I nod, giving a tight smile, trying to stay composed. “Yes, I’m Aria, the owner, and these are my…associates.” I say, glancing at the guys.
Jackson and Beau don’t say anything, just nod, their eyes never leaving the detective.
Detective Abbot’s gaze lingers on them for just a moment too long. I notice, but don’t say anything. It’s the look of someone trying to piece together something, but he doesn’t make it obvious. Just subtle, like maybe he has seen them before.
“Just a couple of questions,” Abbot continues, pulling out a notebook from his jacket pocket. “When exactly did the damage occur?” He glances at the shattered window, the cracked glass still glinting under the dim lighting.
I step forward, explaining, “Around thirty minutes ago. My employee, Dayla, was here when it happened.”
He jots something down in his notebook. He looks up and his eyes flick back and forth between me and the guys. I can feel the atmosphere shifting. Something about this man makes my skin prickle.
“Where’s Ms. Dayla now?” Detective Abbot asks, closing his notebook. He doesn’t ask anything else about the damage or the glass. He’s already moving on, shifting gears.
I gesture to the back. “She’s resting back in my office. She was shaken up.”
“Right,” He says, his tone neutral. “I’d like to have a conversation with just her. Alone.”
Before I can stop him, Abbot heads for the back. I watch him walk away and my stomach tightens. Jackson steps closer, keeping his voice low, “Something’s not right.”
Beau nods. “I know. I feel it.”
It doesn’t take long for him to return. He’s got that impassive look on his face, but there’s something about the way he eyes Beau and Jackson. When he returns to the main room, his posture shifts slightly. It’s almost…smug, but it’s quick, too quick to be seen by anyone else.
“I’ve spoken to Dayla. She was able to give me a full statement,” Abbot says, sounding professional as ever. “She’s been through a lot today, but she seems okay now. I’ll need you to file the report, Aria. We’ll take care of the rest at the station for you. If anything else happens, you contact me directly.”
“Thanks,” I say, still trying to keep my voice steady. “But I think we’ve got it from here.”
Abbot gives an almost imperceptible smile. “I’m sure you do. Just know this, I’ll be keeping an eye on things. Let’s just hope this doesn’t escalate.” He says, looking between my men.
He turns toward the door, but before he leaves, he pauses. I feel the air chill around us like a storm rolling in. His eyes flick to Jackson and Beau, and I swear the detective's gaze sharpens. He looks like he’s inspecting them, sizingthem up. There’s no mistaking it. He knows who they are. He knows what they’ve done.
“I’m sure you two are familiar faces,” Detective Abbot says, his tone almost too casual, like he’s just making small talk. “You know, there was a… certain bulletin put out not too long ago. About a year, actually. Quite the murder investigation, I believe.”
The room goes deathly silent. My heart skips a beat. I feel the blood drain from my face as Jackson’s jaw tightens, and Beau’s eyes flicker briefly toward the detective. The look between the men says it all. I didn’t think we’d be dealing with this today, but of course with our luck here we are.
Abbot gives us a soft grin and licks his lips. His face is not friendly right now. Not in the slightest. “Don’t worry,” he says, his voice lowering into something more sly. “It’s not my place to dig into past matters. But I’ll be honest with you…” His eyes flick to me for a moment before settling back on Jackson and Beau, the glint of something darker flickering in them. “I can help you out. People like me can make sure your history stays buried. I’m sure you’d prefer that, wouldn’t you?”
His smile widens, his words hanging heavy in the air, and I feel my pulse quicken. I can tell from the way Jacksonand Beau hold themselves that this isn’t their first rodeo with someone like this.
“This attack on your shop? It probably wasn’t an accident. I mean, look at the company you keep, young lady.” He lets that sink in before adding, “Of course, all it takes is a little… compensation, and you could have someone on the inside. Someone who could make sure things go in your favor. Maybe even a little protection. You know, from all the… unwanted attention. Maybe I could help keep this fine shop from being targeted again.”
My stomach twists. The reality of what he’s suggesting hits me like a slap to the face. This guy isn’t just a cop. He’s a player. A dangerous one.
Jackson’s eyes narrow, and I can see the muscles in his jaw working. He steps forward slightly, letting his commanding presence fill the room. He doesn’t say anything, just watches him. Beau remains eerily calm, but I know better. I can feel the tension in the air. The room seems to thicken like smoke. Neither of them speaks, but the message is clear between them.
“I’m not saying I’ll ignore this,” Abbot adds, now leaning casually against the doorframe, eyes gleaming with something more dangerous. “But five hundred a month goes a long way with the right people. I don’t need to remind you that keeping this quiet could save you a lotof headaches down the line. You wouldn’t want to make this worse by drawing attention, would you? After all… it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve helped people in your situation. Hell, I’ve helped worse.”
The sharpness in his smile grows, almost predatory, but there’s an unmistakable sense of power in his words. He knows he’s in control right now.
Jackson and Beau don’t say anything. They both look at him with a kind of calculating silence, as if weighing their options. Jackson’s fists flex slightly, the only outward sign of his internal tension, but he stays cool.
“Alrighty then. I’ll leave you to clean up this mess. I’m sure you all will need some time to think about everything. But trust me when I say this: if you need help, you know how to find me.” Abbot says, straightening up and heading toward the door. He stops in the doorway for just a moment, throwing one last look over his shoulder. “Just remember, I’ve got your back. If you don’t mind paying a little, of course.”
The door clicks shut behind him, but it doesn't feel like an exit. It feels like a countdown. I turn to my men, trying to shake the feelings building in my body. “We’re dealing with a dirty cop; how can we even trust him?” The question hangs heavy in the air.
Jackson’s lips curl into a wry smile. “We’ve trusted dirty cops before. This one’s no different.”
Beau steps up, leaning against the counter, his expression unreadable. “He’s got what we need, for now. And we’ve played the game before. Just not this way. If he’s really willing to turn a blind eye, we’ll use that. But only if he proves himself.”
