Cole McGinnis 05 - Down and Dirty (16 page)

“Talk,” he snorted derisively. “We’re going to fuck like bunnies and then complain about my brother tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, yeah, that too,” Bobby agreed. “But we’ll talk. We have to, because, baby, we’re both going places neither one of us wanted to go, and we’re doing it together. So go kiss your brother’s ass, and then later on tonight, I might get around to biting yours.”

I
CHIRO
DIDN
’
T
trust himself to drive. Not after the phone call came, summoning him to a police station in Santa Monica. It was a short, terse call but one ripe with undercurrent and longing.

Cole was in trouble—
again
.

The call was too short for a lot of details, but one thing was clear, there’d been a gun—and it was the one used to try to murder Jae.

He threw money at the cabbie. It was too much, but Ichi didn’t intend on waiting for any change. Slamming the door, he hit the pavement in a run, skidding around a couple arguing in front of the station’s glass doors. A large shadow emerged from a small cluster of people in the lobby, and Ichiro was yanked sideways, drawn over by Bobby’s grip on his arm.

“Is he okay? He wasn’t shot, right?” Ichiro gasped for breath.

There were too many people, too much noise, and other than a brief brushing of Bobby’s lips over his temple when he leaned in to whisper reassurances into Ichiro’s ear, they were separated quickly by the rest of Cole’s support group. Jae needed shoring up, his face pale and hands shaking even as he sat down to wait out the night. Mike prowled and pounced at nearly every detective walking by, pushing to get their brother released.

And Ichiro sat, stunned and cold, sneaking stealthy brushes of Bobby’s hands on his whenever they could touch.

A couple of hours later, Ichi leaned over to Jae sitting next to him and said, “I’m going to go outside and get a smoke in. If something happens, come get me, okay?”

Jae nodded, mute and simmering with anger more than fear. His fingers were white, knuckles taut from gripping the chair seat. Scarlet’s soft Filipino burble soothed the frantic tenseness in Jae’s body, but she couldn’t take away the worry building up inside of Cole’s lover.

Cole wasn’t bouncing back from this one, or at least it didn’t seem like it from Ichiro’s point of view.

He made eye contact with Bobby as he slipped through the glass doors, and his lover nodded, either acknowledging Ichiro was leaving for a few or that he had plans to follow him out as soon as he could get away.

Locating the smokers’ area wasn’t difficult. It was harder to find a spot not reeking of sour tobacco and desperation. There were other people shuffling their feet near a stone, sand-filled ash bin, the bleak expressions on their faces nearly a match for Jae’s—as if they’d been issued a uniform mask to wear while they waited for word.

Cupping his hand around the end of a clove cigarette, Ichi lit the
kretek
as he sat down on a curve of bars meant to be used as a bike rack. Footsteps echoed through the walkway between the main station and the nearby buildings, warning Ichiro of someone approaching. He looked up, wreathed in fragrant smoke, hoping to see Bobby but instead stared down the piercing glare of his older brother, Mike, as he cut past the other smokers and headed toward him.

“Shit,” he swore when Mike barreled in, cutting off Ichi’s view of the front door. “Now what?”

“Why don’t you tell me now what?” Mike growled, looming over Ichiro and blocking the light with his shoulders. “What’s with you and Dawson making cow eyes at each other? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What I’m doing is none of your business.” Ichiro took another drag off his
kretek
and surprisingly didn’t choke on the smoke hitting his lungs. Cole losing his shit was understandable—Cole’s world was a fragile one at times, and change was sometimes bad, but Mike’s outburst came as a shock. Playing it cool, he blew out a plume and cocked his chin up, meeting Mike’s angry stare. “I don’t even know what cow eyes means, but I’m taking a guess you’re talking about us—”

“Are you fucking Dawson?” Mike pressed. “Is that what this is?”

