Redemption (Fateful Justice Book 2)

by Sara Vinduska

  Schenkelberger was a good man, but he wasn’t the man on site. The idea was so absurd he couldn’t help but laugh, which only made the situation worse, but he just didn’t give a shit. He hung up on Schenkelberger.

  Officer Rorbach couldn’t contain his rage. The main object of that anger was Adam Bishop for getting him into this mess in the first place, but Adam wasn’t here. His gaze focused on Lash Brogan. The son of a bitch should be dead right now. And yet, there he stood, larger than life. While Rorbach’s own life was going to shit.

  Lash didn’t like how the young cop was looking at him. He’d seen him before around the set, knew he was one of the ones that had gone after Hoyt. The guy had a serious attitude problem and Lash sure as hell didn’t need any shit from him right now. Things were bad enough on set after his accident.

  Lash turned his back and started talking to Guy. He heard the cop pushing his way through the crowd towards him. He took a breath, bracing himself.

  “Where’s your murdering bodyguard?” the cop asked. “Oh yeah, he’s rotting in my jail. Although, rumor has it, you really don’t need protection, seeing as how you’re plenty capable with a weapon.”

  Lash took another breath and turned. “You don’t want to start this,” he said through clenched teeth.

  The cop grinned, rocked back on his heels. “Just trying to have a conversation here.”

  “Conversation is over,” Lash said, and started to turn away.

  “Killer,” the cop muttered under his breath.

  “Don’t,” Guy said, seeing the look in Lash’s eyes.

  And Lash knew it was the wrong thing to do, knew there were too many people around, knew the son of a bitch wasn’t worth it. But he couldn’t stop the white hot rage inside. He couldn’t let it go.

  He whirled around. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me. Killer.”

  All the frustration and anger he’d been feeling the past few weeks overwhelmed him. Lash landed the punch before the cop had finished the word.

  The cop stepped back, rubbing his jaw. “I think you just assaulted an officer of the law.”

  “A poor excuse for one, you mean.”

  The cop’s eyes flashed and he lunged forward, his right fist coming fast at Lash’s head. Lash ducked and kicked out, knocking the cop’s feet out from under him. He stood over him. “The first one was for me. This one’s for John Hoyt,” he said, kicking him in the stomach. Then he bent down and punched him in the face again. “And that one’s for being an asshole.”

  By that time, Guy, Rafe, and several others had started trying to pull them apart. Ward arrived minutes later. Rafe didn’t say a word. Ward put a hand on Lash’s arm, led him away.

  As soon as they were away from the crowd, Ward stopped and turned towards Lash, his eyes narrowed. “I know the guy deserved it, but you should know better. There’s bound to be someone who got footage of this and that’s the last damned thing any of us need right now.”

  Lash ran a hand through his hair. “I know it, Ward.” He paced. “I couldn’t let it go.”

  “What he did to Hoyt?”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “And?” Ward asked, exasperated.

  “He called me a killer. And I know I should have walked away, but I couldn’t.”

  Ward nodded. He certainly understood the negative connotation that went along with justified shootings. “Alright. Stay here. Let me see if I can keep your ass out of jail.”

  Calhoun made his way through the gathered crowd to where Officer Rorbach stood, a smug smile on his face.

  “Oh look, it’s the big bad FBI agent here to throw his weight around.”

  Calhoun fought the urge to deck the cop himself. “That’s real funny, Rorbach.”

  “So’s the fact that your leading man is going to jail.”

  Calhoun grabbed the other man’s arm, led him away a few steps. “Let’s get the facts straight. I’ve talked to witnesses who state you clearly provoked Mr. Brogan. You need to let this go.”

  “I was attacked.”

  Calhoun leaned into the other man’s space. “Trust me when I say you do not want to make an issue out of this.”

  “Are you threatening a fellow officer of the law?”

  “I promise you, you’re not ready to deal with the ramifications of pursuing this.”

  Rafe walked up to Lash, shook his head, and stood next to him, arms crossed across his chest as Calhoun finished dealing with the asshole cop.

  Chief Devane arrived on scene and grabbed his officer by the elbow. Rorbach’s face reddened as Devane told him to back the fuck off, one of the few right things he’d done in Ward’s opinion.

  Ward ran into Lauren on his way back into the hotel. “Drink?” she asked. “Looks like you could use one.”

  He nodded and followed her into the hotel bar.

  “Anything new?” Ward asked Lauren after she’d taken a sip of her wine.

  “Not much. I talked to Guy for quite a while this afternoon. How about you?”

  Ward rubbed his forehead. “All in all, a pretty uneventful day. Until Brogan decided to get into a fist fight with one of the local cops.”

  Lauren raised an eyebrow. “Is he okay?”

  “Better than Officer Rorbach.”

  “Was he provoked?”

  “No doubt about that. And I get it, but he’s got to learn to control his emotions. Especially now. The last thing we need is more bad publicity on the set.”

  Lauren kept her gaze focused on the wine in her glass. She took a long sip. “Anything else?” she asked, ready to change the subject.

  “Nothing of importance. Refill?”

  Lauren shook her head. “I need to get some sleep.” And check on Lash, she thought.

