Odette’s forehead wrinkled as she gave Bowie a look like he was stupid. “Who wouldn’t know that? It’s so obvious.”
“Will you please stop calling him a gangbanger?” Bowie asked.
“I’m sorry, cupcake. What should I call him?” she countered, patting Bowie’s hand.
“Javier?”
“That’s too formal,” she said, shaking her head.
“Focus, guys,” Linc said, not unkindly.
“So, whoever sent this little package knows this is about Bowie and his case but doesn’t know Javier is the one who did the actual hit,” Nicky summarized.
“It’s only a matter of time before they put it together. Bowie hasn’t left our apartment in weeks,” Lawson said. “He practically lives there. What the fuck, man. Why didn’t you just say something?”
Javier shrugged. “It was a split-second decision.”
“You made a split-second decision to murder three people?” Wyatt asked, eyes wide as he looked to Linc. “You should introduce him to Shepherd. They’d get along so well.”
Javier had no idea who Shepherd was, but it didn’t matter. “Look, I’ll handle this. I just need to know who’s after him.”
“Why so you can shoot them, too?” Odette asked.
“Yeah, maybe,” Javier fired back.
“How about you stop thinking with your dick for five minutes and think with your brain?” Odette said, shooting to her feet. “The last thing Bowie needs is more bodies being dropped at his feet.”
“Oh, yeah? Do you want the next art project they drop on your doorstep to be him?” Javier snapped. “These kind of people don’t listen to reason. They listen to violence.”
“Okay, everybody calm down,” Linc shouted over the two. “None of this is helping. We can’t do anything until we know who it is we’re even looking for. Webster, run the evidence. Anything you can’t do in house, ship out and just put it on our tab. We’ll need eyes on Bowie round the clock. Can you handle that or do you need bodies?” Linc asked Javier.
“He’s got bodies,” Lawson muttered, though somewhat begrudgingly. Cy and Preacher nodded.
Linc grunted. “From now on, Bowie, you only go from home to work and from work to home. Got it? Until we figure this out, you’re on house arrest.”
“My home or Javier’s?” Bowie asked, looking nervously at Odette. “I don’t want to risk anybody else getting hurt.”
“You’re staying with me, angel. That’s non-negotiable. Like I said, I have some boys who can monitor the girls. Make sure they’re safe.”
Linc looked to Odette. “You good with that? If not, I can have my guys keep an eye out?”
Odette looked to Javier, who arched a brow. “No, it's fine. I’m good with…Javier’s”—she emphasized with a look to Bowie—“guys.”
“Fair. Nobody”—Linc looked pointedly at Javier—“does anything without a discussion. Got it? If we’re bringing in the cops, we talk about it here first. If we’re going to drop a house on these fucking guys, we talk about it here first. No more surprises. Got it?”
Javier jabbed his fingers in his eyes before he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”
“Once we figure out who they are, then we’ll figure out how to handle them.”
“What about the cops?” Odette asked.
Linc frowned. “What about them?”
“This rapist piece of shit was the son of a diplomat. They haven’t so much as contacted Bowie. You don’t think that’s weird? How do we know he’s not already under surveillance from them? Maybe they know who dropped the package at our doorstep.”
Bowie looked at Odette. “Are you suggesting we knock on the door of the Secret Service and ask to see their super secret files on me so we can know if my rapist’s ‘guys’ sent me a death threat because my boyfriend murdered him?”
Odette shook her head. “No, dipshit. I’m asking if the head of a giant security firm might know somebody who could discreetly inquire as to whether or not there’s an active investigation opened on you.”
