35

The garage of the shop was open, and I entered, curving around a spray of sparks that were blasting out from beneath a raised car. Heavy rock metal was playing from a speaker in the back. Two men in a clear booth paused midway in their conversation and glanced up at me, eyebrows raised.

"I'm looking for Edison," I called out to them. "Edison?"

The men didn't move. There was no attempt to turn down the music or even ask what I was doing here.

Fuck, maybe this was the wrong place.

Then the spray of sparks beneath the car disappeared, and a man slid out on his back in a blue mechanics uniform spattered in oil. He lifted the goggles and cocked his head.

"You're Edison?"

I touched my chest. "Me? No. I'm looking for Edison."

The guy chuckled, stood up, and then waved at the men in the booth. They nodded and turned down the music.

Taking off his gloves, he smiled. "You’re new to this, huh?"

I straightened my posture. "Depends what you mean by that."

He tossed his gloves on a wooden work bench, leaned against it and crossed his arms, then eyed me up and down. "It means that you're wearing a three grand suit in a neighborhood where people are lucky to make that in a month. Plus, when I said Edison, I meant you. Not me. You say Edison, and I say..."

Remembering our phone call, I nodded. "Thomas."

The man lifted his oily hands to his temples and mimicked an explosion. "Lightbulb moment."

I blinked and lifted up my bag. Maybe I was in over my head. "So you're...him?"

He smirked. "You got the stuff?"

"The stuff? Oh, you mean..." Money. Duh. "Yeah, here." Handing over the bag, I crossed my arms. "And do you have...the stuff?"

He crossed his arms and stared at me for a long second before nodding. "Yeah, I got your stuff. But...the last request. The video. You sure about that?"

"I wouldn't have asked for it if I wasn't sure."

"Only one problem," the guy said. "I saw the news today. You left out the part about this dude robbing the mayor's house."

I glanced around to make sure no one heard us. "I didn't think that was important."

"It's not for the other stuff. But this video. It can't get back to me. Cause that's some serious shit."

"It won't," I said. Still, the guy didn't respond.

"You sure about that?"

I could tell by his hesitation what he wanted. Reaching into my wallet, I grabbed two hundred dollar bills, but when I saw his reaction, it was clear that he expected more. Doubling it, I showed him the cash, and he nodded.

"That'll do."

He reached under the workbench, opened a drawer, and handed me a manilla envelope. "Next time, don't dress like an FBI agent."

I forced a smile. "Next time, don't scam me for more money."

Edison—or whatever his real name was—gave me a fake salute, and then I spun on my heel. Hopefully, there wouldn't be a next time. I slid back into my car, the engine still idling. Henn glanced at me expectant, his eyes lingering on the envelope in my hands.

"Onto the playdate?"

"Just one more stop."

The warehouse was closer to my side of town—and I'd done that on purpose. No one would search for him here. I called it a warehouse, but it was actually a hanger that I owned, which was part of a private airport that had very few visitors.

I only referred to it as a warehouse as it was empty. I'd left my private plane down in Florida on my last trip—and thank god I had because this space had come in handy. I'd already hired someone to fly it back, and they would be here within the next twelve hours.

Henn glanced at me as he pulled up outside the garage, but this time, he didn't say much. This was less suspicious. I texted my Private Investigator as I approached the locked door:Here.

I had keys, but I'd also insisted that he install a separate deadbolt that would ensure extra safety. To my surprise, he opened the door before I even reached for the handle. I could hear the shouts from inside.

"Jesus, this isn't protocol," I hissed, glancing back at the SUV.

"It's about fucking time. He's losing his shit in there, Lorenzo. You hired me to find him, not to fucking babysit him."

I raised my hand. "Trust me, this is almost over."

"It damn well better be, Lorenzo."

"I'll talk to him. And when I'm finished, you won't hear another peep out of him."

The PI rolled his eyes.

"Just wait here."

As I entered the hanger, evening sunlight seeped in through the high windows, coloring the vast space a deep yellow. He was pacing back and forth but stopped when he saw me.

"Lorenzo, what the fuck?" He stormed toward me, flashing his phone into the air. It was a news article declaring him dead.

My shoulders slumped. "Quinton, I told you what was going to happen. And how the fuck did you get internet on that phone? It was just supposed to have games to keep you occupied."

Quinton threw his hands up in the air. "I'm a hacker, bro. And no, this wasn't part of the plan. You said you were going to get me out of this mess. You didn't say you were going to fucking kill me!"

"You're blackmailing the fucking mayor, Quinton. What did you expect me to do?"

"Oh, don't act like you're doing this for me, Lorenzo. You're doing this to cover Ophelia's ass."

Fuck. He'd done more than google his own name apparently.

"Yeah," Quinton growled. "I googled you. And now it all suddenly makes sense."

"One million dollars."

Quinton shook his head. "What?"

"I'll give you one million dollars to disappear. One hundred thousand wired to your bank account monthly until it's paid off." I waved the manilla envelope in the air. "Inside, you'll find a new birth certificate and passport. A completely new identity."

Quinton leaned back as if he was trying to judge if I was serious. "I want two."

"Everyone's a fucking scam artist in this town." I scoffed. "Fine."

Quinton laughed. "Seriously?"

"I have a private plane coming to pick you up tonight. It'll take you to San Francisco, where I have a contact who will take you anywhere in the world you want. But once you leave Boston, you don't come back,ever. You take your new identity and go wherever you want."

Quinton cocked his head. "What's the catch?"

"Tell me what's on the video and why you wanted Ophelia to steal it."

Quinton exhaled a deep breath. "Raquel Camille." I blinked.

"What?"