A Mended Man (The Men of Halfway House Book 4) (52 page)

"I'm along for the ride and I'm learning more than I thought I could, and working with you guys—"

"Give yourself some credit. You're on the team because you're good. If it were a learning experience, they'd solicit newbies from the academy." Aidan rubbed his hands together. This was important to Sunny and giving up was not an option. "So you're fine with the group as long as you don't have to handle the abuse cases?"

"I love the satisfaction of taking down a perp who does that kind of damage to someone. But I can't deal with the victims and hearing them talk about what happened. I can handle the forensics, and I don't care how detailed the gore gets in the reports or crime scene pics. I can break it down and examine the facts without a problem. Pace myself and powwow with you and the team on the different scenarios. But hearing the person say it all, and the emotion…shit. I just can't." She turned to him. "How did
you
handle listening to that woman in the interview that day? The victim from that scene with the same knife as the Butterfly Killer's? In the hospital, when she was retelling every detail of what happened, you were like a damn statue. You didn't move at all or say a single word. Nothing. You were just…vacant."

He took a deep breath. "I hate these cases too."

"But you get through each day. How did you reset?"

"I had help." That was more than he would willingly admit to anyone. He couldn't have made it through the night or weekend without Jessie by his side silently offering support on those tough nights when he would have quietly let his stomach churn over a case.

She glanced back at the couple having the morning picnic. "I'll handle a dead body any day."

Aidan tightened his lips, holding back a laugh when a passerby gave Sunny an odd look, overhearing what she had said.

"Fucker. Don't laugh at me."

"C'mon. If I had said that, you'd be bustin' my balls right now." Visions of Jessie's laughing face filled his mind. Great, now he was thinking about Jessie and his ball fetish.

Sunny frowned at him and narrowed her eyes. "You've got this funny smile on your face. I know that wasn't me. What are you thinking about?"

"Let's focus on the problem here."

Sunny returned her attention to the people in the park again, her frown deepening. "Who the hell has a picnic at eight o'clock in the damn morning?"

Aidan held back a laugh but couldn't help wondering if this was how prickly he'd get when frustrated.

She rubbed her hands again and exhaled heavily. "Any suggestions? I'm open to just about anything to stay on board."

He wouldn't let her walk away from the task force. Period. He loved working with the team as well, but Sunny played a big part of that formula and screw it all to hell if they tried to fill her spot. "I've got an idea." Aidan pulled out his phone and dialed a number he had avoided for the last few months. "We've got some time before Reyes gets back from his depo. We need to run an errand."

Sunny lowered her brow but rose from the bench without an argument.

If he was going to hit Manny up to pull them off these cases, he better sure as hell have something to bargain with in that negotiation. It was the only fair thing to do.

* * * *

Aidan sat and waited, refusing to be the first to speak. His ass numbed in the chair and his arms, resting on the table, started to feel heavy. The sound of sliding metal bars echoed in the distance—maybe a fence from the yard or a distant cell door opening. Or maybe the cell door closed. He didn't care. And the guard standing on the other side of the bars, watching them silently sit, didn't faze him at all.

He had one focus.

Period.

He maintained his schooled features, thankful Sunny hadn't fought him with his request she stay in the car when they pulled up to the prison parking lot. He had to keep his poker face and couldn't afford offering any point of distraction.

He sat across the table from the master of power plays and former head of one of the largest drug and organized crime rings Aidan had ever seen during his career. Rick, aka Starman. The nickname was earned after finding a series of nickel bags stamped with a star emblem linking a series of drug cases. The smooth bastard had proven his ability to evade getting caught for over a decade and would still be free had it not been for Cam and his ability to remember where some run-down excuse of a shack resided in a hidden away location in the deep southern reach of South Florida. That one tiny memory had triggered a chain reaction of arrests.

"To what do I finally owe the honor of your presence?" Rick asked, his chilly leveled tone breaking the silence between them.

"You asked to see me."

"That was quite some time ago. There's something else that's motivated your visit today."

