When He's Dirty (Walker Security: Adrian’s Trilogy Book 1)

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Maybe he learned a little too much about games from the King Devil himself.

  ***

  ADRIAN

  I ignore her calls.

  I have no option. She’s the one with options now. What I do next depends on what she does next.

  Once Blake has a fresh heads up about Pri, I shower and dress in jeans and boots, heading to the kitchen to fill a cup with steaming coffee.

  “What’s your feeling on this?” Adam asks, joining me, also freshly showered, his sweats exchanged for jeans and a “SEALs do it better” T-shirt meant to be a jab at Savage, who started his career in the Special Forces. That he ended up an assassin for our own government is not a pleasant subject, unless, for instance, you want him to kill someone like Deleon.

  “I don’t know,” I say grimly. “I just don’t know, but I hope like hell she calls Blake.”

  Once his cup is steaming, we take up opposite sides of the island and he says, “I’m not sure her calling or not calling tells you what you want to know, man. Sounds to me like she doesn’t trust anyone.”

  My cellphone rings and I pull it from my pocket to find Blake on the caller ID. I show it to Adam and then answer on speaker. “You have me and Adam here, Blake.”

  “Fucking perfect,” Blake says. “Just the two assholes I need. Adrian, she called. I gave her references. And as we agreed, I set-up Adam to meet her at two o’clock at the DA’s office to remove your risk of being recognized.”

  “How do you feel about the call?” I ask.

  “It was as expected,” he replies. “No red flags. She asked about Rafael. I think she suspects that you’re not who you say you are.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Me, too, but for now she isn’t sure and I need it to stay that way.”

  “I’ll leave that to you to handle,” Blake says. “You’re the one on a hitlist. The bottom line is that it looks like one way or the other, we’ll get official placement on the case and that allows us to work more effectively.”

  “Thanks, Blake,” I say. “I hope that happens.”

  “It will,” he says and then, proving me right in my claim to Pri earlier, he adds, “Even if we have to volunteer our services. More soon.” He disconnects and I lower my chin to my chest, relieved that Pri called Blake, and if I’m honest, it runs deeper than my duty to take down Waters.

  “You’re into this woman, aren’t you?” Adam asks. “She got to you.”

  I glance up at him. “Yeah,” I admit because fuck me, it’s obvious, “and I can’t figure out what the fuck she’s doing to me,” I add. “I’m like a freaking slinky slinking down the stairs and having the wires get all wonky. It has to be the case. It’s personal to me and her.”

  “Or not. I’ve seen how you are with women. You don’t get wonky. Ever.”

  “I’m a hypocrite for bringing this up,” I say, bringing up a nagging worry, “and I say hypocrite, considering some of the things you don’t want to know I’ve done in my life, but she defended some really bad people at her father’s firm.”

  “And got out. That matters.”

  He’s right, but I know from experience that swimming with the sharks doesn’t just make you bleed, it changes you. It had to have changed her. “Just be aware.”

  “All right then. Good thing I’m going to meet with her. I’m a good read, man. I’ll tell you if I’m worried.”

  He is a good read, I’ve seen that first hand, but he doesn’t read me, he doesn’t know who I became with Waters. Which means he might not be able to read Pri. And yet, I would. Surely I would. Unless her getting to me has clouded my judgment.

  “What comes next, man?” Adam asks. “Walker joins the prosecution team. Do you come forward?”

  “Not until the last possible minute.”

  “You have to tell Pri,” he says. “You know you have to tell Pri.”

  “Go to the meeting,” I say. “I’ll decide what comes next after that meeting.”

  He doesn’t push. He gets it. As Blake said, I’m on a hitlist and one wrong move could expose me and land me six feet under. I can’t let Pri, intentionally or not, put me there. I can’t end Waters or protect her from him if I’m dead.

