."

"You sound like an expert in tactical ops," he chuckles softly.

We're dressed in waiter's uniforms—black pants with white shirts and purple vests. Raylan and Kendric are already in position, having assumed their own disguises. We paid off the staff who were supposed to be here in our stead. They were more than happy to stay home and relax for the day, considering they were paid a month's salary to do so.

It's not too busy at this early hour. The resort's clients are leaving the breakfast room and heading out in different directions.

"Get behind the breakfast bar," Sky tells me. "I'll wait by the beverage coolers." He checks his watch. "He should be coming in soon."

I settle by the buffet. Most of it has already been cleared out, but the cereal dispensers need refilling, the plates and bowls need to be restacked, and the coffee machine and the tea kettle are both waiting for a wipe-down. I've got enough to keep my hands busy while my eyes are locked on the breakfast room's double doors.

"Hey, there," one of the waiters nods as he passes by the buffet.

I give him a slight smile and focus on emptying one of the cereal bags into the first dispenser. He frowns slightly, not recognizing me, but he doesn't linger, either. He's got a whole cart of bottles and carafes to take back to the kitchen.

"You okay?" Sky asks me from across the room.

"Yeah, just waiting."

Kendric comes out of the kitchen with a whole box of bread and muffins, wearing a slightly confused look on his face. "Where is that fucker?"

"He should be here any minute," Sky replies.

"He needs to hurry. Raylan's about to get into an argument with the sous chef about a fucking pea soup," Kendric shoots back, and I can't help but giggle.

Even in the middle of this storm, my men still find ways to seize every moment, to live each second with their natural passion and penchant for trouble. No wonder the three of them get along so well. They balance one another out, from what I've seen. Sky may be the leader, so to speak, but Kendric and Raylan are just as capable of taking over when the situation demands it.

At the same time, Sky may be more levelheaded, but sometimes he has a short fuse, too. Raylan can lose it during certain situations and when Kendric gets mad, people start hiding. Yet they always find the middle ground. They always take that much-needed step back before they make a permanent decision.

"What are you doing out here?" Sky asks Kendric.

"Just checking in," he shoots back, then gives me a playful wink. "How are you holding up, babe?"

"Much better, now that I see you," I say, smiling softly.

But my humor quickly fades as Thierry Estes' voice echoes from the lobby. Kendric knows it's his time to vamoose, so he goes back into the kitchen. The waiter I saw earlier comes back out, but Kendric yanks him by the collar and forces him to use the service exit instead. "We need the breakfast room to be completely clear," I hear Kendric say.

A muffled rebuttal follows it, but one nasty look from my man is enough to get the waiter quickly in line and slithering out of the restaurant via the service door just as Thierry Estes comes in.

I hold my breath. He hasn't seen me yet.

I take a couple of seconds to look at him—the real him—for once. This man is my father's friend. They were partners in several business deals. I'm pretty sure they're still tied up in one corporation or another. But the fact that he was meeting with my father and Eric Masterson is what's gotten him here today.

"I guess they're not here," Thierry mutters and finally looks around the room. He spots Sky by the beverage cooler. "Excuse me, have you seen a gentleman with short brown hair and blue eyes come in? He's got an annoying German accent and likely wants his tea black with cold milk on the side."

"No, but I'm more than happy to assist you in locating him," Sky replies with a polite smile.

We used several servers and a fake email address to arrange a meeting between Thierry Estes and Morgan Rosenthal, a German national of South African descent, whom I know to have ties to the blood diamond market. I've seen his name on several documents back at the store. In public, he passes himself off as a diamond seller who only works with ethical suppliers, but I have heard Thierry refer to him in less-than-savory terms more than once.

When Rosenthal is in town, Thierry's blood simmers with equal parts fear and excitement. It means there are new diamonds for sale, the kind that would get a man like him thrown in prison for life.

Using Rosenthal as bait was clearly the right decision. Thierry dropped everything to be here.

"I have no business with you," I hear Thierry say, but then his voice fades as he glances my way and instantly recognizes me. "Ariana! Ariana, is that you?"

"Hi, Mr. Estes," I reply with a dry smile.

