Chapter 11

He’d never thought of sex as a stress reliever, but Roman couldn’t deny he felt a thousand times better than he had the day before his… What was he supposed to call it, what he’d shared with Caleb? A scene? But had it been one when Roman had been flying by the seat of his pants? To him, a scene indicated something more planned, something with a defined purpose, perhaps.

Then again, they’d had a clear goal in mind: a spanking and sex, with stress relief and relaxation as the ultimate prize. They’d even discussed it beforehand and everything, so maybe it did count as a scene? Jesus, leave it to him to overthink everything, including the label for what they’d done.

Maybe he should try to stop defining everything and learn to go with the flow a bit more like Wander did. Yeah, fat chance of that happening. He could aspire to be more relaxed, but that wasn’t ever going to happen. He’d been born a control freak, and he’d die one too.

But for now, he could make himself think of what they’d done as a scene, since that certainly seemed to fit, and revel in the fact that it had helped him release a lot of his emotions. And that was surprising. He’d always tried the standard advice like meditating, taking a hot bath, going to the gym. Hell, he’d even tried running at some point, but that had only made him more miserable. None of that had ever worked as well. Interesting.

Wander’s team had gathered again for the next round of updates on the case, and while Roman feared what was coming and mentally braced himself for more disappointments, his stress level was nowhere near what it had been the day before. Progress. Thanks to Caleb.

“Let’s get started, yeah?” Wander said. Roman leaned in, just like the team members, their faces focused, their attention homed in on his brother. The air was thick with tension, a palpable determination to protect him at all costs, and gratitude filled his heart. These men hadn’t known him, but they had his back.

“Roman, can you share with us how your investigation into Whitman started?” Wander asked.

Even a few days prior, Roman would’ve hesitated out of concern for remaining professional and not spilling the secrets of his job. But now that he knew how far Whitman had gone to come after him, he discarded those restrictions. He was fighting for his safety, maybe even for his life, and none of those considerations mattered anymore. Plus, unlike a criminal attorney, he didn’t have attorney-client privilege and could legally speak freely about what he had discovered. It was more a matter of whether it was wise from a legal strategy standpoint than whether it would violate the law.

“It started with a hunch.” Roman scratched the uncharacteristic stubble shadowing his jawline. He hadn’t felt like shaving that morning. “Whitman’s name popped up too often in whispers in the courthouse hallways, hushed talk between politicians in the bars and restaurants where power brokers drink away their scruples.”

His thoughts raced back to the first thread he’d pulled—a case that should’ve been straightforward but had reeked of meddling. “I was still an assistant DA, involved in a minor case of a construction company violating safety regulations. The defendant was making a phone call in the bathroom, and I accidentally walked in on him. I’m not sure who he was talking to, but he said the senator had him by the balls and forced him to confess. He said Whitman had promised to take care of him if he took the fall for this one, but that if he didn’t, he’d never get another job in Massachusetts again.”

“Blackmail,” Ryan spat out.

“Exactly.” Roman nodded sharply. “And it wasn’t mere talk or unsubstantiated rumors. We went through the financials of the construction company and found a trail leading to Whitman’s office. The guy had paid him to get the contract for building a new prison, but I couldn’t prove it. So we dug a little deeper. Whitman got kickbacks from everyone and their mother in exchange for sweet state contracts, blocking or supporting certain state or federal laws, subsidies for certain industries, you name it. Money was flowing into his various shell companies like a goddamn river.”

“Got an example?” Ryan asked.

“Take the Harborfront redevelopment—millions in taxpayer dollars.” Roman slapped the table for emphasis. “The contract was supposed to go to the lowest bidder. But guess who landed the deal? A firm paying into a Whitman-controlled slush fund. The real low bidder got threats instead, the kind of serious warnings that made him pack up his business and leave town altogether.”

“Son of a bitch,” Wander said, his brows tightly furrowed.

“Every move he makes, someone gets screwed while he comes out smelling like roses. And when people push back, they get hit with compromising photos or allegations of misconduct. Careers are ruined at the flick of Whitman’s wrist. That’s why it took forever to build this case. No one was willing to talk. They all feared his retribution, and with reason.”