  Chapter Twelve

  PRI

  My father always says that a red tie is a power tie, it’s a statement about money, power, and success. My father possesses all of those things so I tend to take him at his word. Not that money and power motivate me, but success does. I want the best me representing those who cannot represent themselves. My father also says that if you don’t have money, power, and success, the perception that you do will influence others around you.

  I might have left his lifestyle and motivations behind, but I learned and learned well from him with my own twist of morality, and in today’s case, style. I dress in a black skirt and jacket but choose a red silk shell to complement the solid color. I’m not against a power pantsuit for a woman, but for me, a skirt reads and feels more feminine and I happen to think it works for me, not against me.

  Whatever the case, ready to take on the world—or perhaps the underworld is more appropriate—I slide into the back of an Uber which is easier than finding parking for my own car downtown. Normally, I’d walk to work, but that option feels better avoided outside my small, safe neighborhood, filled with active nosy neighbors. Exactly why the gun in my purse and the Secretary of State’s phone number in my possession lend me confidence in where the future is headed. I’m protecting me. Perhaps the Walker Security references will convince me that they can protect our witnesses. And maybe, just maybe, those of us still living can survive.

  I arrive at work and manage to dodge all the obstacles, including people, questions, gossip, and a bullpen of desks, between me and my office. Once I’m there, I shut my door, settle behind my desk and stick my purse in my drawer. Once my briefcase is unpacked, I eagerly start calling the Walker references. I start with a few private sector contacts and everyone eagerly takes my call, raving about Walker, Blake, and his brothers. Adam and someone named Savage are mentioned as well. When I finally dial the Secretary of State, I end up talking to his secretary, who says she’s been told to tell me that “Blake Walker is the best man I know and please tell him I said so.” That call wins me over. I’m sold on Walker and the idea that Rafael works for Blake has me thinking he’s probably really just Rafael, not Adrian. Either way, I’m about to go hunt down Ed when there’s a knock on my door before Grace pops her head inside my office.

  I motion her forward and she hurries toward me, looking pretty in a pink suit dress, her skin glowing.

  “When can we talk about Josh?” she asks, perching on the arm of one of my visitor chairs.

  “If you love him, after this case,” I say. “If he broke your heart, I’ll go beat him up while I’m in war mode.”

  “I’m worried about you,” Grace says. “I know it’s not likely, but what if Waters comes after you?”

  “I’m worried about my witnesses. Law enforcement thinks the killer is one of Waters’ top men, but they don’t know. They’re operating on speculation.”

  “I’m worried about you,” she repeats.

  “I’m fine. You know they’d just replace me if I died. Waters won’t come after me and he’s isolated right now. He can’t communicate with anyone.”

  “Maybe his attorney is dirty. And if you die, the case will be delayed and who knows what would happen. It would get crazier than it already is now. What about Ed?” she asks, softening her voice. “Is he worried?”

  “He’s worried about everything to do with this case. He’s a beast right now.”

  “I mean about himself. I mean, yes, you can be replaced, but if he was suddenly out of the picture, the case would stall. I wonder if a new DA would even have the courage to go forward with it at all.”

  “Let’s not put that into the universe,” I say, and yet, she’s right, I think. Lord help me, the collective hell, might just motivate Ed to make a
deal.

  “It’s not about the universe,” she snips. “You need to take the threats seriously. Waters has proven to be the devil he calls himself. I don’t know how you ended up on this case. Okay, I do,” she quickly amends. “You learned how these monsters think when you were with your father. Listen to your gut and listen.”

  I learned with my father.

  And there it is. My reputation for defending monsters. It’s a part of me, but damn it, maybe winning this case will make people forget. Maybe it will make me forget.

  Agent Pitt appears in my doorway. “Got a minute?” he asks.

  Grace glances over her shoulder at him and then back at me. “I can wait.” She pushes to her feet. “Can you do lunch?”

  “Not until this is over for every reason you just gave me to set that timeline.”

  “Drinks it is,” she says. “I’ll call you later.”

