Saving Ren (Barretti Security Series, Book 3) (2 page)

“You get his statement, Hale?”

Disgust went through him at the sound of his Captain’s voice bellowing across the room. The man was an absolute dirt bag and it always took every ounce of Declan’s iron-like self-control not to beat the shit out of him. He was a blatant racist and homophobe which was saying a lot considering the department itself had never been the most politically correct group of people. Sure, there were a few good apples in the bunch but the majority were more likely to side with Captain Frank Mitchell if push came to shove. The man had been in charge for more than a dozen years and he’d maintained his reign by kissing the right asses and getting rid of anyone foolish enough to question him. Luckily, Declan had managed to make some powerful allies himself and Mitchell hadn’t succeeded in ousting him, though it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Declan didn’t answer as Mitchell strode towards him; he just held the pad of paper up briefly.

“Let me know when he’s booked,” Mitchell said.

“We’re still waiting for Jennings to get back with witness statements and Dwyer is finishing up with his friend,” Declan said as he glanced at the interview room next to the one he’d just exited.

“Fucker can sit in lock-up while you get the paperwork started,” Mitchell snapped.

Declan leaned back against the door. “You seem pretty certain what the outcome’s going to be,” he said casually, though he was feeling anything but casual at the moment.

“Guy’s a loser who went after a well-respected citizen-”

“Varos’ record shows nothing since he was a kid. And Jason Sutter’s hardly an angel,” Declan observed. “I checked his record before I went in there,” he said as he motioned over his shoulder. “Sutter was stopped twice for suspicion of driving under the influence in the last year alone. Looks like his father’s got some pretty good lawyers-”

Mitchell’s long, bony finger was thrust in his face. “Lionel Sutter has served this city for more than twenty years-”

Declan laughed. He knew Lionel Sutter and the circle he ran in much better than Mitchell ever would. “Lionel Sutter is a pretentious piece of shit who’s been buying every position he’s ever had since his father left him all his money after he dropped dead while fucking a hooker in the front seat of his Town Car,” Declan quipped.

Mitchell’s face turned a mottled shade of red, but before he could lay into Declan like he clearly wanted, the door to the next interview room over opened and Adam Dwyer stepped out.

“Well?” Mitchell shouted.

Dwyer hesitated for a moment at the tension he was witnessing. Declan couldn’t blame him – the young cop had been on the force less than a year after transferring from Spokane. He seemed like a good enough guy but it was looking more and more like the officer wasn’t going to have the balls needed to stand up to Mitchell.

“Jennings called in with the witness statements. They match Talbot’s story,” Dwyer said as he held up the statement that he’d collected from Jagger’s friend. “He’s banged up pretty bad.”

Declan snatched the statement from Dwyer before Mitchell could get his hands on it. He scanned it and then handed it to Mitchell. “Talbot and Varos’ statements line up,” he said. “Varos was defending Talbot.”

Something was off in the level of anger radiating off of Mitchell as he studied both statements. A snort left his thin lips and he shoved the documents against Dwyer’s chest and stomped off without another word.

“Uh, what happens now?”

Declan watched Mitchell storm back into his office and slam the door. “Release them both. Find out if Talbot wants to press charges against Sutter,” Declan said.

Dwyer glanced nervously over Declan’s shoulder at the interview room Jagger was waiting in. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice higher than normal. Declan was guessing the man had gotten a good look at Jagger and his imposing size as he was being escorted to the interview room and was less than eager to confront the man directly, even if it was with good news.

“I’m going to take a piss,” Declan muttered. The last thing he was interested in was setting eyes on Jagger Varos again.

Chapter 1

“Any word on Ren?” Jagger asked as he extended his hand to shake Vin’s.

“No,” Vin responded as he motioned for Jagger to take a seat on the other side of the desk from him. Jagger dropped down into the chair as he studied the other man. He respected the hell out of Vin Barretti and had gotten to know him well in the past year as they scoured the unforgiving terrain of the Middle East in their search for Ren. The oldest of the four Barretti brothers had started to look worn down in recent months as each fruitless search for Ren ended the same way. The dark-haired co-founder of Barretti Security Group had never given up hope though, and he and his brother Dom had spent endless amounts of money and time to try to bring their younger brother home.

But Vin’s relief at finding his brother alive had been short-lived upon their arrival home a couple of weeks ago because three days after he’d gotten Ren settled in his house, Ren had attacked Vin’s girlfriend, Mia. Jagger didn’t know all the details but apparently a gun had been involved. It hadn’t surprised Jagger to find out had Ren had gone off the deep end because he’d noticed something off in the young man from the moment they’d left the military hospital in Landstuhl, Germany.

Ren had been withdrawn as expected but there’d been a wariness in his eyes too. A haunted look that had held Jagger’s attention from the moment they took off until the moment they landed in Seattle. Vin’s efforts to draw his brother out during the flight had been ignored and the way Ren had held onto the armrests of his seat had had Jagger suspecting he was barely hanging on to his control. Every noise, every conversation had seemed to pain Ren in some way and Jagger had found himself wanting to soothe his fingers over the tightly drawn skin that stretched across sharp cheekbones.

