Shades of Gray (27 page)

“But that’s not justice, Danny, that’s just depravity.” Danny exhaled a bitter laugh. “Justice? What the fuck is that?

What does that word even mean? Is that what you guys hand out?

Where’s the justice in sending a twenty-two-year-old kid to a maximum security prison for selling a little cocaine? Tossing him in there to be fought over and ripped apart like a scrap of meat? You think my punishment fit my crime, Miller?”

Danny watched as Miller swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple squeezing into a rigid lump in his throat. “We’re not talking about you.

We’re talking about Hinestroza, and I can’t fucking believe you’re defending him!” Miller’s voice rose with each word.

“I’ve known him for a long time,” Danny said, his own voice thrumming with feeling. “You only concentrate on what’s bad about 206 | Brooke McKinley

him. But I see more than that. The truth is, I’m probably more like him than I am like you.”

Miller jerked away, maneuvering to sit on the side of the bed, lowering his head into his hands. “I don’t understand how you can even say something like that, Danny. He made you a criminal. He forced that life on you.”

Danny knee-walked over to Miller’s back, sliding his legs around Miller’s hips to hold him from behind. “You’re always so quick to think people are all one way, Miller. It’s more complicated than that.” Danny ran his mouth up Miller’s bare spine, his lips thumping over the notches of bone. “Hinestroza may have opened the door, but I walked right through and never searched very hard for a detour sign.” Miller blew out a deep breath, his fingers stroking across Danny’s calves. “Is this how you punish yourself?” Miller asked finally. “Make it all your fault instead of giving him his portion of the blame?” Danny tried to draw back, but Miller gripped his legs tight, not allowing him to escape. “Maybe,” Danny choked out. “Maybe that’s what I’m doing. But he protected me for a lot of years. He was the closest thing I had to a family. And no, I don’t need you to tell me how fucked-up that is.” He rested his forehead on Miller’s back. “I know he deserves to go to prison. I just don’t want to be the one to send him there.”

“You’re goddamn right he deserves it,” Miller said viciously.

“Deserves worse. And if I play even the smallest part in making that happen, I’ll be a happy man.”

Danny didn’t reply. Miller had never seen the way Hinestroza’s daughters and granddaughter adored him, the way his wife’s face lit up when he walked into a room. Miller had never stepped out of prison lonely and scared and found Hinestroza on the other side, waiting with words of praise and comfort. All Miller could see was Ortiz. But Danny knew more than one person was responsible for Ortiz’s death, that his own hands would never be washed clean.

Miller lowered Danny’s legs gently to the floor. “I’d better start getting ready,” he said, fingers picking at the sheet. “Don’t want to be Shades of Gray | 207

late to the meeting.”

“How long?” Danny asked, his voice hoarse. “How long do we have before I go?”

Miller’s answer was muffled, speaking through half-closed lips.

“A week. Maybe less.”

A week. Maybe less. Danny tried to imagine waking up in a distant city without Miller by his side, his sheets smelling like detergent instead of sex and Miller’s cinnamon skin. He pictured coming home at night to a dark apartment and watching TV alone, always wondering where Miller was and if he was happy.

Danny wanted to be the kind of man who hoped for something better, who believed deep down that life was going to start passing out gifts it had been stingy with so far. He wanted to hope that he and Miller could find a way to be together. But this was real life, and men like him didn’t get happy endings. He wanted to leave Miller better than he’d found him, though, wanted Miller to understand what he meant to him.

“This is the best, most real thing that’s ever happened to me,” Danny said quietly. “I’ve spent my whole life jumping from one bad choice to the next. Choosing this, with you, is probably the only decision I’ve ever been proud of making.” He pressed himself closer to Miller’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I’ll never be sorry.”

Miller’s whole body caved under, his hands coming up to grasp Danny’s as they leaned against each other. Danny wanted to howl and rage like a wounded animal, demand that they find a way to make it work. But there was no point in that. Danny had learned early that sometimes there was nothing to do but suffer through.

MILLER pulled at his tie, making sure it was straight and not hanging too low, before he turned away from his reflection. Danny was lounging in a chair near the window and he ran his eyes up and down 208 | Brooke McKinley

Miller slowly, letting loose with a wolfish whistle.

