Page 16 of Room Nine: Masters of Control

“Something like that.” I plop down into a chair.

“That’s some makeup job you got going on, Kerr,” Lee adds.

Kerr touches his black eye. “Yeah. She got me good.”

“I hope it was worth it.” Reese grins.

Kerr shrugs. “We’re hoping so, too.”

Both Lee and Reese raise their brows but drop the conversation when Victor comes back into the room, closing the door behind him.

He sighs as he takes a seat, his hands clasped on the big conference room table. “I had a nice long conversation with the Feds yesterday, letting them know that while we appreciate them paying our exorbitant fee to basically babysit while they gather enough evidence for their prosecution, we are tired of watching shitbags commit crimes and walk away unscathed. It goes against our very moral fiber to wait while they waste time making sure all of their T’s are crossed and their I’s are dotted. Normally, we’re hired when they want to avoid the red tape.”

“Thankfully, they agreed. With one house burnt, they are confident the DiFallo family will scrub the other houses, which means they have to move now with the evidence they have.”

“Thank fucking Christ,” Lee mutters my exact sentiments.

“Right.” Victor leans back in his chair, eyeing the closed door. “Something else for you to know. Not every shitbag you’ve had to watch walk away has made it out unscathed. Part of the export business has been running out of New Orleans and Miami, and our boys down south have been moonlighting for me—off the books, of course. That’s all I can tell you for now, but it should provide you some solace when you close your eyes at night.”

Kerr elbows me. “I guess that’s why we haven’t seen some couriers come back.”

“Exactly,” Victor quips.

“Nice,” I say. “We’ll have to take a trip down south and buy the boys a beer.”

“I prefer you share a bottle of whiskey at Walder’s Ranch,” Victor states in a tone that brokers no argument.

“Roger that.”

“So, what’s our next step?” Reese asks.

“They want a couple more days of surveillance to capture any movement from the DiFallo family as they scrub the scenes. They’re going to be standing by as well—actually, their agents are probably already shacked up with your teams—ready to arrest anybody that comes to destroy evidence.”

“Oh, Case is going to hate that,” Lee grumbles.

Reese nods in agreement.

Victor sighs. “Can’t be helped. Otherwise, it’s time to come home.”

I can almost feel the anxious energy radiating off my partners sitting next to me. “What about Bobby Lash?”

“What about Bobby Lash?” Victor raises his brows.

I exchange a glance with Kerr and Dem before turning back to Victor. “We want him. The woman that torched the house yesterday, she deserves to know he’s no longer a threat.”

Victor closes his eyes for a second. “Lee, Reese, you can return to your teams. Let them know they’ll be home before the weekend.”

Both men nod and stand up, throwing us a pointed look. “You guys need anything, you know how to reach us.”

I nod but say nothing. None of us are stupid. These guys—without knowing who Kyra or Bobby are—understand the desire to right a wrong. They also understand the driving need to protect what is theirs, even if Kyra isn’t technically ours.

Not yet, but soon.

Victor waits until they close the door behind them before addressing us. “You are confident she is not working for the DiFallo family?”

“One-hundred percent,” I nod and slide him a copy of the note from Bobby to Kyra.

He reads it twice before shaking his head. “The Feds are going to want to bring him up on charges with the rest of them.”

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