by M. S. Parker
He nodded. “I like the way that sounds.” He rubbed his hands together. “What do you have for me?”
I re-crossed my legs and tried not to scowl when he leered at them. “I actually wanted to ask you the same thing, Colman. Any updates on a deal for our suspect?”
I figured it wouldn't hurt to make it seem like I was including him in the arrest.
“If he can give us Leconte, he can get immunity for anything he says that could incriminate him. The DA's been after that guy for years, but couldn't ever get enough on him. Murray will have to give us more than just testimony though. He'll have to know where the bodies are hidden. And if that's literal, all the better. Anyone else he can give us will go toward the museum job we got him on, which means, if he has enough, he could walk away clear.”
I didn't even hesitate. “I can vouch for him. He’s willing to help. There's no violent history here, nothing to suggest that he wouldn't be forthright with us for a good deal.”
Colman gave me a serious look. Gone was the lecher and in his place was the man who'd made it to FBI supervisor. “You seem awfully eager to help him out, Agent Melendez.”
Shit.
I scrambled to cover.
“I just think that it'd be worth it to trade a single conviction of a non-violent criminal for a murderer and numerous other white-collar criminals. He's not violent, and some of the people he gives us might be.” It sounded so much better in my head than it did coming out of my mouth, but I couldn't stop myself. “And I think I have a connection with him. I helped Benita profile him, and he seems to respond to me better than her. I think if you assigned him to me, we could really make some progress.”
I forced my mouth to close before I could make things any worse. I could only hope that Colman would take it as me being overly eager to prove myself. I braced for a reprimand.
Instead of telling me how naïve I was being, Colman chuckled. Somehow, the sound wasn't any less condescending. Combined with the look in his eyes, I got the impression that he found my rambling...cute.
“I’d like to see how you persuade him to cooperate with you, Agent Melendez.” His gaze ran over me again. “I bet you can get any man to cooperate with you.”
I resisted the urge to rub my hands on my arms. I was going to need a scalding shower after this conversation. “I can be very persuasive,” I said, keeping my tone flat so that he'd get neither encouragement nor reprimand in my statement.
He cleared his throat and pushed himself off the desk, walking around to sit in his chair. “I’m sure you can be, Agent Melendez, but do you think it’s a good idea to take Mr. Murray into your personal custody?”
“I think it'll work better. He doesn't respond very well to Agent Alverez.” While it was true – mostly – I was glad Benita wasn't here to hear me say it. I had no doubt in her ability to eventually make someone crack, but I needed to get Colman to sign off on this so any private conversations we had would be above board.
“Well, it’s certainly unorthodox, but it’s not unheard of.” He rubbed the stubble on his weak chin while he continued to look me over. “I guess we can do it, but we’ll have to take some precautions. We’ll fit him with a tracker in case he tries to give you the slip. Once he’s fitted, you can let him out of his shackles, and we'll get him sent over to a safe house where the two of you can start working. I'll leave it up to you to decide how much of a protective detail you want on him.” He held out a sheaf of papers. “Here's what we're willing to offer.”
“Thanks, Agent Colman.” I got up and moved to the door. I almost told him that I owed him one, but I didn't want to give him an opening to even more inappropriate behavior.
“Make sure Mr. Murray understands the details of that offer,” Colman said before I opened the door. “Our first priority is Mrs. Backman's killer, and he doesn't get squat until that person is in our custody.”
I gritted my teeth. That wasn't fair. Bron couldn't control whether or not we caught someone. I knew better to argue though. I just had to make sure that Benita and I did our jobs. Whatever it took to help Bron.
“Yes, sir.” As I walked out of the office, I worked to pull my emotions under control. I knew that taking him into my care could be disastrous, but it was the only option I had if I wanted to protect him. Despite all that he'd done, I still wanted to do anything I could. I knew it didn't make sense, but I felt partially responsible for the person he'd become. No matter how ludicrous it was, I couldn't help but think that if I'd just found him all those years ago, things would've turned out differently.
We should have been together, instead of winding up on opposite sides of the law, but there wasn't anything either of us could do to change the past. In the present, however, I was in a position to help him mend his ways and walk away from his life without any new charges. A sealed juvie record wouldn't haunt him the way a felony charge as an adult would, even if the charges were white-collar crimes. This was his chance to change everything.
I could only hope he'd see this as the opportunity I knew it was.
Resting my hand on the handle of the door, I paused to take a deep breath. I'd done my part, but now the ball was in his court. Through all of this, I'd been assuming he was essentially the same person he’d always been. I saw now, however, that it was more than an assumption. It was even beyond hope or wishful thinking. I needed him to be the same person at heart, or I'd have done all of this for nothing. I needed to know that there was a chance for us to make things right between us. I'd put everything on the line for that chance, for that belief that, beneath the cool exterior and cocky smile, my Bron still existed.
He had to be there. I didn't want to think that I'd risked everything for someone who was too far gone to be helped. I could reach him. I knew I could.
I only wished that I felt as confident as I sounded in my head.
