Jesus, God, just the thought of his fine boys, healthy and strong, made his chest swell with pride. It was a bit sexist, yes, to be proud as a peacock that he had fathered three carbon copies of himself. He was a bit old-fashioned, so there it was. No fighting it. And each one of those boys was destined to wear the badge as he did, as his father and his grandfather and just about every other Callaghan male had for more than a hundred years since coming over during the famine.
It was a fine tradition to carry on even if times were dicey. There was trouble afoot, a rot in the force that came from top to bottom and back up again. It needed to stop before it infected many more. He hadn’t thought he’d be the one to take charge, but fate had her way of grabbing a guy by the short hairs and making him take notice. He’d deal with it. He had to. The shield meant too much to him to turn a blind eye and let it all slide.
Tonight, though, was for his lovely bride of twenty-five years. He’d promised her a nice evening out, and he never went back on his word. Dinner had been expensive for a cop’s salary, but she was more than worth it and had earned every morsel of pleasure he could give her.
Now, a nice turn around Columbus Park and the short drive back to their tidy house in Charlestown and maybe he’d get lucky. Luckier, of course. Any night he could lie beside the woman he loved, secure in knowing she was there and the boys were safely tucked in their own beds, was lucky enough for any man.
Squeezing her hand where it clasped his arm, he looked down at her and smiled. Still, a man could hope.
Except there was trouble looming in front of them. In a split second of time, everything changed. Hope turned to fear as the man approached. There was nothing to indicate danger other than the sense that twenty years of being a cop gave a man. He started to pull Sheila behind him even before the man showed his gun. Too slow. Damn it all, he was too late and too slow.
Sheila screamed when the first shot rang out. Rory pushed her down and flung himself at the man.
He didn’t feel the first bullet or even the second, but his body seized and faltered and fell just the same. More shots and more screams. He twisted his neck to see his love and found her beautiful sightless eyes staring back at him.
No! God, no, it couldn’t end this way. He’d failed to stop the rot and in that failure had thrown his woman into the danger. He’d trusted the wrong men or tipped his hand when he thought he’d been careful. Either way, it was over.
As he gazed up at his killer one last time, he thought of his boys. He would never see them wear the badge, wasn’t sure they should if this was how it would end for them. God protect his brave boys.
Chapter One
Finn Callaghan jack-knifed up in bed, panting through the last of his nightmare. Beside his bed, his alarm screamed its way through his aching head. He slammed his palm on top of it without looking, a practiced move that silenced the damn thing.
Christ, he hadn’t had the awful dream where he lived through his parents’ murder through the eyes of his father in a long while. It didn’t take a psych degree to understand why it had come back to plague him. Today was the day he followed the Callaghan tradition and pinned on the badge. Of course, he’d think of his father, the best cop he’d ever known. Rubbing the palms of his hands over his sweaty head, he tried to calm himself.
His bedroom door swung open after a perfunctory knock, and his brother, Daire, popped his head inside. “Oh, good, you’re awake. Don’t want to be late for your graduation.”
“Seriously?” Finn rolled his eyes. “I’ve been getting myself up for years now. You don’t have to mother hen me.”
Daire leaned against the door jam and studied Finn with eyes that always saw too much, more than what Finn wanted them to see anyway. He was just like their father, which was why Daire was the second best cop Finn had ever known.
“Mothering is Ronan’s job. Mine is to kick your ass when need be.”
Yeah, he had a point there, except Ronan had moved out once Finn stopped needing the mothering. Or at least when Finn’s brothers decided he didn’t need it. By Finn’s estimation that had been a good five years after he’d made the decision. But there was no telling his older brothers anything, not when their parents were dead and buried and Daire had assumed the post of head of the family.
“Well,” he said, throwing the covers back. “I’m up, so my ass can remain bruise free.” He slid off the bed and yawned loudly as he stretched. “No way am I going to be late for graduation, especially because I’m the one giving the valedictorian speech.”
