Page 81 of Defending You
“Glad you called,” Alyssa answered. “I was starting to worry.”
“We’re getting close,” Cici said. “Did you learn anything new?”
Asher was happy to let Cici direct the conversation, eating his dinner as quickly as possible so they could get back on the road.
“Actually, yes.” Keys clicked rapidly in the background. “I managed to identify two of the other men who tracked you down near the airfield. I found traffic cam footage from when they passed through town.”
“Were there more?”
“There’s a guy in the backseat of the sedan. Looks like a big guy, bearded, but I can’t get enough of his face to ID.”
Cici met Asher’s eyes. “Could be the guy you fought with.”
“The linebacker you took out.”
“Wait,” Alyssa said. “Cici took him out?”
“The guy’s head was a fast ball over the plate, and your sister hit it like Big Papi in the ninth.”
Cici shook her head. “Not exactly.”
“Nice,” Alyssa said.
“Anyway…” Asher wiped his greasy fingers. “Names?”
“Mendez. Like Souza, he’s connected to the Fourth Hood in New York. Sending a photo.”
The phone dinged. Cici looked, then showed it to him. It was Pretty Boy, the one Asher had put in a sleeper hold.
“The third guy, though, that’s where it gets interesting. His name is Dominic Falcone, and he runs with a completely different crew out of Boston. They call themselves the Northside Kings.”
He looked at the photo. This one had a couple of face tattoos that didn’t hide the acne scars.
“I’ve heard of them,” Asher said. “They focus on illegal drugs, right? How are they connected to the Fourth Hood? Aren’t they into human trafficking and prostitution?”
“According to law enforcement,” Alyssa said, “not only are they not connected, they’re rivals.” Asher didn’t know Alyssa at all. Even so, it was easy to tell by the tone of her voice that she was saving the juiciest news. “On paper, there’s no connection between them.”
“Gagnon.” Cici spoke the obvious—and the most important piece of the puzzle. “He’s the connection. Somehow.”
“Exactly,” Alyssa said. “I’m sending you a photo of Maxwell Pierce, the Fourth Hood’s suspected ringleader.”
The phone vibrated with an incoming text, and Cici navigated to look at it, then angled it for Asher to see the guy. Clean-cut, perfect smile, expensive suit. Nothing about him screamed “gang leader” or “human trafficker.” Rich guy with rich-guy resources, exactly the kind of person Asher didn’t trust.
Cici’s remarks earlier about pegging all rich people—or poor people—had him amending his first thought. He tended not to trust rich people, but that was his problem, not theirs.
Alyssa continued. “He presents himself as this champion of urban renewal while running one of the most vicious trafficking operations on the East Coast.”
Asher angled toward the phone. “I’m guessing you’ve figured out how he’s connected to Gagnon?”
“Pierce has been paying him like clockwork. A hundred thousand every quarter since 2020. The payments go through shell companies and end up in an offshore account that belongs to Gagnon. It’s pretty impressive the way he’s covered his tracks.”
Asher did the math. “That’s two million dollars.”
“And counting,” Alyssa said.
Cici pushed her sandwich away. “I’m guessing Gagnon found proof of Pierce’s involvement in the human trafficking ring that law enforcement couldn’t find, and rather than turn the guy in, he’s using it for profit.”
Asher fought to control his facial expression, though his smirk wanted out. “The guy’s a murderer, Cici. Don’t tell me you’re surprised.”
