“I think we should give Walsh a location for a fake meet,” Charlie said. Wearing his long-sleeve button-up with the front open and revealing a tempting amount of skin, she shifted into a cross-legged position. “Catch them off guard early. Take the fight to them.”
“But how? We don’t know where they’re holding Albatross.”
“They’re going to have him someplace Walsh completely controls. Somewhere contained, with no danger of him being seen. Not the casino and not the restaurant. His home is out of the question since the feds are watching him. Didn’t you mention seeing deeds for other properties?”
“Yeah.” Aiden brought up several documents that he’d pored over the night before. “Walsh is in some nasty business. Human trafficking, forcing the women to work in brothels, and he also has his hands in drugs. There are four properties that he’s hiding under shell companies. Two are small apartment buildings, one-and two-bedroom units. All appear to be leased, but according to this, money is being laundered through there. I assume he’s using those apartments for prostitution. If they’re active, with a lot of traffic flowing in and out, Albatross won’t be there.”
“What about the other places?” Charlie finished her crawfish étouffée, scraping the plate clean with her fork.
It was a testament to Henri’s cooking. Junior hadn’t exaggerated about her culinary skills.
“There’s an old processing plant in Metairie and a warehouse down by the docks. No documentation showing any income flowing through either.”
“You think Walsh might be holding Albatross at one of those sites?”
“It’s possible.”
Charlie took a closer look at the paperwork. “We’ll have to check them out to narrow it down.”
“What you’re proposing would require a lot of recon for just the two of us.” Aiden ate the last spoonful of his dinner. “We might have to watch one location for a day or longer to be sure that Albatross is there, and we have multiple sites to cover. What if Devlin is holding him for Walsh somewhere else? Even if we did find him, we’d be seriously outnumbered and we’re talking about the potential for a lot of bloodshed.”
“That’s a risk no matter what. I think we have to take the chance.”
“If we hit them on their turf, even with the element of surprise, they’ll have the advantage. They could use smoke against us again. We can’t defeat thermal scopes or use flash bangs in return. We’re operating on the shoestring budget and limited resources of street vigilantes.”
Resting back on the wood headboard, she sighed. “The only other option is to set a legitimate meet in a public place, but civilians could get hurt. They could be used as human shields. If there’s going to be loss of life, I’d prefer it to be the bad guys. We bought Albatross time. Walsh might still hurt him, but he’ll be alive. We can do the recon.”
Aiden shook his head. Albatross was worth three times more alive just so that he could be tortured. Walsh had a vendetta that he wasn’t going to let slide. The odds of Eugene walking away uninjured were nil. “Alive, but in what condition after a day or two? In public, we can have the FBI there in advance waiting for him.”
Charlie ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re an eternal optimist and I love you for it, but we’re fugitives. The FBI consider us a threat and are more likely to arrest us or shoot us before we can ensure Albatross is safe. And don’t you think Walsh will send flunkies to check out any location we pick? Maybe even Devlin, who’d spot feds a mile away in a park or shopping mall. Walsh will never get out of the car, especially not with Albatross. We need to use the FBI as our final play.”
Aiden ran his hands over his face, racking his brain. “There might be another way.” He brought up the city of New Orleans on Google Maps. “What if we spend our time looking for the right public place, where we have more control over how everything plays out? Limit collateral damage. Terrain is everything.”
Terrain and a lack of convergence led to General Custer’s defeat. Why not Walsh’s?
“Maybe,” she said. “As they say, location is everything. It would mean the difference between success and incarceration or death.”
“Controlling the terrain is possible, but Walsh has four highly trained SWAT officers working for him, plus however many thugs. We’d need to even the playing field. Reduce his forces.”
Charlie shot him a confident, lopsided grin that was sexy as hell, and all he wanted to do was kiss her, but then he’d want to press down against the mattress, their limbs tangled, and work up a good sweat.
Restraint, he told himself.
“That’s where Enzo Romero comes in,” Charlie said.
“How so?” Aiden was skeptical about getting a second mobster involved, but Charlie had insisted they might be able to use him.
“The first year I was in a group home as a teenager, I was separated from my sister and surrounded by older, bigger, quite frankly tougher girls. There were two, Tasha and Judy. Both mean. Downright vicious. And they hated each other. Anyway, Tasha took this bracelet that Brit had made for me. I got my butt kicked trying to get it back. One day, someone messed up Judy’s bed, went through all her stuff. I told her that it was Tasha.”
“Did you do it?”
Charlie shook her head. “No, it was another girl who hated her. But I used it. When Tasha went for Judy, I went and got my bracelet back. We use Enzo to cause trouble that Big Bill can’t ignore right before the meet. If Enzo is already squeezing Bill out, then what we want him to do should be more amusement than a chore.”
“Divide and conquer.”
“It’s the only way to win.” She moved their dishes, setting them on the nightstand.
“We need to make a list of places to scout tomorrow morning.” He zoomed in on the map. “All within easy walking distance of Jackson Square. Then we should get some sleep. We’ve got to get up early and tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
“Do you want to make that list before or after?” Her mouth spread in a wicked hot smile that instantly heated his blood, igniting something inside him.
He closed the laptop and pulled her closer. “Definitely after.”
Chapter Seventeen
Early-morning sun slashed through the opening in the curtains, banishing some of the shadows in the room. Charlie rolled over to find the bed empty, the room quiet and Aiden gone.
The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee wafted through the space. He knew that it was painful for her to operate in the morning without a cup of hot black java.
She ran her palm across the sheet, where he had slept snuggled up against her, and found the spot cold, as though he’d been gone awhile. Much longer than to dash out to get breakfast from Henri. Charlie buried her face in his pillow and smelled him on it.