“And proud we are of that, boyo,” Daire offered with a grin.
“Thanks, and you can lose the Irish lilt. Our family left the old country more than a hundred years ago.”
Straightening, Daire shook his head and tsked. “You millennials have no respect for the old ways. Now get in the shower. I have breakfast waiting for you.”
Finn perked up at the mention of food. Even at twenty-two, he still had a ravenous appetite. The grin he shot his brother was genuine. “I’ll be down in ten.”
He followed Daire out of his room, then peeled off in the opposite direction to the upstairs bathroom. The easy banter with his brother had helped the nightmare to dissipate. The shower would wash the rest of it away. Besides, there would be plenty of time to remember his parents and mourn their loss as the badge was pinned on his chest in a few hours. His brothers had tried to dissuade him from joining the force, but his path had never been in doubt.
He was a Callaghan, and Callaghans were cops.
****
Michael Caruso walked slowly down the hall that stank of piss and tobacco, his gun held at the ready. Shouts and curses echoed from the first floor as other cops in the raid contained the perps rounded up down there. He was sure they’d find someone up on the second floor, although he didn’t know who or whether they’d prove to be dangerous, so he assumed the worst. His partner, Washington, breathed noisily behind him. The guy’d been nursing a head cold for the last few days and seriously sounded like Alfred Hitchcock.
Stopping beside the first closed door they found, he gestured to his partner with his head to move on to the next room. He pressed his ear closer to the door in case there was something to hear. When no sound came through, he grabbed the knob with his free hand and shoved the door open. He stepped into the room with his gun raised in both hands and scanned the area in a millisecond.
A terrified cry greeted him from the filthy bed shoved up against the far wall. It was the only piece of furniture in the small room. Michael spared its occupant a quick glance before he stepped farther into the room and took a closer look. There was nothing else there, not even a closet door. The space wasn’t a real bedroom, except someone had turned it into one, although not for sleeping. Once he determined there was no danger, he dropped his gun to his side and approached the bed slowly.
A boy lay curled up on his side, naked and covered with bruises. He couldn’t be older than fifteen or so, slender with light brown hair and wild eyes. He looked up at Michael and whimpered.
“Please don’t hurt me,” he begged in a rough and pleading voice. “I won’t fight any more, I promise.”
Slowing his steps, Michael held out his free hand in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. “It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a cop. The whole place is filled with cops. You’re safe. We’re going to get you out.”
Tears formed in the kids eyes. “You mean that?”
“Absolutely.” Michal turned briefly to show the boy his back, where his jacket said Boston Police on it. “See?”
A sob tore out of the boy’s mouth. “I can’t go home. They don’t want me there.”
“It’s okay. We’ll find a safe place for you,” Michael vowed and tried not to show how pissed he was, not just at the people who had taken advantage of this runaway, but also at the people who should have cared for the kid in the first place. He couldn’t believe how parents could turn their kid out just because he was gay.
; Washington popped his head in. “I’ve got four more boys down the hall.” His gaze flicked briefly over to the kid, and Michael saw the same fury in his partner’s eyes as he felt. God, vice sucked.
“Have them send the EMTs up as soon as things are under control down there. Every one of these boys needs to be taken to the hospital for evaluation.”
“Roger that.” His partner disappeared.
Michael turned to the boy, who lay shivering. “It’s going to be okay.” He holstered his gun and, pulling his jacket off, laid it over the kid.
He wanted to believe his own words, yet knew the sad truth was, things weren’t okay for this boy or any of the others they’d found in this house of horrors. Maybe some of them would be able to go home. Not all of them had been kicked out for being gay or any other reason. Some of them had parents who were desperate for their son to be returned. No matter what, though, the recovery from this kind of abuse would take years, if not a lifetime.
In the meantime, this raid had netted some fish but not the big one. There was still someone out there running the ring that preyed on runaways and sold their bodies to as many men as they could find. Until Michael got the guy and brought him down, he’d be staring at a lot more terrified boys.