Aidan carefully chose his words. Every small word and gesture spoke volumes and could easily be deciphered by the conniving son of a bitch. He wondered how the bastard managed to look polished and pristine in prison garb. It seemed elite membership to the magic mystery closet extended to inmates in maximum security prisons as well. "I need something from you."

Rick clucked his tongue. "My dear Detective Calloway," he said, enunciating each syllable. "You stole my life, killed my beloved, and expect me to just 'give' you something." His laugh quietly echoed in the room. The grin slid off his face and he dropped the pitch of his tone. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Aidan shrugged, hoping to convey an air of whateverness. "I didn't steal your life. You can blame that idiot judge for being careless and stupid. And your 'beloved'"—he mocked with an eye roll—"was a crazy sociopath who lunged at me. It was self-defense."

Rick huffed out a laugh and the edge of his lips curled up into a crude smile. He leaned forward and the guard immediately neared to open the door, stopping only when Aidan raised his hand to halt him. Rick looked over his shoulder then back at Aidan. "What do you want?"

Aidan could play this a few different ways, but a direct approach never worked with Rick. Ever. He
always
needed to believe that
he
was the one offering something. "I need your word."

"What makes you think my word means anything?"

Aidan leaned forward, matching Rick's pose. "As smooth and cool as you like to think you are, you're old school."

Rick's eyes quickly scanned Aidan's face, assessing him, and an odd look of fascination colored his expression. "Tell me."

"I need you to have your men back off Cameron Pierce."

Rick lowered his brow, suddenly speaking out of character, as if forgetting his role in the game. "The kid's in hiding. My men haven't touched him, so if—"

"If he were out of hiding."

"Ah, he's homesick." Rick's features smoothed in understanding and his calculating tone returned, quickly resuming his role in their pissing contest. He leaned over slightly and lowered his voice. "And you're worried…something…will happen as soon as the kid comes back."

"I know you have a price on his head. I want you to rescind it."

"You can't just cancel an 'alleged' request of that nature." Rick leaned back in the chair and clasped his cuffed hands on the table. He glanced over his shoulder again at the guard then returned his focus to Aidan. "I'm just an inmate doing my time."

"Bullshit. I learned how you work. How you ran your business. I'm not an idiot. I know you're still issuing orders from here."

Rick laughed and theatrically flattened his hand against his chest. "Detective Calloway, I think you are giving me far more credit than I deserve."

Aidan delivered one of his menacing glares. He wouldn't scare Rick, but he needed to convey his level of determination. "You requested to see me some time ago. So I
know
you want something."

Rick's jaw muscles twitched.

"And freedom is not an option," Aidan clarified.

"I'm king here. I'm not willing to relinquish my throne."

"I don't have all day."

"You're lucky as hell our wonderful judicial system travels at a snail's pace." Rick looked down at his cuffed hands, thumbing the loop of the chain. "My brother. He's scheduled to move." He raised a stopping hand before Aidan could speak. "No, I don't want him coming here. I don't want someone mooching off me and stirring the pot. It's taken me a while to build up the respect I've earned within these walls. I'm not going to have some little shit come in here and tear it down."

So much for family loyalty
. Aidan tilted his head, urging him to continue.

"I want him sent to Strassburg."

"How did you hear about Strassburg?"

Rick raised an eyebrow. "I'm resourceful and I have my ear to the ground. Did you think I wouldn't hear about a prison just because you guys were testing some new protocols and shit and whatever the hell else you are trying to do with a new place for the superbly dysfunctional and extra wicked?"

"It's a new prison. The 'protocols' or policies haven't been firmly established." Other than the fact that they were setting up a new, privately-owned, cutting-edge technology, maximum-security facility for lifers and other select few inmates best kept out of the general population.

Rick inched closer, finally dropping his facade. "Cut the crap. I know it's being sold as the place no one wants to go. You've got a shit-ton of lifers in here cryin' at night like babies at the thought of being on that list."

"Then why do you want your brother there?"

"Because it's exactly what he needs to get his act together."

"Your version of tough love," Aidan said, subtly shaking his head.

