Page 111 of Attraction (Mobsters + Billionaires 3)
“If they’d known about the money going in, he would’ve never been accepted to the academy. Hell, if they’d known he was connected to Ciaran O’Shea, they’d have never let him in. And if I’m reading this right, the name change was about getting away from his father. But the coverup? That was about getting into the FBI. I can tell you this: if the FBI finds out who he really is, they won’t care about the money.”
I nod. “It’ll be all about the fraudulent coverup.”
“Yep.”
Fuck. I don’t want Hughes to go to jail.
Silence blankets the small room, save for the sound of computer fans.
Ryder continues, “From what I can tell, it was in everyone’s best interest that this not get out. The only two people, as far as I can tell, who know the extent of the fortune about to be handed to Liam are his grandfather and the Robin estate lawyer, who has signed the most draconian NDA I’ve ever seen. Whatever’s going on, his grandfather is being very, very careful.”
I nod. “He knows that Ciaran O’Shea was a grifter. And now that Fallon O’Shea is shacked up with Dominick Byrne, Hughes is in a very dangerous position.”
* * *
“Connor Robin was just takento the hospital,” Ryder says, sleep in her voice.
It’s five-thirty in the morning, and I have the phone on speaker. Ford is leaning in, listening to the details.
“And still no evidence that Hughes knows anything?”
“No. None of the bugged calls indicate any conversations of money or wills or anything.”
Yeah, this will definitely pull me out of this lovely bubble I’ve been in. Ford winks at me. “He helped us out that night. Regardless of what he thinks he knows, he won’t have a clue what to do with that money or how to protect himself. We’ll help him when the time is right.”
“Oh, we will, will we?” I ask, pleased by his willingness to jump in with both feet.
“Yes,wewill,” he says, his smile brilliant in the early-morning light.
28
FORD
I’ve spent almostevery night for the last few weeks at Luca’s apartment, but some of my plans need my attention, so I’m staying at my place this week.
I hate it…and I’m pretty sure Luca asked Anthony to double my detail.
Which will prove unnecessary in very short order.
Having signed the papers and been by Williams-Sonoma, I need to make one more stop before heading over to my most recent property acquisition.
Kej parks the Mercedes in our new reserved spot and accompanies me on a short walk to Central Park West. The brownstone, nestled among the local grocery and florist shops, is well-cared-for and large for the neighborhood. It might even be a little bigger than mine.
I make my way up the freshly swept stoop and rap my knuckles against the solid wood frame. Liam, looking like he hasn't slept in days, opens the door. He's a handsome man, trim and muscular, but he hasn't shaved, the area under his eyes is nearly purple, and his eyes are puffy as though he may have been crying recently.
“Wasn’t aware that anyone in your billionaire fan club knew how to knock on a door. How positively civilized of you,” he says dryly.
I huff a laugh at the ribbing, and his smile, while tired, is genuine.
“Agent Hughes, um, I apologize for just showing up unannounced like this. I wanted to chat with you, but perhaps now is not the right time.”
He wipes his hand over his face and shrugs. “There is no good time. Come on in. And call me Liam.”
The older brownstone has excellent light and good bones. There are a few things stacked here and there, but it looks like a place that is normally tidy.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Ford?” Liam asks, gesturing for me to sit on a comfortable leather couch while he takes the worn recliner.
“I wanted to talk to you about that night.”
