Not So Innocent (Shattered Glass #2)

Chapter Seven

The pavement glistened as if the midnight sky had been rolled out before his feet. Cai sprinted across it, his long legs easily avoiding deep puddles and carrying him onto the hood of an El Camino parked in front of a fire hydrant. He purposefully left a dent as he launched onto the sidewalk. The ache in his chest grew, but he didn’t slow. He actively searched for more obstacles, leaping over a newspaper box, running along the back of a bus bench. With no canvas to vent his frustrations on, he released them physically. If he ran fast enough, long enough, he’d feel a few seconds of that same euphoria from painting. Anything that would eclipse the ache. He was so close to that high. The world blurred at the edges. Heat poured into his blood. A buzz whispered across his skin.

“It’s not a good idea for you to come here.”

“It’s about the sum of experiences.”

“Go home, Nikolaj.”

“I don’t care.”

The words crushed his heart, and then his lungs capitulated. He slowed, coughed an angry cry, and slammed palms-first against a nearby fence. His fingers wrapped around the ribbons of wire, yanking and rattling the chain links. The first hot tear mixed with sweat and snow as it fell down his cheek.

He was glad no one could witness his meltdown.

“God!” Rachel huffed, slamming the door of a red sedan. “I had to grab some rando in a car to catch you.”

“Sorry.” As the car drove off, Cai slapped away his tears and took a steadying breath. Bracing his back against the fence, he slid onto his heels.

“Do you know how lucky you are I didn’t get like a serial murd—” Rach clamped her mouth shut. “Never mind.” She crouched next to him, casting a few sideways glances before examining her knees. “Haven’t seen you cry in a long time.”

“Just frustration,” he said.

After searching her pockets, she took out a joint and tried to light it. The paper soon dotted with dark spots, the end becoming wet. “Shit. Snow sucks, man.”

“I thought...um...I thought you were in NA?”

“Yeah?”

“You do know that weed is one of those narcotics in Narcotics Anonymous?”

“Only technically.” She beamed as the end glowed. “Finally.” She took a drag and passed it to him.

He waved it away. “It messes with my meds.” The wind quickly carried off the smoke and scent.

She looked around again, this time her lids hooding in suspicion. “Interesting spot to stop.”

“Yeah,” was all he gave in response.

They watched a Snickers wrapper roll past Tommy’s building.

“We could just go up there,” she said. “You and me. Finish this all tonight.”

“We’d get popped by security before we even got near the entrance, let alone up to Tommy.”

“Cai, does anyone else know about him?”

“Julian knows some,” he said. “No one else. I want to keep it that way. And I don’t want to think about it. I’m too likely to blurt stuff out.”

“You could just forget about the whole thing,” she suggested.

“No. I can’t.” He’d made a pact with Julian, and they were in too deep. Weren’t they? “What’s he like now?”

“Tommy? Skinny still. But also more built.”

“Is he happy?”

“Yeah,” Rachel said. Cai clenched his fists. “Well, as happy as his kind can be.” She shivered, scooting closer. Then she pried at his fingers until they loosened and she could put her hand in his. “It’s not fair,” she said.

“Nothing’s fair.” He dug for his phone and texted Julian to pick them up.

Rachel read the text over his shoulder. She took one last drag and flicked the joint into the shadow of a passing truck.

“Are we done with Tommy?”

“Dunno. I’m just not done with Riley.”

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

“Yeah, it does.” Cai closed his eyes, resting his head against the chain links.

“It’s not too late. We can confess to everything, give Riley all we have. It’ll at least sink Walter Cole’s campaign.”

“It’s not enough. FSI will still be operational. Tommy will still be surrounded by security, and Walter Cole will continue his back room deals.” Cai was tired of it all, though. The temptation to tell Riley everything gnawed at him. What would it feel like to share this burden?

“Give me some of your other meds. The good stuff.”

He took several baggies out of his pocket. “Reese’s or Pixy Stix?”

“Where are the Skittles? There’s always Skittles.”

Cai winced and bit his lip.

“That was a twenty-four-ounce bag, Cai. You ate twenty-four ounces of Skittles in”—she checked her watch— “two hours.”

“Well, you two kept badgering me, and Mrs. Cordova kept going on about ‘boinking’ her son. Then we had this meeting.” He shoved the baggies at her. “Which do you want?”

“What goes well with snow and despair?”

“Pixy Stix.” He picked a blue striped tube for himself and gave her the sandwich bag filled with the rest.

