“Distracted?”
“By your brother. I could’ve followed you the night I saw you at the arena. That would’ve been it, but I…” I shake my head. “I let it go.”
“How kind of you,” he snaps.
“I’m not trying to come off benevolent. In all honesty, my boss is gonna be pissed at me. I should’ve handled business and this should be a moot point, but now I’m putting my ass on the line to intervene.”
“Why? Because of Paxon?”
Yes. Fuck me.
“Because of the circumstances. My boss, everyone I work with, we fucking hate trafficking and sex crimes. I think I can appeal to my boss’s sensibilities, but I need information. I can’t go to him and tell him I didn’t follow through on a hit because I might’ve heard some stuff. You gotta meet me halfway, man.”
Boone studies my face for a moment, then looks at Bouche, who is standing a few feet away, his arms wrapped around himself, his face a mask of tension.
“Do you believe him, Pax? Are you sure he’s not setting us up?”
I turn to Bouche too as his eyes settle on me.
“I wouldn’t have brought him here if I didn’t believe him.”
The tension in my chest eases slightly. At least Bouche believes me. I’ve ruined any chance of another hookup with him, but at least I didn’t kill his fucking brother. Small mercies.
“Okay.” Boone stands up and crosses the room to the dresser, where he pulls a folder out of a tote bag. “It’s all here. Addresses, pictures, text messages. I’ve been collecting it for months.”
“Why didn’t you take it to the police?” Bouche asks.
Boone scoffs, almost laughing. “Dude. The police? I’m sure you aren’t aware of how the real world works from up there on your hockey throne, but you’ve at least seen a movie or two, haven’t you?”
“Hockey throne?”
“Guys like this have cops in their pocket. I’d be dead before morning.”
“He’s right,” I say. “You don’t want to know how easy it is to get law enforcement to look the other way.”
Bouche exhales loudly. “Okay. What now then?”
“Let’s start by looking through what Boone has and go from there.”
Boone slides the folder to me then crosses his arms. “Have fun.”
I flip open the folder, noting how thick it is, and it only takes me a few minutes to understand how Boone became a target. There’s so much here, and it’s detailed. Faces, names, specific conversations, addresses, all of it. Every single player.
I’m aware that Bouche and his brother are talking around me, but I’m focused on what I’m reviewing and figuring out how to approach Shadow about this. What Bouche said earlier about how I would’ve killed his brother without a second thought keeps bouncing around my head. Maybe it’s time we were a little more discerning about the jobs we take on. There’s no way Shadow knows he’s dealing with major traffickers. No way at all.
Still, I can’t just walk into his office and tell him I fucked up but we have a chance to save the day. Can I?
This is bad though. I could tell him that while I had the victim cornered, he spilled all this information, but that would be lying to Shadow, and I’ve never done that. It’s a deal-breaker for him. What we do, how we live, it all works because of trust. I can’t break that trust.
I rub my forehead, thinking about the best way to deal with this. It needs to be soon, too. The longer we wait, the more danger Boone and the victims are in. I have to do something.
“Are you okay?” Bouche asks.
I look up, gazing into his eyes. The hate and anger from earlier are gone, replaced with something much softer. Fuck, I want to fall to my knees and worship his cock, hold him, inhale his scent, taste his mouth. But I never will again. There’s no fucking way now that he knows what I am.
“Sure, man. I’m good,” I lie. “Just thinking.”
“Your boss wouldn’t hurt you, right?” he asks. “For not doing the job?”
