Chapter 13
When I woke the next morning, James was still asleep. I lay in bed with him for about ten minutes, going over what had happened in the exercise room, feeling like I’d hallucinated it in an exercise-induced delirium.
But it had been real.
He was real. What we had was real.
I was self-aware enough to realize that I had trouble believing he could care about me because my parents had discarded me so easily. When we finished this case, I needed to find a therapist to help work through this. Otherwise, I’d forever be questioning James’s feelings for me.
Presuming we had a future. But he talked like we did.
One day at a time. Just like dealing with my need for a drink.
One day at a time.
I grew restless and started to slide out of bed.
“Are you runnin’ off again?” he teased from behind me.
“If you call getting up to pee running off, then yes.” I got up and headed to the bathroom, completely naked. I didn’t need to look behind me to know he was watching.
After I peed and brushed my teeth, I grabbed one of the plush hotel robes hanging on a hook and walked out to see him sitting up in bed, shirtless. I knew he wasn’t wearing anything under the sheets either.
“I’m about to order room service,” he said. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Coffee. Copious amounts of coffee,” I said, walking over to the window. The way I’d behaved last night looked different in the daylight, and I was utterly embarrassed. I’d never been needy. Ever. And James was the last person I wanted to be needy with.
“What about food?”
“Whatever you’re getting.”
I heard him place a call for a double order of pancakes, bacon, eggs, orange juice, along with a carafe of coffee with creamer.
“How’s your head today?” I asked, still not looking at him.
“It’s still attached to my body, so I consider that a win,” he said dryly.
I turned to look at him.
He tilted his head slightly. “There you are.”
“Sorry about last night.”
“Runnin’ off? You should be.” But his grin let me know he wasn’t pissed. “About the rest… the only way this open shit will work is if we’re honest about all of it.”
I wanted to ask if he’d learned that from her too, but was smart enough to bite my tongue.
“I told you I have a therapist,” he said as though reading my mind. “The past month or so we’ve been discussing relationships.”
Month or so? The timing of when we’d started working together couldn’t be coincidental. Then again, when he’d been out of it with his concussion, he’d told me he’d been interested in me for much longer than I’d realized.
He climbed out of bed. “We need to come up with a plan for the day. I figured we’d track down some of my contacts this time.” He walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open. “We’ll start after breakfast.”
“How happy will they be to see you?”
“About as happy as a cat in a bathtub.” His voice was faint from the bathroom.
“Then what makes you think they’ll talk to you?”
“I have my ways.”
I knew he did. The question was how far he’d go to make them talk.
“Do you want to drive our car or call Alex?”
“I say we drive ourselves today,” he said. “Carter has another car parked for us at a parking garage a few blocks away, so we can slip out the back door. Maybe save Alex for another time.”
“If we’re going to do some questionable activities, then it’s probably better to not involve him anyway,” I agreed.
He poked his head out of the door, his toothbrush in his hand. A twinkle filled his eyes. “Who said we were going to do anything questionable?”
I lifted a brow and gave him a pointed look.
He grinned and disappeared into the bathroom.
I was relieved things weren’t awkward. We had work to do. Feelings would only get in the way.
When he walked out a few minutes later, he wore a pair of grey sweatpants and no shirt.
“So, who are your contacts?” I asked.
He sat down beside me and slung an arm along the back of the sofa. “I want to start with Miguel Herra. Last I heard, he owns All American Autobody. It’s a body shop in south Little Rock.”
“How do you know him?”
“He did a few jobs for Simmons over the last couple of decades.”
I gave him a questioning look.
A dark look crossed his face. “He made a couple of cars disappear after the owners vanished.”
“And you had a part in making the cars disappear?” I asked cautiously.
He gave me a sardonic look. “Allegedly.”
“What about their owners?”
He shrugged.
I really didn’t want to think of the implications of that.
“What do you hope to get from Miguel?”
“He got busted about ten years ago and served a few years in prison. He’s out now and running a new shop.
Supposedly legit. But he was the go-to guy back in the day, and I’d bet money he knows Gerald Knox or did some jobs for Gerry’s father.
I’m hoping he can give me the name of someone who currently works for Knox. ”
I took a moment. “And if he has a contact, we follow that lead. But what if he doesn’t?”
He pursed his lips. “I have several more people I can track down, but I want to start with Miguel and see where it takes us.”
“And Razor?” I asked. “How does he fit into all of this?”
“He’s an enforcer. He did work for Simmons in the past, but last I heard, he was workin’ freelance.”
“If he was excited to hear there’s a hit on you, then you must not have parted as friends.”
“I wouldn’t have called us enemies either. More like cautious acquaintances.”
“You think he’s done work for the Knoxes?”
“Maybe not in the past, but if I were Gerry Knox and knew I was comin’ for him, I’d want the best of the best protecting me.”
“And this Razor is the best of the best?”
“He used to be. He’s always been a hothead, too quick to anger. But the last time I encountered him, he’d grown a little paunchier and liked his liquor a little too much.”
“Don’t we all,” I muttered.
He gave me a surprised look, then the hint of a grin tipped up the corners of his mouth. “Unlike you, I hear it’s dulled his usefulness.”
I wasn’t so sure my usefulness hadn’t been dulled, but I saw no reason to point it out. “Why start with Miguel first and Razor second?”
“Because Razor can be unstable, depending on how drunk he is. I’d rather start with Miguel, who will probably shit his pants when I walk up but is unlikely to throw a punch or pull out a gun.”