  She backs out of the doorway and Agent Pitt walks into my office. No. He doesn’t just walk in, he shuts the door with him inside, a puff of cranky energy hitched on his back for the ride. “I heard Waters is trying to make a deal.”

  My brows knit together. “Heard from who?”

  “Why haven’t you told me?”

  “Heard from who?” I repeat, my voice a hard push this time.

  He waves that off. “His attorney is buzzing it around to anyone who’ll listen.”

  “Of course,” I say dryly, really not that surprised by this realization as I add, “He wants the DA to be pressured to take the deal.”

  “What did he offer?”

  “A guy named Jason Whitaker. He’s an attorney long suspected of helping some very powerful people launder money or just plain hide it.”

  “I know him. What’s your play?”

  I have no idea why I hold back my intentions to stay my course, but I do without hesitation. “I’ll let you know when I know.”

  “What does that mean?” he grumbles.

  “It means,” I gather up the Walker references on my desk and stand, “that I need to see the DA before I make any decisions. I am, after all, an Assistant District Attorney, not the District Attorney.” I round my desk and he doesn’t move. Pitt’s a big man, broad and fit, his hair and eyes as dark as his mood, and yes, now I notice that he is rather good looking. And yet, even standing close to him, there is no buzz to my skin or heat in my belly. We don’t vibe romantically at all. Right now, he’s just a wall blocking my path.

  “What is it you want from me, Agent Pitt?” I snap.

  “A lot of people worked really hard to take down Waters,” he bites out.

  Rafael’s words come back to me: too many people gave up their lives to get him where he is now for you to set him free. Which in hindsight was a big statement. My decision is made. No deal, not if I can stop it from happening. I won’t set Waters free.

  “Pri,” Pitt snaps, the use of my first name, not under objection, as it’s my preference, but his impatient tone is another story.

  I blink him back into view. “I know many people worked and sacrificed to arrest Waters, Agent Pitt. I get it. You know I do.”

  “You sure about that?” he presses. “Bodies are dropping. Maybe you don’t have the stomach for it.”

  “I never have the stomach for murder,” I say.

  “Maybe that’s why Waters thinks you’ll make a deal. You’ve made plenty in the past for guys like him.”

  “Don’t push me, Agent Pitt.”

  I try to step around him and he moves with me, blocking my path again. “Are you going to make the deal?”

  My heart is now thundering in my chest. “Move out of my way,” I order, my voice low, tight, controlled when my pulse is not.

  The intercom on my desk buzzes and Ed’s voice bellows. “I understand you have something to tell me, Ms. Miller. Why are you not in my office telling me now?”

  I walk to the desk and punch the button to reply with “Because Agent Pitt is discussing the case with me. I’m on my way.”

  “Make it now,” he snaps and the line goes dead.

  “The defense is manipulating you,” Pitt accuses.

  I step back in front of him. “Why don’t you do something besides trying and failing to intimidate me and help, Agent Pitt? Adrian Mack changes everything. Tell him it’s time for a one-on-one talk. Now.” I step around him and this time he doesn’t stop me. I open the door and exit to the hallway, leaving one hot-headed male opinion, and on my way for another.

  I start down the hallway and Cindy steps into pace with me. “Tell me you’re not making a deal.”

  I glance over at her and grimace. “My God, did the defense do a press release on the offer?”

  “Might as well have,” she says, “it’s buzzing everywhere. What are you going to do?”

  “Send Waters to jail for the rest of his life.” We halt at the alcove that houses Ed’s office, and I peek inside relieved that his prickly secretary Lynn is missing. “Wish me luck.”

  She squeezes my arm and doesn’t let go. “People are dying.”

  “And they’ll keep dying for years to come as long as Waters has the resources and opportunity to kill them.” I pull out of her reach and enter Ed’s office.

  I find him standing with his back to me at his window. “Ed?”

