Chapter 29

Kendric

29

"He actually held a funeral for her," Amstaff says as he escorts us out of the main county jail building. "The audacity of that bastard. An empty casket, too."

"The mayor is still playing his part for the Hand, then," Sky replies.

It took Amstaff another week to get us out of this hellhole, but he did it. Even our high-priced lawyers had trouble bypassing certain arms of the law.

Our work is nowhere near over, though, and it's killing us because we can't see Ariana yet, as she is still officially dead to the world, holed up in that hotel room.

"Absolutely," Amstaff says. "As far as he knows, things went according to plan that night. The Feds trained Troy and the others quickly. The cabal was told that all the targets were neutralized, and once you three were taken to jail, they cooled their heels."

"Where are those fucking goons now?" Raylan asks.

"Oh, most of them are in custody, but we let Troy go back to the Black Hand. They were all outside contractors, anyway. Useless, as far as the cabal is concerned. Troy, on the other hand, is wired up to his teeth and feeding us intel on a daily basis," Amstaff says, escorting us around the block and across the giant parking lot behind the jail.

At the far left corner, two black SUVs are waiting for us. For a moment, I pause, carefully eyeing both vehicles, waiting for the worst to happen. Raylan and Sky stop as well, noticing my apprehension. "Are you okay, brother?" Sky asks.

"Yeah. Who's that?" I direct my question to Amstaff, nodding at the SUVs.

"Relax. They're friendlies," Amstaff replies. "One is mine. The other is Quantico. They wanted to meet with you three right away."

We start walking again. I welcome the warm sunlight on my face. It's close to midsummer, and the weather is perfect, dry with just enough wind to keep the temperatures from soaring.

"Is this Quantico guy trustworthy?" Raylan asks Amstaff.

"Absolutely," the retired detective replies. "The president himself appointed him for this operation."

"Wait, the president?" Sky mutters, giving him a confused look.

"Yeah. The big guy. You know, the one currently squatting in the White House?"

The guys and I exchange stunned glances.

Amstaff can't help but chuckle. "I know, fellas. I was just as shocked as you."

"Gentlemen," a man greets us as he gets out of the second black SUV. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Supervisory Special Agent Rupert Grey from the Quantico office."

We shake hands and size each other up like men usually do, careful to take every detail and subtle shift in expression into consideration. There is plenty of doubt and suspicion between us. What Masterson did was beyond egregious, and this man knows it.

"Let me clear the air first by apologizing on behalf of the Bureau for what transpired with Eric Masterson," Grey solemnly declares. "We didn't know. We had heard about the Black Hand, but the field office in Concord had assured us that they had everything under control, that they were investigating."

"They obviously weren't," I mutter.

"We're truly sorry," Agent Grey replies, and I can tell from the look in his eyes that he is genuine in his apology. "The stain that Masterson left on our agency will take a long time to erase, and it will never truly be gone. We had plenty of sins to atone for before him, and now he's made our work twice as hard."

"That, he most certainly has," Amstaff says.

"We have plenty to discuss in the meantime," Grey looks at me with intention. "I believe the detective here has already brought you up to speed?"

I give him a slight nod. "RICO operation in progress. You need our help. Our intel. You've already got the evidence we collected from Mayor David's private residence, I presume."

"Precisely. We need your connections. Most importantly, we need you to tell us everything you know and everything you've done up to this point so we can work out an immunity deal with the government."

"Immunity," Sky says.

Grey nods once. "The Black Hand's defense attorneys will come at us from every possible angle. They will definitely try to discredit you as witnesses. We don't want to give them even the slightest opportunity to poke holes in our case, so we're going to keep doing everything by the book," he says. "The president and Homeland Security have personally authorized me to draft an immunity agreement with you and the other members of your MC, to begin with. But we have to know what we're walking into so we're not taken by surprise later."

"Fine," Sky quickly replies. "When can we see Ariana?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid," Grey says. "As far as the world knows, she was killed that night at the cemetery; collateral damage as SWAT went in hard to arrest you. The mayor is supposedly grieving and taking some personal days off, but he is scheduled for a fundraising speech next Monday at the Reeves Center downtown. We're looking to get the ball rolling by then on every front, especially since our intel confirms that all the cabal lieutenants will be present at that event."

"The fuckers are keen to gloat," Amstaff grumbles.

"Let them," I say. "They'll go in gloating, and they'll walk out in steel bracelets. I'm fine with that."

What I'm not fine with is not being able to see Ariana for yet another week. These past few days have been fucking hell without her. Shiloh and Amstaff have kept us updated about her overall condition. We know that she's okay and eating, that she's getting plenty of sleep and peace and quiet. We also know that she is worried sick and heartbroken about that asshole father of hers, that she misses us, and that she is literally isolated in that hotel room.

"Shall we get going, then?" Grey asks.

Amstaff takes the car keys out of his pocket. "We're ready."

"Where are we going?" Raylan chimes in.

"We've booked you into a private suite at the Radisson, just north of the city and out of sight," Grey says. "Our entire team will be present on-site, twenty-four-seven. Our command center is in their ballroom."

"And nobody knows you're there?" I ask, somewhat incredulously.

"Gentlemen, we know how to play our cards," Grey replies with a wry smile. "We've conducted more complex operations in significantly more hostile environments. This is New Hampshire. It's easy for us to blend in and engage in covert operations in broad daylight, believe it or not."

"Consider me impressed, then," I shoot back and give Amstaff a decided nod. "Come on, let's get this over with. I want to go home."