Passing His Guard (Against the Cage #2) (32 page)

CHAPTER

 33 

A
iden . . . how the hell are you?”

Aiden set his briefcase on the floor beside his feet and reached across the table, taking hold of the outstretched hand. “District Attorney Ike Wilson. It’s been a while.”

“You could say that.” The man released his hand and Aiden slipped into the booth. “I have to say, I was surprised as hell to hear from you. Thought you left town . . .”

“I did.”

“Obviously, you’re back now?”

His old friend and former law classmate was fishing for details Aiden wasn’t sure he wanted to give. He planned to do his best to leave Ryann out of this. Unfortunately, after the meeting with his father, Aiden wasn’t sure how long that would remain possible. It also spurred the urgency simmering inside him to start building this case.

“For a while. I have some loose ends I need to tie up.”

Ike’s dark brow ticked up in question. “I assume that’s where I come in?”

Aiden looked around, taking in the view. It wasn’t for the topless dancer twirling around on the pole that he chose this place to meet. The high-backed booths discreetly hid them from prying eyes. The bump-and-grind music drowned out their conversation, keeping it from being overheard.

“Interesting choice in restaurants. Probably going to have a little trouble writing this one off as a business expense.” Ike saluted Aiden with his beer and laughed. “I see you haven’t changed.”

Oh, Aiden had changed—more than he wanted to admit. This was the first time he’d ever been in a strip club and felt guilty about it. It was also the first time a half-naked woman dancing with a pole didn’t even tempt his gaze.

Ike had gotten here early, just in case Aiden was being watched—a high likelihood, considering what went down yesterday. Anyone who knew Aiden wouldn’t think twice about seeing him walk into a strip club. The DA had two empty glasses sitting beside him. “Was that one mine?” Aiden nodded at the empty.

“Maybe.”

Aiden chuckled. The waitress came over and took his order. She offered another to Ike but he declined. He still had half a glass left and no doubt had to go back to the office after their meeting.

“As great as it is to see you, why don’t we get down to it and you tell me why I’m here?”

Ike had always been a no-bullshit, let’s-get-down-to-it kind of guy. That was one of the things Aiden liked about him.

“How close are you to getting an indictment on Moralli?”

Ike choked on his beer and took a moment to clear his throat before narrowing his gaze at him. “You ask that like you think I’m actually going to tell you.”

As Moralli’s lawyer, it was no secret to him Ike had been working to build a case against him for years. So had the feds.

“What do you want, Aiden? Why am I really here?”

“I want to give you Moralli. I want to hand you a case so airtight there’s no lawyer in the country who will be able to get him off.”

Ike sat there a moment staring at him, his quizzical frown thoughtful . . . contemplative. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

The waitress dropped off his beer as she passed by on the way to another table. Aiden took a sip and waited for his friend to say something.

“I can’t divulge what I have. You know that.”

“Well, you can add this to it.” Aiden slid the briefcase over to Ike.

“What’s this?”

“Proof. Proof of money laundering, illegal gambling, prostitution . . . It should get you started.”

“Damn . . .” Ike cursed, reaching down to slide the briefcase beneath his legs. “I can’t believe you’re doing this, man. You know you’re probably going to get disbarred for this, right? And that’s just the beginning. When this comes out . . . Shit, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but Moralli’s not the only one we’re watching.”

“I know. I plan to turn State’s evidence for immunity.” He gave Ike a sly grin. “You didn’t think I’d tip my entire hand, did you?”

His friend laughed. “No, I didn’t. And I’ll do my damned best to get you through this unscathed. But I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about your father.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Ryann was bent over, shoving her foot into her boot, when she glanced back and found Aiden towering over her. He was wearing a black T-shirt and sweats and had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Nikko was in the foyer, a few paces behind him.

“What does it look like? I’m coming with you.”

“The hell you are,” Aiden and Nikko replied in unison.

Aiden reached for her and turned Ryann to face him. “Listen, sweetheart, I appreciate that you want to be there and support me, but I don’t want you anywhere near the Lion’s Den. It’s a dangerous place, and I have to be able to focus on this fight. I can’t do that if I’m worried about you. This penthouse is the safest place for you to be right now. Promise me you’ll stay here and wait for me until I come back.”

If he’d put it any other way she would have refused. She wasn’t some fragile doll Aiden could keep on a shelf and put away for safekeeping. But her sense of guilt that he was fighting in the first place kept her from arguing. The last thing she wanted was to be a distraction to him. Reluctantly, Ryann acquiesced, trying to hide her disappointment and frustration over being left behind.

