As I crossed the street with a crowd of pedestrians, my phone vibrated in my jeans pocket. I whipped it out to see Hunter Thompson’s name on the screen.
The minute I had landed in Boston yesterday, my first stop was the Guardian, a security firm owned by Jeremy Pitt, a Russian mob boss. After Arturo’s visit two nights ago, I had to ensure Fran’s safety. I thought about taking her out of school and keeping her in my sights, but I nixed the idea. Panic only made situations worse, and I didn’t want to scare Fran. Plus, I’d shuffled her from one boarding school to another during my days working for the cartel, and I didn’t want to do that again.
I trusted Jeremy Pitt and his security team. He hired badass motherfuckers and ex-military dudes who knew how to defend and protect anyone and anything.
I slipped down a side street and found a quiet spot near an entrance to a parking garage. “Hunt, are you on your way to Oakwood Academy?”
I didn’t think Arturo would do anything to fuck with me yet, but I couldn’t take that chance.
“Yeah, just calling to inform you that none of the students at Oakwood carry the name Rodriguez or are from Mexico. And so far, ninety percent of the background checks haven’t raised any red flags. The last ten percent should be completed within the hour.”
I blew out a breath. “Thank fuck. Well, stay inconspicuous outside the school grounds. If my daughter leaves campus, it will be through the main gate, which is guarded twenty-four seven. I’ll call her to give her a heads-up.” I didn’t want her to freak out if she saw Hunt on her tail. I’d taught her to be alert to her surroundings at all times and trust only those close to her. “Check in with me later.”
“Copy that.” Then the line went dead.
I was about to pocket my cell when it buzzed again. I didn’t recognize the number except for the Boston area code. Maybe it was the real estate agent I was meeting with later that afternoon.
I tapped the green icon. “Hello.”
“You didn’t tell me you were moving to Boston,” the man whose voice I knew quite well said.
“I told you, Arturo, to fuck off,” I growled.
“Are you working for Rosario again? Is that why you moved?”
I gripped the phone like a vise. “She’s in jail. And why I do things is none of your business.”
“I’m having issues with the gangs in Boston,” he said. “You know them well. Can you talk to them?”
I’d once known the leaders of every gang in the city, although I didn’t know anything about the new gangs that might have surfaced while I’d been living in Nashville.
“No.” My tone was steeped in acid. “I told you. I’m not working for you. Do your own damn job, and don’t you have lieutenants to do your dirty work?”
“They’re running into problems with the gangs.”
“Not my problem.”
I wasn’t stupid enough to believe he would leave me alone. He was like a tick that sucked the blood from its victims.
“You know, McCauley, you can never get out of this business. You’ve lived it since you were seventeen. You love the power, the money, the adrenaline rush. I saw it in your eyes the other night. I can pay you for your time.”
I scoffed, although he wasn’t wrong. “What you saw was nothing more than me wanting to kick you to the curb.”
“Think about it. We’ll be in touch soon.”
“Wait. How did you find out I’m moving to Boston?” Of course he always kept his enemies close. He’d probably had someone watching me for a while.
He let out a laugh that stiffened the hairs on my neck. “That sexy waitress of yours.”
Fucking Sabine. “You better not have hurt her.” I shouldn’t care, but I did. She was innocent and didn’t need to be caught up in my mess, despite her flirtatious attitude with Arturo or her wanting to stick her nose where it didn’t belong.
He clucked his tongue. “I wouldn’t call her screaming my name as I drove my dick into her hurting her. And before you accuse me of forcing myself on her, I can assure you the sex was consensual. She was all too eager to have dinner with me.”
“No regard for your wife,” I mumbled.
“My wife is none of your business,” he tossed out like a detonated bomb.
This conversation was going nowhere, so without warning, I hung up. If he thought I would do anything for him, he was smoking those drugs he sold.