A split second later, Sky locks the breakfast room's double doors. Thierry stares at him, then at me, then at Kendric and Raylan as they step out of the kitchen, each carrying a Glock. "What is going on here?" he asks, his voice trembling as beads of sweat bloom on his wrinkled, overly tanned forehead.

"Thierry, I think you know exactly what is going on here," I calmly say. "Why don't you take a seat? Can I get you some coffee?"

"Ariana, what is going on?" he asks again.

I exhale sharply. Now, there are three Glocks heartlessly aimed at him, and he knows he's in a heap of trouble. I can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, desperately spinning, his eyes darting all over the place. He knows the crap has hit the fan. There's no way of ducking what's coming.

"What is going on is that you and my father have not been very honest to the public about me," I say. "About anything, for that matter, including your involvement with the Black Hand."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

His French accent used to amuse me, but now, it's just annoying. I cringe slightly and take a deep breath while Kendric moves closer and motions to the chair to Thierry's right. "You need to sit down," he tells the old bastard.

"You're one of those biker mongrels," Thierry says and narrows his eyes at him.

Kendric raises his gun until the barrel has a direct line to Thierry's forehead. "You might want to watch what you say."

"What are you going to do? Shoot me right here in a public place?"

"This room was rented for a private event," Sky replies. "The staff have already been cleared. You'd be amazed by how much support we can get in and around the city once we tell people we're looking to take down the Black Hand. Turns out, not a lot of folks are fans."

"Again, who is this Black Hand—"

Kendric cuts Thierry off. "Sit the fuck down before I make you."

The Frenchman has enough sense to take a seat, but he looks at me with a mixture of disgust and contempt. "You are breaking your father's heart, ma cherie. Consorting with the enemy like this."

"The Black Hand has tried to kill me. Twice," I reply. "Now stop playing dumb before I get really pissed."

"What do you want?" he finally asks.

"You don't seem at all surprised to hear about the attempts on Ariana's life," Raylan interjects with a slight grin. "I take it you knew. Did you order the hit?"

"What? No! I was against it from the very beginning!" Thierry lets slip.

"Ah, so you did know," Raylan chuckles. "Did the mayor know, too?"

Kendric moves closer. The Glock's muzzle is now pressed against Thierry's left temple. It's enough to cause more sweat to trickle down his face and seep into the neck of his finely tailored, pale blue shirt. "You'd better tell the truth," Kendric says.

"He didn't know until after we met with Masterson," Thierry sighs. "It wasn't part of the plan."

"Right, because Masterson made an executive decision on behalf of the cabal once he realized I knew more about the Steel Knights and the Black Hand than he originally thought," I mutter. "So, what is my father's position now? Is he going to disavow the organization?"

Thierry cackles nervously. "Are you crazy? He's in too deep. He can't."

"This is his daughter," Sky reminds him.

"He knows that," Thierry says and shakes his head slowly. "It's an unfortunate situation. My advice, ma cherie, is to get out while you can. Take your biker gang and go live somewhere else, preferably as far away from New Hampshire as possible. I can give you some money. I'll get your father to wire you some cash, as well. It's the best we can do under the circumstances."

My skin crawls. Bitterness swells in my throat, unfurling like a ball of awful-tasting twine as I try to keep my head up and my senses in check. I could vomit right here, right now.

"I can't believe this," I mumble, looking at Sky. "He knows they are trying to kill me, and yet he's doing nothing to stop them."

"We warned you, Ariana," Sky replies. "I'm sorry you keep having to find out this way."

"Your father loves you, ma cherie—" Thierry tries to intervene, but I cut him off.

"You need to stop calling me that, or I swear to God I'm going to kick you in the balls so hard, you'll never recover."

Thierry goes silent for the better part of a minute while I try to make sense of all the thoughts rapidly firing in my head.

"Ariana, he's in too deep. You heard Thierry," Raylan says. "Maybe it's time you start making decisions without taking your father into account."

"We proceed as planned," I reply, then take another deep breath. "Thierry, you're going to help us."

"And you have lost your mind," he promptly retorts. "I can't even be seen with you right now. You are radioactive, Ariana. The cabal wants you gone, and all your father and I can do is ensure you leave on your own two feet. It's your only option."

