Passing His Guard

“As great as it is to see you, why don’t we get down to it and you tell me why I’m here?”

Ike had always been a no-bullshit, let’s-get-down-to-it kind of guy. That was one of the things Aiden liked about him.

“How close are you to getting an indictment on Moralli?”

Ike choked on his beer and took a moment to clear his throat before narrowing his gaze at him. “You ask that like you think I’m actually going to tell you.”

As Moralli’s lawyer, it was no secret to him Ike had been working to build a case against him for years. So had the feds.

“What do you want, Aiden? Why am I really here?”

“I want to give you Moralli. I want to hand you a case so airtight there’s no lawyer in the country who will be able to get him off.”

Ike sat there a moment staring at him, his quizzical frown thoughtful . . . contemplative. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

The waitress dropped off his beer as she passed by on the way to another table. Aiden took a sip and waited for his friend to say something.

“I can’t divulge what I have. You know that.”

“Well, you can add this to it.” Aiden slid the briefcase over to Ike.

“What’s this?”

“Proof. Proof of money laundering, illegal gambling, prostitution . . . It should get you started.”

“Damn . . .” Ike cursed, reaching down to slide the briefcase beneath his legs. “I can’t believe you’re doing this, man. You know you’re probably going to get disbarred for this, right? And that’s just the begi

“I know. I plan to turn State’s evidence for immunity.” He gave Ike a sly grin. “You didn’t think I’d tip my entire hand, did you?”

His friend laughed. “No, I didn’t. And I’ll do my damned best to get you through this unscathed. But I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about your father.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Rya

“What does it look like? I’m coming with you.”

“The hell you are,” Aiden and Nikko replied in unison.

Aiden reached for her and turned Rya

If he’d put it any other way she would have refused. She wasn’t some fragile doll Aiden could keep on a shelf and put away for safekeeping. But her sense of guilt that he was fighting in the first place kept her from arguing. The last thing she wanted was to be a distraction to him. Reluctantly, Rya

“He’s going to be fine, Gingersnap. Don’t worry. I’ll bring him home to you safe and sound.”

“You’d better,” she grumbled begrudgingly. Exhaling a defeated sigh, she bent to remove her boot, and Aiden caught her arm.

“Hey . . .” Aiden caught her chin and tipped her head so he could meet her eyes. “Thanks for all your hard work on Paskel’s dossier. You did a great job on it.”

He dipped his head and planted a kiss on her mouth. She stifled a groan of complaint when all too soon, he let her go.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised, walking out the door.

Nikko gave her a passing nod as he strolled by. The door closed behind him and just like that, she was alone.

Well, shit . . .

Rya

Needing the distraction, Rya

With a plan in place for the evening, the distraction helped calm her restless anxiety, and a couple glasses of wine wouldn’t hurt, either. After changing into her comfy pajamas and pouring herself some Moscato, Rya

Dear Ms. Andrews,

Please accept my heartfelt condolences on the loss of your father. I regret it has taken me so long to contact you, but I have just recently learned of his passing. We have never met, but I am an old friend of your dad’s. I have something he wanted me to give you in the event of his death, and I would like to schedule a meeting at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Henry

Rya

She checked the date on the message and saw it was sent three days ago. There was no return phone number, no last name; no way to contact the man other than to reply. It felt a little cloak-and-dagger to her, but after what she’d discovered about her father’s secret life, maybe it wasn’t so out there. She wouldn’t go to the meeting alone. Aiden would want to come with her, and Nikko would no doubt insist on going. She would be safe. Decided, Rya

“How you feelin’?” Nikko asked, wrapping the white fighter’s tape around Aiden’s knuckles. He circled it around three times, building up a good pad before crisscrossing it up Aiden’s wrist.

“Good.” Aiden was trying to focus, to block out the noise of the crowd in the underground arena—the screaming, the cheers, the booing. There were six fights on the docket for tonight, and Aiden’s was the main event. Broden Hayes, the guy Aiden was standing in for, must be one hell of a fighter to pull in the purse Aiden was fighting for tonight. A bet laid was a bet paid, and Moralli wasn’t letting anyone sideline their bets.

As he watched Del Toro wrap his hands with practiced efficiency, he felt frustrated that he was having trouble getting into his zone. The change in atmosphere, the stakes, it all kept him from finding his edge. Thoughts of Rya