“Colello!”

  Bright was heading our way, holstering her weapon. More cops were streaming up the stairs. They’d check out the entire building. Paramedics were already coming in as well, bringing their stretchers.

  “I called them. Gave them all a body count of guys I thought were dead and who I thought was just injured,” Bailey said.

  Bright nodded at her. “We know exactly where to go, but we still need to clear the building.” Her gaze fell over me, Chase, and Calhoun. Our grandfather wasn’t moving. “Is he dead?”

  He coughed, but his head bounced once and went back to not moving. He was sitting up, but I had no idea how. “He needs medical attention if you want to take him alive.”

  Two police were by him, checking him and cuffing him. Once the cuffs were on, Bright waved and two paramedics ran in. They had him loaded, working on him at the same time, and he was rolled out within seconds.

  “We are highly motivated to take him alive. He knows a lot of powerful men and dictators, and he could be very useful to our government.”

  “Fuck that,” Chase spit out. His anger was palpable.

  Bright cocked her head. “You have a problem with that?”

  “He should be dead. You don’t keep things like that alive.”

  A slight glimmer of a grin hovered over her face, and then she let it vanish. “Yeah, well, you’d be surprised which pieces of shit turn out to be super helpful in the end. He’ll be singing like a canary, I’m sure.” She looked me over. “There’s an ambulance outside. You should let them take you in. I’m sure you could afford the charge.”

  Bailey stepped in and I slid an arm around her shoulders.

  I sagged, and she caught me, her hand going to my chest, but she hissed under her breath. “You are bleeding everywhere.”

  “Bullets went through him, both of them. I watched,” Chase told her.

  His gaze met mine. That last one wouldn’t have.

  He had saved me.

  I didn’t thank him. I would, but not yet, not today. He wouldn’t hear it. I had hurt him, taking a kill away from him, and he had saved my life in return. There wasn’t anything I could say to make that right.

  “Come on.” Bailey sighed. “Surface wounds or not, I’ll sleep better knowing you were looked at by a doctor. I will also breathe easier right now if you let me grab two EMTs and let them put you on a stretcher, even though I know you can walk on your own.” She wasn’t asking. She was telling me.

  I noted that with a small grin, but she didn’t see it. She was already stalking off to do just what she’d said.

  Bright had stepped aside, having a word with another detective. She came back, looking both of us over. “Okay. Both of you go in, get yourselves looked at, and report to me tomorrow. I want full statements, and I’d send two police to sit outside your rooms, but I know you both will get pissed and probably vanish like fucking ghosts. So, since I don’t want my time wasted or yours, both of you promise to come down to my office tomorrow morning. We will need a full debrief from you, separately.”

  Chase didn’t respond.

  I nodded.

  Bright skewered Chase with a look. “Don’t piss me off and make us look for you. My tech guys are already in my ear, telling me there is video of you trying to kill your grandfather. That’s a violation of our agreement. If you push me, I will put out an arrest warrant on you and we will hunt you down like a fugitive. Got it?”

  He just glared at her.

  She started to leave, but then wheeled around. “Get cleaned up, both of you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  I saw an elevator open and a stretcher came out, holding Josh. Another elevator, with Drake. Scott. All of my men were accounted for. Bailey was coming back with a stretcher for me, and I had to wonder what kind of circus it must look like outside.

  Then I remembered what Calhoun had said.

  “You have a daughter?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He stalked off, his one good arm holding his bad one.

  “Kash?”

  I turned to Bailey, bending toward her. The EMTs were there, wanting to work on me, but I needed one touch from her. One beautiful touch in the midst of everything we just went through, and it was enough to tide me over. “I’m good.”

  “Colello.”

  Bright was coming back from one of the stairs.

  She was looking at Bailey, and I stood, feeling the EMTs trying to get me to sit on the stretcher. “Don’t start with her,” I said. “You can get her statement, but not till tomorrow. You’ll have to send a detective to the house for her.”

