CHAPTER SIX WE’VE GOT BEEF
CHAPTER SIX
WE’VE GOT BEEF
LUNA
“Aren’t you supposed to be off today?” Matthews asked as he hurriedly reached across to clear his garbage from my desk.
Since I was trying to keep a low profile, I ignored the disrespect—for right then. “What? Says who?”
“The captain.”
“Huh. Weird. Must be getting confused in his old age.”
“My vision must be going, too,” I heard from behind me. “Because I know your ass didn’t disobey an order.”
Oops.
Low profile be damned, I shot daggers at Matthews. Not literal ones, though I was tempted. “You couldn’t give me a heads-up he was there?”
He gave a panicked shrug.
Smoothing out my expression, I turned to see that not only was my captain there, he was settled in. Arms crossed, ankles crossed, settled. Like he’d been waiting for me.
Oops. I think I’ve gotten predictable.
“I was just coming to get my car,” I lied.
“In a suit?”
“I like to look my best.”
“And getting it requires a visit inside?”
“I can never remember where I park the damn thing.”
“I think it’s safe to say it isn’t in here.” With a disappointed-father kind of sigh, he jerked his head to the side. “My office.”
I knew I was pushing it by coming to work. And I hadn’t expected to last the whole shift before he spotted me and sent me on my way. But I didn’t think I’d get the cop equivalent of being called into the principal’s office from the jump.
I was tempted to drag my feet with a slow, shuffling walk, but I was an adult.
The quiet chorus of “Ohhhh,” from the peanut gallery around me showed I was the only adult.
When I reached the open doorway, I stopped short at the discovery it wasn’t just me in the hot seat.
Rhys was already there.
Unfortunately, his too-tight tee was not.
Not that he didn’t still look good. His jeans and long-sleeve Henley fit him well.
As did the motorcycle boots he wore—and wore often and for their actual purpose if the scuffs were any indication.
The little biker ankle booties I had in my closet had never been near a motorcycle, but that didn’t stop me from rocking them with a cool leather jacket like I was an extra on Easy Rider.
His hair was even messier than the night before, and I wondered if he’d just rolled out of bed.
And whether he’d been in said bed with someone else.
Captain gestured for me to sit, which I did because my curiosity was piqued. He wouldn’t call a meeting that could be an email just to say there was no update. And Rhys didn’t strike me as a man who thought the real world was like TV and expected everything to be solved in an hour.
So one of them had something to share with the class.
“Told you I wouldn’t have to call her in,” Cap said to Rhys.
Yup.
Too predictable.
That was the extent of his humor before he got down to business. “Mr. Walker and I were reviewing the other complaints that have been called in about his establishment. Yesterday was a stark escalation, even before the shooting. It could be a coincidence it happened on the same night, but…”
“That’d be a helluva coincidence,” Rhys rumbled.
“Especially with this.” Cap passed an evidence bag over to me.
Tick. Tock.
Your time is running out.
I looked at the note, flipping over the bag to see if there was anything on the back. “Where’d this come from?”
“Was waiting on my car this morning,” Rhys said.
“Do you have a doorbell camera?”
“Yeah, but I was parked down the street. And to be fair, it might’ve been there at Rye, and I just didn’t notice it on the drive home.”
“Patrol is out seeing what they can find.” Captain leaned back. “With all this, though, I want coverage on the bar.”
“I already have my security company coming this week to beef everything up,” Rhys said.
“That’s good, but I’m still putting Oscar in.”
Dread filled me. “Captain—”
“No,” Rhys bit out at the same time.
I’d also been objecting, but his adamant and vehement refusal was still a blow to my ego.
I was tempted to reverse my position out of spite.
But I had other cases to deal with. And I sure as hell had better things to do than babysit a building for the day.
Stakeouts were usually anticlimactic, but that would be a dull record.
“Save your breath,” Captain said, focusing on me. “This is coming from over my head. Even the mayor is getting complaints about what went down last night.”
“Why?” I asked. It was a valid question.
It wasn’t like we were some Barney Fife deputies in a small town where a stolen pie off a windowsill was the worst that happened. Boston had a lot worse crimes than a drive-by where no one was hurt.
Myself excluded, but my injury was barely a scrape. I wasn’t raising a fuss about it.
Captain Talbot looked just as frustrated. “Because everyone cares about this great city so much.”
That was bullshit said just because Rhys was in the room, and we all knew it.
“Either way,” my captain continued, “they want it handled, and they want it handled fast.”
“Sitting on the place for the day isn’t going to do much,” I pointed out.
Rhys had my back—the bastard. “Especially since I’m closed for the week.”
I looked at him. “You are?”
“My security company needs time to get the new cameras and upgrades set.”
Gesturing toward him, I said, “See? No reason to have me sitting on a closed building.”
“That’s great because you’re not sitting on it. You’re going undercover.”
I bolted to my feet. “Sir—”
“Fuck no,” Rhys gritted out, even more vicious than his last refusal.
