Page 128 of Nash
"He called me Greg," East says.
"The financial trail," I say. "Whitmore's funding. Where's it coming from?"
"You're not going to address the Greg thing?"
"There's nothing to address, Greg."
East looks around the table. Arrives at the conclusion that every person in this room was briefed on his new identity without his knowledge.
"Fine." He shifts Declan against his chest. "Whitmore's accounts are dry. No deposits in six months. He's running on savings or cash. If he had network support, the funding would show. He's solo."
"We take him at the laundromat," Malachi says. "Forty-eight hours. No scene, no collateral. Nash makes the approach. Rider and Kyle on perimeter. Knox on comms."
"And if he runs?" Kyle asks.
"He's five-ten, two-twenty, and driving a white pickup with mud on the plates." I look at Kyle. "He's not outrunning a motorcycle."
Malachi holds my eyes for two seconds. "Forty-eight hours. Brief the team tonight."
"I have eyes in Batesville," Victor says. "People who owe me. If Whitmore moves before the forty-eight hours, I'll know."
"Use them," Malachi says.
"Copy."
"Anything else?" Malachi looks around the table.
"Yeah," East says. "Who started the Greg thing? Because I want it on the record that this is a violation of my constitutional rights as a member of this club and also as a human being who was given a perfectly good name by parents who—"
"Meeting adjourned," Malachi says. "Greg."
The war room clears into the main room. East walks out with Declan and runs straight into Darla. She lifts Declan out of his arms, settles Rowan into them instead, kisses his cheek, and says, "Thanks, Greg. She needs a change."
East stares at her. "You too?"
"You too what, Greg?"
"DARLA." Declan fusses at the volume. East drops to a whisper immediately, one hand on the baby's back. "The mother of my children. The woman I love. She's calling me Greg."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Darla walks away with Declan against her chest. Over her shoulder: "Dinner's in an hour, Greg."
The war room clears. James stops at the door.
"Nash." He holds my gaze. "Whatever needs to happen with Whitmore happens. But you come home after. The woman in the other room needs you next to her."
"Copy."
James leaves. The war room holds the quiet.
Past the half wall, the main room is filling. Maggie promised dinner, which means everyone showed up because refusing Maggie's dinner is a fundamentally unsafe activity. Sloane andKnox sit at the long table, Sloane shifting in her chair every few minutes, one hand on her belly. Candace sits beside Malachi, her hand on his arm. Victor and Olivia are at the far end of the table, Olivia's gold necklace catching the light. Kyle stands by the pool table with Rider. Frankie's near the back door, a beer in her hand, and Arden's a few feet away leaning against the wall. Amelia hovers near the kitchen until Candace waves her to a seat. James and Maggie are in the kitchen that's filled with the sound of plates and the smell of something with rosemary.
Ruby is on the couch past the half wall. She was supposed to be invisible, but she's the opposite of invisible. She's surrounded by Sloane, Darla, and Candace with Rowan in her arms. Ruby's holding the baby like the baby is the most important thing she's ever been given while simultaneously providing a running commentary on the Greg operation to an audience of three women who are crying with laughter.
"His FACE," Ruby says. "When Malachi said it the second time. His face did a thing that I need preserved in a museum. Someone tell me Knox has a camera in that room."
"Knox has cameras everywhere," Sloane says. "I'll get the footage."
"I want it framed and mounted above our bed. I want to fall asleep every night looking at East's face processing the death of his own name."
