Hold On

by Kristen Ashley

  Garrett sighed, not about to get into explaining the concept of divorce to a stubborn man.

  He was done.

  “If that’s all you got, Justin, I got a killer to catch.”

  “When you come to your senses, Garrett, and try to get my daughter back, do not expect me to be your champion,” he warned.

  Garrett very nearly rolled his eyes, and he didn’t think he’d rolled his eyes since he was about twelve years old.

  “Consider me informed,” Garrett muttered.

  They stared at each other and Garrett did it with his face set studiously blank.

  He did this to hide the fact that he didn’t like this because he’d always liked Mia’s father.

  He spoiled the girls in his life, but he was a good guy. Funny. He told a great joke, was usually in a mood that could only be described as jovial, and he’d liked and accepted Garrett easily. His continuing to spoil his daughter when she was Garrett’s wife was marginally uncool, but it wasn’t heinous. And when the marriage finally disintegrated, he’d only sought Garrett out once to have a chat with him, hoping his intervention might get Garrett’s head out of his ass.

  That chat had gone entirely differently than this one.

  Garrett hadn’t relented then when McClintock had shown him patience and respect.

  He didn’t relent now either, and it wasn’t because McClintock had not shown patience or respect.

  It sucked that the vague but benign ending to Justin McClintock being in his life had turned malignant.

  But it was what it was, and frankly, the way father and daughter were behaving, he didn’t give a fuck.

  His phone beeped with a message and Garrett decided the staring contest was over.

  “Be well, Justin,” he muttered, turning as he reached into his jacket to pull out his phone.

  He’d taken one step away from McClintock when the man called his name.

  Garrett drew in a calming breath and turned back.

  “She loves you,” McClintock said quietly. “Loves you like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Out of respect for a decent man, just a shit father, he replied quietly, “If she did it the way we both needed it, Justin, she would have weathered the storm.”

  McClintock flinched.

  That got in there.

  Yeah, he wasn’t stupid. He’d raised a weak daughter. One who had no idea how to fight her own battles. One who had no idea how to hold on.

  Not all McClintock’s fault. Mia was an adult.

  But he hadn’t helped.

  “Like I said, and I meant it, be well,” Garrett repeated, then he turned and jogged up the steps so McClintock couldn’t suck any more of his time.

  As he went, he saw the voicemail was from Tanner. At the top of the steps, he slid his thumb across the cracked screen as he glanced toward Mike, lifting his chin to say he was ready to roll.

  He put the phone to his ear, moving to his desk to nab the car keys.

  “Merry, brother, don’t know what you’re doin’ but need you at my office as soon as you can get here. Found Ryker, or I should say, Ryker found me. He’s got company. They’ve all got a story to tell and these stories are ones both you and Mike are not gonna wanna wait too long to hear. Give me a call and then get your ass over here. They don’t got a lot of time and you need to hear it before that time runs out and they take off.”

  While listening, Garrett had stopped not only because he got the news that the vanished Ryker had resurfaced and all the other things his brother-in-law had shared, but because Tanner’s voice sounded strange.

  It sounded like he was close to laughing.

  He took the phone from his ear and looked to his partner.

  “Ryker’s at Tanner’s office,” he told Mike.

  Up from his desk, ready to go, Mike’s brows rose. “No shit?”

  “They’ve got someone with them and Tanner said we need to get there ASAP.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  They headed to the front stairs, Garrett texting Tanner, On our way.

  “Things go okay with Mia’s dad?” Mike asked as they moved down the steps, both their eyes scanning the area at the bottom to see Kath back at her desk and Justin McClintock gone.

  “No. But it went,” Garrett answered.

  Mike didn’t reply. Then again, there wasn’t much more for Garrett to say.

  On the sidewalk, as they hoofed their way down the block toward Tanner’s office, they had a brief discussion about the fact that they’d be swinging by Mimi’s to get a coffee on their way back.

  This being after Mike and Tanner hopefully successfully stopped Garrett from going apeshit on Ryker.

  They hit the door next to Mimi’s that had a brass plaque next to it that read Tanner Layne Investigations. The door led right to a set of stairs. The stairs led to a landing and one door, that door belonging to Tanner’s offices.