  “Colello!”

  I cursed. She was going to fight this, but then she softened her voice. “We found a body.”

  IN LOVING MEMORY, ANOTHER FRANCIS FRIEND VICTIM

  A memorial service will happen this Saturday, at one in the afternoon.

  Hoda Rai Mansour’s family will be gathering to share favorite memories and stories as they remember the great person Hoda was.

  She will live on in our laughter and tears. Please join us, her family.

  On behalf of Inside Daily Press, our staff sends their condolences.

  We will remain vigilant in our coverage of the wrongful conviction of Quinn Callas. Her attorneys remain confident Miss Callas’s case will be appealed.

  Click here to help support Quinn Callas and her innocence.

  —Inside Daily Press

  SIXTY-ONE

  Bailey

  I forgot about the footage until Matt brought out the latest Inside Daily Press article, and to say it was an article was being gracious. It was a local “news” website, and they were biased. Heavily biased. Case in point, the way they had been reporting on Quinn’s trial. It wasn’t all the time, but it was enough, and they got enough views to be a headache for my family’s publicist.

  This recent article came out the day after Hoda’s body was found. The police were able to piece together how she had been involved. They explained that she received a call from an unknown number. Security footage found her walking outside her apartment building, where she was forced at gunpoint to get into a nondescript van. After that, they could only guess that she’d been an unwilling participant in Calhoun’s attempt to kidnap his grandson. From their questioning of some of Calhoun’s men left alive, their orders had been to kidnap Chase Bastian and to execute Kash Colello if given the chance.

  I shuddered at the plans Calhoun must’ve had, to try it once again. Then this article came out and, well, my world wasn’t falling apart anymore. Besides grieving someone I wasn’t sure if I cared about or not—but still grieving that she had been pulled into my world’s chaos and destruction—I decided it was time to find out who the hell was behind Inside Daily Press.

  The result shouldn’t have been shocking.

  I hacked into Quinn’s old phone, since she wasn’t using it anymore, and sent a text.

  Meet me at Octavo. Friday night. 9 p.m. Back booth under the stairs. I’ll explain there.

  Then I waited.

  * * *

  “Why are we here again? You know Kash isn’t too happy we’re not at one of his establishments.” Matt sidled in next to me at our booth.

  “We’re here because she’d never go to one of Kash’s establishments.”

  We’d been here enough. I picked this booth because until you actually slid into the one side, you couldn’t tell if anyone else was sitting in it. She’d see my side profile, and I was hunched over, so I was hoping she’d see a female trying to hide her identity and guess the wrong person. But she’d slide in, and voilà, there would be Matt.

  “No, I’m not,” Kash said.

  We weren’t Team Batt right now.

  Matt groaned. “Still saying this. I am not a fan of Team KaBatt.”

  I grinned.

  “Tough shit. And you’re in a nightclub whose owners I do know, but I don’t know them well. I can also say that you will not be attending this nightclub without myself in attendance again.”

  “But—”

  “Ever again, Matthew. These owners have Mafia affiliations, and that’s all I’m saying about that topic. Drop it and tell me instead the plan of what you’re saying to this reporter.”

  Matt snorted again. “She is not a reporter. She’s barely even a blogger. She’s—”

  She slid into the booth at that very second, and froze, hearing Matt’s voice.

  She took me in, took in Matt.

  I didn’t think she saw Kash yet.

  She started to bolt.

  She got as far as the edge of the booth before Kash was there, and he was glowering down at her. She’d worn a white silk shirt, her hair was plaited in two braids. She almost had a schoolmarm look going on, with her glasses, her red lipstick, and the black skirt she had donned for this meeting.

  She froze again, head up, mouth hanging open, before she cursed under her breath. “Oh, no.”

  “Slide in.” Kash’s command was not an option.

  She gulped before she did what he said.