“Why is it everyone assumes Bobby’s fucking me and not the other way around?” He stubbed out the clove, disgusted he couldn’t smoke it in peace. “What do you guys want? Video? I can arrange it, but really, it’s none of your fucking business, Mike. What goes on between me and Bobby—”

“You deserve better than that,” Mike spat. “He’s not good enough for you. I know he’s Cole’s best friend, but—”

“Mike, I’m pretty sure my English is good enough for you to understand me.” Ichiro ground his teeth in frustration. “It is
none
of your—”

“He didn’t retire from the force. He was kicked off,” his older brother cut him off. “Or asked to leave. That’s a better way of putting it. I found out a lot of shit about Robert James Dawson and not all of it good, little brother.”

“You had him investigated? Jesus, and I thought my father was controlling.”

“What else was I supposed to do? Here’s some now gay ex-cop Cole
doesn’t
know coming into his hospital room after Cole’s just lost Rick and Ben? You fucking better believe I’m going to have him looked into. Cole’s my goddamned brother, and right then—shit, even now—he’s vulnerable. I wasn’t going to have Dawson fuck with him, so yeah, sue me. I had him looked into, and you know what? I didn’t like what I found.”

“You have me looked into too?” Ichi felt the blood drain out of his face when Mike’s expression turned to stone. “Fucking hell, you did. Wow….” He sucked in some air, trying to cool off the heat in his chest. “Fucking… hell. Just….”

“I have to protect my family,” Mike said gently, his voice still edged in steel. “Then and now. So that includes you too, Ichi. Yeah, I had you looked into. Mostly because… shit, you aren’t stupid. You know how people are. I had to make sure.”

“That’s how it is, isn’t it? Cole takes everyone at face value, and you….”

“I don’t take any chances,” his brother admitted. “Not with Maddy, not with Cole, and now not with you.”

“You can’t wrap me up like I’m some teacup you want to keep safe, Mike. That’s not going to work for me. And what the hell are you thinking? Bobby’s not—”

“A man died—someone he knew—and Dawson had something to do with it. The cops covered something up, but sure as shit, Dawson knows something about it. It was one of his last calls. He found the guy, and the next thing on his record was his retirement notice. That isn’t odd?”

“Yeah, you’re right. A friend of his dies, and he leaves the police force. That
never
happens.” Ichi mocked his brother, gasping dramatically. “Oh wait, our brother Cole did that too. You think
he
had something to do with Ben and Rick dying too?”

“Don’t be an asshole, Ichi.”

“Learned it from you, Mike. This is bullshit.”

“Dawson was doing a welfare check on this Mark guy. No one called it in. He was doing it on his own. Cops called it a suicide—but Mark, his friend, used one of Dawson’s guns to do it, and it’s supposed to be a coincidence that Dawson finds him on some welfare check? Tell me how that happens.”

“He loaned him the gun for something?” Ichi argued. “I don’t know. It’s not something I’d ask for, but lately I’ve been getting the feeling passing guns around here in America is like borrowing a cup of sugar. How the hell is that Bobby’s fault? If there was something off about him, Cole wouldn’t have him around. You just don’t like how close he is to Cole. And now you’re pissed off because he’s close to me. Why don’t you worry less about Dawson and spend more time trying to be less of an asshole. Your brothers might like you better.”

“I’m not jealous of Dawson. Not by a long shot.” Mike shifted, pushing into Ichiro’s space, and he steeled himself not to take a step back. “By the time I got enough information on him, he and Cole were already friends. So I backed off.”

“So his friend kills himself, and that’s Bobby’s shit to carry?” Ichi stood up, going toe to toe with Mike. “What? You’re afraid he killed this Mark guy and what? Going to kill me or Cole? People die, Mike. Hell, I was reminded of that—shit,
yesterday
? Bobby probably had nothing to do with it. Christ, he’s in there… being a damned good friend to our fucked-in-the-head brother, and you’re out here giving me shit because I’m starting something with him?”

“I don’t want you with—”

“You’re not going to get what you want. Not always, Mike. Maybe Cole puts up with your bullshit, but I’m not. If I want to screw Bobby Dawson on the damned front desk of that police station, I’m going to. So unless you can show me he killed his friend Mark, you need to shut the hell up and mind your own business.”