“He’s going to be fine, Gingersnap. Don’t worry. I’ll bring him home to you safe and sound.”

“You’d better,” she grumbled begrudgingly. Exhaling a defeated sigh, she bent to remove her boot, and Aiden caught her arm.

“Hey . . .” Aiden caught her chin and tipped her head so he could meet her eyes. “Thanks for all your hard work on Paskel’s dossier. You did a great job on it.”

He dipped his head and planted a kiss on her mouth. She stifled a groan of complaint when all too soon, he let her go.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised, walking out the door.

Nikko gave her a passing nod as he strolled by. The door closed behind him and just like that, she was alone.

Well, shit . . .

Ryann returned to the living room and stood before the glass wall, taking in the Manhattan skyline as she endeavored to calm her jangling nerves. She had to trust that everything was going to be fine. Aiden was an amazing fighter. She knew that, she’d seen him fight before, and Nikko was in his corner. What could possibly go wrong?

Needing the distraction, Ryann decided to try to get some work done. Since getting back into town, she hadn’t been to the office yet. She’d have to go tomorrow, but for now, she could at least catch up on her e-mails and get a jump-start on Aiden’s next dossier.

With a plan in place for the evening, the distraction helped calm her restless anxiety, and a couple glasses of wine wouldn’t hurt, either. After changing into her comfy pajamas and pouring herself some Moscato, Ryann dragged the coffee table closer and set up camp in the chair facing the skyline. Deciding to tackle her e-mails first, she began sorting through them by first deleting her spam. As she clicked through the masses, a message titled
Condolences
caught her eye. She didn’t recognize the name of the sender, but curiosity prompted her to open the e-mail.

Dear Ms. Andrews,

Please accept my heartfelt condolences on the loss of your father. I regret it has taken me so long to contact you, but I have just recently learned of his passing. We have never met, but I am an old friend of your dad’s. I have something he wanted me to give you in the event of his death, and I would like to schedule a meeting at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Henry

Ryann’s heart hammered in her chest. Was this man serious? Did he truly have something from her father, or was this a ploy of some kind? The vagueness of the e-mail piqued her suspicion, yet hope and curiosity fueled her excitement. What could this man possibly have to give her? Perhaps he held answers to the questions about her father’s death.

She checked the date on the message and saw it was sent three days ago. There was no return phone number, no last name; no way
to contact the man other than to reply. It felt a little cloak-and-dagger
to her, but after what she’d discovered about her father’s secret life,
maybe it wasn’t so out there. She wouldn’t go to the meeting alone. Aiden would want to come with her, and Nikko would no doubt insist on going. She would be safe. Decided, Ryann replied to the e-mail and arranged a meeting for the next afternoon.

“How you feelin’?” Nikko asked, wrapping the white fighter’s tape around Aiden’s knuckles. He circled it around three times, building up a good pad before crisscrossing it up Aiden’s wrist.

“Good.” Aiden was trying to focus, to block out the noise of the crowd in the underground arena—the screaming, the cheers, the booing. There were six fights on the docket for tonight, and Aiden’s was the main event. Broden Hayes, the guy Aiden was standing in for, must be one hell of a fighter to pull in the purse Aiden was fighting for tonight. A bet laid was a bet paid, and Moralli wasn’t letting anyone sideline their bets.

As he watched Del Toro wrap his hands with practiced efficiency, he felt frustrated that he was having trouble getting into his zone. The change in atmosphere, the stakes, it all kept him from finding his edge. Thoughts of Ryann distracted him, the confrontation with his father unnerved him, guilt over betraying his family assaulted him. Anger seethed through his veins like a toxic poison, rage building inside him like a pressure cooker. How he wished it was Moralli in that cage tonight. Or Frank Luciana . . . what he wouldn’t give for five minutes alone with that fucker.

“Your shoulder still giving you trouble?” Del Toro briefly glanced at him before getting back to business, slipping the wrap through his splayed fingers and circling back around his wrist before repeating the process between each digit.

“It’s fine. A little stiff, but it’ll hold.”

Del Toro secured the Velcro at his wrist and stood. “How’s that feel?”

“It’s good.” He knocked his fists together. “Tight.”

“You got this.”

“I know.” In truth, Aiden was looking forward to expending some pent-up energy. The idea of beating the shit out of someone sounded pretty good right about now. What ate at him was the fact that Moralli was going to make a shit-ton of money off him doing it. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to throw the fucking fight. But that bastard knew him well, and he’d paid Aiden a little visit just a few minutes ago, adding the caveat
Win or Ryann dies
to ensure his investment paid off.