“How?”
“Single shot to the back of the head.”
“Witnesses?”
O’Rourke shook his head. “No, and before you ask, the city cams weren’t working.”
Snuffing out my cigarette with the toe of my boot, I muttered, “Thanks for telling me. Is that all?”
O’Rourke frowned. “Kansas, I just told you that your mother is dead, and that’s all you can say?”
Shrugging, I said nothing.
“Fine,” O’Rourke snarled. “Then maybe this will get a fucking response out of you. Duncan Police arrested Debbie for prostitution and intent to distribute narcotics. When they ran her prints, they found something interesting. Her name isn’t Debbie Brennan. It’s Alice Cavanaugh.”
“So.”
“So, when they ran the name through the system, they found a missing child report from fourteen years ago. Apparently, Alice Soirée Cavanaugh was six years old when she disappeared from some shopping mall in Miami, Florida.”
I stiffened and silently cursed, quickly doing the math in my head. If this fucker was going where I thought he was going, I was going to lose my motherfucking shit fast!
“Don’t fucking say it.”
“Alice is barely twenty, Kansas. Her son is three. That means she was a minor when Pence fathered the boy. I’m going to have to arrest him for statutory rape and child molestation. I’ve already sent two units to his place to arrest him.”
“FUCK!”
“She’s also one of the missing kids from the Trick Pony”
Aleksandr
Rosewood, Virginia.
I hung up my phone and stared out at the window, knowing that when the Italian Council learned what happened, they would come for me. It was the worst of possibilities and there was nothing I could do to stop it, because when they dug into the Romano Brothers’ pasts, they would see my involvement.
There was nothing Maxim could do to cover it up.
The skeletons of my past were catching up to me, and the weight of my decisions pressed heavily on my shoulders. I felt a cold sweat trickle down my back as I pondered the inevitable fallout. The ticking clock on my wall seemed to mock my helplessness with each second that passed. My only hope was to find a way to mitigate the damage and perhaps, just perhaps, find an ally in the storm.
As I ruminated on my dire situation, a soft knock interrupted my thoughts. The door creaked open, revealing King, the president of the Sons of Hell Motorcycle Club. His eyes met mine, and I could see the concern etched across his face.
“I heard about the Romano Brothers,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him. “Is there anything I can do?”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “No, I need to act swiftly if I want any chance of surviving this.”
King nodded, his expression resolute. “I’ll start reaching out to my contacts. Maybe I can find someone who can help you navigate this mess. What about Lacey?”
His words offered a glimmer of hope, a beacon in the darkness threatening to engulf me. Together, we would face the storm, and perhaps, just perhaps, find a way to weather it.
“I don’t want her involved. I should have just left with the others. I should have known that the past never really stays dead.”
“You’ll figure this out, Aleksandr. You’re smart. You need my club, just say so. You’re Banks’ brother. That makes you one of ours.”
“Thank you, King,” I muttered as he left the room.
Sitting on the bed, my mind raced through potential strategies. The stakes were high, and a single misstep could lead to my ruin. The phone on the nightstand rang, jolting me from my thoughts. Hesitantly, I picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” I said, my voice barely masking the anxiety I felt.
