20. Draven
Chapter 20
Draven
The fight with Louise is still burning in my veins when I mount my bike and start the engine. Before we reconnected, I wouldn’t have thought it possible to meet someone with a temper as fiery as mine, yet I’ve more than met my match. I’d better keep her and Ciaran apart. He’s already seen us go toe-to-toe once. If he witnessed the fight we just had and saw how she stood her ground, he’d laugh for a fucking week.
Since my plan to shower at Louise’s place has gone to shit, I swing by my motel room to freshen up, then set off for Newark. I make it to Rick’s precinct in one hour ten minutes. Even a wreck on the highway doesn’t stop me—one of the benefits of having a bike over a car, not to mention I prefer the freedom. I enjoy the sensation of the wind chafing my face, the rush of the passing traffic, the heat from the sun, or the chill from the rain on my back.
I secure the bike and walk inside, holding the door open for an elderly couple to go in first. The woman gives me a suspicious side-eye, so I bow and wink. Even then, her face remains stoic. I have that effect on a lot of people. My size, the fact I’m usually kitted out head-to-toe in leather, my long hair and thick beard, plus the ink, all sends a message to strangers that they’d do well to give me a wide berth.
After the sergeant on the desk has dealt with the couple, I give him my name, then pace while I wait for Rick to come get me. Modern security drives me crazy. Gone are the days where I could flash my ID and find my own way. Now I have to wait until I’m fucking escorted like a kid on their first day at school.
“Hey.”
I get to my feet as Rick strides toward me. The two of us shake hands, and Rick cocks his head, signaling for me to follow him outside rather than go to his office. “Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee across the street. Better than the weaker-than-piss stuff we get here.”
We walk across the street and enter an independent coffee shop that, in my opinion, serves much better java than the chains. I take a seat by the window while Rick fetches us coffees and a couple of blueberry muffins. I grab the nearest one and take a huge bite.
“Any further news?” I ask, my mouth half full as I brush crumbs off my jacket.
Rick shakes his head. “I’ve spoken to my contact at the FBI. They’ve extensively questioned the guy you disarmed and tied up, but so far, he’s given them nothing.”
“Have they traced him back to Shala yet?”
“Not that I’m aware, but it’s only a matter of time and diligent policing. Once they do, they’ll bring Shala in for questioning. Although you and I both know a half decent lawyer will have him released within an hour. Problem is, there’s no actual evidence. No CCTV at the warehouse, no signs of him coming or going. If only you or Louise had taken footage on your phones.”
“Even if we had, what would it prove? From our position, you couldn’t see the number of the warehouse. All we’d have caught was Shala exiting a nondescript building flanked by his security team.”
Rick nods. “Fair point. I’m hoping the women can help us pin something on the bastard. I can’t remember if I told you, but the FBI asked for assistance in questioning them, given the numbers involved. As luck would have it, my precinct was asked to do it.”
“Finally, a bit of good news.”
“You say that, but all my team have gleaned so far is that the men spoke with a foreign accent.”
“Can’t blame them for not wanting to recall in detail what happened. They’re bound to be in shock.”
“True.” He sips his coffee and peels the paper off his muffin. “Have you spoken to Louise since the funeral?”
“Yeah.” I grimace. “She’s been demoted.”
Shock registers on Rick’s face, his eyes rounding. “Excuse me?”
Cramp seizes my tight jaw. Every time I think about it, I want to punch something. Or rather, I want to punch her pussy of a boss for not standing up for her when the higher-ups came knocking.
“They needed a fall guy, and when the music stopped, she didn’t have a seat. According to her jerkoff boss, there’s a bigger case that we fucked up by going in. And by we, I mean me. But as they couldn’t demote me, Louise was the next in line.”
Two deep lines pinch the skin between Rick’s eyebrows. “What bigger case?”
I shrug. “Beats me. I was hoping you might know.”
He purses his lips. “I haven’t heard a thing. I’ll speak to my FBI contact. Although, even if there is a wider case, I wouldn’t expect him to tell me. And until told otherwise, I’ll continue working this case just like I would any other.”
“Good man.”
Rick downs the rest of his drink, then places the cup on the table. “Now that the business stuff is out of the way, you can tell me what happened to your lip.”