“Explain your choice.”

“I wasn’t being existential.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “I just don’t want to chew anything.” Tearing open the straw top, he began pouring the tart powder on his tongue.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. You like to suck.”

He choked, coughing out blue dust into the night air.

* * *

The conversation with Cai had rattled Riley, but he regained his composure before going back inside. He shook out his soggy blazer near the door while studying Julian Thompson.

Despite the animated conversation with Kelly, Julian appeared unruffled. The man was either incredibly brave or he had developed the perfect facade. If Riley wanted answers, he needed to throw Julian off his game. Then he’d try to gradually lead him away from the carefully crafted lies and into an accidental truth.

After sliding next to Kelly in the booth, Riley hung his blazer on the end cap to dry. His service pistol rested in its holster against his ribs, and he made sure it was visible and intimidating. Julian glanced at it and scratched his eye with his middle finger.

Riley didn’t want to like the man, but the cocky arrogance had its charm. He hid his amusement behind a forced glare.

“Mr. Thompson,” Kelly said. “I find it hard to believe that Walter Cole would risk his reputation, company, and campaign over a simple blog post.”

“Would my corpse help? Maybe he’ll be kind enough to leave it on your doorstep, yeah? Then again, this is America. Cops not too keen on investigating dead black boys here.”

Kelly turned to mutter at Riley’s shoulder, “Take over before I say something I’ll regret.”

“You don’t seem to be taking this seriously, Mr. Thompson,” Riley said. “Nor are you cooperating with us. Yet, you want us to take the threat seriously.”

“You’ve seen the video!” Julian looked at Kelly. “You read my blog. What more do you want to just ask the Senator a few questions? There’s got to be enough to pop in so he knows the FBI is aware of things, yeah?”

“The video is vague at best, edited at worst,” Kelly said. “The blog article is conjecture. You haven’t shown us a single concrete piece of compelling, tangible evidence.” Julian opened his mouth to speak, but Kelly cut him off. “I agree that there probably is a connection based on what Mr. Strakosha overheard but, given his past, he is not a credible witness. There just isn’t convincing evidence to bring to our superior.”

“Why do you think we came to you? You’re supposed to get evidence. At least question the fucking Senator!”

“Under what premise? A blog post that you wrote, a video we can’t authenticate, and a sole eyewitness account who waited years to come forward and whose story differs from the rest of the survivors of the ship? We need more.”

“I don’t have anything else!” Finally rattled, Julian slapped the table. “You’re the FBI. Investigate!”

Now Riley could get some answers. “You know the great thing about Cai? Well, great for us,” he said, indicating himself and Kelly. “Not so great for you.”

“I know a lot of great things about Cai.” Julian twisted his hip and lifted his butt partly off the bench as he pointed. “He has a little mole right—”

“Cai paints every thought in his head right across his face.” Riley quickly erased images of Cai’s bare ass. “When I asked if he was in trouble, he couldn’t even look at my shoes, let alone into my eyes. He said he got involved by searching you out, but his cheeks lit up like police sirens. There’s something he’s hiding. That you’re both deliberately hiding.”

“Well,” Julian dragged out the word. “I mean, if we’re to judge Cai by blushing, we’d have to believe he was a pathological liar, yeah?”

“What aren’t you telling us, Mr. Thompson?” Riley asked, sliding Rachel’s note and cell phone over to his partner. “More specifically, why did you suddenly bring this to law enforcement today, after having the information for months?”

Kelly glanced over the paper and at the serial numbers on the cell phone. “I’d like to know how you can make jokes at a time like this,” she said. “I’ve been an FBI agent for ten years. I’m fairly confident in my ability to face a bad guy, but I wouldn’t be hanging out at a bar cracking jokes if I thought a killer was after me.”

“I was born in Northern Somalia during the civil war,” Julian said. “My family emigrated to the UK when I was seven, after a suicide bomb killed my sisters and brother on their way to school. I went back with Jonathan, into the nooks and crannies of hell, where children with machetes and machine guns would have hacked us to bits to save bullets. After all that, do you really think I’m going to brick it over Billy-No-Mates and his teeny tiny pistol?”

Riley gave away none of his confusion while he tried to decipher what Julian meant. He got the gist of it. Why would he be afraid of one hitman when he’d faced children with machetes. Riley not only liked Cai’s boyfriend, he respected him too.

“All right,” Kelly said. “You’ve convinced me you’re in danger. Give us something to verify.”

