“I’m staying here tonight. I’ll just be on the couch downstairs if you need anything.” He set my suitcase at the foot of the bed. Instead of bypassing me to leave the room, he stopped right in front of me. “I’m not going to let a damn thing happen to you Emily, so get some sleep. I promise you’re safe here tonight.”
I just nodded, but doubted it would make a difference when I closed my eyes. I wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight, if at all.
He gave me a sad smile like he could read my mind and then leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, before pulling away. “Your room shares a bath with Spencer and Nora’s,” he gestured to the door I’d thought was a closet. “Make sure you lock the other side if you use it. Mom keeps the cupboards stocked with extra towels and bathroom supplies, so use whatever you need.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
He started to leave but stopped short again and turned back to me. “Are you sure you can’t be talked into leaving in the morning with your parents?”
I shook my head, and he sighed like he’d expected as much. “I promise I’ll figure out who did this, and you will feel safe again Emily. I swear it. Now try to get some sleep.”
God, his promise tugged at some deep part of me and I wanted to believe him, that he could do the impossible and I would feel safe again. I knew otherwise, but I wanted to believe him, because I could see how much he meant it, how much he wanted to do that for me It caused tears to well behind my eyes.
“Goodnight Camden,” I muttered shakily, hoping he would leave before he could see them fall.
“Night, Emily.” He lingered just a moment longer, looking reluctant to leave me alone, but he did. He shut the door behind him and then I sank down on the mattress.
What was he doing to me?
He had me turned inside out. For a second, I had actually considered asking him to stay with me. How insane was that? I told myself I just wanted to be held tonight, but that wasn’t it, not entirely. I wanted to be held by him, even closer than he’d held me when we were dancing. It was foolish and crazy. Maybe I was still just shook up, but I think it was more than that. It was him.
The way he’d acted so fast, covering me when the bullets flew and then dragging me to safety only deepened the connection I’d felt building out on the dance floor tonight.
I took a short, but hot shower and readied for bed. When I pulled back the covers though, my brain felt wide awake despite the weariness that settled over my limbs. I knew I’d have trouble sleeping tonight, so I did what I did on most nights to try and distract and tire out my mind; I dragged my Kindle from my bag. It opened up to the second book in Michelle Mankin’s Magic series, right where I’d left off. I’d been hooked since the first page of Strange Magic and now I was dying to finish Morpheus’ story.
Lately I’d taken to reading more than ever before, needing that escape from reality.
Nora had turned me on to this author and this series, and tonight I was thankful as I got lost in the backdrop of New Orleans and the mystical culture that permeated the city. It made the perfect setting for these stories.
I made it to the end of the book, fighting the heaviness in my lids, and powered off my e-reader with a satisfied smile. I couldn’t wait for more, and that feeling of being so caught up in a story that you felt like you’d really been there and lived it with the characters lasted until the quiet of the house settled in my mind and I lost my grip on the fictional reality, sucked back into the here and now.
I wished I could just reach out and turn off the bedside lamp, but like always, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t plunge myself into total darkness, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that it was all in my mind.
I tossed and turned for a while before I fell into a fitful sleep.
As always, my dreams were dark and I woke feeling anything but rested. Just once I wanted Will or Aaron, whatever that sick bastard’s real name was, to not be there. I wished I could have one night where I didn’t still see him, didn’t still feel his hands around my throat. I was beginning to suspect that it was hopeless, that he would always be with me. I was stuck with him, never allowed to truly escape his grasp.
I was the last to rise from bed and go downstairs the next morning. I was slightly disappointed to see that Camden was already gone. I couldn’t even say why, or maybe I was just afraid to voice it, even in my own head.
Mrs. Shaw had cooked a large breakfast and fussed over me and Nora like a mother hen. Spencer took a call during breakfast, from who I didn’t know, but he pressed a kiss to his wife’s lips and was out the door as soon as he’d hung up. I knew Nora was worried, but that she knew she couldn’t ask him to sit this one out.
The two of us spent the morning cooped up in the house with his mom and dad. Our parents came by with James to say their goodbyes, and to try one more time to convince me to leave with them. I still chose to stay and once they’d left, without me, James went off to meet up with Spencer and be a part of whatever he was up to.
Mr. and Mrs. Shaw did their best to keep all of our minds off the events of the night before, but it was hard when it was all over the news and online. People were calling the house throughout the day, and both my phone and Nora’s went off repeatedly as news reached our friends and everyone back home who hadn’t been in attendance.
I could hear Nora’s other manager Reggie, through her line as he lost his mind. I half expected him to get in his car and drive over the mountains. Nora’s employees were more of a family. The only reason Reggie missed the wedding to begin with was because he had a teenage brother he cared for since their parents couldn’t be bothered.
I kept hoping Spencer or Camden would check in with some sort of update, but I knew it wasn’t that easy, that these things didn’t get resolved in a day. I just didn’t like the idea of people I cared about, out there with potential targets painted on their backs.
