Page 52 of Torched

But nobody is perfect, right?

We all look up to the door when a few knocks sound, waiting for whoever to enter.

“Well, look who it is,” Jeremy says, jovial. “Special Agent Hubbs, what can we do for you at”—he flips his wrist to check the time—“eleven pm?”

“Evening, boys.” The man saunters in with a confident stride, his head held high like he’s the boss in the room, even though he’s anything but that. He demands a level of respect we give him because he’s never given us reason to act otherwise. He’s dressed in a polo with a grey pullover on top, and some jeans, as if he’s coming from a casual night at the country club. His silver-gray hair is styled to perfection, one of the lucky men to still have a full head of hair at the respectable age of fifty-three.

“You come bearing gifts?” I point to the folder in his hand while Jeremy gives him his seat and plants his ass on the corner of my desk.

Hubbs shakes his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Howard, I’m really not in the mood for bad news.” Kane rolls his eyes like an annoyed teenager before a glare settles on his face.

Special Agent Howard Hubbs is our guy at the FBI. He points out shit we should know in order to avoid mayhem in his city, and we pay him a hefty sum in return. We’ve all been co-existing on the fine line of the law for a few years now, and Howard here has definitely earned our trust. The last time he warned us about one of our warehouses being in the loop by the NYPD, we managed to clear out the place before the cops showed up. He saved us a shit ton of money that otherwise would have been confiscated.

“I know, and if it wasn’t as serious as I thought it was, I would’ve waited.”

This piques Kane’s interest, and he rests his elbows on his knees. “What is it?”

“I’ve been doing some research about that Junior Reyes guy who you told me has been trying to poach your clients?” We all hum in agreement. “It seems like he has more information than he should.”

“How so?” Jeremy asks.

“He seems to even find clients that are hiding their involvement with you through shell companies. As if someone is telling him where to look.” His expression turns serious while he flips it between the three of us.

“What are you saying, Howard?” I ask, bringing my glass to my lips again.

The sigh that releases is heavy, as if he doesn’t want to speak the words out loud. “I think you have a mole.”

“No way.” Jeremy holds his glass mid-air, then shakes his head in denial while Kane’s jaw ticks and his face turns red.

The realization of Howard’s words slice through me, the heat of the Scotch now burning my gullet. Jeremy and Kane gawk at him in shock and disbelief, but I know Howard doesn’t come to us with shit like this if he isn’t positive. He doesn’t want a new player in the game just as much as we do, and he’ll do anything to keep the peace in his city.

“Do you know who it is?”

Howard’s head waggles. “That’s the weird thing. They have meetings with people who aren’t that easily found, as if they are avoiding your obvious allies, but I have no idea who’s feeding them this information unless someone close to you is sharing it with them.”

Kane’s head instantly snaps to mine with a glare filled with accusation. His light blue eyes are shooting daggers at me, and he kills my mood within seconds.

“What?” I bark, confused.

“You know what this means, right?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I actually don’t. I have no clue what my brother is talking about now, but the look on his face gives me a good indication that whatever he’s about to lay out on me, I’m not going to like it.

“It’s that fuckingbitch!”

“Who?” Howard frowns.

“Cristina Reyes.”

Ah, there it is. I shouldn’t be surprised he finds a way to spin this on Cristina. He hates her guts and at this point, I’m not even hoping for them to get along. Kane not killing her would be a fucking win right now.

I rub a hand over my face. “Kane, don’t even go there.”

“Reyes?” Howard asks. “Is she family of Junior’s?”

“His first cousin,” Jeremy explains reluctantly.

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