Page 39 of Queen's Ransom

She let out a held breath. “What’s going on, then?”

“Oak was trying to reach you. When he couldn’t, he called Holt.”

“Something’s happened?”

“You could say that,” Hawes said, grim-faced as they passed his and Chris’s offices. They turned into Holt’s office, and on one of the monitors of Holt’s full command setup, Oak stood under an umbrella, the collar of his long wool trench turned up, outside of San Quentin State Prison.

“Oak,” she said. “What’s going on?”

He shouted over the pouring rain. “Michael Griffin is dead.”

The floor didn’t fall out from under her, but it was a near thing. She flailed out a hand for the closest chair back, the one her brother sat in. “What the fuck?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Oak sighed, the video call window wobbling. “I came out here to meet with him, like we talked about, and found out he was murdered last night.”

“Murdered?” Hawes said.

Oak nodded. “Strangled in his cell.”

“Fuck,” Helena cursed. “Do they have any idea who?”

“Still investigating,” he said. “I did confirm he was here Friday. He wasn’t your shooter. But that’s all I’ve got. You’re gonna have to get the rest of your answers another way.”

“If you learn anything else about what happened there,” Hawes said, “let us know.”

“Will do.” He hung up, and Helena sank into the chair next to Holt. “Two guesses who executed that hit.”

“Only need one,” Holt said. “The Ferriellos don’t have any known associates in there.”

“But the Bratva do.” She put both elbows on the desk and hung her head in her hands, fingers clutching the roots of her hair. “Fuck! This is us.”

Holt gently clasped her shoulder. “We don’t know that, Hena. Lenny is in the middle of this, and he’s connected to Dex.”

“Wait,” she said, lifting her head. “Lenny?”

He withdrew his hand and his fingers flew across the keyboard, another screen flickering to life. “Surveillance footage from the storage facility.” On it, a generic four-door sedan pulled in front of a garage-sized unit. The passenger door opened and out stepped Lenny. A minute later, Lenny drove out the Charger that had shot up the shop.

“How the fuck do Michael and Lenny know each other?”

“Still digging.”

Hawes stepped to the side of the monitor wall and pointed at the car Lenny had stepped out of. “Whose car is that?”

“Adrian Zima’s.”

“Fucking hell.” Helena dropped her arms, crossing them in front of her, at the same time Hawes asked, “What the hell were they up to?”

“Getting someone’s attention,” Helena said.

“They’ve got ours,” Hawes said, following her train of thought.

“And we need to get the Bratva’s before they do.”

And in the meantime, she needed to stay as far away from Celia as possible.

Chapter Seventeen

Bill drove the Bentley back into the shop yard and his smile was big enough to see through the windshield. He swung the car around behind Celia and pulled next to where she stood, the driver’s-side window rolled down. “She rides like a dream.”

---