  She finished her wine and left the bar, then took the elevator straight up to the penthouse level.

  Lash opened the door with a scowl on his face and an ice pack held to his hand. “Not really a good time,” he said.

  Lauren walked into his room anyway, shut the door behind her. “Let me see,” she said, nodding at his hand.

  He sighed, lifted the ice pack, revealing cut and bruised knuckles.

  She looked from his hand to his face, her face soft and full of compassion. “I’m not here to lecture you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  He sighed. “I’m fine.”

  “Really?” she raised an eyebrow.

  He held her steady gaze. “No, Lauren, I’m not fine. I’m pissed off and I’m not sorry.”

  She took his hand, her lips grazing his injured knuckles. “I’m not sorry either.”

  His eyes searched her face, then he grinned, pulling her close. “Thank you for turning a really shitty day into a very promising evening.”

  27

  “I told you this was a bad idea,” Rafe muttered as he floored the limo, trying to lose the reporters that had been following them since they’d left the hotel.

  “Just don’t get pulled over,” Lash responded. “Can’t have both my bodyguards behind bars.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the police station’s parking lot with no sign of the reporters.

  Lash ignored the hard stares of the officers inside as they were led to the back of the building.

  “You really shouldn’t be here,” Hoyt said to Lash through the bars that separated them.

  “Wow, I expected a warmer welcome than that.”

  “The press don’t need shots of you here.”

  “Fuck them. You okay?”

  Hoyt ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, just great. Where’s Rafe?”

  “Outside the door.”

  “How’s Mark?” Hoyt asked.

  Lash swallowed hard. “Alive. But not good.” He watched Hoyt pace on the other side of the bars.

  Hoyt stopped moving, looking like he wanted to punch the cement wall. “I can’t do my fucking job in a cell.”

  “Ward will get you out.”

  “Yeah. Tell
me what happened with the car.”

  Lash relayed the details of the most recent event to threaten his life.

  Hoyt sighed. “Have you thought about calling it and going home?”

  Lash’s jaw tightened. “Not going to happen.”

  Hoyt smiled. “That’s what I figured.”

  Lash shook his hand through the bars. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Rafe was waiting for him on the other side of the locked door. The instant they stepped outside, two photographers jumped out of hiding and started snapping away.

  Lash cursed and took a step in their direction before being halted by Rafe’s firm grasp on his arm.

  “Not what we need right now,” the bodyguard said.

  Lash reluctantly turned away and followed Rafe to the car.

  Once they were back on the road, Lash leaned his head back and let out a sigh. “Thanks,” he said.

  “For what?” Rafe asked.

  “For keeping me in line. Sometimes I have a tendency to not act in my own best interest.”

  Rafe chuckled. “I can relate. And you’re welcome.”

  Ward was back at the station early the next morning.

  The chief glanced up from his desk, looked contemplative. “Maybe we could work out a trade. I let the bodyguard go and bring in Brogan for questioning.”

  “You can’t possibly think he’s involved in any of this, he was nearly killed in that wreck.”

  “He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

  Ward paced the small office, trying to get a grip on his anger. He stopped, crossed his arms, and glared down at the chief. “I was there, Devane, Lash damn near did die. Now I’m telling you, Lash Brogan is nothing more than one of this bastard’s victims.” He leaned down over the desk. “And make no mistake about it, I will catch this guy with or without your help.”

  “I think we’re going to have to hold Mr. Hoyt another night.”

  Ward put his hands down on Devane’s desk. “Bullshit. The body was a plant and we both know it. He’s coming with me.”

  Devane glared up at him. “His partner’s got a record.”

  Ward took a chance. “That was a long time ago.”

  “It’s not a big stretch to assume they’re working together.”

  “You really don’t want to fight me on this.”

  The cop must have seen something in Ward’s eyes because he stood and went to get Hoyt himself.

  He unlocked the cuffs from around Hoyt’s wrists and gave him a push towards Ward.

  Other than a small tick in Hoyt’s jaw, he gave no outward sign of his emotions. They walked in silence toward Ward’s car. Neither spoke until they were several miles away.

  “I hate that goddamn town,” Hoyt said.

  “Can’t say that I blame you.” Ward paused, glanced at Hoyt who was staring out the passenger window, jaw clenched.

  “I know you were on your way to see Millosky when you got pulled over. Maybe this was a play to get you to back off. I think we should lay low for a little while, observe what happens.”

  Hoyt grunted in response.

  28

  Hoyt couldn’t help but check the rearview mirror behind him as he drove to pick up Lash. At least he was out of jail and back to work. No thanks to the asshole cops. He didn’t fully relax until he’d parked the car at the hotel.

  “Good to see you on the right side of the bars,” Lash said, when he answered the door.

  “Yeah, that was a first for me.”

  Lash grinned. “And hopefully a last.”

  “Well, let’s get you to the set.”

  Lash shut the door, clasped Hoyt’s shoulder. “Damn good to have you back.”

  An hour later, Lash was trying his best to concentrate on learning his lines. He looked down at the printed pages, not seeing the words. He glanced at the clock. Calhoun had told him they were pulling the car out of the water this afternoon. He wanted to be there. Wanted to know for sure if the car had been sabotaged, if someone had wanted him to wreck.

