The second man opened my purse and removed the phone. “Smashing it under my heel will take care of everything.”
“No, my pictures,” I cried. These men didn’t seem like the sentimental type. Perhaps I could offer something else. “I also have Andros’s phone number.”
The two men looked at one another and back to me.
“My, the lady is quick to give in,” the long-haired one said.
I stood taller. “Andros left me, not the other way around. He abandoned me. My only loyalty—for the last seventeen years—has been and continues to be my daughter. I’ll do anything for Ruby. After all these years, Andros discarded me. I owe him a debt I can never repay, but nothing matters without Ruby. I wasn’t sent as a spy if that’s what you’re worried about.” I looked down at the dress. “Get me different clothes. I’ll change. You can go through all my things. Just please leave me my pictures and phone book. I also have the number to reach Ruby.”
“Take her downstairs.”
My heart clenched. I was once again at the mercy of men without compassion.
My neck straightened. I hadn’t given up seventeen years ago; I wouldn’t now.
The original escort again reached for my elbow.
“Hey,” the long-haired man said. “Lead her. Don’t touch her. I’d like to avoid another dead Sparrow, and if you go against his direct orders, I’m not certain Mr. Kelly will allow you to live.”
The young man sucked in a breath. “This way, Ms. Miller.”
I would cooperate. I would do anything to get back to Ruby.
As we walked the hallway toward what I presumed were the back stairs, I wondered about what the man with the longer hair said.
A dead Sparrow.
And earlier, Mr. Sparrow.
I’d heard that name before. It was one of those times when Andros conducted business in my presence yet didn’t reveal enough for anything to make sense. My mind scrambled.
Sparrow.
Steven?
No, the first name was more unique than that.
Sturgis?
I played with the platinum bracelet on my wrist, the one Andros gave me in the back of Elliott’s car.
Platinum wasn’t golden in color, but white, like silver. Then I remembered.
Sterling.
Oh shit.
The man who’d left with Patrick was Sterling Sparrow. I had heard of him. He was most definitely to Chicago what Andros was to Detroit.
How was Patrick in this mix?
We came to a stop at the entrance to the offices where Veronica had taken me just yesterday morning. How could so much have happened in such a short time? After a knock, the door opened from within. As it did, I heard the tenor of Patrick’s voice reverberating through the hallways.
Patrick, please believe me.
I didn’t say it aloud, but I did think it with all my might.
“In here, ma’am,” my escort said as he opened the same door Veronica had opened for me on Friday morning, ushering me into Veronica Standish’s office.
Patrick
I couldn’t think about Madeline at this moment even though she was forefront in all of my thoughts. Allowing her to infiltrate my mind was allowing her to do what Ivanov had sent her to do. She was somehow part of his bratva.
Was there a child?
Had she given birth to my child?
I refused to dwell on the possibility. Even considering it took my focus away from the crisis at hand. I’d already let Sparrow down, I wouldn’t continue to do it. I had to think about the facts.
Veronica Standish was dead.
Ethan Beckman was dead.
Nearly fifteen million dollars had been stolen.
Hillman and Ivanov were making a show of working together.
Ivanov or Hillman had convinced at least one of our men to go against Sparrow.
Were there more?
The capo who had been guarding the safe since Sparrow went upstairs was currently being detained until the safe was opened. According to him, no one else entered the office. The way this night had been going, he better be right. If when we opened the safe, the additional nearly twelve million was gone, we’d be less another Sparrow.
My patience was worn thin—so much so, that it was fucking see-through.
Sparrow crouched down before the safe and entered the combination. Beckman had shared it with Sparrow earlier in the day. I doubted it had taken too much persuasion. At that point, Sparrow was supplying Club Regal with the funds it needed to complete the tournament.
“I changed it,” Sparrow said as the beeps filled the room.
“You changed the combination?”
“Fuck yeah. Someone stole the money with the old combination. Whoever did that had access. I wasn’t taking a chance.”
He was no longer useful.
Ivanov’s comment came back to me. “Beckman didn’t have access,” I said.
Sparrow’s dark eyes came to me. “We need to figure out how Beckman communicated to Ivanov that he couldn’t open the safe any longer.”
There were too many unknowns. Beckman’s communication and his murder didn’t happen in a vacuum. “The capo guarding Beckman, I think he’s the link.” I held my breath as Sparrow pulled the handle, releasing the safe’s door.
“It’s here,” he said.
I exhaled. “Thank fuck.”
Sparrow stood. As he did, Mason entered the office. His eyes opened wide.
“Money is here,” I said.
“We need to talk,” Sparrow said. “Mason, get Reid on the computer on the secure network. The four of us need to be in agreement.”
That was part of the reason we followed Sparrow. He welcomed our points of view. He believed that four sets of eyes and ears were better than one. Of course, the final decisions would always be his; nevertheless, he strived for agreement.
Mason nodded as he pulled out the laptop from earlier and after connecting, he hit a few buttons and Reid’s face appeared.
“It’s about fucking time. Tell me what’s happening,” Reid said.
Sparrow gave him the highlights: Andros Ivanov was here at the tournament. Hillman and his men appeared to be working with the Ivanov bratva. That also meant there was the possibility that other former McFadden men were working with Ivanov.
“Ivanov financed Madeline Miller,” Sparrow went on, his gaze briefly meeting mine. “Ivanov tasked her with winning the tournament. If she had won and it was discovered that the money was gone, Ivanov would have had justification in causing an uproar. From what we can assess, Ivanov had more than her in the game. He had Hillman, and I believe Elliott, in the mix. In reality, Ivanov had three of the final six players working for him.”
“Fifty percent chance to win,” Reid said, “but he didn’t count on Patrick.”
“Or he did,” Sparrow said, looking at me.
“I don’t know how he would have figured out I’d be the one to play, but yes,” I said to Reid, “it appears he had a plan to distract me.”
With Reid through the computer screen, I had three sets of eyes on me.
“And it worked,” I admitted.
“You won,” Reid said. “Right? That’s what Mason texted to me.”
“I won. I was also distracted.” I took a deep breath. “First, do you have tails on Hillman and Ivanov? Are you watching? Have they reached the airport?”