Desperate Measures (An Aspen Falls Novel)

by Melissa Pearl

  “A different car shows up,” Alex said. “Groupo 55 members.”

  “Groupo 55?”

  His jaw hardened. “They have a growing foothold in the area. Mostly heroin, like La Gente.”

  “So they messed up the sting?” Cam asked.

  “They wanted to fuck things up for us. It was a power play. So they started shooting,” he said shortly.

  Cam’s mouth dropped open.

  “All hell broke loose. They come in with guns firing. One of my guys—my gang guys—is hit in the arm. Gato’s arm is gushing blood, and Rico is screaming at me to help, to do something. My cover is still good, and they think I’m gonna help. And I’m about to, because the whole thing had just gone to shit. Suppliers had already taken off when the Groupo car showed up, so we knew we weren’t getting them. Groupo didn’t stick around for long, and I knew it was just better to regroup, figure out where to go from there. To sit back and figure out a new plan. But then Rico goes to yank off his shirt—I think to stop the bleeding—and more shots are fired.”

  Cam’s stomach tightened.

  “My sergeant steps out of the shadows, firing at both of them. Multiple times.” He shook his head. “They never had a chance.”

  “Holy shit,” Cam breathed.

  “I freaked.” Alex’s voice rose a fraction. “Ran over to him and asked him what the hell he was doing. Lenny was still in the car—he was driving—and he tore off. Left the money, the drugs, Rico and Gato. Just took off.” He shook his head. “And I’m sort of panicking, because not only are these two guys dead on the asphalt, but my cover’s been blown, too.”

  Cam just nodded. She didn’t know what to say.

  “Sarge is freaking out, immediately starts trying to craft a story about what went down.” His expression hardened. “None of which was true. He’s trying to get me to sign off on the story before he calls anything in.” He paused, and when he looked at Cam, she shivered. His eyes were like shards of ice. “I told him no. We needed to report it, what really happened, not some bullshit story he was making up.”

  “And he didn’t want to do that?”

  “No.” Alex’s eyes glittered. “Told me it wasn’t an option. I told him I’d call it in myself. I wasn’t going to lie for him.”

  She waited, but she had a feeling she knew where the conversation was going.

  “I started to walk away, but he put a hand on my shoulder,” he said. “I thought he wanted to talk it out some more. I turned around to tell him that, but his fist smashed into my mouth before I could say anything. Total sucker punch, and it took me off my feet.” He shook his head. “I never had a chance.”

  Cam shook her head.

  “So he beat the shit out of me and left me lying in the middle of the road. Last thing he said to me was he hoped I’d come to my senses and fall in line. Or else…” His voice trailed off.

  Goose bumps sprouted on Cam’s arms. “Or else what?”

  “Or else he’d make sure I took the blame. And that I’d pay the ultimate price.”

  20

  Sunday, September 9th

  1:00 pm

  Alex watched as the shock registered on Cam’s face.

  He didn’t blame her.

  It would be unbelievable to him, too, if he hadn’t lived through it. But he knew it hadn’t been a dream or a misunderstanding; the bruised ribs and split lip and almost-concussion were testament to that.

  Sarge had been perfectly clear. Fall in line or pay the price.

  He’d left Alex in the middle of the road, doubled over, fully expecting him to come groveling back to him, meek and subservient. He’d thought Alex would just do what he was told, and to hell with protocol and honor and everything else he’d sworn to uphold and protect when he’d graduated the academy.

  Sarge had expected compliance.

  He didn’t know what Alex had lived through.

  What he was capable of.

  “How…how did you leave?” Cam asked.

  Alex looked up from studying his hands. “Necco.”

  “Necco?”

  Necco’s face flashed in his mind and it made him smile. “I didn’t know he was there. None of us did.”

  “Who is he?”

  “A kid. Not a full member, but a wannabe.” His smile turned to a frown. “Good kid, just determined to run with the wrong crowd, you know?”

  Something in Cam’s expression changed and he knew what she was thinking. Juan. His brother. As much as he loved drawing, he loved his older brother more. And Juan had tried desperately to follow in his brother’s footsteps.

  It was one more thing Alex didn’t know that he’d ever be able to forgive himself for.

  “So he was there?” she asked.

  Alex nodded. “He waited to come out. Was hiding in the alley.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He saved my life,” Alex said simply.

  It wasn’t an exaggeration. As he lay there sprawled out on that deserted road, Alex knew there were three possible scenarios that could play out, all of them ending badly. He could see his gang coming back, ready to confront him over his deception. Equally possible was Groupo 55 coming back to finish what they started. And he had no doubt Sarge would come back to get his final answer…and when Alex said no, he could finish him off, too. It wasn’t something Alex ever would have considered as a possibility, but the viciousness with which Sarge attacked him, and the way the rest of the unit had fallen in lock step behind him, not once voicing concern over the fact that he was beating the shit out of Alex, had sent an icy chill through his body.

  “How?” Cam asked. “How did he save your life?”

