Secrets Collide (Bluegrass Brothers) (14 page)

Cy had a sinking feeling he knew who it was. “Holy shit,” he cursed under his breath. Everyone stopped and looked at him pointedly. They had all been thinking it, too. “Senator Bruce.”

“How did you know?” Gemma asked, upset that they knew her big discovery.

“Kenna, Dani, and Paige were the key witnesses in the trial of the men found guilty of those crimes. I was there as Paige’s bodyguard. Senator Bruce’s daughter is Will Ashton’s ex-wife and Kenna was the eyewitness to the crime that brought them all down. Bruce took a plea to avoid the death penalty and has never said a word about his involvement. We know nothing more than that,” Cy told her.

“Yes, very uncharacteristically he hasn’t said a word about the crimes. Most people in his position write a tell-all book or sit down with a prime-time reporter to cry about a bad childhood or something that makes them appear the victim. But now it makes sense.” Cole was now sharing the same excitement she felt.

“How so?” Pierce asked as he picked up a cookie Miss Lily offered.

“If he was in the pocket of Mr. X, then he knows a single word would wind up getting him killed. He’s hoping Mr. X uses his influence to get him out of jail. But now we have leverage.” Gemma had never seen the cool lawman so animated in her short time in Keeneston, and his excitement was contagious.

“How so?” Gemma asked.

“Bruce was indicted on twenty-three counts of murder. He agreed to a deal: life in prison. As you read, the case involved prostitutes the men murdered and then Bruce’s bodyguards dumped. How much do you want to bet he got those prostitutes from Mr. X? I’m willing to bet it all,” Cole grinned and Gemma thought that Paige was a very lucky lady.

“Ah. I know where you’re going with this.” Cy smiled and this time Gemma saw the real Cy. She was so wrapped up in the way his eyes shone with excitement and his lips quirked a little higher on one side that she almost missed his explanation. “We pay Bruce a visit and ask him about Mr. X. If he resists, then we’ll have a way to make him talk.”

“What’s that?” Gemma asked. She wasn’t following, but it appeared all the men understood.

“Death,” Cy answered cryptically. “Mo, can we borrow your plane. We have an inmate to visit.”

“It’ll be at the airport in an hour. I let my eldest brother and his wife borrow it. They are flying in from
in vitro
treatments in New York City,” Mo told them.

“And you’re okay with that?” Cade asked.

“Most definitely. It may be selfish, but I wish for them to have an heir so my children can be raised here in Keeneston and have the childhood I never had—a real one.”

Gemma felt for him. While Mo stood regally, the hope and desire rang in his voice. 

“Well then, I wish them luck. Thank you for the use of your plane.” Cy shook his hand and Mo smiled at him.

“You are very welcome. Call me if you need anything else. I always love talking to bureaucrats.” Mo turned from Cy to Gemma. “Good luck, my dear. I hope you find the justice you seek.”

Gemma thanked him and watched Mo, Miles, Marshall, Cade, and Pierce head home while Ahmed and Cy stood quietly to the side as Cole placed a phone call to the penitentiary in Jonesville, Virginia. She thought about what Mo said. Justice. It consumed her. No matter what she had to do, she would find justice for her sister.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Gemma looked up at the penitentiary and shuddered. The depressing cement prison towered over her.
She felt Cy slip his arm around her as if sensing her distress. It was the middle of the night as they were led through the front entrance and buzzed in past the visitors’ waiting room. A tired-looking older man, salt-and-pepper hair still mussed from his pillow, stood waiting for them.

“Agent Parker?” the man asked as he eyed Gemma, Ahmed, and Cy suspiciously.

“I’m Parker. You must be Warden Cummings. Thank you for seeing us so late at night.” Cole strode forward as Gemma and the rest of the group stopped.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else . . .” the warden started before a cold look from Ahmed stopped him. Gemma looked at the easy smile Cole flashed the warden and wondered how he was going to explain a reporter, a spy, and a whatever-Ahmed-was to him.

“Is Senator Bruce ready for us?” Cole asked, not bothering to answer the question.

“One of my guards has gone to get him out of solitary. Let me take you to the interview room. The guard will bring the senator to you there.” The warden gave one last look to Ahmed and Cy where they stood on each side of Gemma before leading them down a long network of halls.

