I share a look with RJ, letting him take the lead here. He’s the one who can’t breathe when the man comes around in dress blues. He’s quiet for a while, and Reed gives him time to gather his thoughts, moving the man up a step in my estimation. Not more than a single step up as he’s still a cop, but still. He’s not the bottom of the barrel.
As Trips said, an honest cop is the worst kind. At least we’ve won this one over.
Finally, RJ nods to the front door, and I let us in, Reed cocking an eyebrow at our tail. “What’s with that guy?”
“Paid surveillance,” I say, figuring it’s not worth the lie.
“Does that mean my photo’s being sent off someplace?” he asks.
“Yup, straight to Papa Westerhouse. But you’ll be in a collection of like sixty people tonight, so they shouldn’t look too close.”
“That’s a crowd.” He follows us into the living room, taking RJ’s seat by the door. RJ takes Trips’ chair, leaving the couch for me.
“Apparently, I needed a birthday party. So I had one. Why are you here?”
He turns to RJ, then slides a piece of paper across the table. “CI contract. The same one I gave Clara.”
RJ picks it up and reads it over. After he finishes, he sets it down. “How long?” he asks.
Reed shrugs. “As long as you feel like chasing these perverts over the web, we’ll be happy to take your intel. And while I appreciate Clara trying to keep you out of this, this isn’t her fight, is it?”
“It’s notnother fight.” RJ leans back in the chair, and it’s like Trips superimposes on him. Like the chair is a throne that gives whoever sits on it the power. It’s strange to see, but I’m happy about it. Especially with a cop in our living room.
“True. But she’s not here. You are. And as much as I hate this, I need your help.”
RJ stares at the cop, and I know he’s thinking it through, trying to figure out what angles he could be screwed from if this goes sideways, but even knowing that’s what’s going on, his gaze is a little intimidating. I’m glad I’m not at the other end of it. Finally, RJ holds out his hand, and the cop drops a pen into it.
With a swipe, another of my teammates is a rat. And I can’t blame either of them.
We’re not vigilantes. And if the names we give the cops fall through the cracks, well, I’m sure we couldfindsome vigilantes happy to help. But it won’t be us. We were always supposed to be white-collar crooks. And once these hellish few months are through, I’m going to enforce that shit if it’s the last thing I do.
I’m an artist, for all I’ve been forced to learn to fight.
Reed turns to me. “Unless you’re signing, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“You know he’s just going to tell me once you go.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’ve got to go unless you have some intel you can offer the task force as a CI?”
I let RJ make the call, and a nod is enough to send me back to my room, but my heart’s in my throat until I hear the click of the front door. We’ve sent yet another allied enemy into the coming winter’s wind.
Chapter 22
RJ
“What do you need?” I ask, leaning back, pretending like the back of my neck isn’t dripping with sweat from sitting alone in a room with a cop.
I can’t believe I just signed a CI agreement, becoming my own enemy. But I can only do so much. They’d better be able to do more.
Reed leans forward, and I’m glad for the table’s worth of space between us. “We’ve been tracking the names Clara, or maybe you, passed along this spring that are outside our jurisdiction, just in case they came for a visit. And suddenly, three of them booked flights into town the same week.”
“So?”
“So, we’re worried there’s going to be an event. Basically, an auction. And that can’t happen.”
I rub the back of my neck, not wanting to take on any more work, but knowing I can’t let this go. “What would you need me for?”
“Do your sources run that deep? Could you figure out if the worst is happening here and help us stop it?”
