Luis and I both wrote down ‘barn lager’. For some reason it seemed familiar to me, and I kept circling the word barn.
“I think there’s more stuff missing here,” Peter said and chewed his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember what they were.”
“This was everything you found in the safety deposit box?”
My father finally made a noise, in the way of clearing his throat. “Hypothetically.”
My gaze found the ceiling and glared. “Hypothetically speaking, is this all that was in the safety deposit box?”
“Yeah. Except the money.” Darryl said. Peter slumped back in his chair and nodded.
“And there was no indication of another box?”
“I didn’t find one,” Peter said.
“Mine was empty.” Darryl shrugged.
“You both had one?” They looked at Luis as he leaned forward, and both of them nodded in answer. “And the other boy?”
I could see comprehension slip slowly over Peter. Moments later he picked up his phone. “Hey, kiddo… Yeah, we’ll be home soon… Okay… Okay… I’ll call Dr. Sherman later about—… Yes, I’ll call her later about your prescription… We’ll work it out… Listen, I—… Cai… Cai, stop talking for—… Cai!” Peter rubbed the spot between his eyes. “I need to know if Joe got you a safety deposit box?… Cai? Are you there?…” Peter looked up and nodded, slowly. “No, I’m not going to look into it… Yeah, I promise.” He grabbed his pencil and wrote the name of the police credit union and pushed the paper to me. “Okay, no one is going to… We can talk about it when I get home… Me, too.”
When Peter hung up, there was a collective inhale as Luis picked up the phone to obtain a search warrant for Cai’s safety deposit box. However, it was late and there wasn’t enough of an emergency to awaken a judge. Luis came up empty-handed, but with news that squeezed the breath from my lungs.
“They want probable cause to get into the box,” he said.
Christ. Unless Cai gave permission to examine what was in the box—and thereby maybe incriminating himself further—Luis was going to have to tell the DA the truth about the evidence at Alvarado’s house. We’d have to explain that Peter set Alvarado up and that we covered up that information.
I should´ve been forced to wear a full body condom, because I had now completely fucked my partner, Peter and myself.
Chapter Eighteen
Predictions and Predicaments
“I’ll speak to my clients alone now,” my father said. His inherent understanding the dilemma was a tribute to his skills as a criminal lawyer.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked, looking to me for an answer.
“We need a warrant to get into that safety deposit box. In order to apply for a warrant, we need to have permission or show probable cause. If Cai won’t give permission, the only way we can show probable cause is if we show there’s a likelihood of more evidence being stashed in there. Evidence that either of you, or Joe or Cai hid there.”
“Cai being arrested isn’t enough to look through it?”
Luis shook his head. “Not unless they could show he used the box to conceal evidence.”
“As in, he visited the box immediately after Iss’s death. That’ll take time, searches through security footage,” I explained at their blank looks. “Warrants aren’t all inclusive.”
Peter worried his bottom lip hard enough that I saw the imprint of his teeth. “This is stupid. Cai can just—”
“Don’t say anymore,” Desmond ordered, rising from his metal throne. Peter closed his mouth with a snap.
After that, the room stifled us all in an uncomfortable silence. Peter scraped at the tattoo on his hand. Darryl flicked his thumbnail against the back of his teeth. My father took in deep breaths and released them from his nose. Luis and I went about packing up evidence. My monotonous voice read item after item while my partner pencil check-marked the paperwork.
I was too busy trying to solve Peter’s problem to actually pay attention to what I was doing. Finding a solution was like trying to pinpoint the original design in a moving kaleidoscope.
Angelica and my father were going to encourage Cai to deny us access to the box. And Cai wasn’t going to take much convincing. He didn’t seem to want us in that box. Whatever was in there could link him to any number of crimes. It wouldn’t be much of a dilemma for Peter. He’d go to jail to protect Cai. It would be moot. We’d get into the box anyway. It would just take longer. Or maybe we wouldn’t. My father would side with Angelica in fighting a warrant on the box. She was a good lawyer. Either way, I couldn’t stop Luis from arresting Peter at this point, even if I begged.