****
“Come on, give me bigger smiles.”
Finn turned his lips up wider to please his uncle, Jack Malloy. He had his arms around his brothers, and their cousin, Regan Malloy, was on the other side of Ronan. All three of them were shiny in their uniforms, and he was proud to have them flank him.
Uncle Jack clicked a few times before lowering his camera. “That’s fine, then. I’ll have copies made big enough for framing.”
“Wait, Dad, take a picture with my phone,” Regan asked, holding it up to toss to her father.
Jack waved the notion away. “You know I can’t deal with those things. I have what I need.” So saying, he capped the camera lens and stuffed everything into the bag on his lap. Regan’s father was confined to a wheelchair, thanks to a perp years back who’d pushed him down a flight of stairs. That didn’t stop the guy from getting around, though, and Finn was touched he’d also shown up in his old uniform.
“Thank God,” Daire said quietly. “I love you, little brother, but I hate having my picture taken.” Daire slapped Finn on his back. “How about we head back home? Aunt Mary and the others have already left to get the food out.”
Finn rolled his eyes. “Seriously, you don’t have to go to so much trouble. It’s not like I graduated high school or college.” Even as he said it, he was secretly thrilled that so many of his family had come to graduation and were making such a fuss. He couldn’t help looking down again at the metal pinned to his chest. He was so damned proud of being accepted onto the force. There was only one thing that would make this day better—two things, people.
He had to blink away the tears that sprang up all of a sudden. It was too much to hope his brother wouldn’t notice.
Hugging him closer, Daire said into his ear, “They’re here. I feel it.”
Finn shot him a reassuring smile, although he wasn’t so sure his brother was right. He’d tried so many times to detect the presence of his parents, had lain endlessly in his bed late at night trying to see, hear, or feel that some part of them remained. There had been nothing.
Still, he honored them as best he could with what he did with his life. Doing well in high school, getting into Boston College, the family alma mater, and now graduating from the Academy and joining the force—that was his way of keeping them close. And halfway through college, he’d also done the one thing he needed to do to be true to himself, the thing he couldn’t do when they’d died. He’d come out.
“Come on,” Ronan urged as he clamped his arms around Finn. “I’m starving. Let’s go.”
Before they could take a step toward the exit, the police commissioner strode up, his hand extended. All three of the Callaghan brothers stood up straight, and Finn took the proffered hand. Sean Finnegan was Finn’s namesake and godfather and had been their father’s best friend. It wasn’t the same as having his actual father there, but it was a close second.
“Congratulations, Finn, my boy,” the older man said, his big hand clasping Finn’s firmly. “It’s another proud day for the Callaghans and brought tears to my eyes to hear you speak of your father.”
“Thank you, sir. I couldn’t not mention him.”
“Of course not. He was the finest man and best cop I knew. It makes no difference what some here might think. We know he was honorable.”
“Yes, sir.” Finn fought to keep the smile on his face. Although he couldn’t see his brothers’ expressions, he knew they were forcing themselves not to grimace. It was an infuriating fact that the rumors of his father being on the take and his parents being murdered in some kind of double cross of the so-called Irish mob wouldn’t die. He knew both of his brothers hadn’t given up trying to uncover the truth. He’d vowed to do the same now that he was a cop.
“Well, I’m sorry I won’t be able to stop by for your party.” The commissioner made a face. “I have to go to an event hosted by the mayor.”
“I understand, sir. Thank you again for your good wishes.”
Finnegan gave a wave and a nod to each of the brothers before striding off. Ronan made a rude noise under his breath.
“Political brownnoser.”
“Ronan!” Daire admonished.
“It’s true and you know it. He’s never lifted a finger to clear Dad’s name. Doesn’t want any of the stink to rub off on him.”
“Let it go,” Daire ordered. “Today is Finn’s day. We remember the happy and let the rest go for now.”