“Nothing happened.” I growl. I should’ve known he’d ask me about it eventually. Damn thing looks like I’ve taken a fist to the face.
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me. Anything you want to share?”
“Not with you, no.”
Rick grins. “It’s a woman, then.”
I send a glower in Rick’s direction. “What the fuck is this? Dr. Phil?”
“Yup. Definitely a woman.”
“Louise wants to talk to the victims,” I say, deciding that ignoring the irritating little prick is the best course of action. “Can you arrange that?”
“Not her jurisdiction,” he says.
“I know that. Can you arrange it, or do I need to go over your head?”
Rick’s eyes widen. “Fucking hell. Time of the month, sweetheart?”
An involuntary bark of laugher rumbles through my chest. “You’re an asshole.”
“Right backatcha.”
“I’ll tell Louise to expect your call giving her a time and place.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“I know,” I say, a faint smile touching my lips. “But you will.”
Rick’s nostrils flare, and he exhales a long breath. “Fine. I’ll arrange it.”
“See. Wasn’t that easy?”
He screws his face into a grimace, which only makes me smile wider. He checks his watch. “I’ve gotta go before you get any more annoying, and I give you a black eye to go with the split lip.”
“You’re not that brave or that stupid.”
He looks at me much as I’d expect a teacher to look at an errant child. “Why are we friends?”
I hitch a shoulder. “Beats me.”
We walk back to the precinct, with Rick promising to be in touch if he has any news. I mount my bike, rev the engine, and kick the stand up. Next stop… Ciaran’s place.
“Wait, back up.” Ciaran rubs his forehead. “Let me get this straight. You told me you hated this woman, that she got you transferred from Jersey, that you were only helping her because this gang were working in the same area your mom, sister, and niece live in. And on the day of her sister’s funeral, you spend the night banging her. Have I got that right?”
“You’re missing the point of this conversation.” I grunt. “I came to talk about the case, not my sex life.”
“And we will,” Ciaran says, unable to wipe the smug grin off his face as he wanders over to the kitchen, fetches the coffee pot, and refills our cups. “Right now, I’m much more interested in finding out how you go from hating a woman one day to banging her the next.”
“Ask your brother,” I say, referring to Ciaran’s identical twin, Callum. “He hated Laurella at first. They seem to be making it work.”
“They do, although the path to true love didn’t exactly run smoothly.” He winks. “And given the state of your lip, I’d say yours isn’t, either.”
I inwardly groan. Goddamn Lola. She deserves payback for the ribbing I’ve had to put up with, first from Rick, and now from Ciaran. I’ll have to come up with a suitable punishment. Her ass and my hand come to mind. I bet that creamy white butt of hers would look pretty good all pinked up. My groin heats. Jesus Christ. When will I learn? I should know by now that I can’t think about Louise without my dick joining in on the party, especially now that it’s gotten nice and intimate with her sopping wet pussy.
When I remain tight-lipped, Ciaran narrows his eyes. “You actually like this girl, don’t you?”
I hitch a shoulder, not yet ready to discuss my growing feelings until I have more time to figure them out for myself. “She’s okay, I guess.”
“Jesus Christ. I never thought the day would come. Still, we all fall in the end. You’ve done well to make it to thirty-five.”
“I haven’t fallen for her.”
Ciaran claps me on the upper arm. “Sure, buddy. Sure.”
The beginnings of a headache drum behind my eyes. I should have known Ciaran wouldn’t let me off lightly, but as soon as I walked into his place, he knew something was off. Different, he called it, and as I wasn’t in the habit of lying to my best friend and business partner, I spilled the deets on where I’d spent last night.
More fucking fool me.
“Can we talk about the case now?” I ask.
“On one condition.”
“Fuck’s sake. What now?”
“Millie wants you to come over for dinner on Friday.” He hesitates for effect. I know this because I know him. “And I insist you bring Louise.”
Not a fucking chance. “We’re busy.”
“Oh, I know.” My best friend arches an eyebrow, his lips barely containing a delighted grin. “But you can stop banging her long enough to eat Millie’s chicken alfredo.”
“I hate you.”
Ciaran laughs again. “Buddy, we both know that’s a lie.”