“Item 43: Mexican Passport number…”
“Have you found all the people?” Darryl asked. Since I was off the case, and not entirely in the loop, I looked to Luis to answer. The rest followed suit.
He took the bag from me and checked off the list before adding it to the box. “Most of this group,” he nodded to the table. “Some of the others we tracked down were smuggled months and years ago. We haven’t had a chance to interview all of them. They all have forged passports and green cards, unlike these people,” he held up a passport.
Peter’s eyes were riveted to the evidence on the table. “Is that what Joe was doing? Forging green cards?”
“Joe and Alvarado, among others, near’s we can tell,” Luis said.
“So he wasn’t selling people?”
Luis was quiet, but all of us were staring at him expectantly. Except my father, who was taking notes on his legal pad. Fifteen-hundred dollars an hour, and he couldn’t afford a fucking laptop? “People were offered forged green cards for a hefty price,” Luis said. “They thought the money went to the cartels. If they couldn’t pay upfront, they smuggled in drugs and cash to pay part and went to work doing whatever Alvarado ordered to pay the rest. Unpaid labor for most of the men. Prostitution for most of the younger women and children.”
Darryl brought his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, hugging his legs a little too tightly. “Why didn’t they just go back to Mexico or wherever?” He had more of the callous attitude I expected from a whore. He was jaded and flippant, but he cared more than he let on.
“If they thought the cartels were running the operation, back home was more dangerous than staying here. Cartels don’t give refunds for unsatisfied customers,” I said drily. Darryl lifted his lip in a sneer and went back to pressing his mouth into his knees. “Traffickers don’t explain the contracts, either. People don’t understand what kind of work they’re going to have to do to pay their way.”
When everything was tucked away, my partner loaded it all on a dolly and took it to the evidence room. I waited outside the door while Peter and Darryl met with my father.
I was leaning against the wall, head back and eyes closed, when the brush of a sleeve indicated someone’s presence next to me. I lifted a lid, spotted Dave and smiled. “Thought you’d hang the other day and watch a game with me later. Where’d you disappear to?”
“Called away,” Dave explained. He rubbed the back of his neck and mimicked my position, eyes closing. “How’s the case going?”
“Just caught a break. Looks like there’s another safety deposit box.” Before I could start tapping my nervous fingers and toes, I stuck my hands in my pants pockets and crossed my ankles. It didn’t help, but at least the tapping was muted.
“Sounds like a good lead.”
“Yeah.” Dave stared at the opposite wall. His leg jittered. The nervous energy so mirrored my feelings that I considered he had bad news for me. “You heard something from Del and Marco on the Alvarado murder?” I fished.
“Captain already tore down the target sign on your forehead, Oz.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “I gotta head out. It’s late, and Marta wants KFC tonight.”
“Hey, thanks for looking over those papers the other day,” I called out as he walked away.
He turned, gave a tentative smile with
a two fingered salute and walked backwards a few steps. “Sorry I couldn’t find anything.”
“Dave?” How did I thank him for standing by me? While the halls were filled with disdain at my presence, Dave hadn’t hesitated to let people know on which side he stood.
Turned out I didn’t have to thank him. “Whatever, Oz, our bromance transcends your fuckups. Rockies/Padres this Friday?” He asked loudly, by way of announcing to the entire station where I stood in his eyes.
“Can we drink the beer this time?”
I received yet another glare from a patrolman passing by. Dave noted it and tried to grin, but his smile wasn’t reaching his eyes.
“You and me, a six pack, and your big screen.”
“It’s a date.”
“Quiet,” he yelled. “I don’t want the whole station to know I’m queer for you!”
I pulled a chuckle from the swirling depths of my throat and went back to looking casual while I waited. If I could make it through the day without Peter getting arrested, I might have to actually thank my father. I barely resisted shuddering at the thought.
They arrested Peter an hour later.
Bedraggled and Empathizing with a Cat. Where’s My Gun?
