Dirty War: Dirty Justice Book Two

by N. E. Henderson

  My sweet, sweet Gabe.

  What if he’s hungry right now?

  What if he’s lying in a dirty diaper?

  Or what if he’s cold or crying and there is no one there to comfort him? Nobody knows that he needs chest-to-chest contact to be able to get to sleep. What if—

  “Bri, dear. Are you okay?”

  I look up to see Mona standing next to the bed looking down with concern in her dark brown eyes.

  “I . . .” What do I tell her? Drago hasn’t mentioned Gabriel being his son. He doesn’t want to discuss it. He’s determined his son isn’t his. And a part of me gets that, but I know for a fact he is Gabriel’s father. And there is no amount of denial that will change that. “I need to speak to D.”

  “Oh.” She takes a step away from me, giving me room to slide my leg off the bed. “Honey, I’ll get him for you. You just rest.”

  Fuck resting.

  My head shakes on its own accord, disagreeing with her. I’m over all of this resting. I don’t want to see this bed, or any other, until I’ve worn myself out. Lying here longer isn’t going to do that, so I stand. I haven’t mentioned last night’s incident in the bathroom to anyone. I’m not quite ready to talk about it. I barely allow myself the briefest thought of the baby I lost.

  “I can go find him.”

  Jogging down the stairs, I ignore the pain protesting the jolts as my right foot hits every step. I shouldn’t be moving this quick, risking the chance of ripping my stitches. But right now, I don’t care.

  I’m done hiding away in his room. A room that’s been vacant of him. He didn’t come to bed last night or the night before, leaving a gaping hole in my chest. I won’t lie to myself and pretend I don’t miss the warmth of Drago’s arms, because I undeniably do. I need them—I need him.

  And doing what I’m about to do is certainly not going to bring me any closer to his embrace. That’s something I need to start coming to terms with. I may never have the security I feel when I’m in his arms ever again, but I can’t dwell on that. At least not right now.

  Once I reach the bottom of the stairs, Luca’s eyes pop up, landing on me from where he’s lounging on the massive sectional couch in Drago’s living room. Mia, his little girl, has her head laid in his lap. She’s napping while her dad is watching TV.

  Does he not have a job? It’s Monday, midmorning.

  Looking over, I see Caprice with a paperback book clutched in her hands and an intense look on her face. She’s biting her lip something fierce, so it must be good. But she’s far enough away that I can’t read the title on the cover.

  Noise coming from behind me makes me look over my shoulder, seeing the dogs race down the stairs. My eyes follow them as they run past me, jumping onto the couch and both plopping down at Mia’s feet. One of them—I don’t know which—lays down on top of the other one. D’s dogs certainly have personality.

  “Where’s your brother?” I ask, directing my question to Luca.

  “In his office probably.”

  I nod, looking around because I haven’t exactly explored much of Drago’s house, so I don’t know which way to head. Luca must read that on my face.

  “Down that hall”—he gestures to my right, toward the kitchen—“past the hall bathroom and laundry room, but before the garage. The door will be closed.”

  “Thanks,” I offer behind me as I head in the direction Luca pointed me in.

  D’s house is big, but it’s not as big as I originally thought. It’s actually quite homey. The living area and kitchen make an open and airy room with a lot of natural light. His bedroom definitely exceeds the standard of any master suite I’ve ever seen. It’s much larger. But what surprises me is that for a house this size it really doesn’t have as much room as one would expect.

  I’m guessing it’s custom built, and well, why wouldn’t it be? He’s the son of a wealthy man and runs a company that, even after all of my investigating, seems to be legit. Drago mentioned he found discrepancies in his logs and I have to believe he wouldn’t have divulged that information if he was the crooked one.

  I still wish he had given me access to them. Maybe I could have helped him sort them out. And if I wasn’t able to help, someone in the police department could have. Why D doesn’t want to help me clear his name is beyond me, but like everything else, that isn’t at the forefront of my mind right now.