“Fine,” I say with a sullen dip to my mouth. “But I’m warning you, play it cool or I’ll kick your ass.”
Ciaran raises three fingers to his temple. “Scouts honor.”
I don’t believe him for a second. I fully expect an evening full of ‘taking the piss out of Draven’.” That’s fine. He can have his moment of fun, but the payback will come when he least expects it.
“Okay, so, now can we talk about the fucking case?”
Ciaran gestures with his hand. “Shoot.”
I get right to it. “Remember that FBI agent you worked alongside a while back on that missing kids’ case?”
Ciaran nods, the skin around his mouth tightening. “Do I ever. Worst few weeks of my life. I barely let Aimee out of my sight while the perp was at large.”
“I need you to call him.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m hearing that the case I’ve been working with Louise is bigger than Jersey.”
He sits up a little straighter. “How big?”
“Big enough that they demoted her as a punishment for what happened at the warehouse. As if losing her fucking sister wasn’t punishment enough.”
Ciaran’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and he whistles. “Demoted?”
“Yeah. Oh, and just to stick the knife in further, her boss told her at her sister’s funeral. Nice, huh?”
“What an asshole.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Look, I need intel on what might be going down here. Something smells off to me, and when that happens, I usually find a stinking pile of shit. For instance, why didn’t the FBI have a tail on Shala? I discovered his existence within twenty-four hours, so don’t tell me they weren’t aware. And if they were aware, then they could have found the women easily. So, why didn’t they? I don’t like it, Ciaran.”
Rubbing his lips together, he nods. “I’m inclined to agree. But if this does mean there’s an issue with this particular branch of the feds, we could be tipping him off by calling him. Not that I think this guy could ever get involved with something like that, but do we really know anyone?”
“I know you.”
“Yeah, but we’re unique.”
“Amen to that.” I indicate Ciaran’s phone on the coffee table. “Just call him. It’s worth the risk. Put it on speaker. I want to listen in.”
“Ears open, mouth shut. Got it? If the FBI is pissed at you, word will have spread, and I’d kinda like to keep this contact.”
I grimace, then jab a finger at the phone. “Stop jabbering and make the fucking call.”
Ciaran shakes his head in an exasperated, if resigned, fashion. He’s used to me.
The ringing tone sounds, then the call is answered. “Well, well, Ciaran O’Reilly. Long time no speak. I hear you’ve jumped ship for the civvy life. How goes it?”
“Pretty good. No regrets. Is this a bad time?”
“Never a good time in the FBI. What can I do for you, Ciaran?”
“Appreciate it, Pete. I’m in need of a little intel. On the QT.”
“Shoot. No promises.”
“A friend of mine recently broke a trafficking case. Fifteen or so women taken from various locations in Jersey. An Armenian named Arjan Sh?—”
“Arjan Shala,” Pete interrupts. “Yeah, I’m fully aware of the case.”
Ciaran meets my eye and arches an eyebrow. “Good. Then I’ll shortcut this and get straight to the point. I’m hearing on the grapevine that the case goes wider than Jersey.”
“You’d be right,” Pete says. “Try nationwide. Possibly even international.”
My forehead creases, and my eyes widen. I make a ‘keep going’ gesture to Ciaran.
“What else can you tell me?”
“Nothing. I shouldn’t have told you that much.”
Ciaran huffs through his nose. “Come on, Pete.”
A pregnant pause comes down the line, then a hefty sigh. “Look, strictly on the down low, we think the gang are getting help… from the inside.”
“Dirty cops?” Ciaran asks, his gaze cutting to mine.
“Yeah. Except so far, every rock we turn over has already been cleaned out. We’re chasing our tails on this one. Whoever is involved isn’t some low-level trooper. And if I had to take a punt, I’d say we had more than one piece of filth involved.”
Ciaran runs a hand over his face. “Jesus.”
I roll back my shoulders. Dirty cops piss me the fuck off. There’s nothing worse in my book. Law enforcement is a hard enough job without your own pulling against the tide.
“I appreciate the share, Pete,” Ciaran says. “I’ll make sure this doesn’t touch you.”
“You’d fucking better.”
Ciaran cuts the call and meets my gaze. “Well, buddy, it looks like you’re going to need to cast a wider net.”