Page 67 of Unbonded
I check my watch. “Half an hour?”
“Perfect.”
She saunters out of the room, and I watch the space she left in my open doorway until I hear the soft chime of the elevator. Forcing my attention back to work, I check my emails. There’s a lot waiting for me, given we’ve been out of the office for the last couple of days, but one email catches my eye. It’s an unknown contact for an external address, and the second I open it I feel my blood pressure spike.
Stick your nose in Emerald business again and you might lose your rare jewel
There’s no link to click, so I grab my desk phone and call Curtis, the head of Paragon’s security team. After Monaco, our insurance company insisted we beef up our safeguards, both physical and virtual, and Curtis now leads a small department of ex-military security experts. “Hey, boss. I heard you’ve finally tied a knot. How’s bonded life?”
“None of your business,” I reply, “but highly recommended.”
He snorts and cracks his knuckles. “Well, congratulations. We’re monitoring online traffic to see if anyone’s showing particular interest in your new status. We’re also going to tighten things up at the ballet on Friday night.”
I shift in my seat, a little on edge that this is starting to feel like a perfect storm. I never expected to claim Dash so close to opening night, and now with Kate and Lachlan joining our pack, the risks have increased beyond my comfort levels. “I got an email,” I tell him with more than a little growl in my voice. “I’ve sent it to you.”
“Reading it now.” Curtis is quiet for a moment and then he grunts. “I don’t like this. They’ve gone to some effort to cover their tracks.”
“I was thinking this might have to do with our source in Colombia.” The South American country is one of the biggest producers of emeralds in the world. “They didn’t like our last supply agreement.”
“Yeah, I’m not so sure this is about gems. It’s emerald with a capital E. Could refer to a criminal group in Boston, except I know for a fact they were taken off the board last year.”
“Criminal in what way?” My work with Perry has opened my eyes to a lot of shit people are prepared to do in the name of money and power, but I’m mostly involved in financial crimes.
“Every way. The head of the outfit, Quinn, was a real piece of work, especially when it came to the omega trade.” I have to swallow the growl building in my throat, but it’s nearly impossible when Curtis says, “I don’t like the reference to your rare jewel. It could be seen as a threat to your new mate. You want me to initiate additional protocols around him?”
“Yes. And do whatever it takes to track that email.” I look down to see that my thumb has dug a deep groove in the side of my desk.Get a goddamn grip, Webber.I take a steadying breath before I ask, “You know anyone who can tell me more about this Emerald group?”
Curtis is quiet for a beat, but I pay him and his pack enough to break any confidences. “Word on the street is that the Volk Pack was involved.”
I frown. I know that name, even though it takes me a moment to put it into context. “The guys who took over the Ferro Club?”
“Yep. Their security guy, Patrick, would know, but he’s a walking red flag. Want me to handle it?”
I’m feeling like a bit of a red flag myself. “Just get me his number.”
“Already sent it, boss.” Curtis pauses, then clicks his teeth. “Hope this hasn’t ruined your afterglow.”
I snort, but he’s not wrong. Threats to the business are one thing, but targeting my pack is a quick way to fuck with my composure. “I’m good at compartmentalizing, but call me the second you get anything on that address.” I end the call, then dial the number he emailed me.
The guy answers like we’re half way through a conversation. “Webber? Hang up and I'll call you.”
“But...”
The line clicks and I stare at the handset until my mobile rings. It’s an unknown number, and when I answer, that sameIrish drawl is on the other end. “What can I do for you, Mr. Webber?”
“How do you have my cell number?”
“Must be because you’re a very important person,” he snarks. “Now is this just a friendly chat, or do I have something you need?”
I figure this is one of the red flags Curtis mentioned and swallow a sigh. “I got an email from someone referring to Emerald business and Curtis Meecham directed me your way. He thought it might have something to do with a guy called Quinn.” Deathly silence follows, and I frown at the gouge I took out of my desk. “This isn't an accusation, Patrick. I'm just looking for information to see if this is a credible threat.”
There’s a rasping sound at the other end. Either he’s sharpening a knife or rubbing his palm over his three-day growth. “Emerald was Quinn’s operation,” he finally says, “but he's been pig food for nearly a year. Let me check around and I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks...” But I'm already talking to air, and Kate is waiting in the doorway, my new jacket over her arm and a smile on her face.
Compartmentalize now, Webber, and chase up those red flags later.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - KATE