  “He got me out of there,” Alex told her. “I guess he saw the writing on the wall for me, knew things might go bad, so he called an Uber. Handed me a wad of cash—I have no idea where he got it from—and shoved me in the car and told me to get the hell out of Bentley. Find a place to lie low for a while. And to not come back.”

  Cam was quiet, seemingly lost in thought. He wondered what parts of what he’d just told her she was focusing on. He wondered if she believed him.

  He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. Hell, he still had a hard time piecing together the events of that night. He’d replayed it at least a hundred times, watching all of it as if it were a slow-motion movie in his mind, and it still caused him a moment’s pause. The screwed-up drug deal, he could buy. Things went wrong all the time, especially when contested turf was part of the equation. It was one of those variables he’d think about; in fact, he’d run through all kinds of potential responses to just that situation.

  What he hadn’t anticipated was having the sergeant in charge of the operation lose his shit and kill two people, then try to spin a story that completely absolved his unit of any blame. And then, when one of his officers refused to agree to tell that version of events, beat him to a bloody pulp and threaten more bodily harm if he didn’t get on board.

  “I didn’t know,” Cam finally said, her voice a little hoarse.

  Alex stole a quick glance at her. She was staring at the empty glass she was holding.

  “How could you?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she murmured. “I just… I should have known.”

  Alex knew where her mind was going. She was a detective; it was her job to track down clues, to figure things out. Even with as little as he’d given her to work with, she was probably berating herself for not putting together more of the story.

  “No one knew,” he told her. “You’re…” He swallowed. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”

  She looked up. “About the drug bust?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “About everything.”

  Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “No one knows what I do,” he said. “I haven’t told anyone.”

  “No one?” she repeated, her eyebrows arching.

  He shook his head.

  “How is that even possible?”

  “
Who is there to tell?” he countered. “My brother’s dead. You were gone. I left all my so-called friends behind when I left the city.” The last sentence was like acid on his tongue.

  “What about Mrs. K? Her brother?”

  “I could have told them,” he admitted. “But I knew they would be concerned. I didn’t want that for them. I didn’t want to be a burden to them, to have them worry.”

  It was the truth. Doug had become like a father figure to him, and Bev was like his own personal benefactress—minus the money, of course. They’d come to his graduation at the academy, and they’d celebrated his job offer with the Bentley police department. He hadn’t kept those things from them. But as far as they were concerned, he worked in the internal affairs department. A desk job.

  “So you’ve been alone all this time,” Cam said.

  It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. But still, Alex nodded.

  “Who would I drag into this life?” His laugh was harsh. “This is for me. My way of making amends for all the things I fucked up when I was younger. I did it for Juan. For the friends back in the city who lost their lives to gangs, either dying or ending up rotting away in prison. And—” He cut off abruptly.

  Another name had been on the tip of his tongue.

  He’d swallowed it down just in time.

  Hers.

  If she noticed him cutting off his words, she hid it well.

  Instead, she traced her finger around the rim of her empty glass, seemingly lost in thought.

  “Well, you’re not alone now,” she finally said.

  “Cam—”

  “Now that I know—”

  “No.” His tone was forceful.

  Shit. He should have known this was how Cam would react.

  She’d want to jump in headfirst. That was how she’d always been; why would he expect her to behave differently now?

  His insides twisted. As good as it felt to be able to confide in someone—no, not someone…Cam—it also ignited a new flurry of worries. The list was growing. He was worried about Necco and his safety. He was worried about the cops in the unit, and if they were going along willingly with Sarge’s decision or if they’d been compromised in some way, something that had put them in danger, too.

  And he was worried about Cam.

  About her safety, of course. That had been his main concern the minute he’d realized his decision to come to Aspen Falls had been a reckless, foolish one.

  But now he was worried about the lengths she might go to in order to solve this case.

  Because she was Cam, but she was also a cop.

  First and foremost, she was a cop.

  He could easily see her involving her department, or at the very least involving this Nate guy, and that could put Alex at risk. Hell, it could put all of them at risk.

  He turned his attention to her. Her eyes were locked on him, her brow furrowed, her mouth taut.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

  Did he run down the list? Did he spell out all the thoughts racing through his mind?

  He decided to stick with the easiest.

  The one that held the most truth.

  “I’m thinking that I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She blinked, the bluntness of his response clearly catching her off guard.

  She cleared her throat. “I can take care of myself.”

  Alex gazed at the beautiful, proud woman staring almost defiantly at him, as if she were daring him to challenge her assertion.

  He sucked in a breath, trying to quell the feelings rising inside of him. Admiration, tenderness, desire all stirred, threatening to create a potion so powerful that it might be his undoing.

  “I’m sure you can,” he murmured.

  Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. Her leg touched his, and even though two layers of fabric served as a barrier between them, it was like a red-hot poker had just singed his skin.

  She smiled. “And I can take care of you, too.”

  21

  Monday, September 10th

  5:20 am

  Cam didn’t sleep.