  Gabriel is. And finding him has to be my only priority right now.

  Seeing only one closed door, I stop in front of the dark-stained wood.

  Taking a deep breath, I raise my fist to knock, when the door flies open and I’m nearly barreled into.

  I take a step back, stumbling as I try to avoid being run over.

  “Fuck, Bri.”

  Drago’s arm reaches out, wrapping around me and then he tugs me to him. Grabbing hold of his bicep with one hand, I fist the material of his T-shirt along his side with my other. When my eyes snap up to meet his gaze, I can’t control the gasp of air that escapes my mouth any more than I can control the heat that rushes to the surface of my cheeks, flushing me.

  For a moment, everything swirling around inside my head washes away and only he is left, taking up every crevice of my brain.

  Drago’s eyes flick down to my parted lips, his eye dilate, the brown minimizing as the black overtakes as if seeing food—or prey. His tongue juts out, wetting the lips I’ve so badly missed that I can’t suppress the whimper that releases.

  I want him. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted him before.

  His palm connects with the bare skin on the back of my leg just under where my cotton shorts stop. His touch is warm, soft, and gentle, just the way I remember. I had started to think the man I witnessed only a few weeks ago—the one that had made me swoon, seeing his son sleeping on his chest—was gone.

  He’s not, and whether he realizes it or not, he’s showing me the guy I fell for is still here.

  Slowly, his hand slides up, cupping and kneading my ass. I shudder as sparks pass through my body, lighting me up.

  We’re locked in a stare until the craving for more contact wins out. Unwrapping my hand, I slip it underneath the material of his shirt, flattening my hand against his heated abdomen. A rugged breath escapes Drago’s lips, fanning my face as his eyes flutter closed.

  “Bri . . .” he says my name on an exhale, making my insides dance with joy, knowing I still affect him the same way he affects me. I knew it was wrong to keep Gabriel’s true identity from Drago, but I did it anyway, and there is no changing the past.

  His head dips, lowering until his lips kiss the skin along my neck, nipping once and then he lightly sucks.

  “Mmm.” A moan slips out of my mouth as my body presses forward, molding against his. “Dra—” I start, but I’m quickly cut off by the sound of his phone ringing.

  He freezes against me as if only now realizing what is happening between us.

  A curse flies from his mouth as he releases me, stepping away. Turning, he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his pants, answering it as he stalks back inside his office.

  “What?” he barks into the phone as I follow him.

  Looking around, taking in the space, I notice it’s bigger than his office at the docks—and nicer too. His desk is positioned in the center of the room toward the back with a wide window behind it. The curtains span from the floor up to the ceiling and they are pulled open, allowing sunlight to naturally brighten the room rather than having the lights turned on. The lights really aren’t needed.

  There is a bookcase to my right and a leather couch with an unmade blanket at the end opposite a pillow, telling me this is where he’s slept the last two nights since I’ve been here.

  “I told you not to bother me with this shit, Rebecca. I’ll be back when I’m back. Stop questioning me, goddammit.”

  I stop following him when he rounds his desk to stand behind one of the two guest chairs in front of him. Bending at the waist, I rest my elbows on the back of the cha
ir.

  D drops his smartphone on his desk. A billow of air steaming out of his mouth follows.

  “What did you need?” he finally asks as he leans his denim-clad ass against the short filing cabinet in front of the window.

  “Just wanted to talk.”

  “About?” He grips the edge of the wooden furniture. Lifting an eyebrow, I look at him. “Not this shit again, Bri.”

  “Hear me out. That’s all I’m asking of you.”

  “Fine,” he bites out. “Plead your case.”

  I look down, eyeing the gray fabric of the chair. Now that he’s given me the green light to talk, I suddenly don’t know where to start. I didn’t give this much thought, which isn’t like me.

  “I need your help,” I admit. Those words have never been easy for me. I’ve always ensured I could do things on my own. I never want to be weak or be perceived as such. But failing that little boy that counted on me? It proves I’m not as strong as I thought. I do need help.