Gemma’s sandals tapped the floor along with Cole’s cowboy boots, but Cy and Ahmed’s thick boots traveled silently as they navigated the halls. Gemma stuck close to Cy in the darkened hallway but he had changed. In fact, all of them had. They all appeared relaxed, but their bodies radiated tension as their eyes took in every detail.

Finally the warden led them into a small room with a thick metal door and bars on the one small window against the far wall.  A metal table with three chairs sat in the middle of the room. The table had a metal ring on it and there was one on the floor below the chair for chaining prisoners if necessary.

Cy and Cole took a seat on one side of the metal table while Ahmed led Gemma to the far side of the room. He crossed his arms over his expansive chest and didn’t take his eyes off the door. Gemma hadn’t learned all about Ahmed yet, but she knew enough to know she was safe with him and Senator Bruce definitely wasn’t.

The door opened and a white-haired man in an orange jumpsuit was pushed through. “Here he is, Warden,” the guard said as he looked curiously around the room. 

“Parker? What are you doing here?” the senator spat.

“Thank you, gentlemen. We’ll tap on the door when we’re done here.” Cole ignored Senator Bruce and didn’t say a word until the warden and guard had left.

Gemma’s heart was pounding as she watched the scene unfold from the corner. Cole and Cy looked calm. Ahmed was so still. How could they stand it? She wanted to fire off question after question as she paced the room.

“How are you doing in here, Mr. Bruce?” Cole asked as he leaned back in his seat.

“It’s
Senator
,” he growled as he narrowed his eyes at Cole.

“Not anymore. Now it’s
inmate
,” Cy smirked and Gemma’s eyes widened. It wasn’t the same man. Cy’s face was cold and dangerous. Gemma fought the ridiculous feeling of needing to hide from him.

“Who the hell are you?”

“The man who has some questions for you.”

“Sorry, I don’t answer questions. Now get lost. I’m going back to bed.”

Cy shrugged. “Sure. We can let you go back to bed. While you’re sleeping, I’ll go to the papers and tell them I had a great chat with you all about the man who supplied the women to you at those poker games in New York,” Cy said casually.

Senator Bruce’s face turned white as he dropped into the empty chair. Cy leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and looked Bruce right in the eye.

“See, we’ve put it all together. We know all about the sex trade, the guns, the drugs, and even Sergei.” Cy paused and then drilled Bruce with his gaze. “And we know that you’ll be dead in a heartbeat if they think you talked.”

“I’ll be dead either way now. They’ll know you were here. They’ll know I was alone in this room with you and that will be enough. I’ll be dead by the morning, thanks to you.” Gemma almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“Then you might as well talk,” Cy responded without a hint of sympathy in his hard voice.

“To some asshole I don’t even know. No. I want to talk to my daughter. I won’t say a word to you until I talk to Whitney and know that she’s alive and safe.” Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Cy and Cole who just sat staring back. Gemma could hardy stand still as she watched the standoff.

“And, if we let you talk to Whitney, you’ll answer all of our questions?” Cole asked.

“Yes. If you promise she’ll be safe until it’s all over.”

“Deal,” Cole said as he pulled out his cell phone.

Ahmed stepped forward and put a quiet hand on Cole’s shoulder and handed him a phone he had in his pocket. “It’s untraceable.”

“Who is this guy?” Bruce said incredulously as he looked Ahmed over.

Gemma leaned forward so she wouldn’t miss the answer, but Ahmed simply smiled a thin, terrifying smile before stepping back. Cole went to work calling the U.S. Marshal’s office and organized a patch through to Whitney’s witness protection location through a series of secure lines.

As Bruce took the phone from Cole, Ahmed leaned back and handed Gemma a pen and a pocket notebook. “Write down everything he says.”

Gemma started scribbling as she heard Bruce’s voice go soft when he talked to his daughter for the first time in years. She tried not to cry. If Bruce was right, then this could be the last time he ever talked to his daughter. How could everyone stand listening and show no emotion whatsoever?

Fifteen minutes later, Bruce hung up the phone and handed it back to Cole. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Look, Bruce. You help us; we’ll help you. We’ll take you with us and change your name, your look, and put you in a prison where no one will find you,” Cole told him. Gemma felt relieved. She knew the former senator was a criminal, but it was different seeing a defeated old man sitting in front of her, completely broken.

