Chapter Five
NASH
Mickey and I walked into the FBI’s office at the Federal Building five hours after leaving the messy scene in Chinatown followed by a long wait in the emergency room. The minute we stepped into the bullpen, everyone looked up.
“What’s the story?” Patsy asked. “You okay, brother?”
Mickey smiled, patting his chest. “Yeah, just an EKG. The doc said I’m fine. There was no reason for me to go, and I wouldn’t have if the captain didn’t insist.” He glanced at Joy who nodded. “Had me a good doc of my own.”
“Medic,” Joy drawled.
Mickey waved his hand. “Whatever, Doc.”
Joy shook his head. “You needed to be checked out, old chap. Any blow to the chest can cause major cardiac complications. I wanted to make sure you were in good form. It’s my job.”
Mickey flopped down into his chair beside Alain, patting his arm. “I know it. Thanks, Almond. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Quite.” Joy smiled at him.
“Way! Hampstead!” Candy called. “In my office!”
I peered across the expansive bullpen to the captain’s office at the end of the room, noting the irritated look on the boss’ face from the doorway before turning to the others. “Is he mad about something?”
“He’s anxious to get your reports of the incident,” Rex drawled, “and probably wants to know the outcome of your hospital follow up.”
I nodded and headed across the room with Mickey at my side. We stepped into the captain’s office at the end of the hall. Candy was back at his desk, typing on his keyboard.
“Close the door and take a seat,” he said without looking over.
I did as he asked and the two of us sat down as ordered.
I glanced around the room. Candy’s office was all business, indicative of the Green Beret commander he was, different than SAC Bradley’s fancy office.
He had two bookcases on the wall behind him, a photograph hanging on either side.
Both photos were of the captain and his unit, the first taken on desert sands dressed in fatigues, and the other, in their Green Beret full dress uniforms. The photos were at least twenty years old judging by the age Clarence—Candy—Sorensen was in them.
Normally, the only thing on his desk besides his computer and keyboard, was a rack which held five challenge coins, one for each branch of the U.S.
military. Right now, though, it was piled with paperwork and had been graced with an empty, black coffee mug emblazoned with FBI, in gold lettering.
He typed for another minute before sitting back and looking over. “How’d it go?”
“Good, Captain.” Mickey slid a doctor’s note across the desk, clearing him for active duty. Candy picked it up, read it, then opened a file, dropping it in.
“Thanks.” He leaned back in his chair, eyeing us both, frowning as he stroked his red beard.
The captain was a striking man with bright blue eyes and sun-streaked red hair which looked almost orange in sunlight.
The scar that ran down his cheek to his beard, didn’t detract from his good looks.
I wasn’t into gingers, or guys the captain’s size.
But then again, lately I hadn’t been particular about who I put in my bed as long as they fit my criteria… hot, available, and smaller in stature.
“Today was a total clusterfuck from start to finish,” he admitted, glancing at us. “I’m sorry it went down the way it did, Mickey. I want you to know, if I had my way, you wouldn’t have been hurt. I’m just thankful it wasn’t worse.”
Mickey nodded. “Yes, sir, and honestly, we were ready to go, just waiting for the order.”
Candy’s face darkened as he narrowed his eyes.
“I’m aware. Turley gave that ‘Aquarius’ signal without giving you two the time to drop.
What’s more, he never shared the signal with me or our team.
The added seconds it took for us all to realize what he’d said, nearly got you killed. I’ve since had words with the man.”
For the first time today, I was glad I hadn’t been around to hear that.
The set of Candy’s jaw said it all. I could only imagine the heated exchange that’d happened in SAC Bradley’s office.
The captain was slow to anger but when he finally erupted, we all kept our heads low.
He was no shrinking violet, then again, none of us were.
What’s more, I knew the conversation would’ve happened behind closed doors because our captain was a consummate professional.
It’s why we respected him the way we did.
Turley had royally fucked up and DEA agent, John Sibley, had paid the ultimate price.
He turned to look at me. “Did you have time to finish your report, Hampstead?” He didn’t wait for my answer before turning to his computer. “I don’t see it in my email.”
“Not yet, sir.” I glanced at Mickey. I knew he’d gotten his done while he was waiting to be seen at the ER.
“Almost done,” I was quick to add, leaving out the part about the flirty doctor who’d commandeered a great deal of my writing time while I waited for Mickey to be seen.