I frowned. “It sounds like these two guys could have some valuable information. Why didn’t we start with them?”
“I wanted to see where your contacts took us.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t see Miguel until today, and I figured as late as it was, Razor would be drunk off his ass. Besides, I’d rather track Razor down in the daylight.”
“So what’s our overall plan?” I asked. “Sure, we’re trying to gather information to pin this trafficking ring on Knox, but what are we planning to do with the information?”
His lips pursed together. “I haven’t decided.”
“Our goal is to stop Knox. But if he’s eliminated, we both know someone will step up to take his place,” I pointed out, not dwelling on what ‘eliminated’ would mean.
“That’s why we’re gonna bring it all down,” he said matter-of-factly.
I did a double take. “That seems ambitious.” Especially since these kinds of investigations typically took weeks or months.
He didn’t respond.
“Let’s say we get the evidence, don’t you need to turn this information over to your contact and let them take care of it?”
He scowled. “I told you yesterday that they’re leavin’ it up to me.”
I leveled him with a look. “And then you’ll be free of them?”
He was still before he said, “That’s the plan.”
“You don’t trust them?”
“I’ve been fucked over before. So, no.”
“Then we need to come up with a plan that makes sure you’re free of them,” I said.
“We need to see what we can find before we can come up with a plan,” he grunted.
That made sense, but I was still frustrated. “You know, I might be able to actually help with the plan if you’d tell me who gave you this assignment.”
He didn’t respond.
Frustration roiled in my gut, but I bit back the urge to argue with him. It was obvious he wasn’t ready to share this part. Not yet, at least.
“Fine,” I groaned, getting up off the sofa. “Keep it to yourself, but you’ll have to tell me at some point.” I started to walk past him, but he snagged my wrist, pulling me to a halt.
His gaze held mine. “I need you to be patient with me.”
The tension in my shoulders eased. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. But you know I’ll need to know at some point.”
“I know.”
I gave a nod and then grabbed a change of clothes from my bag.
I headed to the bathroom and shut the door, needing a moment alone to sort through my feelings.
His initial plan for the day was solid, and it made sense for us to see what he could find from the autobody shop owner before we planned our next steps.
Room service showed up soon afterward. James ate a hearty breakfast, but I only had two cups of coffee and a few bites of eggs and pancakes. James changed into jeans and a short-sleeve black T-shirt, then we both strapped on our over-the-shoulder holsters, donned our jackets, and left the room.
We headed out the door, down the back stairwell, and out the back entrance. I let James take the lead, heading the opposite direction we’d gone the night before.
After we walked several blocks, James dipped into a parking garage, then climbed the stairs to the top level. It was mostly empty, so the dark sedan was easy to spot. He reached under the trunk and pulled a key fob out, and a couple of minutes later, we were driving out of the garage.
“How long have you been working on this?” I asked.
He shot me a quick glance, then turned back to the road. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
I glared at him. “You know what I’m talking about.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “It depends on how you look at it. I made a few half-hearted attempts the first year after I was released. I told my handler I had to get settled into my new life and that no one was gonna trust me fresh out of prison. The second year, I made a little more effort. My handler was makin’ noise that they were gonna toss me back in prison and reinstate my charges.
Over the past six months or so, I’ve gotten a little more aggressive. ”
“Why the last six months?”
He hesitated. “I’d put out a few feelers the two years before and asked a few people to contact me if they heard anything. A couple of them started pingin’ me last fall.”
An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. “When last fall?”
“Late September, then it intensified in early October.” He turned to glance at me.
I didn’t respond.
“One of my sources said he heard that there was a shipment arriving early October, but he wasn’t sure where or who was even runnin’ it. I tried to check into it, but it was vague enough that I couldn’t find anything of substance. Then he turned up dead a few days later.”
“Someone killed him?” I asked, unsettled.
“The official report was drug overdose, but he’d been clean for a good five years. It seemed mighty suspicious.”
“And the other source?” I asked.
“He disappeared.”
“Shit.”
“Yep,” he said with a grimace.
“Are you worried something might happen to the people we talk to today?”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
“So what do you want to do?” I asked, wondering if I’d endangered my own contacts.
“We talk to ’em anyway.”
I studied him to see if he looked as okay with that as he sounded. The expression on his face confirmed he wasn’t.
“It took you nearly two years to bring down the Hardshaw Group, between infiltrating them and working with them?” I said.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Yep.”
“We don’t have nearly two years.”
“I know,” he said, sounding exhausted.
“Okay, best case scenario,” I said. “In your opinion, what do we need to take this operation out?”
“Best case?” He seemed to consider my request for a long moment. “Solid evidence to tie this to all the key people involved.”
“And then we turn it over to your handler?”
He was quiet again before he said, “I’ll tell them what I’ve got, then see how they want it handled.”
I couldn’t believe he was finally admitting to working with the Feds. “You said they were giving you a lot of leeway on how to do things.”
“True, but I learned from the first go-around with the Feds that you have to read between the lines.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t trust them worth shit, so I’ll make a moment-by-moment call.”
“What kind of evidence are you looking for?”
“Guess we’ll know it when we see it,” he said solemnly.
“So we’re shooting in the dark?”
“I’m a pretty good shot. Even in the dark.” He gave me a pointed look. “So are you.”
While I was sure the latter part was in reference to my shoot-out last week, I suspected it had a double meaning. James couldn’t have gotten to the level he’d reached without trusting his instincts, and we were following those at the moment.
Because, right now, that was all we had.