We had filled out paperwork for Peter’s release. The officer in charge of the arson investigation had given me an interview and us paperwork. The City Pound had given us one carry box, one demon and paperwork. The fire department had given us a list of hostels and shelters, the insurance company’s phone number and…paperwork. The entire day had added a headache, blurry vision and a cramp in my hand to the literal pain in my ass. I sat in the passenger seat, disoriented and anesthetized, my temple pressed against the car window.
It was dark and closer to morning than night by the time we journeyed home. Houses and streetlamps whizzed by in a blur of light and shadow. The past weeks of my life were an imitation of the transient scenery out my window. As was this entire day. Blink. Another scene. Blink. Another.
Darryl was driving. Peter was curled up in the back seat, sleeping off his arrest. He snuggled the box filled with the incessantly mewling cat. Darryl was the only one with energy. He tapped the steering wheel rhythmically while mouthing songs only he could hear. I was too tired to contemplate what that music was; and I was too drained to do what I wanted: to crawl back there with Peter and banish from memory that look of fear when had they cuffed him. His mask of indifference had fallen back into place moments later, but I would never forget the terror in his eyes before they shuttered and blanked.
Begone began to yowl. My ears made an attempt to crawl into my head, but I didn’t give in to the urge to scream. Or shoot it.
I know just how you feel, cat.
Lectures Make Me Hard
The parking lot behind my home was empty. Reporters would be back in the morning, but it looked, for now, like we had one less shit-storm to deal with. As I reached for the door handle my shoulders relaxed.
“I don’t know if you’re what Rabbit needs,” Darryl said, gripping my keys on his thigh and staring out the windshield.
“And you are?” I said, equally quiet so as not to disturb the subject of our conversation.
Darryl rolled his eyes and gave me a look of contempt. “You’re such an asshole sometimes.”
“I’ve been advised of that. It’s good to be consistent.”
Darryl smirked unexpectedly and dropped the keys into my palm. “I hope you’re what he needs.”
“Where do you fit into what he needs?”
He looked over his shoulder at Peter and smiled. “I used to be the one who took care of him.” If he was implying that I was the reason things were different, I wasn’t going to apologize. Darryl turned to me once more, focused. “Rabbit’s the rock we cling to when we’re drowning. He needs a mountain to hold him up, not another storm that’ll wear away at him.”
The poetry of those words shocked me. Not just because I had realized their truth long ago, but because they were in Darryl’s voice. “You should be a writer,” I said, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.
“You should be serious once in a while.” He grabbed my ear and pulled me closer. I let him, because I was too damn bushed to fight off a black belt in Jiu Jitsu. “Hurt him, and I’ll tie you up, spend days cutting your balls into deli-thin slices and feed them to that cat.”
I yawned in his face. “Honestly, it’s not a cat,” I insisted when he released my ear.
“Dare, knock it off,” Peter commented drowsily as he sat up and looked out the window.
The ceiling light ticked on as Darryl opened the door. Peter’s face was half in shadow, but the illuminated side was imprinted with my seat design. I’d never had the opportunity to think of Peter as cute. Right then, he was ridiculously so.
“Why are you grinning?” Peter yawned, managing to look even more adorable as he tried to simultaneously give me a suspicious glare.
“Darryl told me to be your rock. People say I can’t follow directions. I gotta disagree.” I pointed to my crotch.
Peter laughed quietly.
“Loser,” Darryl said and grabbed the cat. It yelped as he yanked the box. I opened the door and flipped the seat up so Peter could scoot out.
The driver’s side door slammed, and the distant echo of Begone’s howls told me that Darryl was almost inside the house by the time Peter gathered up all our paperwork and dislodged himself from the backseat. He lost his footing partway out and fell into my arms.
“Well, hello there,” I said, nose-to-nose with him.
His eyebrow shot up. “You’re really strange tonight. My arrest makes you horny and goofy?”
I palmed the hair away from his face and kept an arm circled around him. He smelled like sweat and cigarettes. I didn’t care. He felt amazing. “You look cute.”