  They pushed through, moved through the reception area, walked into Tanner’s personal office situated at the front of the building, and both of them stopped dead.

  Even though he felt the pulse of alertness beat off Mike, Garrett reckoned it was only him whose vision went blurry with rage.

  This was because Ryker’s long, beefy frame was lounging negligently in a chair in front of Tanner’s desk and he was eating a Hilligoss powdered sugar, chocolate-buttercream-filled donut. The donut wasn’t his first, seeing as his lips were lined with sugar and that sugar liberally dusted the front of his black tank as well as the lapels of his leather jacket.

  He looked like he just got back from vacation and they were all there to check out his pictures, not like Garrett had been looking for his ass for days and in the meantime a woman who was linked, however loosely, to his shit got dead.

  But this wasn’t it.

  Along with Ryker and Tanner, who was sitting behind his desk, there were two people Garrett had never seen before in the room. A man and a woman. They were both in suits. Both trim and fit. And both, without a doubt, Feds.

  The woman was at the window farthest from Tanner’s desk, looking out. The male Fed was in the middle of the office, standing close to the final occupant in the room, which was the last part of what pissed Garrett off.

  Jaden Cutler.

  “What the fuck?” Garrett whispered.

  “Stay cool, brother,” Tanner warned, but when Garrett tore his eyes off Cutler to look to his friend, he saw Tanner’s eyes were filled with humor he was barely able to hold back. “And just to say, you’re gonna wanna lose it even more than you do right now after you hear what you’re gonna hear. It’s just that you’ll eventually find it amusing. Trust me.”

  Garrett ignored Tanner and looked to Ryker.

  “Been lookin’ for you,” he said.

  “Know that, bro,” Ryker replied casually through donut dough and buttercream.

  Garrett turned his attention to Cutler. “Been lookin’ for you too.”

  Cutler did not look like he’d been on vacation. As Garrett pushed through his anger, he saw Cutler looked wrecked.

  But he said nothing.

  The male Fed entered the conversation. “Lieutenant Merrick…Haines, I’m Special Agent Jeff Harleman.” He tipped his head to the woman. “That’s Special Agent Tiffany Faria. What we’re about to explain is need-to-know. Since you’re investigating the murder of Wendy Derian, you need to know. However, it would be a significant blow to our investigation and strain relations between our organizations if you speak to anyone about what we’re about to tell you. That said, our hope is that you won’t have to keep this confidential for long.”

  “We got relations between our organizations?” Mike asked a pertinent question.

  “Not exactly,” Agent Tiffany Faria put in. “Though, we do have relations with IMDB and they’re in communication with your captain. So, although the Brownsburg Police Department isn’t a partner in this investigation, those who need to know are aware of what needs to be known.”

  Garrett kept a lock on h
is irritation at the ridiculousness of how the Feds were communicating.

  Instead, he focused on irritation he was practiced at controlling, thinking about their captain.

  The man had become more politician than policeman. The fact that the Feds were operating even minutely on their patch and he hadn’t shared it with his officers was not a surprise.

  It was fucking annoying.

  But it wasn’t a surprise.

  This was because if he shared it with his team, he couldn’t claim total responsibility for whatever bust went down, even if the only thing he did was pick up the phone and listen to the Feds tell him to steer his officers clear of any part of the investigation they were pursuing.

  Yes.

  Fucking annoying.

  “Seein’ as clearly something that has to do with something you’re doin’ got Wendy Derian dead on BPD’s patch, how about you make us aware of what needs to be known,” Garrett clipped.

  He was speaking to the agents.

  But it wasn’t lost on him that anytime Wendy’s homicide was mentioned, Cutler, who was seriously unhappy, looked unhappier.

  Both Faria and Harleman nodded, but it was Harleman who spoke.

  “We currently have a large RICO investigation going against Carlos ‘Carlito’ Gutierrez.”

  Fuck.

  Carlito worked a wide area and only a small part of it was Hendricks County, a lesser part of that the ’burg. The Feds would follow all leads but focus on the largest part of his operation, which was in Indy.