Raylan scoffs. "I'm amazed by how quickly the masks come off when people know the jig is up," he says. "Until now, merely mentioning the Black Hand would bring nothing but shame and ridicule upon the speaker. Yet now that we've openly declared war against them, I'm hearing this nonsense."

"Exactly. Give up, Thierry. You can't beat them. They own the mayor. It really is pathetic," Sky adds. "It shows how many people in this city are spineless."

"You have no idea whom you're dealing with," Thierry hisses. "Don't think I didn't hear about the SWAT raid on your mother's shop." His words are enough to render Sky speechless, his dark eyes fixed on the Frenchman's face. "Oh, I know who you are. We all know who you are, Sky. So-called club president. Brother to Shiloh. By the way, how is she doing? I'm told it was a through-and-through and that she will make a full recovery." He looks at Raylan next. "And you. Mr. Kentucky. Raylan Bennett. You kept playing that white knight number in a city where there is no room for such pretty, puffy dreams. It's a shame you learned the hard way. And Mr. Kendric Jones. The tough guy. The enforcer. The executioner. Yes, I know all about you and your little club."

"You're about to be on the receiving end of at least one bullet," Kendric replies. "You should really work on your people skills."

"You can't kill me. You need me."

"We're actually trying to help you," I cut in. "Think about it, Thierry. All it took was one fake email from Rosenthal to get you out here. Don't you think I could've done the same with my father?"

"He's not in charge," Thierry replies.

"True. But now, the Black Hand knows you're meeting us. Or they will know soon enough. They will question your loyalty. I presume you and my father objected to Masterson's aforementioned executive decision regarding my life, right?" I wait for him to nod once. "What will the cabal think once they get photos of you meeting with us here? I doubt they will think you are simply enjoying a cup of tea."

I turn the kettle on for good measure while Raylan sets a camera on a tripod. "Let's make this look as natural as possible," he says. "I need good light. Lord, this morning glow is just something else. Smile for me, Thierry."

"What?" the Frenchman instinctively looks at him, only to find himself briefly blinded by the camera's flashing blitz. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Not really, no. We're actually being smart about this for once," Sky replies. "Here's the deal, Thierry. You're in deep shit, no matter how you look at it. If the cabal doesn't get you, the Feds definitely will."

"You see, we did our homework before we arranged this little meeting. I still have the passcodes to the store's locks, remember?" I add. Judging by the look on Thierry's paling face, he's starting to put two-and-two together. "That's right. I had the passcode to your private office as well. It was a treasure trove of evidence. The FBI will have a field day with their white-collar crime division."

It's sinking in. The terror. The fear of a most unpleasant truth coming out. The idea of his empire made of cards crumbling. His whole life being blown away, reduced to shreds despite having spent so many years doing the Black Hand's bidding, and they won't be able to protect him.

"All the evidence we've gathered will not be going to the field office, mind you," I continue. "Masterson would nip it in the bud. But the guys at Quantico will absolutely enjoy putting a case together, Thierry."

"That being said, you have three choices. One, we let the Black Hand receive some great shots of the five of us having tea at the Golden Plum," Sky says. "I made sure to book the breakfast room under your name. They had a copy of your card on file; I hope you don't mind."

"Two, we let the FBI lay out one hell of a smuggling and trafficking case against you," Raylan continues. "This whole blood diamond thing is an ugly, ugly issue. The press will eat it up. Your business will be reduced to ashes. Your empire will be gone. Your friends in high society? They'll no longer recognize you. You will be a stranger, Thierry, some dude they don't want to be associated with anymore. And three …"

"I blow your balls off unless you arrange a meeting with Henry David," Kendric promptly says and aims the gun at Thierry's crotch.

"Hold on, hold on!" the Frenchman gasps. "Why? Why can't you call him Ariana? He's your father! He'll come running! He wants to see you alive and well, ma—Ariana," he corrects himself, well aware that my boot might do more damage than Kendric's Glock.

"If I set up a meeting, the Black Hand will surely join us," I reply. "Please, do not take me for an idiot, Thierry. I've learned a lot since I was taken away. If you arrange a meeting with the mayor, he will come without an escort."