“Fumbling and exhausted?”
“Vulnerable and unguarded.” He took that as a cue to mask his near-smile and pull away from me. “Shit. Goddammit, Peter, I thought we were getting somewhere.”
“We are. I just…things are happening so fast with you. I can’t sort what’s real from what’s just these intense situations we’re forced into.”
“Join the club,” I muttered.
I took a deep breath and shut the car door quietly, bending to pick up the papers he’d dropped when he stumbled.
He crouched down next to me, adding forms to the pile. “I like you. You like me. I keep saying that. Can’t we decide what that means later, in your bedroom or someplace quiet? Not out in the parking lot where reporters were, and maybe still are, lurking, along with ex-girlfriends, and friends.” He paused. “Ugh, Cai’s inside. With Rosa and Darryl and the FBI. Privacy isn’t an option, is it?” We both stood, Peter running a hand through his hair.
“Go back to the part about my bedroom.” I clicked the car alarm, tucked my keys in my pocket and used that free hand to cup his neck, pulling him into a kiss.
Still warm and languid from sleep, his body sighed into mine. His lips parted, tongue leisurely delving into my mouth as if he’d been waiting all day for me to take this initiative.
He tasted of apple juice. He tasted of cigarettes. He tasted of salt and sweat and every one of my fantasies. I sucked his tongue, my pulse climbing unsteadily. He moaned, and I dropped the papers to the ground, ignoring their fluttered protest as I held Peter to me.
The hot heavy sounds of our breaths, the feel of his body against mine, the taste of him, all of it overwhelmed the outside world. The night closed in around us, sheltered us from nosy neighbors and other interruptions. There was just us, molded together, with his hands on my hips and mine cradling his face.
My stomach fluttered with warmth. “Peter,” I breathed, tilting my mouth and capturing his lips again. He answered with a whisper of my name, fisting handfuls of my jacket.
His needy moans urged me to push him back against the car. I reached down, buckled his knees with my hands and lifted him atop the hood. His shorts rode up and my hands lingered a
t his thigh, rubbing up under the fabric, feeling the soft copper hair under my palms. He folded his legs around my waist, grabbed my collar and yanked me into him again.
I crashed into his mouth and met his tongue with a fierceness born out of weeks and years of denial. Seeing him spread out on my car, his stomach heaving with breaths, lips wet, eyes hooded and dazed; my cock ached with how badly I needed to fuck him, how desperately I wanted to watch his body jerk with the force of my thrusts. I shuddered with need, digging my nails into my hands. I took a deep breath and got myself under control.
This wasn’t about me. It was about Peter. My stone angel, battered by the world and refusing to back down from it. Peter, who never asked for anything for himself.
I took advantage of his vulnerable state to be the aggressor. Gripping the sides of his shorts, I jerked them down below his waist, pulling him to the edge of the car at the same time. His t-shirt rode up, revealing pale skin with sharp shadows of muscle. With a gentleness I didn’t feel, I traced each one with my tongue and dragged my mouth along the valley at the center of his stomach.
Looking up, I whispered reverently. “You’re exquisite.”
His muscles quivered against my lips; his feet dropping from my back as he curled his fingers into my hair. His throat moved in an unsuccessful attempt to swallow a moan; it was almost too loud when it escaped. Loud and plaintive. “So damn gorgeous,” I continued, gliding my hands further up to bare his chest.
“Austin,” he murmured, arching his back and pulling my mouth closer to his skin. The passive order drove the blood from my brain to my cock.
My tongue dipped into his belly button. He writhed in response. I kept him squirming plunging in and out, licking deep, until his moans became grunts and his hips undulated against my chest. Climbing higher, I tasted every freckle, every inch of skin on my path to the darker, larger brown discs on his chest.
He inhaled sharply as my teeth grazed his nipple, fastening his fingers into my scalp as I gently pulled the metal ring with my tongue. He panted each breath with every light pinch or pull of my teeth. My eyes flew up to judge his reaction.
Shattered Glass Page 28