“The videos? Maxwell Porter’s mobile!” Julian gestured to the cell Rachel had given them. “That’s everything we have. Surely it’s enough to talk to Walter Cole?”

No new evidence? Not even proof that the phone belonged to Porter other than their word. Why bring this to the FBI now, a month after he arrived in Denver? Why the urgency? Riley could ask again, but he was sure to get more evasive answers, or outright lies. Sifting through false information was never a good idea unless you could counter it with truth and logic.

Scotland Yard held a formidable police force. They were in a better position to keep Julian safe. Why fly thousands of miles to the enemy’s home turf, wait more than a month, and then go to the FBI? Something happened recently that spooked him? Or he expected something soon? Riley’s head snapped up as the answers clicked in place. “You’re going to let them know you’re here. That’s why you came to us, now.”

Julian twisted his lips, then tsked. “Cai warned me you were smart. He was afraid he’d be too transparent. Bit ironic, really—me sending him away, only to let slip the game myself.”

Kelly rubbed her temple. “The stupidity of people never ceases to amaze me.”

“I’ve a story to write. I told you that. They don’t know I’m in Denver, yet. I made a big production about Madrid. Even if they do know I’m in America, or Colorado, they have a lot of area to search. Here it is, then. The reason they’re after me is that in a few days, I’ll be posting a story that alleges Walter Cole and his deceased partner, Xander Rocha, embezzled recovered assets they’d been hired to collect for the new Somalian government. I believe they diverted money to their own accounts. And I believe they were selling weapons in Somalia during the embargo. Before I post the story, I need verification of some parts, and I need sources. I will also be getting in touch with Walter Cole for comment.”

“You already have your sources,” Riley said. “Why else would you come to Denver.”

The way Julian’s lids flickered down confirmed Riley’s statement. “I may have…a line of inquiry. Nothing I can use for print. I don’t have names, if that’s what you’re asking. But, yeah, I’ve some documents that I am trying to verify. What I don’t have is time or guaranteed safety. You speak with Senator Cole, he backs off me. Simple, yeah?”

Kelly’s phone rang before Riley could ask more questions.

“Babysitter. I have to take this.”

After Riley let her out of the booth, she went to a quieter spot, phone pressed against her ear and finger in the other one. He slid back in and affected indifference to Julian’s leering appraisal.

“It’s funny, a little.”

“I’m not sure how any of this is funny, Mr. Thompson.”

“Nah, not this.” Julian’s smile was all teeth. “I meant about Cai. It’s true what you said. Bit crazy really. He doesn’t even need to speak before you know what he’s feeling or thinking. But what makes it funny is that he said you were like stone. Completely unreadable. Which I’d almost believe, judging by now. I’m impressed. Do they teach stoicism at the FBI Academy?”

“Mandatory Botox,” Riley said, straight-faced.

“Actually, to be truthful about it all, what Cai said was, ‘He’s like an impenetrable rock. But not like the jagged kind, all prickly and cruel in your palm. He’s like smooth stone, soft and worn, the kind you save for comfort, to roll your fingers over.’ He was a bit pathetic, staring off into space and playing with that necklace he wears.”

At any other time, Riley could easily laugh at the irony of Cai finding him inscrutable. Tonight, he was edgy and the pain in his gut had spread to his chest. His glass tumbler reflected tired green eyes back at him. He tried to summon anything that would shut Julian the hell up. Words wouldn’t form.

“It’s not true though, is it?” Julian continued. “When he’s around, you’re clear as Caribbean water. You’ve no control when you’re around him.”

“Mr. Thompson—”

“Dead on cruel what you said to him. That you don’t care. Pure ice in your voice. Sent the message, yeah?”

Riley cleared his throat before answering. “It was necessary.”

“For him? Or for you?”

“This subject is off limits and none of your business.”

Julian only tilted his head and sat back. “I have this gift for reading people. It’s what makes me a great reporter. And you’ve a tell, Agent Cordova. A slight tic of your left eye.”

Riley kept his face neutral, giving away nothing of the riot inside him. “Are you done analyzing me yet?”

“It killed you to say that to him.”

“Was that a question?”

“Observation, mate. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“If you’re a good friend, you’ll keep him away.”

“Be the fit boyfriend? Make him moan?” Julian chuckled, his brown eyes somehow managing a gleam. “There’s that tic again, Mr. FBI.” Schoenberg played a tune in Julian’s coat. He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the screen. “Gotta leg it, FBI. Been nice chattin’ with ya. I’ll be in touch.” With a pat to the table, Julian scooted out and threaded his way to the exit.