  He rotates and motions to the door, his expression taut, his tie red, of course, which tells me a story I already know about Ed. He’s a man who needs power and presently fears losing it. He’s an asshole, impatient and demanding. He’s also a man of courage to even take us down this path with Waters. He cares about justice. He motions to the door. “Shut it.”

  I do as he orders and he says, “Tell me you have Adrian Mack because if we lose Waters and don’t take the trade, I’m fucked.”

  I walk to a visitor’s chair and capture the back with my hands. “Waters is manipulating you. The trial is not going to end until after the election and he knows it. Stay the course.”

  He scrubs his jaw and settles his hands under his jacket on his waist. “And if our witnesses keep falling and Waters pulls the trade?”

  A memory of Rafael holding my hand and telling me to call Walker Security plays in my mind and lends confidence to my next statement. “First of all,” I say, “my gut is that Adrian Mack will show up, but not until right before the trial. Maybe even after it starts.” He opens his mouth to, no doubt, tell me that’s not good enough and I hold up a hand. “We need to hire private security to protect the witnesses.”

  “Give me a break, Miller. They’re as corruptible as the next guy.”

  “I recommend we make an educated gamble on Walker Security,” I say. “I talked with them. I’ve checked references, including one from the Secretary of State today and yes, that’s the Secretary of State, among others.” I set the file in my hand on his desk. “They won’t be cheap, but this is about putting Waters behind bars and keeping you, the man behind his demise, in office. As a bonus, I feel like hiring them will make Mack more comfortable coming forward.”

  “How much?”

  “I don’t have the numbers yet,” say, “but how much are justice and your career worth?”

  “Your career is on the line here, too. We’re riding the same boat. A hole sinks us both. You get that right?”

  “Yes. I get it. Hire Walker Security. They’re based out of New York, but they have a team in the city for another case and can start now.”

  “How did you find them?”

  “Are you really going to micromanage me right now, Ed? The Secretary of State recommended them. I know it’s not the President but—”

  He holds up a hand. “Fine. Hire them. I’ll call the US Marshals’ office and make it official.”

  “Don’t call them until I talk to Walker this afternoon. I don’t want to risk one of those leaks that sinks us.”

  “All right.”

  “And I think you need them to protect you, too, Ed. If Waters gets desperate, t
here’s no telling what he’ll do.”

  “I’m single, I’m ex-military, and I’m capable of protecting myself. Use the resources for other people.” He motions me onward. “Go. Make it happen.”

  I hesitate. I want to push him to accept protection, but I’ll take what I can get for now. I exit his office and in this moment, I feel relief and a sense of calm that defies the situation. And I know why. It means Rafael is involved. My reaction has to mean I trust him. Unless this crazy attraction I have to him has clouded my judgment? In which case, more than my career will die. I might go with it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  PRI

  By the time I’m in my office, Blake has emailed me contracts, non-disclosures, and other documents. I’m ready to hand over the witnesses to Walker. And right on time, Adam arrives.

  Adam turns out to be tall, very tall, like six-four or five, good looking, with dark wavy hair and blue eyes. We sit down at my two-person conference table and I’m struck by his calm energy.

  “Why didn’t Rafael come with you?” I ask.

  He levels me in a stare. “I think you know why.”

  It’s a tricky reply. It could be about the kiss or Rafael’s identity. “I’d feel better if he were here.”

  “I’m a good second choice. I was a Navy SEAL, on Team Six. My specialty is disguises. I’m good at being present and not seen.”

  “But you’re so—well—”

  He arches a brow. “Big?”

  “Yes.”

  He leans closer. “If I can hide, I can hide your witnesses. Everything happening right now is about protecting them and protecting you.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything,” he repeats.

  “I guess that’s a topic I can argue with Rafael.”

  His expression doesn’t change, but I swear his lips hint at a curve. “You and Rafael do have plenty to discuss. I’m sure you can appreciate the position your relationship places on his duty.”