Page 31 of At Your Mercy
Yaz pursed her lips and rolled her eyes in mock disdain. “Carson can come too. The more, the merrier, as they say!”
“Good luck with that.” I shook my head in amusement. “God, there are too many fucking couples here.”
She snorted, shaking her head. “You’re just jealous, big man.” I rolled my eyes. “Anyways, one of these days, I’m gonna get you to come on a job with me.”
“Threats of torture,” I mused, arching a brow.
She winked at me before pushing off the desk. “I’m gonna go stake out the coffee pot before the info nerds drain it dry. You want me to bring you a cup before it’s gone?”
“Black,” I said simply.
“Always,” she tossed back over her shoulder, heeled boots clicking against the floor as she disappeared from my view.
I spun my chair around and closed my eyes, a certain pretty boy on my mind.
“Boss.”
I turned at the sound of Ichabod’s gravelly voice. He wasn’t one to interrupt without cause. His wiry frame stood in front of my desk, a file in hand.
“Yes?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
“I did some more research.” He glanced around, as if to make sure no one was listening in.
“I’d hope so. That’s your whole job, after all.”
“I mean about that kid you had me look into off the record.” Ich set the file down on the desk between us, tapping it with one blunt finger.
My gaze hardened. “What is it?”
“Um, well… It’s more about that Elias guy, the one whose name is on the kid’s—sorry, he’s only a few years younger than me, so I really should stop calling him that. Anyway, the man on the lease for his apartment. I just—something was bothering me about him. I’m sorry that I looked further into things withoutyour knowledge, but…” His mouth pressed into a flat line; his eyes were troubled. “What I found—it’s not just unsettling, Wes, it’s…”
My jaw clenched. “Get on with it, please.”
Ichabod nodded shortly and flipped the file open. Photocopies, old records, and grainy photos spread across the desk. Elias at different ages, but always with that same too-perfect smile. A trail of names and addresses that didn’t add up. Birth certificates that contradicted one another.
“Some of these identities overlap,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Different names, same face. Different addresses, same paper trail. And I just can’t see how he’d be able to pull this off for this long without help on the inside.”
My eyes skimmed the documents. “Okay, so?”
“I’m not sure if it’s a police contact or a government official, but… He’s not just some random handler who picked up your guy. He’s got backing. Real backing. And not the kind we want sniffing around our operation.”
I let silence stretch, fingertips brushing one of the photographs. Elias, with an arm around Ro, the boy caught mid-smile—guard down, if only for a second.
“What do you want me to do?” Ichabod asked.
I looked up at him. “Nothing. And if Elias ordered Ro to kill me, we should assume that whoever’s backing him is already aware of me and probably the whole operation.”
His brows drew together. “Wes—”
I closed the file with quiet finality, sliding it back toward him. “Just keep watching.Quietly.No one outside of you and me hears about it.”
Ichabod didn’t move to take the file back. Instead, he rested both hands on the desk, leaning in slightly. “There’s more…”
I arched a brow. “Then say it.”
His mouth tightened, like he hated the words he was about to let out. “The uh… connections I found—they link to transit routes. From what I’ve seen, it’s a huge underground trafficking organization. But, not like drugs or weapons, Wes. People.”
My fingers stilled on the desk, and I was suddenly much more interested in the conversation.