Riley flagged Kelly’s attention, grabbed his coat, and pointed at Julian’s retreating back. She looked toward the door, then nodded while continuing to speak into her phone.

* * *

Despite having waited inside a nearby coffee house, Cai and Rachel were damp and shivering by the time they got in the car. After tearing off his coat, Cai warmed his hands over the vents and gave a full body shudder.

“When I said wait outside,”—Julian drove over the curb as he turned the car around—“I didn’t mean run six miles away in the equivalent of a cold shower.”

Rachel shimmied out of her wet clothes. “Cold. Fucking cold.” The tutu sent drops flying.

“What did you tell them?” Cai asked, ducking from the onslaught of tutu-rain.

“Not everything. Close to, though.” Julian grimaced then shrugged. “You were right. He’s smart.”

“Are they going to investigate? We only need them to get the heat off of you.”

“They’re interested, but we should’ve given them more.”

“We’ve given them enough to start digging into Walter Cole.” Cai stuck the tips of his fingers in the vent to thaw and stared at the spot where Riley’s thumb had caressed his skin. He’d convinced himself that if they’d touched, that iron control would snap and—

He cut off that ridiculous fantasy before it finished. No wonder people treated him like a child. He certainly fantasized like one.

“You about to start snogging that hand?” Julian switched gears roughly and sped up. “Go on, tell me what Mr. FBI said to you outside.”

Streetlights reflected in the drops of water on the passenger window. It seemed all the stars had fallen to earth tonight. “He said to leave him alone, essentially.” Suddenly warm, Cai sat back and rubbed the edge of his palm near his wrist.

“This is the man you’re in love with?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Why?

Riley went through a series of expressions. Wide eyes, then furrowed brows, then a tentative smile. “Nikolaj?”

Cai couldn’t stop chewing the inside of his mouth and he’d picked the skin around his nails bloody. He hoped, with his obvious panic, Riley could overlook the stalking. “You said if I needed to talk?”

“That’s why I gave you a phone number. I don’t remember giving out my address,” Riley gently chided with that same relaxed tone he always used. He leaned against his door jamb and wiped blackened fingers on a dirty oil rag.

The smell of diesel drifted under Cai’s nose. “Later? Can you do it later? Yell. Can you yell at me later?” Deep breaths. “I was hoping...I...I really need to talk to someone who treats me like an adult.”

After a few seconds of silence, Riley moved aside in invitation. “I’m working on a car. It’ll have to be while I do that.”

“I like working on cars. It’s cathartic.”

“You know about cars?”

Why was everyone so surprised he knew mechanics? Did he look like someone who couldn’t know about cars? Briefly, he checked a small mirror near Riley’s entryway. He looked like every mechanic he’d worked with. Except he wasn’t wearing a baseball cap, and the dirt on his face was more colorful. “I worked at an auto body last summer and a little during the winter break.”

The oil rag hit his chest. He grappled and caught it, blinking furiously.

“The stalking conversation is on hold, not dead. You understand?”

“Um...yes?” He bounced up on his toes and tried to hide his grin by staring at the floor.

“Cai?”

Julian tapped his knee. “Cai! Earth to Cai!”

Riley’s living room disappeared, leaving him scrambling to remember where he was. “Sorry. What?”

“I asked why you’re into this bloke? Seems a right cunt.”

That earned a slap from Rachel. “A cunt is not a bad word, you panty stain.”

“Twat? Don’t hit me again!” Julian dodged another blow. “Knob, okay? Why are you into this knob?”

“Nikolaj, it’s important you understand we can be friends. Nothing else.”

“And he’s gone again.”

“I’m here,” Cai murmured. “Riley…he wasn’t himself tonight. It’s hard to believe now, but once upon a time, he and I were friends.”

“You said he wouldn’t get jealous,” Julian pointed out.

“He didn’t.”

“He looked pretty jealous to me.”

“That wasn’t jealousy. It was pain.”

From the backseat, Rachel clicked off her cell phone as she said, “I need to be dropped off at 6th and Sherman.” She squeezed water out of her leggings and tossed them to Cai. He held them up to the heater.

Julian punched in the address on his map app. “That’s the other way!” He turned the car around again, nearly colliding with a mailbox as the front tire ran over another curb.

“Julian, Austin gave me this car, but he loves it. If you wreck it, he’ll get you deported.”

“It’s her fault, innit?”

“I just got info on our FSI guy,” Rachel explained.