  “With?” he asks, skepticism evident in his eyes.

  “Put me in contact with Diaz.”

  “Are you fucking crazy?” His eyebrows pull together.

  “No. He took your . . .” I pause, reading the heat that flares across this face. He knows what I was about to say, and pissing him off isn’t going to help me at this moment. “Sebastian took that little boy, D.”

  “Not my problem.”

  “All I’m asking is that you give me a phone number or whatever will get me in touch with him.”

  “He shot you. No!” He shakes his head. “The cops will find the boy. That’s their job.”

  “And what if they aren’t doing shit? He’s just a baby, Drago.” I add that last bit hoping to appeal to his softer, caring side that he’s trying hard not to show.

  “What do you want me to do? I’m not about to meddle in LAPD shit, Bri. I have enough of your people constantly looking for the smallest morsel to pin on my family.”

  “He took Gabe for insurance to get you to bend to his ways. Whether you believe Gabriel is yours or not isn’t the point. Diaz believes it and he plans to use him against you.”

  “So, what are you fucking suggesting?”

  “We play his game. You tell him you’ll do whatever he wants. We—”

  He cuts me off. “I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest that right now.”

  “I’m sorry.” The words slip out. “You’re going to pretend? An innocent person’s life is on the line, dammit.”

  “And the cops will handle it. I’m not getting involved.”

  “He’s your fucking son!” I shove the chair forward, getting pissed off.

  “Would you keep your voice down before my family hears your nonsense?”

  Nonsense? He thinks this is fucking nonsense? What in the hell is wrong with him?! Just when I think the man I fell for is back, he’s gone just as quick as he returned to me. Maybe he never did return, and it was just my imagination making me believe he had.

  “Why won’t you believe me?”

  “I want to, Bri.” He looks up, taking in a deep breath. My eyes cut down, seeing his fingers draw in at his sides into fists.

  “Then why can’t you?”

  Blowing out his breath, he drops his head, glaring at me.

  “Because there is no record of you interviewing anyone the night you said you did.”

  I draw back. “Excuse me?”

  No record? That’s impossible. Every interview and interrogation is not only video recorded but also voice recorded. Therefore, I know there’s a record. Besides, I’m the one that pressed the voice and video button before I entered the room.

  Wait a minute . . . How does he know there isn’t a record of my conversation with Chasity Carlisle?

  He must read the question on my face. “I have my sources.”

  “Your sources?” I question. He turns away from me, giving me his back as if dismissing me.

  Fuck that!

  Rounding his desk, I snag his elbow, yanking on him. “What sources, Drago? What are you keeping from me?”

  His body barely moves. His muscular biceps flex as his head turns, looking down at me.

  “Doesn’t feel great, does it?” He doesn’t give me time to process where he’s going with this. “Sucks finding out someone is keeping something from you, doesn’t it?”

  Is he kidding me right now? His fucking feelings are hurt? Well, you know what? I don’t give a fuck at the moment. He’s a grown-ass man. He needs to start acting like it.

  I’m sure learning you have a child you knew nothing about is a real kick to the gut. But when that kid—his kid—has been taken by one of the most dangerous criminals in the country, you don’t act like a fucking kid yourself, kicking and screaming because someone kept you in the dark. You man the fuck up and deal with the here and now. There is plenty of time for him to deal with fatherhood after we’ve gotten Gabriel back safe and unharmed.

  “Grow the fuck up!”

  “Don’t you see this for what it is?” He turns, facing me.

  I step back, fearing if I don’t get some distance from him I’m going to go for the one place I can hit and bring him to his knees in pain. If he thinks I’m above kicking a man between the legs, he’d be mistaken. Right now, he deserves worse than aching balls.

  “I guess not. Enlighten me, Acerbi.” I use his last name, hoping to tick him off and it works. His nostrils flare.

