Page 80 of Possession

Awesome.

Violet had probably caught that little grope and tickle on the video feed.

“Unless you want a show, Jack, I suggest you tell me what you need to say and get the hell out of here.”

Jack leaned against the doorway. “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy the show, but I do value my balls. Blake’s not above snipping them off for being in your dance space.”

I met his gaze in the mirror. “Get to the point.”

“Right, Thorny.”

I tugged out my makeup case and gave him a bland look.

He cleared his throat. “One of the names of the companies was niggling at me, so I did some digging.”

I paused as I slicked on a fresh coat of lipstick. “How much digging?”

“I may be in the private sector these days, but I do have some friends left in the Alphabet Soup of agencies.”

I recapped my Poppin’ Pink and threw it into my bag. “Any particular branch of the military?”

“More like FBI.”

I sighed. Of course, Jack knew people in the FBI. Why not? “Am I going to like this tidbit of info?”

“Depends.”

“Yeah, that means no.”

“Well, it certainly gives us some insight. How much remains to be seen.”

I stuffed my blouse down into my trousers and buttoned my cinnamon-colored blazer. Evidently, I wasn’t going to get the chance to do a full reboot of my outfit. I moved to the door, but he held his arm across the threshold.

“I don’t really need this info under the watchful eye of our security cameras.”

I frowned. “That’s not ominous.”

Jack’s mouth tipped up in his usual smirk, but the spark was missing from his eyes. “It could mean nothing.”

“By your reaction, I’m voting for something.”

“Two of the companies listed are in Brooklyn.”

“All right,” I hedged.

He sighed. “I can’t be sure. And these two companies are legit.”

Unlike some of the ones that we researched. “But…” When he drummed his fingers on the doorjamb, I tipped my head back. “Spit it out.”

“Mob ties, Blondie. One definitely, the other all but verified.”

I laughed. “What? Are we in a movie?”

“I wish. And while the movies make them sound pretty bad, the reality of organized crime in New York City is even worse. No horse heads in bed. Instead, people just go missing. Not floating in the river in three days, just gone.”

I swallowed. “And you think my grandmother was involved with these people?” My voice was little more than a whisper.

“I don’t know what the hell Annabelle Stuart was into, but if she’s even on the outskirts of these dealings then we’re…” Jack dropped his gaze. His nails went white with the pressure of his hold on the doorjamb.

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