  Matt started, because I knew he would. “Oh, fuck indeed. Camille Story, aka Quinn’s bitch, aka Hoda’s puppet master, who probably gave her name up to Kash’s grandfather.” He leaned forward, hissing, “You got her killed. Take ownership of that.”

  Her eyes got bigger and bigger, the more he talked. She also got smaller and smaller in the booth, until she was almost shrunk half under the table. “I am not. What?” She pushed back up. “The only person I gave Hoda’s name to was Quinn. What she did with it, that’s on her. Not me.”

  “Right. You’re so innocent.”

  “I’m not saying I’m innocent, but what do you expect? Your family tried to ruin me. You tried to ruin Hoda. I know you ruined Quinn—”

  I burst forward. “Quinn is guilty! She tried to have me killed. You’re on the wrong side here if you think you’re some vigilante blogger.”

  She startled, pushing her glasses back up.

  She looked at Kash, who was scowling at her. Then at Matt, who was also scowling, but he had more of a glare, and he raised his eyebrow at her.

  “Are you serious?”

  Matt snorted. “You’re unbelievable. All that evidence. Calhoun’s men killed your friend! Don’t you care?”

  “I feel bad about Hoda, but this is war. And in times of war, there are casualties—”

  “Would you like to be one?”

  The question came from Kash, and it was said quietly, but damn, chills down my back.

  Camille was feeling the same, because I caught the shiver before she swallowed once again. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No,” said Matt.

  “Yes,” said Kash.

  “Dude! She probably has a recorder on her.”

  Kash looked down, picked up her purse, and dumped it out on the table.

  “Oh my God! That’s personal property. You can’t do that.”

  Kash was starting to look through her things. “Report me.”

  She sat back, her eyebrows pinched together and her whole mouth pursed. “I’m not okay with this, with any of this. You are going through my things. You are threatening my well-being. You are holding me here against my will…”

  And I was done hearing her complaints.

  I slid a picture over the table to her.

  She looked down, saw it, and gasped. “What—How—You—Oh my God! You invaded my privacy.”

  Matt’s head fell backward. “Are you freaking kidding me? That’s all you do to us!”

  Her face pinched in on itself. “I thought … I thought we had a good time the other night.”

  Another groan from him. “That was forever ago, and it was so my family could get inside and figure out what the fuck you had on us.”

  I pointed to the picture. “That’s also when I installed a program to watch you.”

  I let my statement hang between us.

  The image was of her doing something very illegal.

  “I have the trail to back this picture up, along with audio and video footage over the last month.”

  “You can’t do that. What you did was illegal!”

  She was white around her mouth, matching the blood draining from her face. She couldn’t stop staring at the picture.

  Yes. What I did was just as illegal. I didn’t care.

  “Prove it.”

  She looked up, her eyes so dilated that it took a second to focus on me. “You bitch…”

  “I have mercenaries on my payroll.”

  She turned, looking at Kash, and she visibly shrank back again.

  He stared right back, his voice level. “I wanted to give them your name, to tell them to ‘get rid’ of you in any way they chose. I’d be very kind to Bailey right now. She overrode my suggestion.”

  Another gulp. This time it was audible, and that said a lot since we were in a nightclub. Flashing lights and techno music was an automatic with these places. And dark corners, thank goodness.

  She crumpled up the picture, her gaze back on me. “What do you want?”

  Now that we got that out of the way, I slid over my next item. It was the latest piece she wrote about Hoda. “This is you.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  I shook my head, not understanding why she kept trying. “By now, you should automatically know that I don’t bluff. If I say I have it, I have it. If I say I know it, I have a trail of online evidence to back me up. Stop. We’re not even here to do anything to you. Just shut up and listen.”

  Her mouth clamped tight.

  “Finally.” Matt sighed.