“How’s Mia?” he asked.

“She’s okay,” Vin answered. “Still blaming herself for Ren disappearing.”

While Ren had left Mia unharmed before disappearing from Vin’s house in the dead of night, his mistrust of his brother’s lover hadn’t dissipated and he’d ended up following Mia over the next couple of weeks in the hopes of finding some proof against her to show she was unworthy of the oldest Barretti. In a surprise twist of fate, it was Ren who saved Mia from a stalker tied to her past. He’d shot the man before he’d been able to put a bullet through Mia’s chest like he’d planned. Ren had been taken into custody as part of the investigation into the shooting and when he’d finally been released, he’d taken off again, leaving only a note behind telling his brothers not to look for him.

“Anyone’s to blame, it’s that fucker at the precinct,” Jagger muttered. He knew his description of Declan Hale was harsh but the humiliation of having to blurt out his shameful secret still stung. And to have to sit there and recite his statement to the high and mighty Detective had burned his insides like acid.

“Declan’s hands were tied,” Vin said, his eyes pinning Jagger where he sat. “That man has been good to this family.”

Jagger shifted in his chair. It was a well-deserved rebuke but it still smarted.

“I hear you two had a run-in yesterday,” Vin said.

Fuck. He’d actually started warming up to this job too. “Thanks for the opportunity,” he muttered as he stood to go.

“Sit your ass back down, Jagger,” Vin drawled as if unsurprised by Jagger’s automatic assumption that he was being let go. “Declan told me what happened. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

That caught Jagger off guard and he slowly sank back down. The only ones who’d ever given a shit about him were Connor and his mother. “I’m fine,” he said softly.

“How’s your friend?” Vin asked. “Connor, right?”

Jagger nodded. “He’s okay,” he said warily.

“Good,” Vin said with a nod. “We’ve terminated our contract with Sutter’s firm-”

“What?” Jagger interrupted, not sure he’d heard right.

“Lionel Sutter’s investment firm was a client. We were doing some analysis on their network security,” Vin explained.

“Are you saying…” Jagger couldn’t even get his thought out at first. “Are you saying you ended the relationship because of what happened to Connor?”

“Barretti Security doesn’t do business with pricks who pay to keep their piece of shit kids out of trouble. Declan clued us in on that little fucker’s antics and Lionel’s use of his political connections to get him off each time. Hopefully your message got through last night but if it didn’t, we can provide your friend with round the clock security until our legal team can hurt Jason Sutter and his father where it counts most – their reputations,” Vin declared.

Jagger couldn’t say if he was more surprised by the offer or how riled up Vin had gotten on behalf of a man he didn’t even know.

“Uh, I’ll let him know,” Jagger said.

“Good,” Vin said as he settled back into his chair. It was then that Jagger noticed how tightly drawn Vin seemed. He looked tired and pale like he hadn’t slept and while Jagger could attribute that to what had been going on with Ren, the agonized look in his eyes was new.

“Something going on?” Jagger asked softly. He held back his surprise at what appeared to be a sheen of tears forming in Vin’s eyes. The other man took a moment to get himself under control before he spoke.

“Cade found the hacker,” Vin said quietly. “It’s Rafe.”

What the fuck?
Shock went through Jagger’s system as he tried to piece together what Vin was telling him. Rafe was the youngest of the Barretti brothers, though Jagger knew the man had to be in his late twenties by now. He’d been removed from Vin and Dom’s custody when he was just eight years old after his biological father showed up to claim him. At eighteen and fifteen respectively, Vin and Dom hadn’t had the funds or the resources necessary to keep their little brother, but they hadn’t stopped searching for him in the nearly twenty years since he’d been taken away.

“Are you sure?” Jagger asked.

Vin nodded. The hack into BSG’s servers had started weeks earlier when information about Mia’s past was taken. Vin and Dom had only recently discovered that more hacks had occurred, though everything that had been taken had been related to Vin and Dom’s personal lives instead of their business. Which made perfect sense now if the suspect really was Rafe Barretti.

“I’m sorry, Vin,” Jagger said. God, this family couldn’t catch a break. If Rafe was stealing sensitive information, it could only be for one reason – to hurt his brothers.

“I may need to pull you in at some point,” Vin said. “So far he’s just going after information but if it turns into something more…”

“Of course,” Jagger responded. “Is there anything I can do?”

Vin shook his head. “We’re in a holding pattern until Rafe makes his next move. Dom’s hopeful that he’ll come around…” Vin said.

“But you’re not so sure,” Jagger observed. Vin didn’t answer him and he didn’t need to. He could tell that Vin was near his breaking point so he quietly stood. “Whatever you guys need, Vin,” Jagger said softly. Vin managed a nod and Jagger quickly left the office. He shook his head as he headed towards his car. For once, his life actually seemed like a cakewalk compared to what the Barretti brothers had been forced to endure.

***

“How’s it going?” Jagger asked as he headed behind the bar and searched out a beer.

