Kane pretended not to catch the double meaning. “Guess not. But I’ve heard enough about BECA to know I can trust you. Hopefully, you’ve seen enough of my work to know we’re on the same side.”
Finally the guy seemed to relax again. “So what new work are you planning? Guns are a long way from fire-setting.”
Kane made his tone hard and serious. “Same goal, different method. Plus cops got too good at connecting my fires in Vegas. I figured it was time to switch things up.”
“I hear you. Gotta keep ’em on their toes, right?” The guy stared for a minute, and when Kane didn’t break eye contact, he finally smiled. “I think we can help you out.”
“Honey!”
The too-high-pitched, feminine voice made Kane’s gut clench, filling him with fear he hadn’t felt in a long time. When he turned around, already knowing who it was, his eyes felt like they were going to bug right out of his head.
Melinda was picking her way through the demolition mess in a pair of heels that were dangerously high, wearing a tiny dress so skintight that no one would ever consider she could be hiding a weapon.
A million swear words lodged in his brain as she reached his side and looped an arm through his.
“I got so worried about you,” she whined, her expression more vapid than he would have ever imagined too-smart Melinda could have pulled off. Maybe it was the makeup she’d plastered all over her face, disguising her natural beauty.
She was playing a role the FBI had given its female agents for decades, that of clingy, jealous girlfriend. It worked especially well in Mob cases, where the targets didn’t let females into their ranks, but commonly offered prostitutes to new recruits. Saying no meant losing trust. Unless you had a girlfriend by your side. The added bonus was that particular jealous woman would be an undercover federal agent trained in close-quarters combat.
But in this case, it was the exact wrong move.
Even before he turned back to face his contact, he knew the guy had pulled his gun.
Melinda let out a giggle. “Hey, chill. I’m just checking on my man. I track his phone.” She stroked his arm, making his muscles jump with anxiety.
The contact gave Melinda a quick once-over, then settled his hard gaze on Kane. “You hate Asians so much, you burn them out of their businesses, but then you date one?”
He felt Melinda’s fingers spasm on his arm as she realized what she’d done.
He’d purposely misled her, focused on how Dougie’s connection only knew someone at BECA, not that he could get Kane a meeting with an actual member. She probably thought she was busting in on a meet that was solely about weapons, not truly connected to the racist hate spewed by BECA.
The guy lifted his gun and aimed it at Kane’s forehead. “You know what? You try to fool me?” He smiled and shifted the weapon to point at Melinda. “You can watch her die before I kill you.”
“SOMEONE AT PETROV ARMOR has been selling guns to criminals for a long time.”
Davis’s words haunted Leila as she strode away from the office as fast as she could. Her low heels made a satisfying click with every step, giving her something to focus on, to keep her from screaming in denial or frustration.
Who had they inadvertently let into their company who’d used it for their own gain? Who’d gone against the very reason her dad had formed the company in the first place? To protect soldiers. Not to aid killing.
The feeling of anger and betrayal built up until it felt like a ball of lead in her chest and she kept walking, trying to get control of her emotions. She veered away from the route that would take her toward town, toward people who might see her or even worse, try to talk to her.
It was already dusk, the time when Old City started shifting from window-shopping tourists to evening bar-hoppers. But the other direction was quiet, peaceful. Filled with old trees and a beautiful, fast-moving river. A good place to think about all the things she’d done wrong. All the things she could never undo.
She’d left Davis with a barely coherent excuse about needing to use the ladies’ room. He probably thought she was still in there, trying to get herself together. But what she’d really needed was to get out. To get away from everyone and everything.
In the past three weeks, the only times she’d been alone was at night, at home after work. Time she spent hoping to sleep, but instead all she could do was try not to weep in grief or anger over her father’s death. During the day, she’d surrounded herself with the business, with reassuring the people who worked for her, with trying to keep it all going, make everyone believe she was still capable.
And what for? The whole time, someone had been betraying her. It was far worse than a single batch of defective armor, a single tragedy. For all she knew, guns made at Petrov Armor and purposely put in the hands of criminals had caused hundreds or thousands of tragedies over the years.
She was responsible. Her father, too. Neither of them had seen it. Neither of them had even suspected something that terrible had been happening.
How had it happened?
Her pace slowed until she was standing still on the center of a walking bridge. She stared out over the murky water, stepping close to the edge. There was only a low railing that looked like it should have been replaced years ago. It would be easy to just step off and let that fast-moving water take away all her troubles.
Except she wasn’t that person anymore. It was still her company, still her responsibility. She wasn’t going to walk away from it, even if it destroyed her. Even if it destroyed her father’s legacy.
She was going to help Davis find the person responsible. She was
