Page 44 of Vile Bastards
“I find that odd seeing as Papa knew better than to confide such things to unreliable social climbers. If he were to work with the FBI in any capacity, he’d keep that to himself for obvious reasons.” Alexei stands up and puts his hands on either side of his head. “My father was a kindhearted man, but when it came to business, he was extremely close-lipped. He was wealthy beyond all reason. He had power and influence. Why on earth would he communicate with a government spy?” Alexei exhales sharply and drops his arms. “At the end there, he was worried about something. He would never let me see what he was working on.”
“Doesn’t that mean it’s more rather than less likely that he’s guilty as charged?” I ask, but then … I know my father. This is too coincidental. If anything, it’s more probable that he made up a rumor about Pavel and then murdered him and hid the evidence to stage it like he fled. It’d make sense, seeing as Emma Jean Thompson just told me all about the recent wheeling and dealing in my father’s world, the information he doesn’t bother to communicate fully to me.
Either Jonas kept Aspen at arm’s length, or he suspects something is off with me.
Won’t he be furious when he finds out that I not only gave Emma Jean photos of the illegal eviction at the building downtown, but that I also informed her as to where she might uncover Larron Van Gordon’s body.
The political rival that Aspen murdered with his own hands, stole his cuff links, forced me to help bury. That very same man. This could come back on me, but I need to take the risk if I want to beat my father at his own game.
“It means he likely knew they were plotting against him,” Alexei states, but that’s just a theory like any other.
“What we need is a computer nut,” Scarlett says, popping another piece of candy into her mouth. I’m not the only one that watches in rapt attention as she chews. It doesn’t help that she’s wearing a skintight leather pencil skirt and a white blouse that shows off the bra underneath it. It’s impossible to look at anything else. “Someone who can hack in and check financials for us. If we follow the money, we’ll make the connection.”
“I know someone,” Bohnes suggests, giving a small shake of his head. “Discreet, talented, foul-mouthed and rude. Won’t come cheap, that’s for sure. I can inquire as to the price.”
“I’m sure I can find someone,” I say breezily, but Bohnes waves his hand in dismissal.
“Not as good as my contact, I guarantee you.” He smiles at me in an extremely patronizing sort of way. We look at each other and the quiet knowledge that we allowed one another to live passes silently between us. It’s the only thing keeping us civil right about now.
“Let me tell you about Emma Jean,” I say instead, because I’m not entirely useless.
I have my ways.
I just hope Scarlett trusts me enough to get through it.
Scarlett
Ash takes off in his factory-fresh sedan which is just as well seeing as he was starting to get on my fucking nerves. I understand his motivations; I even somewhat agree with his methods. We really can’t be seen together in public anymore, but I bet the mayor’s mistresses are treated better in private than I am. That Kelly boy better clean up his act.
I do like the information he gave me about Emma Jean though.
“I recognized her when I saw her at the party, but it took me a while to place her.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded picture. It’s Emma Jean, alright, but she’s a brunette with long hair, not a short-haired blond. “This was a volunteer dinner for Larron Van Gordon’s supporters. Emma Jean was one of his biggest proponents; she even helped him push through legislation to regulate builders of high-rise developments.”
Only, back then, her name wasn’t Emma Jean Thompson. I fucking knew it. Apparently, Miss Thompson is actually Miss Addison. Emma Lee Addison. Close, but no cigar. Also, her fucking parents died in a condo collapse wherein said condo was built by—ding, ding—Archer Realty for the win. Only, it wasn’t Archer Realty at the time, but a now dissolved corporation called Luxe Housing, Inc.
Not that any of that helps us understand why Pavel was murdered, but it does explain Emma’s motivations and why she would bother to put a horse in this race at risk to her own life.
At least Ash Kelly isn’t a completely useless fuckboy.
Still hate him though.
“Good riddance.” I spit at the ground as Widow steps out of the warehouse, glancing over at me.
“One of your girls came up to me today to complain about her boyfriend.” He slips out a cigarette and lights up, kicking his boot up on the wall of the warehouse behind him. I’m surprised by the news, but not entirely displeased. This means that at least some of the girls have accepted that it’s Widow’s responsibility to tame the male population of Prescott High. “I kicked the shit out of him for roughing her up. If he touches her again, I’ll break his arm.” He turns toward me, amber eyes taking me in with a single, promising sweep.
