Chapter 17

He’d fucked up the day before, not a feeling Roman was accustomed to. Caleb had been graceful about it, showing nothing but understanding, but still, the embarrassment was real. He wasn’t used to having to defer to others, least of all people who were much younger than him…and submissive. Yes, he had mixed up personal and professional with Caleb. Stupid, but he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

That said, he still didn’t like the idea of Caleb working for Isabella Coldrick. Not that Roman had any better ideas to get close to her, but the risks were too high. What if Coldrick discovered who Caleb was? What if Whitman found out? He hadn’t shown violence so far, but a man who stood on the brink of losing everything was unpredictable. How far would Whitman go to protect his empire? Roman’s gut said he’d go to great lengths.

But as Wander had made clear, the decision didn’t lie with Roman. It was Caleb’s call, and ultimately Wander’s, and Roman would have to deal with it one way or another. And he would. Didn’t mean he couldn’t be a little salty about it.

“Let’s get started,” Wander said, and Roman focused on his brother. Ryan and Alex had returned from Boston and had a lot to share, so Wander had called another team meeting. He had refused to give details, but something told Roman it wouldn’t be good news.

“Let’s start with the bad news,” Ryan said, and Roman mentally braced himself. “Rumors are circulating that there’s a price on Roman’s head.”

Roman jerked his head up, his heart skipping a beat. “What?”

“Two people confirmed they’ve been approached to take Roman out. The preference is to take him out of commission permanently and not kill him, but if there’s no other way, murder is acceptable. The reward is a million dollars.”

Roman’s lungs seized. A million dollars? Jesus, he was done for. For that much money, there would be a line out the door.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said.

Roman held up his hand, unable to speak. He wasn’t sure what the expected reaction was when one found out there was a contract on one’s head, but surely shock would be okay.

“How credible are your sources?” Lowell asked.

“Very credible. I talked to a high-ranking Boston PD cop. And by the way, I do suspect Whitman has some cops on his payroll because my source said as soon as the rumors about Roman popped up, they were squashed hard by his superiors and labeled as unsubstantiated. Someone’s going to great lengths to make sure this credible threat on his life isn’t taken seriously.”

Roman swallowed. He’d suspected this for a while, but to hear it confirmed was still hard. How could he fight an enemy he couldn’t see? Whitman’s reach was so much longer and deeper than Roman could ever have imagined.

“I’m already trying to establish possible connections between Whitman and any LEOs,” Caleb said. “So far, I’ve found a few suspicious donations the senator made to relatively small and unknown law enforcement-related charities. One is linked to a Boston PD lieutenant, so my money is on him being dirty.”

Lowell muttered a curse. “I hate nothing more than dirty cops. They’re the ones who give us all a bad name.”

“Hear, hear,” Ryan agreed. “It’s the worst betrayal of everything that badge stands for.”

“Keep digging, Caleb,” Wander said. “In the meantime, I’ve called in a second team from a friend of mine to support us so we can focus on getting this bastard because we’ve already seen some activity. This weekend, two unwelcome guests showed up at Jesse’s club. Two men with Boston accents. These guys were asking about you, Ro.”

A cold shiver ran over Roman’s spine, the sensation too familiar. The kind of chill that crawled up your skin when eyes lingered too long, a presence in the shadows watching, waiting. His gut twisted.

“So they know where I am,” Roman said, but it came out in a near whisper through the tightness in his throat.

“Sure looks like it,” Lowell said with a sigh.

“High alert, everyone. No screw-ups.” Wander’s words fell like a gavel, final and resounding. His eyes, shards of ice, locked on Roman. “You’re grounded, Ro. No more leaving the house.”

Roman’s throat constricted even more, and he felt as if the walls of the meeting room were pressing in close. The familiar itch to push back, to claim his autonomy, surged through his veins. But this was no courtroom where he wielded power, no professional situation where he was in charge. This was real, raw chaos snapping at his heels.

“Understood,” he said, the heavy taste of confinement on his tongue. His very life was on the line, but he could still resent it, hate it.

“We also have good news,” Ryan said. “We discovered Penelope Whitman, the senator’s wife, is having an affair with her gardener. Yes, it’s very cliché, but also very true.”

“Can you blame her?” Alex quipped as he put a picture of the gardener on the screen. In his midthirties, with a powerful build forged by manual labor, a beautiful complexion, and soulful brown eyes, the man in question was indeed attractive.

Roman leaned forward. Thank god for the change of topic. He’d ten times rather focus on this than on the sickening realization of the danger he was in. A gardener, huh? Power plays were second nature in his line of work, but infidelity was a wild card that added a dangerous unpredictability to their strategy.

Ryan was relaying the details of late-night trysts and hushed conversations overheard by others, but Roman’s mind raced. How could they use this info?

“I talked to her,” Roman said when Ryan finished. “But she sealed up tighter than a damn vault.”

Ryan shrugged. “We found out from others, then pressed her into telling the truth. She wasn’t happy about it, but once she started talking, she didn’t shut up.”