The familiar burn of anger coiled tight in his gut. This was personal, not just because of the threat to his safety but because Whitman’s corruption was a rot eating at the city Roman loved.

“We’ve done a little digging too over the last few days.” Ryan rose from his chair and held up Whitman’s senatorial picture—all teeth as he posed next to an American flag. Even the sight of him set Roman on edge. “And so far, what we’ve uncovered confirms he’s as dirty as they come. His ambition is ruthless, cutthroat. He’s a puppet master, controlling a myriad of strings, half of which we probably can’t even see.”

“Oh, I’m certain of it,” Roman said. “I’ve been working on this case for six months, and I’m confident I haven’t uncovered half of what he’s involved in.”

“What have you found out about Isabella Coldrick, Whitman’s lawyer?” Ryan asked.

Roman let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I’ve had my eye on her as well. She’s as smart and ambitious as her client, and she knows the law inside and out. My gut says she’s involved or maybe even the linchpin.”

“You think she’s orchestrating all this?” Alex asked.

“I can’t be sure without hard evidence, but if I were him, I’d hide behind a lawyer. Attorney-client privilege is a brick wall that’s all but impossible to scale.”

“What do we know about her?” Wander asked.

Ryan clicked the projector remote, and a picture of Coldrick appeared on the wall. She was beautiful by any standard, with shoulder-length raven-black hair, a sharp aquiline nose, and subtle makeup, displaying an air of refined elegance. Everything about her radiated class and money.

“She grew up in a struggling, working-class family but managed to do well in school and get a full ride to Boston College, then to Princeton to study law. That opened doors with Boston’s leading legal firms, and after her graduation, she started working for Tate, Taylor, and Tripper.”

“Colloquially known as Triple T,” Roman said with an eye roll. “They’re one of the biggest firms in Boston. The most expensive too.”

“She’s now forty-four, single, never married,” Ryan said, “and she owns her own firm, Coldrick Law. Parents are deceased, but she has two younger sisters she’s close with.”

“I suspect they may be the only two people in the world she gives a damn about,” Roman muttered. “Though maybe she actually likes Whitman. I don’t know.”

“She liked him well enough to have an affair with him when she was twenty-five,” Ryan said.

What? That was news to Roman. “How did you find that out?”

“As private investigators, we can ask questions and use methods unavailable to you or the Feds. I was curious about their relationship and discovered they met when she worked for Triple T, which had Whitman as a client. They started an affair soon after that. We talked to a former legal secretary for Triple T, who confirmed it.”

An affair. That was an interesting bit of information that changed things. So Coldrick wasn’t merely loyal because Whitman was her client or because he paid her bills. They had a personal connection. “Are they still sleeping together?”

Ryan shrugged. “My guess is from time to time, but not consistently. He has a varied collection of mistresses, one-night stands, and paid sex workers he cycles through.”

“That does explain why she’s proven to be such a tough nut to crack. She won’t crack, not unless we find a way to make her,” Roman said. “She’s his shield, and they both know how to exploit that.”

“A man like Whitman is too smart to get his hands dirty, so everything would have to run through her, since she’s protected by attorney-client privilege,” Lowell said, scratching his scruff. “So focus on her and keep digging into her background. If she’s the linchpin, as you suspect, you should be able to find who she’s using to do the actual work. Because, no offense, but she doesn’t look like the type to do menial work herself. I don’t see her sending threats through text messages.”

He was right. “The FBI has been looking into her, but again, it’s complicated for us. We’re bound by strict legal guidelines.”

Ryan grinned. “We’re not. Well, to a certain degree, we are, but not like you.”

Wander leaned forward, his fingers interlaced on the table. “We need eyes inside Whitman’s circle. Someone who can bypass Coldrick and get us what we need.”

“Agreed,” Ryan said. “We’ve got to play this smarter, not harder. Coldrick’s a fortress, but every fortress has a crack.”

“Perhaps there’s a way to exploit her professional network,” Alex mused, tapping a pen against his lips. “Get someone on our side close enough to overhear something incriminating.”