“Yeah see, babe, your brother’s right.” Bobby’s shadow stretched over them, dousing the wobbly orange light coming from a flickering sconce on the main building. “I did kill Mark. Sure as shit might have put the gun to his head and pulled the fucking trigger.”

Chapter 10

“N
OT
HOW
I wanted to have this conversation, Ichi, but shit, if you want it now, I can do it.” Bobby shoved his hands into his jeans, rocking back on his heels. Ichiro was hard to read; inscrutable wasn’t even on the ticket. Stone-cold was a nearer description, although granite ready to be carved into the faces of four presidents with some left over for a kitchen counter came to mind.

“If you want to talk about anything, I’ll listen,” Ichi replied softly. “But not with
him
here. Like I keep saying, it’s none of his business what goes on between the two of us.”

“You want to get lost, Mike?” Bobby stared down at Cole’s older brother. “This is between me and Ichi.”

“I’m not….”

Bobby had to give Mike credit. Shorter and about fifty pounds under, Cole’s older brother was determined to hold his own. He knew Mike was a muscular block of strength under his suit and tie, but the man ran a security firm—armed with high-tech weapons and exit strategies. Bobby would lay his hardscrabble, cop’s kid street upbringing against Mike’s polished fisticuffs any day.

And if today was that day, he was more than willing to step in.

Ichiro might have had something to say about him tearing off Mike’s head, but from the disgruntled scowl on his lover’s face, Bobby thought he had a pretty good shot at having help burying Mike’s body.

“Mike, go.” Ichiro’s tone was flat, and his eyes burned as they raked over his older brother’s face. “Send someone out if Cole gets loose and we’re still out here, please.”

“Fine,” Mike ground out. He took a step toward the station, shoving his shoulder up against Bobby’s. Pressing into Bobby’s side, he growled softly, “You fucking hurt my brother—either one of them—and there won’t be a big enough piece of you left for anyone to find. You got that, Dawson?”

“And here I thought you loved me,” Bobby shot back.

“Oh, I like you well enough,” Mike replied as he walked off. “That’s why you’ll be dead when I chop you into pieces.”

A blur of white noise settled on them, a layer of humming tires on cooling asphalt and murmuring chatter from people gathering at the edges of the building. Ichiro tapped his foot on the ground, a slow beat of time as he waited for Bobby to begin speaking.

He needed to say something.

Anything.

But Bobby was frozen in the tangles of a convoluted past, unable to find the end of a thread to take him back out of the labyrinth.

“I—fuck, this is just not where I wanted to talk about this,” he grumbled softly. “Your damned brother—”

“Both of them, really.” Ichi grinned suddenly. “Cole’s off assaulting hobos, and Mike’s shoving his pointy nose into everything, but what he needs to be taking care of—is getting Cole out. Look, Mike’s the one who forced this on you, and right now, can I be honest?”

“Always, Sunshine.”

“I’m not in a headspace to talk about this Mark guy. I’m not sure if you are either.” He reached out, tangling his fingers into Bobby’s. “Look, you want time? I can give you time.”

“I’ve got to at least tell you I didn’t kill Mark.” Glancing at the building, Bobby’s anger simmered back up. “Fucking Mike. He just layered that in, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’s a master at the subtle dig. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was my father’s son.”

“Well, their dad’s no fucking treat either.” Bobby tightened his fingers around Ichi’s. “Mark… shit, it’s complicated.”

“Like I said, we can uncomplicate it later, okay?”

“I don’t want it to… hang over us,” he admitted softly. “Mark—fuck, Mark.”

“There’s a coffee shop across the way.” Ichi nodded toward the street. “We can go there if you want. If you think we’ve got enough time. I don’t know how long it takes to spring someone out of jail. Most places I’ve been it’s either really easy and quick, or there’s no hope you’ll ever see them again. No clue about America.”

“Well, with your brother, God only knows.” Bobby glanced over his shoulder. The place was quiet, and with each encroaching second, the evening darkened, lessening their chances of springing Cole. Anyone who had any say on the matter would either be gone or hard to hunt down, no matter how hard Mike pulled on his strings. They’d probably have time for Bobby to tell his entire life story.