“Shut up,” Miller said, slipping on his black overcoat.

“What?” Danny smiled. “You look handsome.”

Miller felt his cheeks warming. “Thanks,” he said, fighting back the urge to look at the floor. “But you’ve seen me in a suit before.”

“I know. Thought you looked good then too.” Danny managed to wink and smirk at the same time as he stood. “Even though I wanted to kick your ass.” He paused, grabbing his leather jacket from the chair.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I go with you?”

“Yes. I don’t want you staying here alone. Colin said we’ll go in through the judges’ underground entrance at the courthouse, so there’s no risk anyone will see you. He should be here any minute.” As if on cue, Miller heard the light tapping of a horn. He glanced out the window and saw Colin parked in a dark green sedan with tinted windows. “He’s here.” Miller let the curtain drop back into place. “You ready?”

“Yes,” Danny replied. He looked calm, in control, Miller’s Danny retreating behind a wall of indifference. Miller didn’t blame him.

Danny was stepping back out into the world; he couldn’t afford to walk unprotected, not even with Miller by his side.

“Hi,” Colin called as they approached the car.

Miller pointed Danny toward the backseat, taking the front passenger seat for himself. “Let’s do this,” he said, closing his door.

Colin swiveled around, reaching over the back of the seat with his right hand. “Colin Riggs.”

“Danny Butler.” Danny leaned forward to shake hands and the scent of his skin wafted into Miller’s nose.

Colin pivoted in his seat, putting the car in drive. He glanced at Miller. “You forget to shave today?” He seemed amused, smiling with one corner of his mouth.

“Huh?” Miller ran a hand over his stubbly jaw. “Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled, Danny’s smile burning a hole into the back of his neck.

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The federal courthouse always made Miller’s stomach knot in anticipation, even when he wasn’t there to take the stand. The courthouse represented the most dreaded sort of battleground, one where words were the weapons of choice. Defense attorneys lived to pick Miller’s words apart, to force him to stumble over facts, to twist his version of the truth into a lie. He could never step through the doors without bracing himself for war.

Their footsteps echoed across the cavernous rotunda, two pairs of dress shoes clicking with purpose and Danny’s thudding boot-steps bringing up the rear. The glass walls of the entry hall stretched three stories high, sunlight slanting in to illuminate the giant cast-iron sculpture in the middle of the room. It was a collection of five slender columns, tipped with a variety of sharp implements, what appeared to be spears or screws. When Miller had first seen them, he’d thought they resembled instruments of torture. Even with his feet firmly planted in the prosecution camp, he imagined the sculpture, titled
Sentinels of
Justice
, was not all that comforting to defendants awaiting trial.

They escorted Danny to a small conference room inside the U.S.

Attorney’s main office. It was empty save for a table and two chairs and a stack of legal books piled high. Danny flipped through one with a raised eyebrow. “Real page-turner,” he muttered, throwing himself into a chair.

“We’ll be back soon,” Miller said, telling Danny with his eyes that it would be all right, but he wasn’t sure if Danny received the message.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Patterson kept them waiting in the lobby for ten minutes. It was an old routine that Miller was used to—the prosecutors forever having to prove their superiority even though they were all supposed to be playing for the same team.

Tanya Patterson was seated behind her desk when they were ushered into her office, her cocoa-colored skin complemented by a crisp, cream suit. She gave them a thin-lipped smile, but Miller didn’t take it personally. What she lacked in warm fuzzies she made up for in being a relentless prosecutor, well-prepared in the courtroom and not 210 | Brooke McKinley

easily intimidated. Miller knew she’d take on Hinestroza with guns blazing.

“Sit down, sit down,” she said, waving them toward two burgundy leather chairs opposite her desk. When they’d made themselves comfortable, she crossed her hands on her blotter. “We’ve got a problem with this case,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“What kind of problem?” Goosebumps broke out on Miller’s arms. Instinctively he knew it was bad, dread coiling hot inside his gut.

“We can’t get Hinestroza into the country for trial.” Miller stared at her. “I thought that was all taken care of. I was told not to worry about that end of it, that it was being handled.”