“Or we could try to flip one of Whitman’s own,” Ryan suggested. “In my experience, men who instill fear rather than loyalty have more weak links than they realize. We may be able to turn one of his pawns against him. Find the weak link in Whitman’s chain and exploit it until it breaks.” He met Roman’s eyes. “My concern is this, though. Do we have to worry about evidence being admissible in court? Because with some of our methods, it wouldn’t be, which would pose a problem for you during the case.”

Roman leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. Ryan raised a crucial issue. If they found evidence Coldrick was involved but discovered it through nonlegal means, Roman wouldn’t be able to use it in court. It wouldn’t be the first high-profile case that disintegrated due to inadmissible evidence, and few things were more frustrating than having cold, hard proof that someone was guilty, only to have it thrown out on technicalities. It was every DA’s nightmare.

“I think the biggest question is a different one,” Wander said, and Roman opened his eyes again. “It’s not between Whitman or Coldrick. It’s about whether we’re going after the source of these threats head-on or continuing to dig into Whitman’s dirt. Do we want to prove Whitman is corrupt, or do we want to make the threats stop?”

Wander always had a way of cutting through the fog, and this was no exception. He was right. Roman had to make a call on whether he wanted Wander’s team to investigate the threats or go after Whitman himself. Admissible evidence wasn’t nearly as much of a concern in the first case as in the latter. He wouldn’t necessarily go to trial over the threats against him, but he sure as fuck planned on facing Whitman in front of a judge one day. And he’d better make sure he had the proof to put the man away for a long time.

“Can I say something?” Caleb asked. “And maybe I’m off target here, but I keep thinking about the FBI. You said they haven’t been able to find evidence against Coldrick, right?”

Roman nodded.

“And they weren’t able to trace any of the threats?”

Oh. Roman saw where Caleb was going with this. “You’re thinking Whitman has bought off the Feds on the case.”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound like they’re doing a great job, so it does make me wonder.” Caleb gestured at the file containing evidence of all the threats. “Tracing anonymous text messages is a fairly routine process for law enforcement because they can subpoena the necessary tracking information from phone companies, VPN providers, and other sources. It may take some time, but I find it hard to believe they weren’t able to trace them at all.”

“Even if they used burner phones or prepaid cards, those are traceable back to the store that sold them,” Lowell said. “They would’ve at least known where the phones or cards were bought, which would’ve meant security camera footage. Show me a shop that sells those and doesn’t have security cams.”

“It could be one special agent impeding the investigation,” Ryan said. “Doesn’t need to be the whole team. One guy, or gal for that matter, who conveniently hides evidence or files false reports, and the whole case is stuck.”

Shit. They were absolutely right, and that insight changed everything. If Whitman had a fed on his payroll, what were the odds he had more than one? Or maybe a judge or two? Considering the scope of his criminal activities, a lot of people had to have looked the other way, either passively or actively.

That meant Roman was fighting an uphill battle to build the case against Whitman. He wasn’t giving up, but maybe it was time to use some of the senator’s methods against him. “Whitman’s the target. We take the bastard down with whatever means we have.”

He breathed out. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He wasn’t fighting alone anymore.

“The risks are considerable.” Roman’s gaze swept across the men who had become his allies. “Going after Whitman is lighting a fuse on a powder keg. Once he finds out we’re not giving up and are intensifying our efforts, he will come after us, and what he’s done to me so far will be child’s play. I need you all to be aware of that.”

The others showed nothing but determination, not even a hint of fear. “Bring it on,” Ryan said, and it felt like he was speaking for everyone.

“Your support means more than you know,” Roman said, his tone soft. “I can’t do this alone. I’ve tried, and I’m exhausted.” He met their eyes one by one, the loyalty reflected on their faces steeling his resolve. “In this case, justice has a price tag, and I’m ready to pay it. Whitman’s corruption is a cancer in our system, and if we don’t cut it out, it’ll spread. The man is rumored to run for president. We can’t let that happen.”

“Then it’s settled,” Wander said with a decisive nod, sealing the deal. “We dig up everything—every dirty transaction, every illicit deal, every threat he’s ever made against anyone. Hell, we drill down to the goddamn center of the Earth if we have to and build a case so tight not even Coldrick can shield him and wiggle her way out of it.”