"How is her betraying you by using your own brother against you not important all of a sudden?"
Wood was right. It had been important to me. I'd lost a lot of sleep thinking about Evan, about how I thought she'd played me all along. But now I knew better. She was caught in a trap. Was it of her own making? Yes. Did I give a shit? No. My mistakes were no worse than hers. Problem was, hers led to a rendezvous with the end of a gun barrel.
"Because I love her."
Wood shook his head as his stream died. "You love the bad bitch?"
"Yes. Without a doubt."
"Shit, Lincoln. A woman like that? I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."
"I do. But like I said, there's trouble."
"What'd she do? Are you talking about how she blew off Judge Crane yesterday? She's going to have to save her own ass on that one. Matilda is going to make her grovel."
"No, DiSalvo put a hit out on her."
"The hell you say?" He zipped up and turned toward me.
"My investigation has stirred up DiSalvo and maybe more of her clients. DiSalvo for certain. He sent four men to kill her last night."
"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain car accident on Long Island last night, would it? Word is that four of DiSalvo's men were killed, some by the wreck and ensuing fire, and some by lead poisoning."
I remembered the flash of the muzzle in the dark. Lead poisoning was right, and too fucking good for those pieces of shit. I didn't give any sign, but my silence was enough.
"Fuck, Lincoln." Wood washed his hands, and we returned to his office in silence.
"Rita, hold my calls."
"Yes, sir."
Wood closed his office door with a thud. I took a seat on his leather sofa as he sank down into his desk chair. He pulled open one of his drawers and lifted out a bottle and two glasses.
"Too early for you?" he asked.
"No, sir." I watched him pour and retrieved my glass before settling back down. I needed a drink. Maybe it would even me out, allow me to see the best way through, the best way to keep Evan safe.
"Shit, DiSalvo. I thought I was done with that prick. He moved to Cuba a few years back. Evan got him out of some serious charges and then set him loose on our neighbors to the south. I was glad to be rid of him, honestly. But now this?" He took a swig from his glass. "What did you do to get him so riled up?"
We drank as I went over the details of my deeper investigation into Castille. Wood downed the rest of his glass and poured another as I talked, giving him the lowdown on the prosecution wet dream of a case I had come up with against DiSalvo and a few choice others. He took an even bigger gulp when I told him I'd changed tactics once I met Evan.
"This case, Lincoln." He shook his head. "If you would have pursued it through Evan's front door and subpoenaed her files, shit. You have enough right now for Judge Crane to sign off on a warrant for every piece of paper in Pallida & Associates. Slam dunk. You'd be the next U.S. attorney in New Orleans, easy. You know that, right?"
I tossed back the rest of my second glass. "I do."
"But you're fine leaving that stone unturned?" Wood ran a hand along his jaw and rubbed his face.
"Fine? No. But I was going to for her sake."
He leaned back in his chair and watched me steadily. "That didn't seem to work out, though, did it? DiSalvo still tried to take her out. And if I know anything about that son of a bitch, it's that he's thorough. He's no quitter. He'll send more until he gets her."
"That's why I came to you. We have to find a way to get Evan out of the city. Witness protection?"
Wood's eyes narrowed. "He'd find her. The federal government isn't known for its secret-keeping abilities anymore. Hackers and the like make it impossible. DiSalvo has more than enough money to pay some Chinese genius to break into the government system and track her down. And he'd do it. No loose ends."
"Shit!" I slammed my glass down.
"But that isn't to say there's no way to keep her safe and take him out at the same time."
I heard something in his voice, like excitement. I didn't think it was possible for Woodhall to get excited about anything. I was wrong. The glint in his eye was magnetic. It was like I was getting a glimpse into Wood's past, back when he was a hotshot prosecutor looking to make a name for himself.
"I've been wanting to nail that piece of shit for decades. This could be the time." He corked the bottle and slid it back into his desk. "Jesus Christ on the cross, this may be it."