  Even with a generous amount of tequila sloshing through her system, sleep was elusive. The rest of Sunday melded into a mixture of memories and regret and false starts in the planning department. Alex had tried demanding that she stay out of things, had insisted that he was the one who would determine the best way to move forward, and all she’d done was bite her tongue and smile.

  There was no way in hell she was walking away now.

  Not after what he’d told her.

  About his own life.

  About Juan.

  Heck, even about Necco.

  She’d been a little shell-shocked by his story; there was no doubt about that. The news of the twists and turns his life had taken over the last decade had obviously caught her by surprise, but so had the revelations of how he’d ended up in Aspen Falls. More specifically, in her house.

  She shifted to her side, bringing her legs together to try to disentangle them from the sheets. A quick glance at the window told her it was still early; so early that the sun hadn’t yet crested the horizon. The alarm clock on her nightstand confirmed the time: five thirty.

  Cam knew that, in the grand scheme of things, her law enforcement experience was fairly limited. She’d worked at one other police department before coming to Aspen Falls, a small city near Mankato, where crime beyond drug use, petty theft, and assaults was pretty much nonexistent. And sure, she’d been caught in some hairy situations, especially since coming to Aspen Falls, but she’d never dealt with a fellow officer or superior who wasn’t on the up and up. Lance Gallston, the Aspen Falls cop she’d spent a couple of years working with before he went to work for the feds, was the best there was. Blaine and Ollie were solid. Even Jess had been, too. Nate wasn’t her partner, but she trusted him with her life. And Kellan, their police chief? A little shiver ran down her spine. Kellan had been through the worst of the worst with his missing daughter. Something like that could have broken a man, could have caused him to make unethical, immoral decisions as he searched for his kid. But Kellan was as straight as they came.

  Cam shook her head. Just because she personally had only good experiences to draw from when it came to her fellow officers didn’t mean there weren’t bad apples in the barrel. She could name half a dozen recent stories in the news of cops framing victims, planting drugs or other evidence. Of police pocketing drug money. Protecting their own when it came to domestic violence charges. Those things happened.

  But she was of the belief that those things were rare. That most LEOs were good, decent people. Like Nate. Kellan.

  Like her.

  Maybe it had all been a misunderstanding. Maybe there was more to the story, more than what Alex was telling her.

  But that didn’t make sense. He’d shown up looking like someone had beaten the shit out of him.

  Because they had.

  And she was pretty sure he hadn’t mis-ID’d the guy responsible.

  So if his superior had assaulted him in the middle of the road, what else was there to believe besides the story Alex had told her?

  Cam yanked at the pillow tucked behind her head, positioning it so she could sit up a little. At this time of morning, she knew her coffee wouldn’t be ready. Shit. Had she even remembered to set it? She didn’t think so.

  Her brain was still fuzzy with lack of sleep and the lingering effects of last night’s alcohol, but she tried to run through her options. What exactly could she do to help?

  Investigate, of course. It was what she did for a living, and she was damn good at it.

  But investigating meant asking questions.

  The wall Alex had put up had finally toppled, so she didn’t know if there was anything left for him to tell her. Who else could she talk to? Certainly not his sergeant, at least not at this stage of the game. And other officers in his unit were probably off-limits, too. The Necco kid was probably her best option. She just nee
ded to convince Alex to give her info on the kid so she could find him.

  Staying in bed wasn’t going to accomplish anything; this much she knew. Cam threw the covers off and reached for the sweatshirt she’d tossed to the floor. There was a definite chill in the air; not cold enough to turn the heat on—she always tried to hold out on turning it on, almost as if it were some sort of challenge—but definitely enough to put on an extra layer of clothing.

  She slipped the sweatshirt over her head, grabbed her phone, and pulled open her bedroom door. The smell of coffee immediately assaulted her nose as she stepped into the hallway. She frowned. The coffeemaker was set to start at six thirty. Had she been wrong about the time?

  A quick glance at her phone told her it was definitely not six thirty. But her nose wasn’t lying. Sure enough, a full pot sat on the burner. She glanced into the living room, looking for signs of Alex. Somehow he’d gotten out of bed before she had and started a pot.

  But he wasn’t there. Her heart rate kicked up, and she immediately became suspicious. Where the hell was he?

  She forced herself to calm down, to think rationally. Would he really have made a pot of coffee if he’d taken off in the middle of the night?

  Cam pulled a mug from the cupboard and filled it, adding a generous splash of creamer. She was reaching for the canister of sugar when she heard footsteps in the hall.

  Alex appeared a moment later, wearing nothing but the pair of basketball shorts she’d bought for him, and it was all Cam could do to not stand there and gape. They sat low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination. Even with the bruises now forming on his chest, creating a canvas of purple and red underneath his tattoos, and the thin slice across his lower lip, he was still the most beautiful male specimen she’d ever seen. His hair was soft and mussed, the stubborn little cowlick forming a perfect curl directly over his left eye, and his eyes, hooded from sleep, were still the most beautiful brown she’d ever seen.

  Stop it! she commanded, silently. Get a grip, Camila.

  She forced a smile. “Good morning.”