Johnny twitched in anticipation. After what’d happened at Holloway and with Firefly the last couple days, I’d wanted to beat him unconscious and leave him back at the house.
Which is why he was next to me.
Johnny went where I went. If I stopped bringing him, he would know why. He would know he’d fucked up in a big way. I couldn’t have an unstable Johnny in my house.
Besides, I needed him with me. To remind me why I was doing this. To force me to remain calm enough for the two of us when I wanted to lash out at the person responsible for me being here.
Not just here, in the darkened office of this house.
But here. In this place I’d spent years slowly, painstakingly pulling the Borellos out of. The place my great-grandfather and his two brothers had first put us in when they’d moved down here from Chicago.
Gunrunning and extortion. That was how we’d survived.
No business ran in this town without giving a cut to my family, and no one had secrets we didn’t know about and used to our advantage.
I’d shut down the gunrunning permanently the year my dad died, just after I’d turned fourteen. Since then, I’d been trying to legitimize the family. Most of the older members weren’t happy—and most were still old school like Johnny—even after fifteen years.
But with the help of Einstein, the twins, and a reluctant Johnny, I made peace with the businesses in town where I could. Offered help when they needed it. Invested in others to keep them running. Bought out businesses from burnt-out owners who were afraid of losing money—like Brooks Street. And put an end to all extortion.
Which is why being here was so goddamn frustrating.
I glanced at my phone and blew out a slow breath as I resisted the urge to shift in my seat. “Minute,” I murmured to Johnny. “Less than. Stop twitching, you look like a fucking addict.”
He grunted in reply, but stopped moving. Which only made him start vibrating with the need to move.
“Jesus, Johnny,” I whispered just before the door to the home office opened.
Johnny went still at the sight of the older man walking through the door, unaware of our presence. I didn’t need to be able to see my friend to know he wore an animalistic smile beneath his bandana. I knew him well enough.
Something unseen clicked the door shut behind the man, casting the room in darkness once again.
“Wha—”
“Have a seat, Judge.”
By the time the judge flipped on the light, I was leaning forward in the chair to rest my gun on his desk so it was pointed at him.
He raised his chin in defiance but his eyes were wide with fear. “The police have been—”
“Lie.”
My observation stunned him, but he didn’t attempt to bullshit me again.
“I told you to have a seat. I’d say it’s rude not to.”
His breathing grew rougher as he looked from me to Johnny, weighing his options. He could’ve easily run back out of the room, but he wouldn’t make it far.
Not that he knew that.
“What do you want?”
I released my hold on the gun to sit back and gestured to the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. “If you sit, I’ll tell you. This can all be over in a few minutes. We’ll leave, you’ll be alive. You can go back to all the illegal things you do that you think nobody knows about . . . just another Saturday night, if you ask me.”
“Illegal,” he said with a scoff. “I am a federal judge, I would—”
I tossed a small stack of papers across the desk, rolling my eyes beneath my hood.
His face paled and mouth opened, but no excuse left him. “Where did you get this?”
“Does it matter?”
“Where did you get this? It isn’t—that’s not—I don’t know how—”
“Don’t bother telling me that isn’t your signature, I’ve already confirmed that it is. I also have an eye witness to you signing. And what these papers tell me is that you are a dirty son of a bitch who gets off on the thought of kidnapped girls.”
“They’re of legal age,” he stuttered after a chunk of silence.
A shocked breath punched from my lungs.
If I didn’t need you, I’d let Johnny loose on you.
“They’re still stolen and sold against their will,” I reminded him.
“What do you want?” His eyes were wide with panic when he looked back at me. “How much do you want? I’ll give you—”
“Anything?” I asked with a wicked grin hidden beneath my bandana. “Thought you might say that. I’m sure you’re good for it too because you don’t want to lose your job or your reputation . . . now do you?”
He sat there gaping like a fish before he started sobbing like a child.
“Fucking hell,” Johnny mumbled. “Maybe they should kidnap and sell him.”
I smirked. “Here’s what you’re going to do if you want to keep your reputation, job, and life—in that order.” I leaned forward and dropped my voice, making sure he understood every word I said. “You go along like everything’s how it’s supposed to be. You don’t tell Mickey or anyone else about our exchange. And when the time comes, you tell the FBI everything you know about Mickey’s plans for this human trafficking ring. We’ll guarantee there’s someone to confirm you were never a part of this.”
“How foolish are you? I don’t know who you are, but you can’t guarantee anything except for my death if I cross Mick O’Sullivan.” He snatched the papers up and waved them between us. “He already has my signature. He already has payments from me. He’ll have me killed if I back out now, let alone sell him out to the FBI.”
I nodded toward the corner of the room, near the doors, and huffed a laugh. “I can guarantee your death if you don’t.”
The judge turned slowly, his jaw falling slack as he noticed for the first time the fourth man in the room.
A man as silent as the night.