  “This investigation has been ongoing for a year and a half,” Harleman continued. “We’ve made allegiances with a variety of players and one of those players is Mr. Ryker, who’s acting as a confidential informant.”

  Garrett cut a glance to Ryker, but this was not a surprise.

  Ryker did not consider himself a rat and he’d probably rip your face off if you even suggested it.

  As his profession, Ryker sold information and everyone was in the know about that. If you didn’t want him in your business, you did everything you could to keep him out. It was just that he had an uncanny talent for finding ways in.

  If he liked you, though, he protected you and kept what he knew about you close. He’d never breathe a word, not even under torture.

  Ryker didn’t like many people.

  And as far as Garrett knew, the person he hated most was Carlito.

  “As Gutierrez and Mr. Ryker are not the best of friends, and Mr. Ryker has a special skillset of which I’m told you’re aware, he’s been a significant asset in our investigation,” Harleman shared. “We were getting close to an arrest, and in order to dot some i’s, we needed Mr. Ryker to secure someone closer to Gutierrez’s operations. Mr. Cutler works with Gutierrez. However, he owed Mr. Ryker a variety of markers. Mr. Ryker acted as go-between, striking this deal for us that Cutler inform from the inside.”

  Garrett’s gaze cut quicker back to Ryker. “You’re workin’ with this guy?”

  “He’s a fuckwit,” Ryker replied. “But he’s also a means to an end.”

  “Fuck you,” Cutler spat.

  “Don’t turn my stomach with dirty talk like that when I just ate five Hilligoss, assclown,” Ryker returned.

  “Gentlemen,” Faria murmured warningly.

  “Obviously, no love lost between you and Cutler,” Mike noted to Ryker. “But maybe you’ll explain what end you’re lookin’ for.”

  “Not a big fan of Carlito,” Ryker grunted.

  “Not askin’ for shit I know,” Mike returned. “You haven’t been a big fan for years, Ryker, and those years runs longer than your deal with the Feds.”

  Ryker leveled his eyes on Mike. “Done dickin’ with him. It’s time he went away.”

  “This mean now, at long last, you’re gonna share your beef?” Mike asked.

  All attention, especially that of Tanner, Mike, and Garrett, none of whom knew what went down with Ryker and Carlito, which meant all of whom were curious, turned acute on Ryker.

  “He dicked with me,” Ryker stated. “You are in the know, bro. You dick with me, I dick back.”

  Shit.

  That gave them nothing.

  Mike wisely decided to let that go. Whatever went down between them for Ryker to get in bed with the Feds would stay where Ryker wanted it to stay until he was ready to share.

  Buried.

  So Mike turned to Jaden Cutler.

  “It’s clear you’re aware, Mr. Cutler, that your ex-girlfriend was murdered yesterday,” Mike noted carefully.

  “Yeah,” he grunted.

  “Do you believe Ms. Derian’s death has anything to do with your dealings with Carlito Gutierrez?” Mike asked.

  Cutler’s face got red.

  And it shocked the shit out of him when Garrett saw the pain.

  “It don’t got shit to do with Wendy the way you think,” he bit out. “Good through and through, my Wendy.”

  His Wendy?

  Garrett looked to Mike.

  Mike looked to Garrett.

  Garrett then turned his eyes to Cutler. “It’s our understanding you had ended things with Ms. Derian.”

  “Well, yeah,” he drawled sarcastically. “Seein’ my ass is in a sling with all this shit with Carlito. Feds up in my shit. Ryker up in my shit. If Carlito found out I’m a rat, no tellin’ what he’d do, just know that shit would be jacked up and it’d hit wherever the fuck he wanted it to hit.” He turned wounded, angry, narrowed eyes to Harleman. “Just like it hit.”

  “That was unfortunate,” Harleman muttered uncomfortably.

  Garrett felt that in his throat and turned to look at Mike, who had his brows raised and his eyes locked to Harleman. Then Garrett turned his attention to Tanner, who no longer looked amused and was shaking his head at Garrett.

  “Yeah. Fuckin’ unfortunate,” Cutler fired back in a way that made Garrett return his attention to him. It was also in a way that Faria moved closer to him and Tanner rolled his chair to the side, alert, in case Cutler lost it.