“For now,” Ronan agreed and, slapping Finn on his back, he said, “Food!”
Finn laughed because it was what his brothers wanted. But as he walked off with them, he silently agreed with Ronan. None of his father’s friends on the force had wanted to look too hard at what had happened. They were afraid of either being painted by the same brush or of what they’d find. The Callaghan brothers weren’t afraid of either thing. They knew their father hadn’t been dirty, and they’d find the truth no matter where it led them.
****
Washington’s sneeze was loud enough to envelop the lieutenant’s tiny office. Michael stopped mid-sentence and glared at his partner.
“Sorry, man,” Washington said through the wad of tissue up against his nose. “This damn cold keeps getting worse.”
“Maybe it’s allergies,” Lieutenant Bates said. “They’re wicked bad this time of year.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so, LT,” Washington replied. “Feels like I’ve got a fever.”
Michael blew out a frustrated breath. “Jesus fucking Christ, can we get back to the raid?” His partner glared peevishly at him and nodded. “Anyway, LT, we’ve got the boys under the supervision of child protective services. We can’t interview them until they’ve been medically cleared, then we need to make sure they have a lawyer present with a social worker or parents if we can get them here, and blah, blah, blah. Bottom line, we’ve got a bunch of traumatized minors and some low level pimps and enforcers from whom we’ve sweated as much information as we can, and we’re still no closer to nailing the guy in charge than we were when we started.”
“I thought your informer said the guy would be there.”
Michael paced a circle in the small space. “That’s what he said, and he’s a reliable snitch. We found one room in that piece-of-crap house that didn’t need to be fumigated. It was done up a little nicer than the other rooms and looked like it had been recently occupied, given the sheets were rumpled and warm. My guess is the asshole got tipped off and ran right before we got there.”
“Leaving his people behind? Sounds stupid to me. Why aren’t any of them rolling on him?”
Another loud sneeze from Washington startled Michael. He grimaced at his partner, who shrugged. The poor guy did look a little glassy-eyed and sweaty.
“Given that we’ve stumbled over more than one dead body in this investigation, I’m thinking they’re too scared to give him up. And we certainly had our hands full with who we found, so if he had left recently, we didn’t notice.”
The lieutenant sighed and tipped his head back to gaze at the ceiling. “Where exactly does this leave us?”
Michael took a second to marshal his thoughts. He’d been pondering his next move for hours. He thought he had an idea that would work. “I want to try sending someone in undercover.”
“You mean have someone infiltrate the organization?”
“No, sir. It would take forever to get someone to a point of being trusted. This guy hasn’t been successful by taking chances. I was thinking of getting someone in from the other end of the operation. According to the boys we’ve rescued, once a boy is considered to be ‘broken,’ if you will, cowed into submission and at least no longer fighting them, they may get sent to spend time with the top man. Apparently he likes to consume what he sells. He’s picky, though. He takes only the best looking boys, and he never spends more than a night or two with one. Most of the time, he comes to them. Rumor has it, though, once in a while a boy is sent to him. We just haven’t managed to find any of those boys or at least none that will admit to it.”
“I’m not following you.”
Michael licked his upper lip. “Have someone pose as a runaway and maneuver to get him recruited by one of the pimp’s boys.”
Bates stared at him for several seconds with eyebrows raised. “You’re looking for a cop to pose as a teenage boy?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve done it before with high school drug stings. We just need someone who looks sixteen or so and attractive enough to catch his attention. This fucker preys on boys much younger, but some of them are close to twenty. As long as they look young enough to the johns, they keep them on the string.”
Bates nodded. “Okay, I can see it. It’s worth a try.”
“Yeah, but there’s one more thing, LT.” A small knot of apprehension formed in Michael’s stomach. This was the tricky part. He knew he was right, though. “We need to pick a rookie, someone not known to a lot of the detectives and uniforms.”
Double The Risk Page 15