  “You’re right about the boy being used. And no, I don’t want harm to come to him. But I’m not going to play Diaz’s, or the cops’, little games to trap me. I’ve worked too damn hard to make sure my father’s lifestyle doesn’t effect Luca or Caprice, and even Mia. I won’t let anyone damage my family any more than my father has. I won’t allow the fucking past to hurt them. And Diaz, your boss, or fuck, maybe both of them together are trying to do just that. One wants me to grant him a gateway to get his dope into this country. The other wants to pin something, anything, on me because he can’t touch my father.”

  I’m not so tunnel-visioned that I don’t understand where D is coming from. But to accuse my boss and my fellow law enforcement officers of plotting to set him up unlawfully, or even worse, working with a criminal to bring him down is too much of a stretch for me. I work with those people and have for years. Tom, although hard, has always done things by the book, that I know of.

  The cops aren’t the ones that kidnapped Gabriel. And it wasn’t the cops that shot and tried to kill me. It was a man that will obviously do anything to get what he wants. And right now, he wants Drago.

  “Did it ever cross your mind that your ‘source’ is wrong?” Maybe D’s source is in bed with Diaz. I wonder if he ever thought of that.

  “No!” he shouts, losing patience with me.

  “Then why did Sebastian take him? Why did he take Gabriel, something he thinks you value most, to hold over your head?” I see the wheels turning in his head. He’s thinking. He’s considering the possibilities. “Why, Drago?”

  Gabriel is his son. The first test wasn’t wrong. And neither was the second one I had done independently that nobody but me knows about. Even if I just defended my fellow LEO’s in my head, there’s another side that falters to believe Tom is on the up-and-up this time. If I just knew why he was so adamant about finding criminal evidence on Drago then maybe I wouldn’t be questioning my fellow badges.

  But now isn’t the time to tell D about the other test. He hasn’t fully accepted the possibility that Gabriel is his son, and until he does, he won’t listen to me. He won’t believe me—and that hurts the most.

  “Leave it!” he roars, confirming my thoughts.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  We both freeze. Drago’s eyes going wide.

  Oh, fuck. Did she hear us?

  Her voice is sweet, a stark contrast to D’s.

  “No.” Drago’s voice is strained. “We’re done here.” His head rolls to the side, looking down at me to make sure his words are clear.
<
br />   If he’s not going to help me, then I’ll have to figure something else out, because I am going to do whatever it takes to find Gabriel before it’s too late. If Drago doesn’t play his game or give Diaz what he wants, Gabriel will be of no use to him. With a man like Sebastian Diaz, there are logically two things he’ll do: kill a baby or sell him. And neither are acceptable outcomes.

  I train my eyes up, imploring them to show Drago just how disgusted I am with him at this moment. If something happens to Gabe and his father did nothing to prevent it or stop it, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive him.

  I turn, leaving hastily, brushing past his sister, Caprice, on the way out.

  8

  “Bri, wait up,” Caprice calls after me.

  I stop just before I reach the end of the hallway, turning to face her. My eyes automatically cut past her, eyeing the door I just stalked out of. He obviously has no plans of coming after me, fueling a fire that’s kindling inside me.

  “You and I really haven’t had a chance to talk,” she says quickly, sounding shy and unsure if she should approach me. She is different from Drago and Luca. Since D brought me home with him, I’ve kept myself tucked away in the bedroom over the weekend. I was still able to pick up on just how different she is from her brothers.

  “Sorry about that, Caprice.” I am genuinely regretful that I’ve ignored his family. They actually seem nice. Nothing like I first imagined when Tom assigned Lance and me to investigate D.

  “You can call me CC,” she offers in a sweet voice.

  “Why do your brothers call you that?”

  “Oh.” She giggles, her face visibly brightening at the mention of Drago and Luca. “It’s my initials. CC stands for Caprice Claire.”

  “Really?” It’s my turn to smile, realizing we have something in common.

  Her head cocks to the side, confused, when a bubble of laughter pops out of my mouth, releasing a little of the tension housed in my body.