“Quiet, thankfully,” Connor replied as he continued cleaning the glasses in front of him. Jagger popped the top off the beer and took a long swallow as his eyes skated over his friend. At 29 years old, Connor Talbot had seen more in his short life than he should have. And he’d paid more too. From the moment they’d met in Iraq, Jagger had felt drawn to the younger man, though not for the reasons he would have suspected.

Connor was a truly beautiful man with his coffee colored hair and warm, brown eyes. He was just under 6’ and had a lean, swimmer’s build that should have had Jagger trying to get in his pants from day one since the man was exactly his type. But something about the kind-hearted, fun-loving guy who was always smiling had Jagger wanting more than a quick fuck. Being around Connor was easy and relaxing – the guy just made you feel good. Even with all the shit he’d been through, Connor never lost his sense of humor or his positive outlook on life. But the bruises on his face and swollen lip were a stark reminder that not everyone appreciated Connor for the gentle soul he was.

“You’ll break the glass if you keep doing that,” Connor said quietly as he motioned to the hand Jagger had clenched around the glass bottle. He set it down on the counter just to be on the safe side and reached up to tilt Connor’s face to the side. Even in the dim lighting he could see the angry purple and blue colors mixing together over the swollen skin.

“You putting ice on this?” he asked gently as he released him.

Connor produced an icepack from the small sink. “Yes, Dad,” he said with a smirk. Jagger smiled and grabbed his beer.

“You call that cop today to tell him you changed your mind about pressing charges?” Jagger asked.

Connor’s lowered gaze answered his question.

“Damn it, Connor, that fucker needs to be punished,” Jagger bit out.

“I think you took care of that last night,” Connor murmured. “Besides, I can take care of myself,” he insisted. Jagger knew they were bordering in sensitive territory so he let it go for now.

“You off soon?” Jagger asked as he saw Connor shift his weight, a sure sign that the man was in pain.

Connor nodded. “Mags is closing up,” he said.

Mags was short for Maggie. She was the only woman Jagger had ever met that nearly matched him in height, width and temperament. But around Connor, all her rough edges disappeared and she became a mother hen. She’d sooner throw every single one of the patrons out of the bar before she let go of Connor because he had one of his “moments” while on the job.

“What did you say?” Connor suddenly asked, his brow narrowed in confusion as he glanced at Jagger. But it was like Connor was staring right through him and his eyes began to dart around the room as if trying to figure out where he was.

“Connor,” Jagger whispered as he brushed his hand over Connor’s uninjured cheek and forced him to focus on him. “Connor, look at me,” he said softly and he gently rubbed his thumb along Connor’s skin. It took only seconds for Connor to come back to himself.

“Shit, sorry,” Connor murmured as he pulled free of Jagger’s hold.

Before Jagger could respond, someone shouted “Bartender, another!” from the other end of the bar. The voice was heavily slurred.

“Another satisfied customer?” Jagger asked with a grin as he glanced up at the drunken figure huddled over an empty glass.

“He was satisfied three shots ago,” Connor mused.

“You know him?”

Connor shook his head. “Not a regular. I offered to call him a cab. I told him that was his last one,” he said as he nodded at the man. When he started heading towards the guy, Jagger grabbed his arm.

“Finish up, I’ll take care of it.”

Connor looked like he was about to argue so Jagger quickly moved past him and headed towards the opposite end of the long bar. There were only a couple of other customers in the place which wasn’t a surprise since Mags’ bar was a hole-in the wall establishment that was surrounded by nothing but warehouses and industrial shops. He’d never understand what had possessed her to open up shop in such a dead neighborhood when the tourist-filled waterfront was just a few streets over.

“Come on, buddy, time to call it a night,” Jagger said as he got closer. His pace slowed as something familiar about the man’s size and frame had his gut churning…and his dick reacting.

“Fuck off, give me another,” the man mumbled as he pushed his empty glass forward.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Jagger sighed as he came to a stop in front of none other than Declan Hale.

***

“You know him?” Connor asked as he came to a stop next to Jagger.

“Unfortunately,” Jagger responded as he reached out and grabbed the glass that Declan had started rolling under his palm. Declan looked up at him with bloodshot, bleary eyes. “He’s the cop who interviewed me yesterday,” Jagger murmured as he handed the glass to Connor.

Connor must have heard something in his voice because he said, “I’ll call him a cab, Jagger. Don’t worry about it.”

Jagger studied Declan whose eyes had drifted shut when he rested his cheek against his hand. The man was a far cry from twenty-four hours ago. His clothes were wrinkled and looked suspiciously like what he’d been wearing the day before and his hair was sticking up all over the place like he’d been endlessly running his fingers through it.

“No,” Jagger said softly. “I’ll make sure he gets home.”

Jagger could feel Connor’s curious gaze on him so he quickly went around the bar.

“He pay his tab?” Jagger asked.

“He gave me a hundred bucks up front and told me to keep ‘em coming till it ran out.”

Shit, that was a lot of booze. Declan Hale had clearly set out to get plastered which meant he was either a raging alcoholic or something else was going on. Since he hadn’t smelled even a whiff on the man yesterday, his gut was telling him the detective had been looking to drown his sorrows, not feed an addiction.