Chapter Six
Bron
After Karis left me in the interrogation room again, I shifted my weight in the chair and tried to stretch my back as much as my shackles would allow. Sitting in the same position for so long was extremely uncomfortable. Which, I knew, was why suspects were put in this position to begin with. It was all part of interrogation tactics.
While I hadn't gone to college – hadn't even graduated high school, actually – Uaine had made psychology a mandatory study for those of us he felt had real talent. Some grifters relied solely on their charm, but Uaine had known that understanding human psychology put things on a completely different level. He'd been worse than any professor could've been, drilling things into my head. And he hadn't only stuck with the parts of psychology that worked on marks. He'd prepared me – and a few choice others – for interrogation, both from the authorities as well as other criminals. His tactics had often been harsh, but they'd worked. I might've been the one chained to the table, but I was still in control.
Well, more or less.
I'd been essentially cornered in the room, alone, with the girl I hadn't been able to get out of my head, and while she seemed to want to help me, I wasn't so sure about the rest. I was also fairly certain her partner and their superiors didn’t know about our past, which gave me a bit of an edge.
It also meant they had no idea how much it'd tortured me to have to sit on the wrong side of this table from her. It wasn’t so bad when she'd been in here with her partner, Agent Alverez. Alverez presented a distraction, a face and voice to focus on that didn’t belong to Karis, but when Karis had come in alone, it was torture. She'd talked like we'd only just met, but I'd understood that. If her bosses knew we had a past, she'd be taken off the case.
Worse, she'd be kept away from me.
While I hated that thought on a personal level, now that I knew Karis had foolishly gotten involved with Uaine, I couldn't let her out of my sight.
I'd be damned if that bastard took one more thing from me. If I had to, I'd kill him to keep Karis safe.
I shifted again in my seat. My back was really starting to bother me, and
my shoulders and elbow had begun to ache from being stuck in the same position for who knew how long. Sitting like this wouldn't have been comfortable for anyone, but most places were made to accommodate people of average size or only a bit bigger. I was six and a half feet tall. Not much was made to fit me.
My body wasn't the only thing that was uncomfortable. The moment I'd heard about Leticia, a headache had started to form. My own self-preservation had me worrying about what would happen if they could link me to the murder scene, but I wasn't so self-involved that I wasn't upset over what happened, especially since I knew that it was my fault. She hadn't been a saint – who was? – but she hadn't deserved to die.
I'd been mostly lying when I'd first told Karis that I could help her find Leticia’s killer, but now I thought there might've been more truth to it than I realized.
There was only one person I knew who would've killed some poor woman just because I'd botched a job. Or because he was simply pissed at me more than usual. As much class as Uaine had in person, he had none when it came to work. He was ruthless in the worst possible way, which meant that the word was probably already out that I was in FBI custody.
This little side trip didn't mean my career was over, not by a long shot, but once I got back on the street, it'd take a bit of work to get things back to normal.
If, I reminded myself. Not once, but if. If Karis could work out a deal for me, I knew I'd never be able to run a con again. She might be able to get me immunity for my past, but it wouldn't cover new crimes.
That was when it hit me, all of it. No matter how this little saga ended, I was done. If I didn't have a deal, they might not have enough to charge me with Leticia's murder, but it sounded like there might be enough for the museum job, which meant almost certain jail time. With a deal, I'd have to toe the line.
Either way, my life as a grifter was done.
I was still adjusting to the realization when the door to the interrogation room opened again. This time, Karis wasn't alone. She held the door for a pair of agents who came in carrying a small box that I really didn't like the look of.
“What’s that?” I asked her, nodding to indicate what the other agents had in their hands.
“It’s a tracking device,” the younger of the two agents answered. “So we can keep an eye on you electronically when we can’t physically see you. It’s small enough that you can pull a sock over it and not have everyone see it.”
“I get that, thanks,” I said, not bothering to hide the edge to my voice. “But why am I wearing it?”
“Agent Melendez will brief you on that once we get it attached,” the older agent said. He tapped on the screen of his cell phone while the first agent got the strap fitted to my ankle. A moment later, he spoke again, “It’s transmitting.”
“Thank you,” Karis said. She gestured toward me without looking in my direction. “Now, his shackles.”
The senior agent fished out a key and unlocked both the ankle and wrist cuffs. I wanted to stand up and stretch, but I had a feeling they wouldn't take too kindly to me making any sudden movements. They were most likely in good shape, and neither of them were small, but I still towered over them.
“Thank you, gentleman,” Karis said. She gave them polite smiles as they left.
As soon as the door closed, I stood up. Karis raised her eyebrows.
“Sorry, but I’ve got to stretch my legs,” I explained. I paced a couple steps and looked around as if I hadn't seen the room before. “So, this is how confessions happen, huh?”
She laughed, but it wasn't the same sweet sound I remembered from our childhood. Not even the full, rich sound I'd imagined her adult laugh to be. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “I’d like to believe that people only admit to what they’ve actually done.”