Seven
Camden
The vein in Captain’s head looked like it was about to burst. “Damn it, Shaw! How did this happen?”
“I’m telling you Cap, it’s not the Russians. There’s no way they made me.” Since last night I’d been going over everything from the past several months, trying to find any indication that my Deacon Boyer cover had been made. I was convinced last night’s shooting was unrelated to my case.
“Then how do you explain last night? I warned you about breaking your cover.”
“I wasn’t about to miss my brother’s wedding. I don’t have an explanation for last night, but it could have been any one of the enemies my brother has made. There’s no evidence yet that indicates the shooter was after me specifically. There’s no reason to believe it was a Russian job. None of the evidence suggests it was.”
“Evidence,” he scoffed. “What evidence? The few rounds we dug out of the dirt? We’ve got shit, and you know it. Which means I can’t send you back under. Not if you’re blown.”
“I’m not blown. There’s no way they made me. I’m telling you, these bastards trust me.” Captain Richards brow arched skeptically.
“As much as they trust anyone who isn’t Russian,” I conceded. Which wasn’t a lot. “I’m careful. I know how to do my job. I don’t even go to out to my mailbox without looking for a tail Cap. It makes way more sense for this to be connected to my brother, not me.”
“Or maybe you’re just in so deep with this one, you don’t want to admit it could be blown. And your brother, that’s another thing. I don’t need a bunch of mercenaries running around this city like vigilantes out for justice.”
“Someone shot up my brother’s wedding. Could have killed our parents, his new wife, his friends. I can tell you right now, my brother won’t be leaving this city until someone has paid for it. His men will stay with him, but they’re smart, Cap; they won’t go turning the city into a war zone.”
“See to it that they don’t, and if you get even the slightest sense that something isn’t right when you meet with the Russians
again, you get the hell out of there. We’ll get other opportunities to bring them down.”
“No, we won’t. This is our best chance, and we’re so close. They don’t let outsiders in. The only reason I’m in is because they need that club.” My cover was the manager of the only big night club in the city. “The Cunninghams have this city on lockdown, and I never thought I’d say it, but this time it’s working in our favor. With them shutting the Russians out at every turn, keeping them from opening their own club, it’s made the Russians angry and desperate. Desperate enough to make mistakes. Like trusting an outsider.” Because a club was the perfect place for them to move product.
“And I know they’re looking to start moving more than guns, drugs and hookers.” Word the last few weeks had suggested they were getting into human trafficking. “We have to shut them down before they can gain any traction in the sex trade. They get that operation up and running, I don’t want to think about how many girls they’ll move before we have another shot at taking them down. We can’t let that shit happen. The prostitution is bad enough, but we’re talking about college girls being snatched up, drugged up and sold.”
He let out a heavy sigh. He knew as well as I did that we couldn’t let that happen, that I would not sit back or pull back from this case. This was very much a college city, which meant it was like a buffet for men like Yuri Egorov and those that worked for him. We had our share of car theft rings and drugs and guns, but the sex trade was a whole other type of monster. A new level of evil I wasn’t willing to let into this city.
“We can always pull you out. Bust you on the charges we cooked up early and put someone else on it.”
“Damn it! We’re not doing that. I’m telling you, they don’t know I’m a cop. If you put someone else on it, it could take months to build the relationship I have with Alexei Kuznetsov. We can’t risk that. Give me a few more days, just enough time to find out where the gun drop is going down. We get them with the guns and we have them.”
Captain Richards didn’t have to like it, he just had to allow it. And I knew he would. As reluctant as he was to send me back in, he wanted these guys brought down as badly as I did, and even if he didn’t want to admit it, this was our one shot.”
We’d been given a blessing when we got tipped off that the Russians were looking to do business in the new nightclub that opened downtown. It was owned by some rich, dick who didn’t even live in Washington. The manager, Tony Dugger, he was just a wannabe hot-shot with a connection to the city’s low-life dealers and pimps and we flipped him.
He either cooperated or he got an extra ten on his sentence for possession with the intent to sell, prostitution, aggravated assault, assaulting an officer and a whole slew of charges he was dumb enough to rack up right when we were looking for our in at Club X. Dugger vouched for me, and the department, with the help of a task-force consisting of DEA, FBI and other government letters, gave me a new identity. One that would entice the Russians to use me in Tony’s place.
Right now, I was helping them run their poison through the club, and looking the other way when they brought in girls or needed to a place to entertain while they made deals and brokered new business relationships.
In the months I’d been under, Kuznetsov – the man in charge of the drugs, guns and sex for the Russians – and I had become drinking buddies. Got a few shots of that expensive, Russian vodka those fucks all drank in him, and he’d hinted that, like we already suspected, they were looking to take the skin trade beyond prostitution. I knew they had plans for the club. It was the perfect place to target young girls.
Everything I’d done, every blind eye I’d turned to their illegal activities was all to prevent that shit from happening. And next week they were bringing in a shipment of guns. It was what we needed to shut them down.
