twisted as he realized the extent of the operation. "Who has been targeted?"
"Lots of people."
"I know Ryland Jagger is one. Who else?"
"Lindsay Bragin, Lisa Hamilton." David shrugged. "Several more. When they bring the cars to the club, I check the equipment and sometimes I retrieve packets of information that they've been instructed to leave. I put those in my locker, and the next day they're gone."
"What about your mother? She must know what you're doing."
"Of course she does," he said dryly. "She knows everything. She and Bozic came up with the idea together."
What about Constantine? Is he in on this?"
"I think so."
"And your grandfather? Is he in the mix?"
"No. Bozic and my mother hate him. Everyone thinks he's so smooth, but he's evil. I think he killed that woman yesterday, the one everyone is talking about. Bozic had me put trackers in all the old guys' cars, and my grandfather's car was at her house. That's why I called in sick yesterday and today. I don't want to be involved in murder."
Excitement ran through him at David's words. A tracker that could put Coleman at the scene of Julia's murder was exactly what they needed. "Bozic doesn't trust your grandfather?"
"He doesn't trust anyone."
"And your mother knows you're tracking her father?"
"No. That was Bozic’s idea. He wanted to make sure my mother hadn't brought him in without telling him."
"Can you access that data for us?"
"Probably not anymore. Bozic changes the passwords every day."
"What else can you give us? If you want our protection, we need something concrete."
David's gaze shifted. "I did make copies of some of the information that was physically left in the cars. If I give it to you, am I good? You'll protect me?"
"I'll let you know when I see the information," he said, inwardly elated to know David had made copies. "Where is it?"
"It's in a locker at my gym."
"Okay. You need to get dressed. You're coming with us now. And you won't be coming back. Pack a bag." As David got up, he added, "Give me your cell phone."
David tossed him his phone while Beck followed David into his bedroom to make sure he didn't try to run.
Jax texted Flynn: Bringing David in. He has data and he's naming names. We should have enough to blow this ring open.
Flynn immediately texted back: Calling the rest of the team in. Good work.
He wasn't ready to celebrate yet. But he was feeling damn good about their prospects. It wouldn't be just David's word against anyone. They would have actual data, and they could use that data to put pressure on the targets who had become traitors.
His fingers hovered over his phone. He wanted to call Maya and tell her the news, but it was late, and he'd rather not get her hopes up until he knew exactly what he had. He'd tell her tomorrow when he could assure her that the people who had killed her grandmother would be arrested and charged with her murder. He still didn't know exactly who had killed Natasha, but his money was on Coleman. If they could tie him to Julia's murder, it wouldn't be a big leap to tie him to Natasha's.
And then there was Constantine, the man who had recruited Natasha, who had recruited his father. He was right in the middle of this, too, along with his nephew, with Sylvia, with God knew who else, and Jax was more determined than ever to bring down every single one of them.
The crashing waves on the beach in front of her sister's house echoed the pounding of her heart, the turmoil in her soul, and as Maya watched her father stare into the dark night, she could only imagine that he felt the same way. She'd told her parents and sister everything she'd learned about Natasha's life and death. While her mom and Darcy had peppered her with questions, her father had had little to say.
She'd followed him out on the deck a few minutes earlier. He knew she was there, but he hadn't turned around. Maybe he didn't want to talk to her. Maybe this would forever put a breach between them. That was a scary thought. She'd hoped the truth would bring him some kind of closure, but it might have just opened an old wound that was now bleeding again.
She was about to leave when he finally turned around. His expression was unreadable, a mix of anger and something else…