  “At the risk of this guy losin’ his mind, which, from what I’m gettin’ from this shit, he’s got the right, you wanna explain what the fuck is goin’ on?” Mike asked.

  “Stay cool, Cutler,” Tanner warned.

  Cutler glared at Harleman. Then he turned his head and glared at Tanner.

  After that, he stood down, doing that by dropping his head to stare at his feet.

  Garrett studied him, thinking if anyone had told him he’d ever feel sorry for that guy, he would have told them they were crazy.

  But at that look of sorrow, helplessness, and defeat, he felt sorry for the guy.

  “We’re unaware of exactly what Wendy Derian had to talk with Carlos Gutierrez about,” Harleman began to explain. “We have Cutler and another informant inside his operation, some bugs, and eyes on Gutierrez and his men. Even with all that, we were unable to hear what was said. We just know that Ms. Derian spent quite a bit of time hitting various players in Gutierrez’s operation late Tuesday night through early Wednesday morning until she was able to secure a face-to-face with Gutierrez. Their meeting lasted just over fifteen minutes. She left and did it in a hurry.” Harleman’s eyes slid to Cutler as he finished cautiously, “Clearly, whatever she had to say displeased Gutierrez. It’s our belief, at his order, one of Gutierrez’s soldiers followed her and wasted very little time taking care of what had become a problem.”

  At the last, Cutler’s head came up, his jaw hard, a muscle jumping in it as he pierced Harleman with his stare.

  “You didn’t follow her?” Mike asked Harleman with annoyed disbelief.

  “Ms. Derian was not a part of our investigation.” Harleman’s eyes again slid to Cutler briefly before he finished, “Part of the deal. She knew nothing of importance. She stays out of it. She stays uninformed. She lives her life untouched by this mess.”

  “That didn’t work.” Mike’s words were now just annoyed.

  Harleman gave him an aggravated look, but his stance rem
ained uncomfortable.

  They’d fucked up.

  Huge.

  Everyone knew it. It was time to move on.

  “You know what she talked to him about?” Garrett asked Cutler.

  Cutler looked to Garrett. “I disappeared. I broke shit off when we were good. She didn’t want that. I didn’t want that. She didn’t know any of this mess was happenin’. She knew I worked for Carlito. She was probably just tryin’ to find me,” Cutler answered.

  “And Carlito ordered a hit on her for trying to find you?” Garrett pushed.

  “Yeah, man, ’cause I disappeared. Carlito likes to know where his boys are.” He jerked his head Harleman and Faria’s way. “Assholes yanked me. Carlito no doubt got tweaked. Doin’ Wendy coulda been a message or he figured I shared and thought she knew somethin’. She’s sweet, but she can be not so smart. She coulda even made some fucked-up play, thinkin’ she could scare Carlito into tellin’ her where I was. Doesn’t matter though, does it? My woman is dead.”

  It did matter. The cop in him had a need to know.

  But the man in him looked into Cutler’s eyes and decided not to push further.

  He turned to Harleman.

  “Do you know which soldier?” Garrett asked.

  Harleman shifted, alert to Cutler but eyes on Garrett. “We know which ones were unaccounted for, so we have our suspicions.”

  “You gonna share those with us?” Garrett pushed.

  “Not at the present time,” Harleman answered, and both Harleman and Faria became more alert as they faced a room with a pained and pissed Cutler and two cops investigating a homicide with uncooperative Feds not handing over crucial information.

  “With chatter we’ve been hearing since Ms. Derian’s death, concerns we had that led us to yank him have been confirmed—Mr. Cutler is blown,” Faria told them. “He’s emphasized that he did not share with Ms. Derian he was working with us and we’re apt to believe that because, before Ms. Derian even sought an audience with Gutierrez, Gutierrez hired a man I believe you know named Ryan Danvers to surveil Cutler.”

  Jesus, Ryan wasn’t working for Ryker?

  Shit.

  Ryan had never said he was working for Ryker. Cher had. Ryan had just said he was working for a scary guy who he didn’t want to give up.