“Sure you will. Or you’ll try. It may even protect me for a couple of weeks, but they’ll find me eventually.” Bruce took a deep breath. “What do you want to know?”

“Who did you report to?” Cy asked.

“I didn’t have his name. It was the same man for years and then came Sergei. I only knew his name through my work on the Foreign Affairs Committee. But, my main contact was thin and bookish. He had a goatee.”

“How did you get in contact with him?”

“I had a number.” Bruce motioned for a pen and paper and wrote it down along with an address. “This is where I'd sometimes meet him.”

“Was he the boss?” Cy asked as he pushed the paper over for Cole to view.

“No, but he was close to him. I only met the boss once but never saw him. He was in a limo and rolled down the window only enough for me to hear him.”

“How many women did they supply you with and where did they get them?” Cole interjected.

“I pled guilty to twenty-three counts,” Bruce shrugged.

“I’m not going to charge you. I’m just trying to find out how the cycle worked and maybe a common location. Besides, as you said, you’re a dead man,” Cole said so harshly that Gemma shivered. “Why don’t you just start at the beginning? When did you meet the boss?”

Bruce took a breath and Gemma could see he was debating what he should tell them. But then the look of utter hopelessness came across his face and he focused on the back wall. “It was twenty years ago. I was a local attorney who had just won a big case in North Carolina when I decided to run for Congress. A man approached me with promises of a big supporter. So I went to this meeting. It was in a deserted sawmill. A limo pulled up and the window came down three inches or so.

“The man inside asked if I wanted a blank check. He’d pay for every election and reelection. I asked what the rub was and he just laughed. He told me information was the rub. That, and every now and then he would need support for certain legislation. The driver of the car got out and handed me a check for $5,000,000. I stupidly agreed.

“The first year, I was only contacted a couple of times, but more importantly, I was introduced to very important and influential people. The second year, I was appointed chairman of the Foreign Affairs Committee and that’s when the phone calls started, needing information or telling me which countries I needed to push for sanctions.” Bruce took a breath and shook his head as if clearing his thoughts.

“It never occurred to you that this was above your normal Washington corruption?” Cy asked.

“At the start of my second term, the requests became more frequent and more intrusive. He wanted me to plant bugs in other congressional offices and embassies. One of those embassies was blown up three months later.”

“Why didn’t you stop? Turn him into the FBI?” Cole leaned forward and laced his fingers together.

“I thought about it. But the money started coming. He knew my weakness—gambling. The money came with private invitations to big-stake games. He funded my gambling for years. He collected all my markers and I knew it. But I couldn’t stop. I could try to pawn it off as an addiction, but it wasn’t. I was just having too much fun. I was being flown to Monaco for a weekend of gambling with some of the richest and most powerful men in the world. I didn’t want to give it up, so I kept accepting the cash that showed up at my house every two weeks and decided to do whatever the hell I felt like doing.”

Gemma gasped and Ahmed nudged her. She hadn’t been expecting that. She had been expecting the sob story about a gambling addiction. But what he had was a power addiction. He tasted power, rubbed against it every day, and wanted more and more.

This time, Cy leaned forward. “When did the women start?”

“Ah, the women. I loved poker night,” Bruce said wistfully. “A small group of us started that almost ten years ago. The boss set up the first one. There was Judge LeMaster, an ambassador to Syria, a British ministry official, and me. The goatee man came with a submissive woman one night dressed in nothing but a big red bow. He said she was a gift to the winner. That’s when they started. We met every month. Sometimes it was the same group and sometimes others came, but always an equally powerful group. A new woman was dropped off each time.”

“But why kill them?” Gemma silently nodded in response to Cy’s question. She wanted to know the answer, too.

“At first, we just dumped them in a bad part of town and left them. But then one night, we got a woman who had been a stripper before she was taken from the club. The damn bitch was stripping to put herself through law school. She knew who we all were and wouldn’t shut up about it. We had no choice. I shot her and dumped her in some alley. It was just a precaution after that. I talked to the goatee man and he said he’d fix it. Two days later, I was attacked on the floor of the Congress. That afternoon, four men showed up and said they were my security detail. I didn’t question them—no one did. They were real handy in cleaning up my messes from then on. I knew where they came from and knew they wouldn’t be squeamish so I didn’t bother being a gentleman any longer,” Bruce sneered with what Gemma could only describe as joy.