  He rubbed his forehead. He had rehearsal in three hours. People were depending on him.

  Lash was all too aware that this movie was important for his career. It was his first lead role in a long time. Since before Justine, his mind added. In this industry, especially at his level, he needed a big hit soon to keep the momentum going. And he wanted to accept that damned Academy Award.

  He refused to think about it as a comeback role. It wasn’t like he’d disappeared off the face of the earth for a decade. But even a year or two away could be an eternity to the film industry. He also refused to believe that his fans were so fickle that they had already forgotten him and moved on to the next hot young thing. He had to believe there was still a place for him in the industry.

  But that wasn’t why he was staying. He needed the challenge of this role and he wasn’t a quitter. People had tried to kill him before, and maybe they would again. But at this point, he just didn’t give a damn. Let them try all they wanted to, he wasn’t going to walk away from this.

  He was going to find out what the hell was going on.

  He went to find Hoyt.

  Ward watched the car slowly emerge from the water, dark mangled dripping steel pulled from the depths by a large crane. The car was laid gently to rest on the back of a flatbed trailer. They’d already had to delay getting the car out for a day due to heavy rains. Now, if they were lucky, they’d know within the hour if it really had been an accident.

  He’d bet his career it wasn’t.

  He heard a commotion behind him, turned around in time to see Lash making his way through the crowd that had gathered along the side of the road to watch. He should have known the actor wouldn’t be able to stay away.

  “Brogan,” he said with a nod as he neared.

  Lash shook the agent’s hand, then turned to the mangled car in which he’d almost died.

  The side was dented, the front end partially smashed in. Water still dripped steadily off it, puddling on the blacktop below.

  He hadn’t known what to expect. But it was suddenly hard to breathe, the memory of the water filling his lungs too recent. He wanted to turn away. He forced himself to look beyond the car to the smashed railing and the river beyond. Taking a painful breath, he gazed once again at the car, then turned back to Calhoun.

  “I have to get back to rehearsal. Call me when you know something.”

  “I will,” Ward promised.

  Hoyt had been waiting off to the side. He fell into step beside Lash as they walked back to the car. They walked in silence. Hoyt certainly understood Lash’s need to be there and his need for silence now.

  Ward followed the trailer to the local body shop. He watched and waited as the mechanics and agents went over every inch of it.

  Forty minutes later, the head mechanic walked towards him, wiping greasy hands on his Carhartts.

  “We’ll have a detailed report printed up soon, but here’s what we’ve got. The brake lines were cut. No question about it. The safety harness had also been tampered with. We’ll have someone from the stunt department take a look to confirm, but the release button on the harness is definitely not operational.”

  Ward thanked the man, gave his email address for the detailed report, then called Lash. The actor didn’t say much, just thanked him for following up. Ward hoped Lash wouldn’t spend the night brooding into a bottle of whiskey, but he really wouldn’t blame him if he did.

  It was a hell of a thing to have to deal with. And God knows Lash had had his share of things like that to deal with. Maybe after this, the guy would get a break. Ward certainly hoped so.

  Adam Bishop watched from a safe distance across the street. He smiled.

  He’d fought against the clothes. He wasn’t gay. He didn’t want to put them on. But in the end, he hadn’t had a choice. It wasn’t his design. He was an actor playing a part. Just like on the set. But his was the most important role of all. It was the true manifestation of his story.

  And who be
tter to act out the story? To make it real. It was the most important thing Adam had ever done. And he had to make sure it was done right.

  And it was time to up the ante. He picked up the phone.

  29

  The next morning’s paper was a disaster.

  Drugs, Murder, and Mayhem on the set of Redemption

  Chaos looms on the set of Lash Brogan’s latest movie. Not only is the big budget film behind schedule and over budget, now we can add murder and intrigue to the complications. Here are the latest facts:

  Brogan’s head bodyguard was arrested for attempted murder over the weekend while the star he was supposed to be protecting was nearly killed in an on set accident.

  The lead agent on the case, Ward Calhoun, is rumored to be an alcoholic and accused child molester.

  Ward looked at the crumpled tabloid on the floor. If the rags wanted to portray him as a raging alcoholic, that was fine. He could deal with it. But this time they’d crossed the line. He could still feel the rage coursing through his veins.

  The bureau was standing behind him. For now. But an agent being accused of child molestation was serious business, even if the charges were proven false. This kind of publicity was not what they needed right now.

  His phone chirped in his pocket. Ward saw the number on caller ID and hesitated before answering. “This is Ward,” he finally said.

  “How are you?” his ex-wife, Bethany, asked.

  “How the hell do you think?” he asked irritably.

  “I saw the paper,” she said quietly.

  “Yeah, you and every other goddamn person in the country.”

  She sighed. “Ward, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about the publicity. I know you didn’t do any of those awful things. I just wanted to let you know that.”

  Ward let out a long breath. The divorce had been almost entirely his doing and the fact that she still cared enough to call spoke volumes about the kind of woman his ex-wife was. “Thanks, Beth. I mean that,” he said, softly.