by BA Tortuga
He jogged to the back of the complex and headed up the stairs to Azel’s apartment. He knocked before he used his key and headed into the scent of tomato sauce.
Azel didn’t work. He cooked. Lots.
“You don’t have to knock, honey. I told you that.” Azel wheeled over to him, a spoon in hand. “Come, taste.”
He opened his mouth immediately. You didn’t tell Azel no about food. Bright, acidic sauce slid over his palate, the tang of it making his eyes cross.
“Does it need garlic?”
“Salt?” At least that was what he thought.
“Good deal. How was work?”
“I worked with that same contractor again. He wants me all week.”
“Keep up the good work and you might get a permanent spot.” Azel wheeled his chair back to the stove, his bald black head shining with sweat.
“Maybe. I’m not holding my breath.” He went to his room to bathe and get dressed in something he wasn’t wearing to work. The water never got all the way hot, but it was good enough for government work, good enough to scrub his clothes clean with a bar of Dial.
Azel began bellowing like a bullfrog, which was what Azel called singing. “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen….”
Dakota’s dad would be amused as hell to think he was rooming with a born-again Christian who was convinced God was a living, breathing entity. The thought of his father sobered him, and he sighed. Yeah, the old man was not his favorite thing to dwell on, was he?
None of them were. No one had even doubted he’d done it. She had been young and pretty and had insisted Dakota raped her, held a knife to her neck. Dakota had been young and fat and a geek and had no alibi, no friends, no support.
He shook his head, literally shaking off his thoughts. Dwelling did him no good. None. That was what the anger management guy said.
Dakota tugged on his T-shirt and wandered into the front room. “You need any help?”
He’d learned quick to give Azel grocery money and let him cook. Dakota could live on queso and chips.
“Nah. Just have a sit, man.”
“’Kay.” He pulled up a chair, watching Azel wheel himself effortlessly around the tiny kitchen. The guy was a marvel with his little athletic chair, a donation from some reentry organization.
“You handling the heat out there okay, kiddo?”
“Yessir.” Kiddo. He was only six years younger than Azel, maybe seven. He fought not to roll his eyes, because Azel was a good guy, a stout defender of all kicked puppies.
Dakota sat there, still, eyes following the cracks on the table.
He jumped when Azel presented him with pasta and garlic bread and salad. Man, he’d lost some time.
“You’re okay, kiddo. Breathe.”
“I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.” He stood up to get himself a glass of milk. “You want anything?”
“I’ll take some of that tea in the gallon jug.” Azel smiled at him, eyes always watchful.
“Will do.” He wasn’t a thief. He wasn’t a thief or a rapist or anything. He was a decent guy.
“You know, it’s not you.” Azel said it gently, and Dakota whipped his head around to stare. “I can see your shoulders go up. I’m not worried about you. I just—it’s hard for me not to worry on shit.”
“I won’t steal from you. I swear. I’m not a bad guy.” He didn’t think he was a good guy, not anymore, but he wasn’t a bad guy.
“What are you going to steal from the fridge?” Azel snorted. “I just watch people. Now come eat.”
“Yeah. Thank you for the food, man. I appreciate it.”
“I like to cook. I have to take a bunch of cupcakes over to the rescue mission tomorrow. Do you want me to get you anything while I’m out?”
“No thanks.” He was going to work, have his meeting with his PO, and then come home so he could share dinner with Azel before he read and slept.
“Okay.”
They lapsed into silence while they munched, and he had to admit he’d never eaten so well.
“Delilah brought me the mail today.” The words were carefully offered over, and Dakota heard the danger in them, the warning, so he balanced his fork on the edge of the chipped plate.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. There was one addressed to me from a Tom McCarthy. It had a lot of pictures.”
“I’ve seen them.” The first time he’d seen them was in an interrogation room. He’d seen them lots since then. “I’m a registered sex offender. My address is public record.”
He looked down at his half-eaten food and knew he couldn’t eat it. She’d been cut up, not enough to kill her, but enough that she’d wear the marks they thought were his for the rest of her life. He hated it, but he’d done the time.
Someone else’s time.
“I’m sorry, man. It sucks to have them track you down.”
“It does.” He stood up and headed to the kitchen to scrape his plate clean. Then he put the extra food away, loaded the dishwasher, and headed toward his room. “Thank you for supper. I appreciate it.”
He closed his bedroom door and packed his dry stuff into his backpack. He could work tomorrow and then ask his PO if there was a halfway house he could crash at until….
Until something.
Dakota started doing sit-ups, one after another. He knew that, after the first hundred, thinking got tough, and after the second hundred, all there was in the world was the pounding of his heart.
Chapter Three
“NO. NO way, babe. I’m sorry, but we can’t. If he won’t stay at Azel’s, he’s going to have to go it alone.”
Jayden Wilson paused just outside the door to his office, where his security contractor, Adam Winchester, sat at Jayden’s desk. He figured Win was talking to his partner, Sage, who Jayden had met a few times. He’d never heard Win talk to Sage in that tone of voice, though.
“Babe, listen. You can’t save every sob story piece of shit that crosses your path. I love that you want to, but you just can’t.”
