Chapter 2 #2
Sebastian and Damien both took seats behind their respective desks, while the redhead—who’s name turned out to be Newt—leaned against the arm of Sebastian’s chair.
I watched as Sebastian’s hand idly rested on Newt’s hip, and an ember of jealousy ignited in my chest. Not over Newt specifically.
The man may be my type, but I had no interest in someone who was already taken.
However, the familiarity and the easy intimacy between them was like dangling a cup of water in front of a man who was lost in the desert.
It had been so long since I’d truly connected with another person, that I was starting to forget what companionship felt like.
Forget sex. I’d have happy with just a hug, but unfortunately, the naturally stern look of my face usually intimidated people before I could even approach them.
It was great in the courtroom, but not so great for dating.
“You’re right about the human element of our case,” Damien said, drawing my attention away from the couple.
“We have evidence, but if we want any chance of winning over a jury, we’re going to need more witnesses.
Gabe and another associate of ours, Logan, have gone out to try and track down more witnesses. ”
Popping open my briefcase, I scanned through the information about the case that I already had. “You’re talking about Logan Hollingsworth, right? The detective from the Federal Protection Agency taskforce responsible for bringing down the bell ringers?”
Damien pulled a file from the drawer of his desk and tossed it to me.
“Yes. Here’s the info about the witnesses they’re tracking down. We’re not sure about all of them, but there’s at least one that’s promising.”
Inside the file was a list of five names along with the background info for each person.
Two were secondhand witnesses, but three of the names were surviving victims of the bell ringers who could give a firsthand account.
Their testimony could be invaluable to the case, assuming we could get them to testify.
That was always the hardest part in cases like this.
The witnesses were so fragile and had to be handled with care.
“Do you have a plan if any of the witnesses do agree to cooperate? They’ll be in danger if they agree to work with us.”
“We figured we should first see if we can even find any other witnesses,” Sebastian said. His hand was now resting on Newt’s thigh as if it were glued there. “Once we’ve found them, then we can come up with a plan for what to do with them.”
I silently nodded along while, internally, I started making my own plans. While I didn’t want to step on the toes of the men who had spearheaded this investigation, I hated leaving any loose ends in a case unattended longer than necessary.
On paper, it looked like the bell ringer case had plenty of resources and people behind it. The DA, the FBI, the FPA, and Alias Investigations were all supposedly working together, but that alliance was fragile, and I could already tell it wouldn’t be enough.
If I wanted any chance of winning this case and finally being able to look at myself in the mirror with a clear conscience, then I was going to have a lot of work ahead of me.
It was late at night when I finally returned to my apartment.
Usually, I returned early enough to park near the door in the building’s parking deck, but since I was so late tonight, the only available parking was on the less desirable far side of the deck.
The place was cleaner and more well-lit than the average parking deck, which was one of the reasons I’d chosen to live here in the first place, but alone at night it was still unsettling.
I’d barely taken two steps from my car when a hand grabbed my shoulder and suddenly spun me around. The two very large men that confronted me were surprisingly silent as they crowded me into the deepest shadow of the parking deck.
“All right, hand it over,” one of the men said. I didn’t bother trying to tell the two men apart as they were basically the same.
‘Excuse me?” I tightened my grip on the handle of my briefcase.
A dagger glinted in the weak light of the parking deck. The man brandishing the weapon used the tip to point up and down along my body.
“Everything you got on you. Hand it over, and if it’s enough, then we might let you go.”
Staring wide-eyed at the two men for a moment, I started laughing.
“Seriously? If you’re trying to pretend this is some random mugging, then this is the wrong place for that. No average street thug could get past the building’s security, and besides, you two move way too silently. You’ve clearly had professional training.”
The two men shared a look, but to their credit, my sarcastic comment didn’t throw them off their game for long.
“That doesn’t matter,” one of the men snapped at me. “Just hand over everything you’ve got.”
He reached for my briefcase, making it clear what the men really wanted.
I took half a step back, just far enough to put myself out of the man’s reach, but the wall at my back kept me from going any farther. A look of satisfaction pulled at the corner of the man’s mouth. Since I’d remained silent, he assumed he’d already won.
Meanwhile, I watched his feet.
In order to reach my briefcase, which was down at my side, the man had to shift his weight forward on his feet.
The moment I saw that shift, I swung my briefcase upward in a move similar to an uppercut.
The corner of my briefcase caught him squarely in the chin, snapping his head back.
Blood spurted from his mouth, and I caught the sight of a few teeth go flying as the man dropped unconscious.
The second man didn’t even wait for his partner to hit the floor. He immediately swung at me with his own knife.
Dropping my briefcase to free up my hands, I jumped back to avoid the man’s initial swing. Then, before he could strike out at me again, I rushed forward to put myself inside the reach of his arm. It was an intimate stance. The kind of position that was perfect for embracing a lover.
Or planting my fist in someone’s gut.
The man staggered under the sudden blow, but a seasoned fighter wouldn’t be felled by something so simple.
Before he could recover, I grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm to make him drop the knife. Then, still holding onto his arm, I swept his leg with my own to knock him off balance and force him to the ground.
He fell, and without the use of his arm, he had no way to catch himself.