Thierry gives me a sour look. "You wish to hurt your father."

"No, I just want to destroy the Black Hand so they can stop making people's lives miserable," I say. "They've done enough harm, and you and your cronies have made enough money already. It ends here, now. What will it be, Thierry?"

"Henry will smell a trap."

"Why?" I ask. "He doesn't know we're meeting. And you'd be a supreme idiot to tell him, considering the heap of trouble you'll find yourself in if you don't abide by our terms. No matter how you look at it, you're screwed. The only thing you can do, Thierry, is decide how precisely screwed you want to be. If you arrange the meeting, the Black Hand will never hear about our tea party, and the Feds won't be alerted about your blood diamond suppliers."

He needs a moment to think about it. I can't blame him. He's gotten away with truly nefarious things his whole life. His decisions fueled a bloody market while he filled his pockets with incomprehensible amounts of cash. This man is the poster child of extreme, unregulated capitalism. The poster child of corruption, of all the filth that is currently poisoning our world and making life unnecessarily difficult for future generations.

I'm no social justice warrior by any measure, but I'll be damned if I'll let Thierry profit from the misery of others for a second longer. His belly is full. I'd rather cut it wide open.

Thierry sighs deeply. "You want me to set up a meeting with Henry? Which of you will be there?"

"I will be there," I say. "I just don't want the cabal to be there. You'll have to find a reason for him to come alone and tell no one."

He nods slowly. "For what it's worth, your father wanted me to dig some dirt up on Masterson after we spoke to him. He still thinks he can save you. I told him he was a fool, but he won't give up on his ties to the Black Hand. He hopes he can discredit Masterson enough to get him off your back. That's just a wet Band-Aid if you ask me. The cabal won't stop until you're dead, but if you're out of New Hampshire, at least, it'll be harder for them to find you. You still have time to think about it, to consider your options carefully, Ariana."

"I've already laid out the options, Thierry. It's time for you to choose," I reply.

"I can tell Henry that I have something on Masterson. He won't want any eyes or ears on us for such a conversation," he relents.

Kendric presses the gun into his crotch. "Make the call."

My heart jumps with equal parts fear and excitement. I know Kendric wouldn't hurt him if he didn't have to, but at the same time, I see this side of him, and I am aware of its extension, of its propensity for death and violence. All it takes is one blown fuse. Kendric might disappear into his darkness, and I may never see him again. War does things to people.

"Right now?" Thierry blurts out.

"Right fucking now," Kendric insists.

With a trembling hand, Thierry pulls his phone out of his coat pocket. We all watch in the heaviest silence as he searches the call log for my father's number. Then, Thierry puts the phone to his ear, waiting for him to pick it up.

I listen with a heavy heart as Thierry plays his part, working overtime to keep his voice calm and even while drawing my father out of his safe bubble and into unknown territory. By the end of the call, we had a meeting set with my father, the kind of reckoning I never imagined I would ever have to endure. But the truth is a harsh mistress, and it needs to be dealt with.

I want to look that man in the eyes when I ask him about the Black Hand. About my mother. About her accident. About Masterson and his intentions toward me. I need to understand how far my father is willing to go in order to preserve his power, his influence, and his wealth. Is he willing to ultimately sacrifice his own blood?

"It's done," Thierry says, putting the phone on the table. "We're meeting on Friday."

"Six o'clock, yeah, we heard," Sky replies.

Thierry glowers at me while Raylan takes his phone and gives it a proper electronic scrub using one of the IT kids' special devices, just to make sure it won't trace back to this location. It's a complicated device, even though it's barely the size of a pager. Once he's done, Raylan slips the phone into Thierry's jacket pocket.

"I expect you'll give me everything you have against me once that meeting with Henry is concluded," Thierry says.

"Oh, no, that would be foolish," I chuckle dryly. "No, you'll get everything back when every last member of the Black Hand is in jail, paying for their crimes."

"But that could take years!"

"Tough shit," Kendric mutters and puts the safety back on his Glock. "This is what you get for choosing profits over people."

"You won't win," Thierry shoots back.

