Page 40 of Lucky Boys
I was surprised to see Lewis Covington had already arrived when Maverick and I walked in. We had reserved a private table in the back, where it was less likely for anyone to overhear anything. It was quiet at this time of day, as they only opened for already reserved business meetings, so it worked out in our favor.
Lewis was sitting at the table with another man, who I recognized from our searches yesterday as Jackson Santiago. The younger man was bent over an iPad and talking quietly.
Lewis had tracked us from the moment we’d walked in the door, his eyes on us.
I greeted the hostess, letting her know our guests were already seated, and we walked back to meet them.
Jackson stood as we approached. Lewis didn’t. Asshole.
“Mr. Castellano?” Jackson greeted in a polished, polite tone. “I’m Jackson Santiago, and this is my employer, Mr. Covington. Thank you for meeting with us.” He held out his hand, and I begrudgingly shook it. It wasn’t his fault his employer was a jerk.
“Yes, well, it sounded like an urgent matter. This is my partner, Maverick.”
The greetings continued, and finally Lewis deigned to greet us, though he could never completely hide his judgmental gaze. He was a big man, and I always got the impression when I saw him in interviews and press conferences that he used his size, as well as his wealth and standing, to intimidate. He had a very noticeable receding hairline and his hair was mostly graying.
The waiter came by once we were all seated. Lewis ordered a drink, but Maverick and I just asked for waters. It made astatement. I didn’t plan to stay long, and I didn’t owe anything to Lewis Covington, even courtesy, because he’d bought me a drink. The waiter left, and I went right to business.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this last-minute meeting?”
Covington’s eyes turned cold. “Is this how you always treat potential clients?”
I took a sip of my water. “No.”
Maverick stayed quiet, but his shoulders lifted with a barely constrained laugh. I leaned back in my seat and waited. I didn’t trust this bastard as far as I could throw him, and even without knowing the stuff I did now, I wouldn’t normally have taken this meeting. Covington had always been known to be a shady piece of shit who was blatantly biased and who implemented policies that hurt certain groups of people more than others. I could afford to have standards and make sure I stood by those. I was only here for Brooks and Diego.
Jackson hid behind his hand, trying to suppress a smile, which I took as a positive sign. Maybe there was a personality behind the mindless corporate drone act.
Covington’s face turned red, but he managed not to explode and shoved a folder toward me.
I had to pat myself on the back that I kept my face neutral when the contents of said folder were nearly identical to what we’d found on the flash drive. Pictures of Matthew Covington, signed copies of NDAs, and the altered birth certificate were the first things I saw. Behind them were letters that were obviously blackmail. I glanced up at Covington with my eyebrow raised.
“What is this?”
Covington shifted uncomfortably before glancing around. Satisfied that we were alone, he started speaking in a hushed tone. “Nearly seventeen years ago, my older daughter, Leah . . . ran into some trouble . . . and ended up getting pregnant atseventeen with Bradley Fieldburg’s child. Due to their . . . age difference, the families decided it was best that my wife and I raise the child as our own.”
It was a practice in patience to stay calm. Ran into some trouble? That poor girl had been raped, had her child ripped away from her and had essentially been thrown somewhere and forgotten. However, as sick as this bastard made me feel, I didn’t think he was trying to trap us. He didn’t seem to know of our involvement at all. Whether he was aware of Brooks and Diego remained to be seen.
Covington went on to explain what we already knew. Then he finally got to the crux of the issue. “Marshall Fieldburg and I made sure his son wasn’t aware of the pregnancy. The man had always been volatile, and for everyone’s safety, we thought it best for him to stay in the dark.” Or he could’ve been in jail like he deserved . . . or, you know, buried six feet under. I had still been in the military at the time, and Skye, who got extreme pleasure in handling jobs like that, had only been 12, but there are others who would’ve been happy with that job. Anyway . . .
“About 2 years ago, we started getting anonymous letters claiming that they knew the truth about Matthew, and threatened to expose us if we didn’t live up to their demands. At first I thought it was Marshall himself. He had guilt about our initial deal for years, and recently at the time had been expressing more interest in Matthew than we liked. But there was never any proof of that, and it honestly wasn’t his style. Eventually I started to believe that Bradley somehow found out.” Covington shrugged. “It started with those blackmail letters.” He gestured to the folder. The first few were dated two years ago. “It began to escalate, and we worried for Matthew’s safety, so we sent him somewhere safe with someone we could trust. We didn’t tell anyone and just kept up the pretense he was away at boarding school.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is he with his mother?”
Marshall’s eyes widened before he schooled himself. “No. His mother . . . hasn’t been stable for a long time.”
“So, why did you call us, Mr. Covington?” Maverick asked as he leafed through the file that I handed over to him. “It seems like you have it in hand.”
Covington cleared his throat. “Because a few months ago, Damian Larsen, the man who has Matthew, stopped making his monthly call as was arranged, and just two weeks before Marshall was murdered, the payment I sent to him in an offshore account was bounced back to me. The account was closed. I have contacts in the area who drove by the house and confirmed it was empty. I have no idea where Mr. Larsen or Matthew are.”
I kept my composure while I stared at the man in front of me. There were no obvious signs that he was lying. He looked a little uncomfortable and kept glancing around, but given the circumstances, that was understandable. It was a completely plausible explanation for everything. In this world, it was normal to handle anything like this quietly to avoid a scandal. It was why groups like mine existed.
Still . . . “Why didn’t you go to the police? And why wait months to try and find him?” If that was my son, adopted or not, I would’ve fucking turned the world on its head to find him. Full on Liam Neeson until I had him safely in my arms.
Covington shot me a baleful look.
“Come now, Castellano. You were raised in this world. You know why I didn’t go to the police.” He cleared his throat, “As far as the other part. Well until the payments came back, I hadn’t thought much about it. Typically, Jackson took the calls from him.” Wow, what a fucking prick.
I was tempted to walk out, but between the as yet unknown connection to Brooks and Diego, and my now concern for this kid, I forced myself to stay civil and calm.
