Page 101 of Lethal Obsession

“Private militia?”

“Got it in one,” Lars says. “These images were plastered all over social media barely minutes after the sub was detained. Hunter immediately gave a press conference taking full credit for the operation, saying that he and the Miami Drug Enforcement Agency had been working with senior federal officials to combat the drug trade. Only problem, according to your friend Renata, is that neither the Miami DEA, the US Marshals office, or the FBI even knew of the narco-sub’s existence, let alone that they’d supposedly been working with Hunter, of all people, on some secret operation. Whoever these guys in black are, they’re not government. Not that they’re admitting that publicly, of course. It’s much better for them to just take the win.”

“It’s the same with the guys who shut down our casinos, and the nightclubs,” Dima adds. “Not only are they not on our payroll—nobody in Miami law enforcement seems to know who they are. No uniforms. No badges. Just masked faces, heavy weaponry, and shut-down notices.”

My bad feeling is going from bad to fucking catastrophic at lightning speed.

“Renata said her investigations into Hunter and his funding were being stonewalled,” I say slowly. “I take it whoever is doing the stonewalling is the same person running the guys you’re talking about?”

“Safe guess,” Dima says.

“Less a person,” Lars says. “More like an organization. A fucking big one, with a lot of coin.” A stack of documents appears on my screen.

“Renata said there was big money behind the Hunter campaign.” I run my eye down the numbers. “She wasn’t exaggerating.”

“Nope. And I’m not surprised she couldn’t trace Hunter’s funding. It’s a fucking labyrinth.” Lars clicks again, and a list of names pops up. “Political action groups. Shell companies. Small donations from mom-and-pop fundraisers. Money that’s incredibly hard to trace or pin down, coming in from so many directions it’s virtually impossible to follow.”

“Organizations are still people. Whoever is running John Owens is clearly running this.”

“Clearly,” Lars says. “Which I know is Mak’s party. But given the circumstances, I wanted to talk to you before I gave him a full report.” He tilts his head. “So did Dima.”

“Thank you,” I say, meaning it.

“And before you ask,” Lars goes on, “I’ve kept Mickey out of it, too. Not sure how long that will last, though. Little fucker isn’t stupid.” I don’t miss the grudging admiration in his tone.

“No,” I say tightly. “He isn’t.”

And if he finds out that America’s newest favorite villain is sleeping with his sister, I doubt he’ll hold back on the retribution.

I need to get Ofelia out of here. Then I need to talk to Mak.

A favor is one thing. But shutting down my games and hitting my bottom line is crossing a line I can’t ignore.

I need to get back to the swamp and fix this shit.

“Don’t go anywhere near Miami.” Lars reads my mind with characteristic accuracy. “You need to stay way the hell out of this, Lex, until we work out who is behind it.”

“Fuck off,” I snarl. “Mak said the same thing, and look where that’s landed us.”

“And much as I dislike giving that smooth motherfucker props,” he says lightly, “in this instance, we happen to be on the same page. You told me that you’d given Mak carte blanche to deal with this Owens character. Called it a favor, which Dima here tells me is taken seriously between you bratva boys.”

“You could say that,” I say tightly, “yes.”

“Then give him carte blanche.” Lars sits back and runs his hands through his hair. “It’s not like Mak doesn’t have the resources and the balls to take care of business.”

“Fuck that—”

“I’m with Lars,” Dima cuts in.

I glare at him. “I thought you came to me because the favor is hurting us.”

“It is.” He gives me a dark smile. “But Mak wanted the favor. So make him work for it.” He shrugs. “We both know he won’t let you down. And for once, I agree with both him and this fucker.” He tilts his head at Lars. “That social media shit has done its work. You set so much as a foot on Miami soil, and some prick will recognize you. Right now, that’s the last thing the business, or any of us, needs. Hunter’s team has made you public enemy number one, Lex. We’re doing everything we can to keep our people safe and under the radar. If you come back, it will only put a spotlight on all their backs.”

“Not if I blow a fucking hole through whoever is holding the spotlight.”

“This isn’t the Orlov situation,” Dima says grimly. “We don’t have half of Miami rooting for us to win. Back then, law enforcement was on our side, unofficially at least, and Marty Hunter Jr. was campaigning for his first term. They all hated the Orlovs as much as we did, and feared them, too. You did law enforcement’s job for them and put Marty into Congress. Everyone won.

“But this is different. Owens is an enemy we can’t see. Take Hunter out, and more than likely another puppet will pop up in his place. This isn’t a Miami thing, Lex, or even a fucking Florida thing. The money and influence for this are coming from outside our house.”