I hid the smile that threatened as I thought about my eight o’clock dinner date, hoping I’d be able to make it.
The good doctor was a handsome man and just my type.
The thought of getting laid after a day like I’d had, was nice.
I briefly thought of the young civilian Mickey and I had protected in the building, realizing those light gray eyes with the flash of gold fire in them, held greater appeal.
“Well, get it done. When you’re finished, I need you to return this. You can take his statement at the same time.” Candy opened a desk drawer and pulled out an evidence bag. He tossed it on the desk in front of me, and I picked it up, noticing a wallet inside. Shit.
“Who does this belong to?” I asked, wary of the answer.
“One of the men you two protected inside that apartment,” the captain replied. “An agent found it on one of the couches when they were dealing with the aftermath of this mess. It belongs to the taller of the two, Joshua Calder. He promised us a statement of what happened this morning, remember?”
I held up the bag, looking at the boss. “Yes, but I—”
“Return the wallet, get Calder’s statement, stay with him, and wait for me to advise you on the protection we’re arranging for him.”
I wanted to protest but the best I could manage was, “Stay with him?”
Candy frowned. “That’s what I said.”
“Boss—”
“Like I said, we’re working out protection for him since we can’t be sure the cartel isn’t actively looking for him.
His ID’s in there. If they’ve got his address, they might try something.
Cartels don’t like loose ends. There’s already a patrol car sitting on his house, but until we can be sure one of them didn’t call in a hit, you’re going to be tasked to keep an eye on him until it’s deemed safe. ”
I swallowed. “How long?”
Candy frowned. “Until you’re relieved, Hampstead.”
I groaned. “Why me?”
“I want one of my people there to keep an eye out for trouble. You saw how heavily armed they were this morning. One LAPD unit is all the department is allocating, and I want him under our protection until we can relocate him.”
I cleared my throat. “Is there a reason that hasn’t been done already, sir? I mean it’s one guy.” I tried not to sound like I was complaining, but my day—and my planned date—had just turned to shit.
“Apparently, he has a family. We’re not just relocating one guy.” He frowned, not used to having to explain himself, I knew. “Is there a problem, Hampstead?”
I was quick to shake my head. “No, sir…of course not. Whatever you need.”
He stared at me for a few seconds before nodding. “Okay, give me your report and then head out. I expect you to be at his place no later than five.” He turned back to his computer as Mickey and I stood. We both knew a dismissal when we heard one.
I tore open the plastic bag and extracted the wallet, flipping it open as my friend walked back to the bullpen beside me.
Joshua Calder smiled in the picture. He was twenty-seven.
That surprised me. He lived in West Hollywood not far from my apartment.
I had to admit, he was a good-looking man, older than I expected.
I would have guessed he was no older than twenty-one or two. “Huh.”
“What?” Mickey asked as we strolled into the bullpen.
“He’s twenty-seven,” I replied absently, still staring at Calder’s face. He looked kind but I knew from our brief interaction…the way he’d stood up to us, that he had a belly full of fire. The memory of the puny little knife he’d pulled still made me smile. “I would have thought he was younger.”
“The captain said he has a family,” Mickey said, sitting at his desk which faced mine.
“I heard,” I said, eyeing my friend as I pursed my lips thoughtfully. “Wife? Kids?”
Mickey smirked. “I guess you’re about to find out.”
I frowned. “How is it that you got out of babysitting duty?”
“Babysitting duty?” Smith asked.
I glanced over at him. The former Navy SEAL leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful.
Napoleon was an imposing figure with a chest as wide as the side of a barn and bulging biceps, probably because of the way he trained.
We all worked out, but Smith worked out in freezing cold water.
SEALs were impressive operators, able to swim like fish—even in the ocean—they could hold their breath for up to three minutes at a time, while fighting when necessary.
“The captain tapped me for babysitting duty,” I grumbled. “Can you believe that shit?”
Napoleon’s dark brows drew together. “Who are you babysitting?”
“One of those guys from the apartment this morning…he dropped this.” I passed him the wallet and Smith flipped it open, looking down at the license before handing it back.
“Where’d he drop it?”
“He left the wallet in the apartment, so the captain is arranging for his protection. Meanwhile, I get to go sit with him to make sure he’s protected if the cartel comes sniffing around.”