I pour myself a cup of hot tea. The subtle fragrance of jasmine tickles my nose while a hint of honey soothes my throat. I welcome the calming gulp, wishing I'd downed a double shot of espresso instead.

"Here's what you're getting wrong, Thierry," I begin. Sky and Raylan are already on the phone, alerting the club members and the few loyal friends they still have within Everton PD that there's an operation about to unfold. They need all the help they can get, and I don't want Thierry to pay too much attention to their conversations. "This isn't about winning or losing. It's about doing what's right. My father should've known better. The people elected him, and he was supposed to be working for them, not against them."

"But he is working for the people," Thierry says.

"He's working for the Black Hand, and we both know that the cabal only serves its own interests and no one else's," I reply. "That's why the crime rate is so high; that's why there's a mostly empty residential complex in lieu of a much-needed second community center; that's why there are entire blocks in Everton that have been left derelict for over a decade. You can't tell me that my father is working for the people when the only ones profiting from every decision he's made as mayor are corporations and fellow politicians."

"Not to mention law enforcement and other agencies," Kendric adds. "They keep getting funding that is wholly unnecessary while the city's infrastructure is in dire need of repair. There are public reports that emphasize precisely that, yet all the mayor has done lately is go on TV crying about Ariana while also musing over a run for senate."

"I told you, Thierry. I wasn't born yesterday. My father may have shielded me from most of the world, but I see it now. I see it all too clearly, and it is breaking my heart. It would break my mother's heart, too," I add.

Thierry gives me a long, hard look. He would reprimand me if he could, but he can't, not with Kendric standing so close to him, so ready and eager to backhand him at the first sign of disrespect. "The world is not black and white, Ariana," he says instead. "It's shades of grey. It's always been shades of grey. If you knew that, you wouldn't hold people to such high standards."

"Oh, but I do know that," I say. "I also know that people hold themselves to such high standards. Take the mayor of Everton City, for example. He made promises to his voters. He claims to be a man of morality, with a strong sense of ethics and a penchant for justice. What justice is there in Everton? Please, Thierry, enlighten me. He's so many shades of grey, you can't even tell the man from the dirt anymore."

"I understand that you feel disappointed, Ariana, but he's still your father."

"He sat down and had a slice of pie with the man who tried to kill me," I snap, my voice trembling with anger. Tears sting my eyes as I realize that I cannot get over such betrayal. How could I? My life, my baby's life … it could've ended that night. "Don't talk to me about blood ties, okay? Not after what I learned about him and my mom."

The shift in Thierry's expression is subtle but noticeable. It's enough to make my skin feel tight and cold all of a sudden as he briefly looks away. "You should have a heart-to-heart talk with your father," he mutters. "Maybe this meeting won't be such a bad idea after all, provided you go in with a clear head."

"I'm going in for the truth and nothing else," I reply. "And you will keep your distance from me, from my father, and this whole fucking mess, Thierry. As far as I'm concerned, I never worked for you. I never set foot in any of your stores. You don't know me, and I don't know you. Someday, you will look back on this moment in time, and you will understand. Until then, spare me the morality lecture. You are the last person I would ever take any advice from. Your hands are dirty with the blood of innocent children. There is a special place in hell reserved for the likes of you."

"That may be true, but until then, I get to sleep on silk sheets and goose-down pillows," Thierry shoots back, crossing his arms in childlike defiance.

"We'll see about that," Kendric replies.

"You said you'd keep my secrets!" the Frenchman gasps.

"We will, but once the Feds come down from Quantico, there's no telling what they'll find when they start auditing your computers," Kendric reminds him.

That's enough to get his mind twisted. Panic sets in, and I have to admit, I like seeing him squirm. All it took was one little, wriggling worm being slipped into his ear for Thierry's brain to go into full paranoia. I bet he will go into a complete shutdown as soon as he's back in the city.

He'll wipe every hard drive and shred every piece of paper in every single office. He's got his work cut out for him in the next couple of days. He will transfer all of his money into offshore accounts. He will hide everything he can in terms of wealth in safe deposit boxes outside of Everton. Yeah, Kendric played it smart.

It gives us one less thing to worry about while we move on to the next stage.