“It was being handled, before your witness shot his mouth off to his ex-wife and Hinestroza found out what was going on. Now he’s not setting foot in the country. He’s staying put down in Colombia. Or if he is making trips up here, we’re not getting so much as a whisper about it through the usual channels.” She sighed. “Of course, if would could get our hands on the cell phone records faster, it might help. As it is, by the time we figure out where he’s been, he’s already somewhere else.”

“We do the best we can with the phone records. You know that.” Miller protested. “It’s not Danny’s fault!”

“Tanya,” Colin interjected. “What’s the bottom line here? Are you trying Hinestroza or not?”

“I’d love to,” Patterson said, “believe me. But if there’s no warm body in the defendant’s chair, then there’s no trial.”

“So, what happens now?” Miller demanded. “Danny’s just going to have to wait to start his new life until we can get Hinestroza up here?”

Patterson shifted her eyes to her white-tipped fingernails. “No.

Chances are there’s never going to be a trial.” She looked up at Miller.

“We’re cutting Mr. Butler loose.”

Miller blinked slowly, Patterson swimming across his line of vision. He heard her words but couldn’t process their meaning. “What?

What about the Witness Protection Program?”

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“You both know the drill. There’s no Witness Protection Program if you’re not a witness. He’s no longer eligible.” Miller shot forward in his chair, slamming one hand down on the desk. “They’ll kill him!” he exclaimed. “They’re going to kill him!”

“You know how the system works, Miller,” Patterson said, her condescending lawyer voice scraping across his skin like sandpaper.

And the hell of it was, he did know. He’d seen similar scenarios play out dozens of times. Witnesses protected until the day the verdict came down, then cast into the wind as if murders couldn’t be ordered from behind an electrified fence. Men coerced into taking a plea and then told too late the Witness Protection Program wasn’t available to them. It had never bothered Miller in the past. He used his witnesses to get the information he needed and then forgot about them when the trial was over. Sacrificing your way up the criminal totem pole to reach the highest offender was how the game was played, and everyone understood the rules. But that was before now, before Danny.

Miller surged to his feet, jerking away when Colin reached for his arm. “I forced him into this deal! I didn’t give him any goddamn choice because we needed a witness, a good witness. And we got him. We got him because I promised him he’d be safe. And now we’re just throwing him back out there? That’s what we’re going to do?”

“Listen.” Patterson pushed back from her desk with both hands, her rolling chair squeaking across the floor. “It’s not a good situation. I admit it. But we don’t have any choice. We can’t protect him indefinitely. And frankly, Miller, I think you’re forgetting that it’s Mr.

Butler’s own criminal record that got him into this predicament in the first place. He’s hardly a choir boy.”

“I don’t give a shit if he’s Jack the Ripper; we cut him loose and he’s dead the next day!” Miller yelled. “Have you seen what Hinestroza does to people who cross him? Do you have any fucking idea?”

“You had better watch yourself, Special Agent Sutton,” Patterson said, her voice dropping to freezer level. “I’m willing to take a pass on prosecuting Mr. Butler’s gun charge since he agreed to help us out.

Please make sure he understands, though, that if he gets into trouble 212 | Brooke McKinley

again, that gun charge will be pursued.”

Miller gaped at her. “Are you kidding me? I’m supposed to walk out there and tell him, ‘Sorry, deal’s off. Good luck staying alive. And, by the way, you should be thanking us because we’re not prosecuting your ass on the gun charge’?”

“Miller, calm down,” Colin said, moving into his sight line, trying to catch his eye.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Miller raged. “I gave him my word that he would be safe! He risked his life and now—” Miller’s voice broke and Colin cut his eyes away, discomfort etched in every line of his face.

“Fuck this,” Miller muttered, shoving out through the door.

He tore up the hallway separating him from Danny, enveloped in a swirling tornado of fury, buffeted on all sides by guilt and shame and the awful knowledge that his own zeal for Hinestroza’s blood had led to this moment. He’d been so damn anxious to nail Hinestroza that he’d ignored Danny’s human face, manipulated him and threatened him and bent Danny to his will.

And how’s that any different from what Hinestroza’s been doing
to him for the last decade? You may be on opposite sides of the law, but
your methods for breaking Danny
look awfully similar.