Page 45 of Freeing Denver
Keto leans back in his chair to catch Lucas’s eye. “I got twenty on Denver.”
“Enough.” My voice cuts through the growing argument like a freshly sharpened blade through silk. Denver and Alistair fallsilent. “Axel wouldn’t put Denver at risk. As for how Vince found out our addresses, Dante is looking into it.”
“And there’s Halloween, too,” Charlie says. “We still don’t know how Spider knew where we’d be to try and take Denver. He knew the exact fucking house.”
He did, and it’s played on my mind since that night. There are two reasonable explanations. One, he’s following us and stays close enough to know our addresses and whereabouts, even with changes. Denver’s attendance at Halloween was a last-minute decision, after all.
Explanation two? There’s a rat.
It’s a possibility I’ve toyed with since clearing my head. There have been too many occasions when our enemies knew our exact location, and I don’t believe in coincidences—but it’s hard to accept that anyone in this room would betray us.
I continue, “JJ, Taf, I want you both to check the loyalty of the cops we have on the payroll and lean on the ones who aren’t. Keto, take Lucas and go to our regulars. See if any of Ranger’s product has been sold or sampled. Take whoever you need.”
A jerk of my chin toward the door signals the end of the meeting. Alistair snatches up his laptop and leaves, and Cain tracks him as he goes before saying, “Colt, can I have a word with you and Ms. DeLuca?”
Everyone filters out of the room, and Cain approaches the head of the table. The door shuts, the room cloaked in a thick silence.
“What I’m about to say to you doesn’t leave this room,” Cain says. “It is never linked back to me, and I won’t divulge how I know what I know. Is that clear?” Denver and I nod. “I don’t know where Spider is, but I think I know who does.”
“Who?” Denver and I both say it.
Cain runs his hand across his mouth, as if doubting even now whether to say something. “Sylas Sinclair.”
That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. The head of a family in Chicago, Sylas hails from England and makes his money quietly and with little disruption. He stays mainly in the shadows, just like I did, especially after he married years ago. He keeps his wife under wraps, clearly concerned about her safety.
The name doesn’t rattle me, but for some reason, Denver’s eyes are wide.
“Why would he be involved with a human trafficker?” she asks.
Cain is staring at her like he understands her concern. “I don’t know.”
Something is going on here, and I don’t like being in the dark. Denver has paled, and she grips the back of the chair Alistair left.
“Who do you work for, Mr. Calloway?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
A tense silence crawls between all of us. “The Merricks.”
The Merricks. As in, Noah Merrick. Denver’s high school boyfriend. The son of Robert Merrick, who was close to Denver’s father.
“Is she safe?” Denver asks.
Cain nods. “She’s home.”
I look between them. “Who?”
Denver raises a hand to her necklace and fiddles with the pendant. “Florence Merrick. Noah’s sister. She married Sylas years ago and moved to Chicago. We barely heard from her, but people grow apart and … she left him?” Cain nods. “Why?”
“It’s not my place to say.” But that’s all he needs to say. It’s clear how Cain knows about the link between Sylas and Spider. Florence left her husband and told him everything. “I don’t need to elaborate on why this can’t be linked back to me.”
Denver nods. “It never will. We’ll send men to Chicago to deal with it.”
Cain looks somewhat satisfied. “You have my support and whatever men you need in the city.”
“But you won’t send your guys to Chicago to deal with Sylas?” I ask.
“I’m in the business of protection, Colt. Not execution,” he says simply. “It was good to meet you, Ms. DeLuca.”
“You’re not staying?” she asks.