Cai turned in his seat. “I thought you said you weren’t good enough to hack into their servers?”

“I’m not hacking. I’m socially engineering using my elite skills, i.e.: my vagina. The new boytoy works in FSI’s IT department.” She flashed the chat conversation on her cell. “I’m going to suck some help from him. If your t-shirt’s dry, give it.”

Cai pulled off his shirt and tossed it back to her. It hung to her mid-thigh, even after she belted it.

“Hey, Rach?” Julian glanced at her in the rearview mirror as he pulled over.

“Yeah?”

“If you ever wanted to suck anything out of me, I like girls, too.” His brows jumped up and down as he pulled to the side of the road.

Cai rolled his eyes and grinned.

“Being Pedobear isn’t anything to brag about,” Rachel shot back.

Cai’s grin turned into a loud laugh.

“Paedob— I meant grown girls.”

“Those are called women, Julian. Of which I am one.” Rachel climbed over Cai and snatched her leggings off the dash. After planting a wet, sticky kiss on his cheek, she exited the car. Before the door slammed, she leaned in and winked at Julian. “Besides, Cai likes to suck, too. Don’t you, Brightness?”

* * *

Riley parked his Firebird in a covered lot fifteen feet from the Jag. He rolled down his window a couple of inches only to hear fragments of Rachel’s chatter. While she blocked most of his view, he caught glimpses of the rivers of self-inflicted scars on Cai’s arms. His chest tightened, restricting his breath.

“Besides, Cai likes to suck, too. Don’t you, Brightness?” Rachel said before slamming the door.

Julian made his third illegal U-turn and then paused. Both he and Cai turned to watch Rachel skip-walk down the street before driving on. The Jag turned, passing by to Riley’s left. Streetlights lit the inside. When Cai leaned forward to pull on his coat, the light revealed a pierced nipple and networks of designed scars on his chest.

Pierced nipples? New scars? What the hell did Cai do in Europe?

Stunned, Riley sat there with the heat blasting fruitlessly out of the window. His fists wrapped so tightly on the steering wheel that the cold seeped through his leather gloves. In his rear-view mirror, the Jag’s brake lights flashed and then vanished around the block.

Rachel bee-lined across the street in front of him, and then she also disappeared around a corner. Riley edged out of the lot, waited until she was half a block up, then trailed after her.

The empty streets made stealth difficult, but he didn’t need to worry, Rachel had yet to lift her face from her phone screen, and her bright cap made her easy to follow.

Chanting monks burst into chorus in his jacket. “Shit.” He’d completely forgotten Jeremy was at Rooster’s and probably wondering where the fuck everyone had gone. He pressed the Bluetooth connection. “Something came up and I had to leave. Sorry.”

Jeremy’s voice blasted from the speakers. “I’ll expect you at church on Sunday, jackass, where you’ll confess to abandoning your friend after neglecting him for six weeks.”

“You are the least sympathetic priest I’ve met in my history with the Catholic Church. That includes Father Torres.”

“Isn’t Father Torres the one who spanked you after catechism for drawing a penis outline on Jesus’s swathe?”

“Don’t be a prude, Jeremy. Nudity is beautiful.”

“An erect Jesus is not art.”

Riley tapped the brakes and tilted his head. “You know, come to think of it, I only got in trouble after your giggling and nudging brought Father Torres’s attention down on us. You ratted on me, didn’t you?”

Jeremy’s smirk came through the speaker loud and clear. “You bet I did. My mother would have tanned my hide if I’d been blamed.”

“I seem to recall you enjoying a good hide tanning.”

“Just keep racking up that penance, Cordova. Your knees will hurt worse than that summer at The White Party. Sunday. Don’t be late.” Jeremy hung up.

Riley’s mood dimmed a few minutes later when Rachel rang the buzzer outside a brick residential building.

Shadows shifted in the first-floor window and half a face peeked around curtains before a blond guy in his late twenties came out the front door and ushered her inside. The man peered down both sides of the street before closing the door.

Huh. Not suspicious at all.

He called Kelly to update her on what he’d seen. “If he hadn’t checked the street like a character from a bad spy movie, I’d have thought it was a hookup and gone home. I’m going to keep an eye out until she leaves.”

“Okay. Do we know where Thompson went?”

“Cai wasn’t dressed, so I assume they went home.”

“Which is where I’m going. Lena’s fever has gone up,” she said. “I’ll run our new side character’s address in the morning. We can swing by his place tomorrow.”