I went with him, controlling the fall so that the man ended up face down on the ground with me lying on top of him.
It was a particularly degrading position, literally putting him under me as if I intended to dominate him.
Spittle flew from the man’s mouth as he shouted a litany of insults me while trying to escape.
It was honestly impressive. I thought I knew every derogatory term for gay sex, but apparently there were some I’d never heard of before.
I’d have to Google them when I got home.
I wrapped my arm around the man’s throat in a chokehold, cutting of the supply of blood to his brain and effectively silencing him.
“Shut up and stop struggling,” I said directly into the man’s ear without lifting the pressure of my arm from his neck.
“You’re going to be fine. I’m not going to kill you.
But when you wake up, you’re going to go back to the people pulling your strings and warn them that I’m not such an easy mark. ”
The man continued to struggle, but his face was turning red, and he’d lost the ability to speak. His fingers clawed uselessly at my arm, but the high-quality wool of my suit kept me from getting so much as a scratch.
I sighed and shook my head.
“You’re a fighter. I get that. But you really would have been better off running away. The same goes for your bosses. They really should run away, too, but I already know they won’t. Like you, they’re also fighters.”
The man went limp in my arms.
I let him go and left him on the floor as I stood and dusted myself off.
“Unfortunately for them, I’m a fighter, too.”
I scoffed when I noticed the dirt stain on the knee of my pants. This suit was a favorite of mine, cut just sharp enough to be impressive without looking too intimidating. Plus, the dark gray color was a great complement to my skin tone.
Well, at least there were no bloodstains. Hopefully, dry cleaning would take care of the dirt. I’d hate to have to throw the suit out.
Retrieving my briefcase, I was happy to find it completely unscathed. Splurging for the expensive reinforced metal design had been a good investment. This wasn’t the first time I’d had to use it as a weapon and probably wouldn’t be the last.
That was the problem with taking on such dangerous cases. I had a habit of making enemies out of powerful people, but I was prepared, and I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
I left the thugs on the floor of the parking deck.
They’d wake up in a few minutes, bruised and battered, but alive.
That particular corner of the parking deck was a blind spot in the security cameras, which was likely why they had chosen to attack me there in the first place.
This meant there was no record of our little scuff, which had only lasted about two minutes total.
If those men were smart, they’d slink back to their bosses without making any more fuss.
The ride on the elevator up to my apartment was completely silent. I spent the time wiping off my hands with a handkerchief.
Why did those kinds of thugs always have such bad hygiene?
Surely, they didn’t think that their ability to swing their fists would be adversely affected by the number of showers they took. I couldn’t stand to go more than twenty-four hours without showering and felt disgusting if I so much as skipped a day of shaving.
Just the thought of it made me shiver.
I managed to reach my apartment without issue. The door had several heavy-duty bolts, which I very carefully locked behind me. Then, I set my briefcase down on its designated table and sat down on the couch in my living room.
That was when the shaking started.
I knew it was coming. I was just glad that it held off until I was safely inside my home.
I’d spent years learning how to defend myself, so I’d never feel helpless again, and I’d been in dangerous fights before, but that didn’t make it any easier.
The surge of adrenaline allowed me to think clearly during the fight, but now that the fight was over and I was safe, it was like crashing headfirst into a wall.
Leaning forward, I braced my elbows on my knees and let my head hang.
My eyes were closed as I focused on my breathing, but behind my eyelids I could see every moment of the fight.
Every movement I’d made and every attack they’d launched replayed in my mind with stark clarity as if in slow motion.
The knife had come so close to me. If I hadn’t reacted fast enough, if I’d faltered for even a moment, I would be bleeding out on the floor of the parking deck right now.
The difference between life and death could literally be measured in inches. If I had died today, nothing would be fixed.
With a deep breath, I managed to sit upright.
My shaking had lessened, but not completely disappeared, and I fumbled with my cellphone when I pulled it from my pocket.
It was here that I found another annoyance.
Sometime during my scuffle with the thugs, the screen of my phone had cracked. It still worked, but it was an eyesore.
Ignoring it for now, I dialed a familiar number. I’d specifically refused to add the number to my list of contacts to keep myself from calling it so easily, but that didn’t stop me from memorizing it.
Anticipation gripped my heart when the call started ringing. However, after only one ring, the call went silent. I tried texting the number instead, just simply saying hello. I immediately received a big red “undelivered” notification.
It was as I expected. My number was still blocked. I don’t know why I expected anything different. I’d been blocked for five years now, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon.
Not until I made things right.
Looking down at my phone, a strange idea came to me. My phone was cracked. Getting it repaired would be just as much hassle as simply getting a new one. If I did get a new phone, I could use the opportunity to change my number.
Then I wouldn’t be blocked any more, and my messages would finally go through.
For one, desperate moment, I actually considered it.
But then the moment passed, and the insane idea disappeared as quickly as it had come.
That line of communication was closed to me.
It would be cruel to force it open again.
At best, I’d be able to get one message through before the new number was blocked as well.
I would gain nothing and would probably ruin any chance I had to make things right in the process.
Letting the phone slip through my fingers, it landed hard on the floor. The crack spread farther and the whole screen turned to colorful static.
Total death.