“Fine. We’ll leave your cover in place, but I’m serious about you being careful. Watch your back and pay attention for any sign things are going south. There have been enough deaths on the force the last few months; I don’t want to have to add your name to that list. We’re trying to keep the shooting last night under wraps and keep your name out of it, but if the Russians get wind–”
“They’ve got no reason to associate the name Camden Shaw with Deacon Boyer.”
“No, but if someone from the wedding, a family member or friend starts posting pictures from the wedding online . . .”
“I’m not even on social media Cap. You know that since it’s one of the stipulations of this kind of work. There’s no connection between my cover and my real identity for them to find, and no pictures will be released to the media. Our guys are already seeing to that and my brother will as well. Since no one was hurt, and no one is talking to the reporters, this story will blow over soon anyway.”
“I hope so. Like I said, I don’t want to lose another good cop to this job.”
I scraped a hand over my jaw. “How is Billy Jacobs doing?”
“No change. Still in a coma. Docs aren’t sure when or if he’ll wake up.”
Jacobs was a state patrolman that’d been shot on a bad stop a few months back. I’d known him since we were kids. Our dads had been on the force together back in the day. Billy and I both followed in their footsteps. Even though he was a patrolman, and not PD, he was still one of ours. They’d yet to find the bastard that shot him and left him for dead. It was a fucking miracle he pulled through at all. Now it was just a waiting game to see if he’d ever wake up and what state his mind would be in if he did. There was a lot of trauma.
“Any new leads?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
I shook my head, still sickened by the whole thing. “I hope they find that bastard.”
Captain just nodded. We all wanted the same thing. Killers going free didn’t sit well with any cop, but cop killers going free . . .
“They’ll find him and he’ll go down. You just worry about your own ass right now. Keep your head on your own case.”
“Copy that.”
I slammed back the last of the bitter brew in my coffee cup before pushing back from the diner counter and rising from my stool. “I’ll check in when there’s something to report, otherwise you know how to reach me.”
Captain nodded and I pulled my baseball cap low before making my way out of the small diner, my eyes constantly scanning my surroundings, looking for anything out of the ordinary – any eyes on me that shouldn’t be, any sign that that I was being watched or followed. It looked all clear.
Was I going soft? Was I getting lazy? Was Captain Richards right? Was I too determined to see this case through to realize I’d screwed up somewhere along the way?
My gut said no, and if I’d learned anything it was that if I couldn’t trust my own instincts, then I was fucked. If that day came, it would be time to find a new job.
Some days the thought of walking away from this life didn’t sound so bad. Constantly looking over my shoulder, always being on edge – it got old and tiring as hell, but it was what I’d signed on for when the PD recruited me from Vice to be their undercover man three years ago. I was familiar with the scum of the city and I knew how to blend. I was damn good at my job, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up, how many more cases I could take. How long before my soul was as dirty and tarnished as the guys’ I was busting?
This thing with the Russians though, I would see it through and it could be game-changing. I could probably take my pick of assignments, transfer to a new department, maybe even look at taking a gig with the feds, or just getting back to good ol’ fashioned detectiving. I chuckled to myself at that thought.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I recognized the number as the one my brother had given me this morning. We were both using burners, came with the gig.
“Anything yet?” I answered.
“Not on our end. Take it not on yours either?”
“My captain had nothing for me. They’ve got shit, just the ballistics and that’s not good for m
uch without anything else to go on.”
“And you’re still positive it has nothing to do with the Russians? I had my guys do some of their own checking on them.”
After last night, I’d had to fill my brother in on my current case. “As positive as I can be. Either way, I’m seeing this thing through.”
“Just be careful brother. You don’t fuck around with the Russians.”
“Always am.”
“Reach out if you need anything. You know Teller has more resources than the department. I know he’d be more than happy to lend them to you, especially since we’re all here anyway and so far don’t have any leads of our own to chase down. Everything we’re doing is only turning up dead ends.”
“I’ll let you know if I need anything. Right now I just need to know that you’re keeping Mom and Dad and that new wife of yours safe. And Emily.” Emily.
I hadn’t been able to get the girl off my mind since last night when I left her alone in my old bedroom, something I hadn’t wanted to do.
“That’s a given, bro. I’ve got them covered.”
I didn’t doubt him. It was the only reason I was going back to work.
We hung up and I cleared my call history out of habit then made for my apartment. I had a couple of hours to kill before I needed to head to the club.
The apartment I’d been set up in was nothing special – just a little one bedroom in a newer complex on the north end of the city. It was pretty bare except for the essentials, definitely not a place I’d consider home. I couldn’t wait to get out of here and get back home. I’d hardly spent any time there in the last several months, leading me to question my decision to even buy a house.
Not every case required me to have a fake apartment to go with my fake identity, but this one was too big to take chances.
To think, I actually missed the days of cruising the city in my soccer mom van, pretending to be a John and busting girls for solicitation. At least at the end of those days I didn’t have to come back here to this shitty, empty place.
Tears of Blue (Shades of Death Book 2) Page 6