Roman tapped his fingers on the table. What had caused Penelope Whitman to change course? “Do you think she suspects something’s up?”

“Oh, I’m certain of it. This woman deserves an Oscar for playing the dumb trophy wife because she’s anything but stupid. And her survival instinct is finely honed. She senses trouble, and she’s gonna make sure she comes out on the other side and not go down with her husband.”

“We should be able to use that,” Lowell said. “It’s evident she married him for the money and the social standing, so if we make it clear she could lose all that, it would provide a powerful motive for her to cooperate. Threaten her with the fallout of Whitman’s crash and offer her a way out that keeps her name clean and her pockets lined.”

Ryan nodded. “I’m not sure how much she knows, though. I have no doubt she’s aware he’s up to his eyeballs in illegal dealings, but I don’t think she knows details, so as a witness, she’s not the strongest one.”

In this twisted game of dominance and deceit, sometimes the right incentive could compel a person to kneel. And if there was anything Roman understood instinctively, it was leverage—the kind that left a person bare and wanting or, in this case, desperate for a lifeline.

“All right, let’s dangle the carrot of a graceful exit before her and see what that gets us.”

“Do you wanna do it officially, or would you prefer me to handle it?” Alex asked.

If Roman went the official route, his whole staff would soon find out. There was no way to keep this secret. That meant that whoever was feeding Whitman information would pass along that bit as well, endangering not only Roman’s investigation but possibly Penelope Whitman’s safety. He couldn’t take that risk. “You handle this. She opened up to you, so she has at least some measure of trust. And I’m afraid that if I get involved, it will get back to the wrong people.”

“Unfortunately, that’s a legit risk,” Ryan said. “There’s no predicting what Whitman will do if he finds out his wife is about to turn on him.”

“Exactly.”

“We’ve made good progress on creating a list of Whitman’s connections and dividing them into categories of influence and importance.” Wander nodded at Alex, who clicked the remote. On the screen, a list of names appeared with brief descriptions and, in many cases, a picture. Most of the names were familiar to Roman, the same ones he’d come across in his investigation, but he also spotted some new ones.

“Efficient,” he said.

“Most of this is Caleb’s work,” Wander said. “Kid’s a genius at digging up dirt.”

“Exceptional.” Roman’s gaze lingered on the tattoos peeking out from beneath the sleeves of Caleb’s hoodie. The man’s appearance belied the sharpness of his mind. The contrast never ceased to intrigue Roman.

“Thanks.” Caleb was beaming. “Just give me a target, and I’ll uncover whatever you need.”

“Speaking of Caleb,” Wander said. Roman clenched his jaw. He knew what was coming. “He has suggested going undercover with Coldrick Law, since they have a position open for an IT specialist.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “For real? That’s perfect.”

Caleb leaned forward, his eyes alight with a fervor that was both infectious and terrifying, and his lean frame vibrated with barely contained energy.

“Think of how deep we can go with this. With that level of access, I could get inside Coldrick Law and find out everything we need. We’d have Whitman by the balls.”

“Easy, tiger.” Wander chuckled, but the approval in his tone was clear.

Caleb’s excitement was contagious, sparking from him to every team member. Everyone nodded along, murmuring their assent. Everyone, except Roman, that was.

“Guys, come on.” Roman rubbed the bridge of his nose, frustration simmering beneath his skin. “We’re talking about sending him into the lion’s den. It’s not just files and data. It’s dangerous.”

“I can handle myself,” Caleb said.

“Of course you can,” Wander said before Roman could argue further. “That’s not up for debate. But the question is if the potential benefits outweigh the risks, and I would ask that for anyone on the team.”

“Sure, it’s a gamble, but think of what I could access, the intel I could gather.”

“Or you could get caught,” Roman shot back. The image of Caleb in Whitman’s crosshairs raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “We don’t know how deep this goes or who’s watching.”

“Which is exactly why we need someone on the inside,” Ryan said. “He’d have the kind of access you could only dream of.”

Caleb nodded. “I’d have direct access to Coldrick’s files and possibly even her communications with Whitman and their strategies.”

“But you’d be exposed, vulnerable,” Roman said. “One slip-up and you’re compromised. If she’s as deeply involved as we suspect, she’s dangerous. They won’t play fair.”

“I blend in. No one suspects the quiet tech guy.”

“Boss,” Caleb said to Wander, “this is our shot. I can do this. You know my record.”

Caleb was competent—no, more than that—he was brilliant. But brilliance didn’t stop bullets or blunt knives. Roman searched Caleb’s face for any hint of doubt, any sign this was more bravado than bravery. He found none.

“It might be our only chance to get the evidence we need,” Wander said, tipping the scales with a finality that Roman loathed to admit. “So you have my approval. But you better make sure your fictitious backstory stands up to a serious background check, yeah? I can’t imagine her letting just anyone get access to her files.”

“Yes, boss.”

And with that, they were preparing to make their next move in this high-stakes chess game, and all Roman could do was hope and pray they were ready for whatever countermove Whitman would make.