Ouch.
So much for our trauma bonding.
“Going undercover at Mr. Walker’s bar doesn’t make any sense when the incident happened outside,” I said.
“Back to Mr. Walker?” he murmured so quietly, I almost wasn’t sure I heard him.
“A drive-by where one of my detectives was nearly hit is far from an incident,” Cap said.
“That’s a damn good point,” Rhys said. “Maybe she was the target all along. Sticking her back at the scene is just welcoming a repeat attempt.”
As much as my mortality and I hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong.
“Then think of how safe she’ll be with your beefed-up security,” Captain Talbot said.
“Sir—” I tried again, but my boss held up his hand.
“I’m not saying this is a lifelong career change. But if things are going to escalate, next time may not be an incident where everyone walks away.”
Then have patrol, you know…
Patrol.
There had to be more going on that he wasn’t sharing. A single drive-by didn’t call for an undercover placement. Especially when increasing visible patrol and unmarked presence in the area would be more effective in deterring any future incidents.
But I knew better than to argue further, or my next assignment would be worse than hell.
It would be desk duty.
Rhys didn’t have the same qualms about objecting. “Use someone else.”
And a big fuck you, too.
Just because I also didn’t want to do it didn’t mean I wasn’t taking offense at his tone. I was tempted to kick him in the shin at the insult.
Particularly when he gave me a quick once-over. “No one is gonna buy she’s a bartender. My customers will greet her as Officer.”
He was wrong, but I didn’t say so. I did, however, bring up the valid oversight his dig highlighted.
“Especially since some of his friends already know I’m a detective. I met them during a stalking case. Send in Matthews instead.”
“The other detective from last night?” Rhys gave a scoff. “If you’re not passing as a bartender, he sure as shit isn’t. No one is buying him as anything other than a narc.”
“So make him a bouncer,” I said, offering an option so perfect, I should’ve gift wrapped it.
There. That settles that.
It didn’t.
Cap turned his attention to Rhys. “Do you trust your friends?”
Lie.
Lie, damn you.
But that didn’t go my way, either.
There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation before Rhys said, “With my life.”
“Good. That’ll make this easier.” Captain Talbot looked at me. “Get pictures of you with the group this week. Tech will build your postdated digital footprint to lend credibility to the relationship before the bar reopens.”
“The what?” I asked as Rhys shook his head.
Vehemently.
Like the captain had suggested he date a pile of raw sewage.
“No one will buy that we’re in a relationship,” he said, adding insult to… well, to more insult.
Cap gestured between us. “I didn’t say it had to be a romantic one. Friends. Cousins. Tenant. Play it however will work best. But the note was left on Mr. Walker’s car near his home. He’ll need coverage there, too.”
“Absolutely fucking not,” Rhys said as he stood. “Appreciate the caution and thoroughness, but I don’t need someone in my space twenty-four-seven.”
Moving to the door, his hand was on the knob, but he froze when my captain said, “It’s that or your bar stays closed until we finish our investigation.”
“And how long will that take?”
Cap shrugged because, again, life wasn’t a TV drama. Nothing got wrapped up in an hour. Everything was a process, and as new cases came in, priorities changed. Cases went cold as they got shuffled lower and lower on the list.
Rhys crossed his arms. “Already paying my employees for this week. I can’t do that shit indefinitely.”
“Then you need to let Detective Oscar do her job.”
Rhys’s expression stayed stony for a few stretching seconds before he left without another word or even a glance my way.
I have no clue if that was a resentful acceptance or a resentful rejection.
I waited to make sure he was actually gone before I asked, “What’s this really about?”
Captain jerked his head toward the door. Once I closed it and sat, he explained, “My guess is there’s some donor who has property in the area, and he’s calling in favors.”
“Favors that include a costly undercover assignment?”
Because even if Mr. Monopoly himself had his mustache in a twist over his property values, the proposed investigation was overkill.
He shrugged. “All I know is that they want this dealt with quickly. And they aren’t wrong.
Mr. Walker’s business has built up a long list of complaints.
If it’s sabotage like he claims, the escalation last night is a concern.
It’s a damn miracle no one was shot. We might not get so lucky next time, and then we’ll be left looking like incompetent morons who failed to act. ”
“If it’s sabotage?”
“Deputy Chief Coalson brought up the possibility that the bar is a front for criminal activity and the shooting was retribution from a rival.”
“Did he say why he thinks that?”
“No, just that he wants it looked into. Placing you undercover gives us an in and coverage either way.” He leaned back and steepled his fingers as he stared at the closed door. “I’m not saying Mr. Walker is guilty of anything. But he is hiding something.”
I’d gotten the same feeling when I’d asked him about anyone with a motive to mess with him or Rye.
He drew his focus back to me. “Spend today reassigning your active cases and tomorrow prepping. I want you ready to roll Monday.”
Why didn’t I just stay home?
Oh. That’s right.
Because I’m too stubborn to obey orders.