"From what I've heard, that place won't allow shit to happen. So even if he fucks up, he won't get himself shanked, but he'll get a good enough scare to know he'll never want to go back to prison. Ever."

Aidan had saved enough people's hides in the past to merit a lifelong list of favors. At this point, he was willing to do anything in his power to get his friend back home and find a viable solution to get Sunny and him off these damn cases. But he still needed to focus on this dance with Rick until all the cards were on the table.

"Get my brother there, and I'll call the dogs off your kid. Hell, I'll put a price on the head of anyone who dares hurt him and his boy toy."

Aidan stared blankly, trying—with every fiber in his being—to contain his laughter. He couldn't wait to let Hunter know this guy had just called him a boy toy.

"Allegedly," Rick added, raising his hands and shrugging.

Aidan pursed his lips, fighting to hold back the smile that threatened to emerge. "I'll make sure to tell Hunter your pet name for him."

Rick smiled. "Go ahead. I'm safe as hell from him in here," he finished with a laugh that echoed in the room.

"I'm not sure I can pull enough strings to make that happen."

Rick quieted and looked at Aidan more carefully, resting his forearms on the table and leaning forward. "Bullshit. I know you. Do we have a deal?"

"I thought you couldn't call it off from in here?"

A wicked smile spread across Rick's face. "I guess we'll have to find out then."

Aidan inched closer, mirroring Rick's pose, speaking in an almost silent hiss. "You fuck with them and I will personally walk you into Strassburg myself and lock you in a cell with the most twisted, sadistic motherfucker we have on the roster."

Rick never shifted his focus from the standoff. The slow movement of his neck muscles when he swallowed the only indication Aidan had hit his mark. After a few moments, the corner of his mouth inched upward. "I thought you couldn't pull enough strings?"

Aidan's jaw muscle twitched. "Your brother doesn't have much time left on his term. I'm not sure he'll fit the criteria."

"He has thirty-four months left."

"And you're serving three consecutive life sentences. My odds are better at transferring your sorry ass over to Strassburg."

Rick's lips thinned and his eyes flickered a fire Aidan hadn't seen moments ago.

Aidan chose to stare instead of responding. Rick
never
showed emotion.

"You want names? Locations? What the fuck do you want, Calloway? Name it!"

Aidan remained silent for a moment, not wanting to appear too anxious. "You want to protect your street boys, that's fine. I don't want your henchmen. I want the guys who are buried along the line. Any judges, cops, corporations. And I want you to call off your dogs. No one from your camp goes near Cam or Hunter. No. One. I swear, if they,
or anyone
they know, love, work with or talk to so much as gets a paper cut, you will regret it."

Rick steadily stared. "I don't doubt that for a moment."

"Good." Aidan reached into his jacket and withdrew a few sheets of lined paper and a crayon.

Rick held up the blue crayon and inspected it, then glanced back to Aidan. "What am I? Two?"

"I know better than to give you a pen or a pencil, you moron. Start writing," he said, pointing to the sheets.

Rick paused for a few moments and slowly shook his head before speaking. "You're a manipulative son of a bitch, Calloway." He rolled the crayon between his fingers, tilting his head to stare at Aidan. "Bravo, you son of a bitch. You planned this all along and I walked right into it." He sighed dramatically then began making a list. Thirty minutes and ten pages later, he put the crayon down and stacked the papers neatly before handing them to Aidan.

Aidan scanned the front and back of each lined sheet filled with information. Names of people, businesses, addresses, bank account numbers, and locations. He glanced up at Rick.

"What? My head is the safest place to store all this information so people can't find a paper trail."

After spending almost two years working the case, Aidan had only scratched the surface. Without question, Manny would salivate at the chance to be the show pony bringing in all these cases. "Some have a secondary line. Why?"

"If I thought you wouldn't easily find the link to whatever role they played, I added a note on the next line to speed you along. I won't testify and I will deny I ever gave you names, but you should be able to gather enough evidence from what's on there to nail them yourself. Well, your little researcher boyfriend should be able to dig up the details," Rick finished with a smile in his voice. "He's quite thorough from what I understand."