“Why don't you have a seat in this chair for a few hours and see if you’re not ready to confess to all kinds of things you didn’t do.” I gestured toward the chair. “I’ll call your buddies in here when it’s time to let you out.”
She laughed again, and this one was more real. It felt good to see her truly amused at something, but it was followed by an awkward, uncomfortable silence that said we couldn't avoid our issues for long.
I rubbed my wrists where the cuffs had chafed my skin. I couldn't handle the silence, and I wasn't ready to talk about what was between us. “So, what's the deal?”
“I’m taking you into my personal custody for the remainder of our investigation. That's the first step in your deal. I have it all right here, and you can read over it.”
Her voice was cool and crisp, the professional Agent Melendez. Not my Karis.
Shit.
She wasn't my Karis, and I needed to stop thinking about her that way.
“If I'm in your custody, what’s the tracker for?”
“If something goes sideways, the higher ups want to know where you are. Sideways could mean escape, violence against me, kidnapping, any instance where you and I become separated, or I'm unable to report to my superiors for any reason. If anything goes wrong, all bets are off. No offers on the table. No more private custody. The gloves come off, and you go away.”
“And all I have to do is agree to help you with this investigation?” I asked. I'd read through the papers she'd said were my deal, but I wanted to at least know some gist of what I was looking toward.
“Well, to get out of here today, you have to agree.” She held out the papers. “To stay out, you have to actually cooperate. I’m putting my career on the line here for you, Bron, because I don’t think murder is your style. You're not messy, and murder is messy.”
That wasn't the reasoning I'd been hoping for, but I was glad she believed I was innocent.
“You’ve done your homework on me, then.” I gave her one of my usual charming grins, silently hating myself for behaving as if she was just some mark.
“It’s like I know you inside and out, Broderick Murray.” She gave me a grin of her own, but the ice was present underneath it. “But there’s just one thing before we go. We need to get a written confession to seal the deal.”
Oh, she was good.
“Not going to happen until I read this thing all the way through,” I said.
“You’re not getting your deal until we catch who murdered Leticia Backman, I'll tell you that much.” She crossed her arms, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You’re cute when you’re standing your ground,” I said. When we were kids, the gesture had seemed fierce and courageous. Now, as adults, I could see a glimmer of that girl again.
And boy did she look pissed.
My amusement evaporated. “We’re not going to find the killer in here, Karis.”
She glared at me. “I’m starting to think Alverez was right about you. You’ll say whatever you need to in order to get out. Hell, you probably don’t have a clue who it is.”
“I’ll tell you,” I said. “But I’m not going to tell you yet. Not until I have something in writing.”
I wanted to trust her, I really did, but there was no way I could trust the agency. I'd been screwed over too many times before.
She sighed and shook her head as if I'd disappointed her somehow. I hated that feeling, but I knew I had to protect myself. I wanted more than anything to not have this between us, but I knew it wasn't possible. Things between Karis and I would never go back to the way they’d been when we were kids. Nothing could ever go back to being that simple again.
“You’ll get what you want from me, Karis, but you’re going to get it on my terms,” I told her. It wasn't easy staying firm when all I wanted to do was kiss her again.
“All right,” she ground out. “But you are still in FBI custody, and that doesn't change when we leave this room or this building. If you put even a toe out of line, your ass will be right back in this building so damn fast you won’t even remember leaving it. Do you hear me?”
She was right in front of me now, looking up at me with those gorgeous eyes of hers. My
gaze dropped to her lips, then came back up, noting the flush staining her cheeks.
“Sure, I’ll behave.” I tried not to sound too dismissive or too interested. She couldn't know how much I wanted her. I needed to keep the upper hand.
She gave me a hard look, then started toward the door. Apparently, I was supposed to follow her. That wasn't hard. I'd followed her around for years. It was an easy habit to get back into.
Her partner, Agent Alverez, rounded the corner just as we stepped out of the room. She frowned at us, and I could tell she was trying to figure out whether or not she should put down the coffees she was holding so she could have her hands free.
“Talk to Colman,” Karis told her as we passed by. I tried not to make eye contact with the older agent. She’d made it clear she wasn’t my biggest fan, and despite her small size, she was a hell of a lot scarier than the other agents I'd seen.
I ignored the looks I was getting as I followed Karis. For a brief moment, I let her take all of my attention, let myself watch her the way I'd wanted to from the moment I'd seen her again.
Once outside, she stopped and turned toward me.
I glanced around, confused. “Where’s your car?”
“At home,” she said. “I don’t usually drive to and from work.”
“Okay, so where are we going?”
“A safe house, but first, I want you to tell me that name you’re withholding before we go anywhere.” Her hands were on her hips, a familiar look of determination on her face. “Look, Bron, I didn’t stick my neck out for you because I'm a nice person. I stuck my neck out for you because of who you are. To me. Not who you are to scum like Leconte. Who you are to me, Bron.”
My resolve wavered as my stomach clenched. Her words weren't full of passion. They were matter-of-fact.
But they were still there.
She cared about me.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “I know you didn't have to do that.”