  “You are Inside Daily Press. I ran all of the articles, and they’re all from you. They all generate from your four computers. And yes, I know about the fifth one you keep in the back closet. I know all—just make that your mantra by now. Bailey knows all, so stop arguing with me. You’re only going to piss me off to find more shit on you, and I have a ton already. I have enough that we could hand it over to two FBI agents, who would be happy to do with it what they wanted. I don’t think you’d get away with the warning we’re going to give you.”

  Matt was annoyed. I could feel it in the air.

  Kash was having fun. Since Calhoun was locked up and taken away to a black site prison, one that we were promised the public didn’t know about, he’d been almost whistling Broadway tunes. He was a new fan of Hamilton. But he was enjoying making Camille Story squirm under our threats.

  “What do you want?”

  “Stop writing this shit about Quinn. It’s biased and it’s lies. It’s all lies.”

  “But—”

  “Stop it! She tried to kill me. Forget all the shit we have on you; we could sue for libel and slander. We’d win. Why do you keep backing her story? The evidence against her is unquestionable.”

  She opened her mouth, stopped, gaped at me, and closed it.

  She looked down.

  We waited, and ten seconds later, she looked back up. “She was a friend. I don’t have friends.”

  Matt snorted, but I elbowed him in the side.

  “Oof.”

  Camille’s eyes narrowed and she lifted up a shoulder. “Quinn came to me. She told me all these things about you guys, and I believed her.”

  Matt growled but kept his mouth shut.

  I sat back. “You told her about Hoda?”

  She nodded. “She was looking for allies. I knew Hoda was your classmate and she didn’t like you. Hoda actually found me. She commented on a couple of my posts, and then I dug her up, finding out who exactly was commenting. I reached out after that, and the rest was history.”

  “My grandfather’s men knew about Hoda. Was that from you?”

  “I…” Her eyes suddenly bulged out, and what color had come back to her completely drained again. “Oh no. Oh no!”

  “We’re getting that.” A mutter from Matt.

  “Oh no!” She surged forward, sitting all the way upright. “Quinn emailed me, asking how to get in contact with Hoda. I’d told her that Hoda had moved out, but I never thought about it. She said she wanted to send Hoda a card or email. I … It was me.” She slumped back down. “She must’ve sent an email to Hoda and then to them, and that’s how they knew where to find her. I … I never thought.”

  We waited, letting her process that.

  Matt’s hand shot up. “Can we move forward? I don’t have any sympathy for her finding out she helped get a girl murdered. She’s been consorting with Quinn this whole time. She’s innocent of shit.”

  Camille’s eyebrows furrowed up. “That’s not fair.”

  “We don’t care,” said Kash.

  I coughed, sitting up. “Moving along. This is what we’re going to do. I have no interest in turning you over to the police. You’d have to explain how I got all of this, and frankly, I could delete everything and erase my trail, but that’s a pain in the ass. I mean, I’ll be erasing my trail anyways, but going through the hoops of proving that to the cops, I don’t want to do that. And I have no doubt that if Quinn gets word that you’ve been arrested, she’ll know you could turn evidence on her and she’ll probably try to figure out a way to hire a hit on you.”

  “Oh my God!”

  I ignored her. “So instead I want you to stop reporting anything and everything on our family. That is it. If you hear of a story brewing about us, you will merely type on your computer screen CANARY and I will know to get in contact with you. Creepy, yes. I don’t care. I want you to know that I’m going to continue watching you because I don’t like you. I don’t like how much you have hurt my brother, myself, my family, and Kash. You can do whatever you want, but you will help us instead. For the rest of your life. And if for some reason you decide you’re sick of being our puppet, remember that I’m only one hacker in my family. There’s one more and one coming. I also have a photographic memory, so anything I read, I never forget.” A pause for dramatic effect. “Are we clear here?”

  She’d lost all color again but jerked her head up and down in a stiff nod.

  It was good enough for me.

  We left and headed to Naveah.

  Once inside, and once we were sitting in our VIP booth, Kash watched Matt head to the bar. “You think she’ll do it?”