“Is it okay to talk here?” Vinnie asked as he glanced at the others.
“About this case, yes.” I waved my hand to the two men Vinnie didn't know. “This is Detective Sparks out of the East County Precinct where Lany was being held. He's in charge of the drug house case. And this is Supervisory Special Agent Dan Crenshaw of the DEA, who seems to be investigating the drug house case.”
Vinnie's face twisted in a grimace. “He never should have been in that house, Salvador.”
“Preaching to the choir here, Vinnie. I was in the dark about all of this until Clarke called me to tell me Lany was missing. That being said, it should be noted that Lany took out his tracker and didn't tell anyone what he was doing.”
Vinnie's jaw dropped. “He took out his tracker?”
I nodded. “I'm going to get Skip to put it back when he checks Lany over.” No one but me and Skip needed to know I'd be adding a couple more trackers.
“Why would he do that?”
That's what I'd like to know.
“How about you ask Lany that when he wakes up.” Maybe if he heard it from someone other than me, he'd realize how important that tracker was and how stupid it was to remove it.
“I'll do that,” Vinnie replied. “I also want to ask him why he was in that drug house.”
“My understanding was that he was working undercover for the DEA,” I stated. “We don't know all the particulars of what he was doing because the agent in charge of the case was murdered in his home three days ago after being tortured.”
“From what Carlos told me, Viggo Marcus runs drugs in that area. He's ruthless, Sal. He has no mercy when it comes to people betraying him or trying to scam him. If he finds out who Lany really is, he'll be out for blood.”
“Brant!” I instantly called out.
“Sir?” the man asked when he appeared a moment later, almost as if he had been standing outside the entrance just waiting for my call.
“Put the estate on lockdown.”
Lany's mess had just gotten worse.
Chapter Nine
Lany
I blinked several times when I realized I was watching the ceiling go by. I was being carried somewhere. When a door opened and I was carried into a room, I groaned, recognizing the ceiling overhead. I'd been here and stared at that ceiling often enough to know every square inch.
“Hey, Skip,” I called out before I even saw the guy.
“Hi, Lany.”
I turned my head to see my doctor already gloved up. “So, what's on the menu today?”
“X-rays, possibly stitches, and a new tracker.” Skip wagged his eyebrows at me. “Oh, and pictures. You get to model your ribcage for me.”
Yeah, I knew about those.
“How many trackers am I getting?”
Skip snorted. “I swore not to tell.”
I knew there'd be more than one.
“So, tell me how you got your injuries.”
As Skip worked on me, I went over how I'd gotten each of my injuries. I didn't leave anything out, not even the fact that I had been knocked unconscious at one point. There was no point in hiding it from Skip. He'd figure it out anyway.
“Any nausea?” Skip asked.