Another long pause and Jayden held back, shamelessly eavesdropping. That was part of what made him so good at his job. He was nosy.
“Okay, look, maybe piece of shit was a little strong, but you…. Sage, now look…. Goddamn it, man!” Win slapped one hand on Jayden’s desk, the sound making him jump. “You do what you have to, but we agreed that you wouldn’t bring ex-cons home.”
Jayden wasn’t sure what Win’s guy said, but he knew Win turned bright red and went to throw his phone across the room.
“Don’t do that. I need to get ahold of you on that thing.”
Win whipped around, and for a moment, Jayden thought he was gonna lash right out, maybe à la GI Joe, all whirling dervish and kicks. Then Win gave Jayden a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Sorry, I just get damned het up.”
“Not a worry. You know me. I am the picture of perfect calm and utter peace.” He did manage to keep his poker face on.
“Right. You never raise your voice. I know the old judge in Bastrop calls you Nikita. I had to look it up, but it has something to do with pounding a shoe on a table….” Win relaxed his shoulders. “I just don’t need to hear how Sage wants this ex-con to come live with us for a bit.”
“Oh, man. Really? How bad does that have to suck? How did they meet?”
“Reentry program Sage works with. That’s the thing. If he told me, say, his buddy Bulldog needed a place to stay, I’d open the door, but he doesn’t know this guy. Sage feels bad for the guy because he says he didn’t do it.”
“Every son of a bitch in the pen says he didn’t do it.” That Jayden knew. He’d been a prosecuting attorney for years, putting assholes who deserved it behind bars, before leaving to do real estate law. Too bad the ones he put away didn’t always stay there.
“Every single one but Sage, and really, he was sitting in the car outside.” Win’s smile faded to a grimace. “Sage is all up in arms because they never tested the rape kit.”
“It happens more often
than we want to think. It’s too expensive for smaller counties.”
“Well, and there was the victim’s statement, which was pretty ironclad.”
Jayden tilted his head. “Any other eyewitnesses?”
“No. She was raped at knifepoint, cut up pretty badly, and left behind at her daddy’s ranch on the north side of Georgetown. They were all camping or some shit. Named this dude. Guy has no alibi. Says he was in his dorm room.”
“No roommate?”
“There was one, but he was staying with his girl.”
“So, no eyewitnesses, no alibi corroboration or dispute, and a victim who may or may not remember stuff? I can see why your guy is suspicious.” He had to be fair. Now, he’d have to see the case file to review the testimony….
“You’re supposed to be backing me up.”
“Actually, I’m supposed to be paying you to provide me with private security until Henry Jenkins is back in custody.”
“Yeah, that happened about four hours ago. That’s why I’m here and North isn’t.”
“Ah, so you want the check.”
“Yep, and you must be bored if you’re running Dakota Landry’s case in your head.”
Jayden shrugged, but he didn’t bother arguing. He missed criminal law, but he’d left with a huge drama after being passed over for the assistant DA position. Once in a while, he’d like the thrill of the chase again. “You want me to look at the case files? See if I can give you some ammunition to back your man off?”
“I do.” Win raised a brow. “Can you get a hold of them?”
“Why not. I’m assuming the records aren’t sealed. He’s done his time. It should be a matter of knowing what to ask for.”
“Cool. Well, if you’re up to it, I’ll even give you a break on this job. Ten percent, maybe?”
“Oh, you’re desperate. I like that in a contractor. It’s a deal, man. I will find out everything you need to know about your little problem. Text me with that name so I have middle initial and all.” He was about to go on vacation for a couple of weeks, wasn’t he? He needed something to do.
“I’m on it. I’ll send what I have too. Newspaper stuff.”
“How long you been stressing this, man?” How long had this been a problem?
“About a month? The big problem is the victim’s family tracked him down, and Sage is afraid the guy will go off the grid.” Win sighed softly, the big guy shaking his head. “I mean, I get that Sage wants to believe, but I also get this family being pissed. I just… I don’t need this. Does it make me a shitty human being?”
“Nope. It makes you a human, period. I’ll look into it. Thanks for all your help.”
“North says he’ll be available if you need him again.” Win stood up and shook his hand, the touch strong but not pushy. Just the shake of a confident man. Jayden liked it.
“I like him, by the way. You hire good people.”
“The best,” Win said confidently. “I’ll text you.”
“Good deal. Now get out from behind my desk, asshole, so I can write you a check.”
Win chuckled but moved, stretching a little, back popping. “Your chair hates me.”
“I’m six inches taller and, what? Fifty pounds lighter? Sixty?”
“Shut up.” Win shook his head. “This was why you needed a bodyguard.”
“I needed a bodyguard because, contrary to the common belief and the Kevlar vest, I am not entirely bulletproof.” And once had been enough, thank you very much.
Besides, he was more the tennis and swimming for exercise type than the bulk up at the gym and look like a hairy gorilla type. It was a thing.
“It works for you.” Win winked at him when he glanced up, and Jayden grinned, tickled as a pig in shit.
“Thanks. There you go.” He tore off a check so he could hand it over. “Consider the ten percent I didn’t take off a bonus for North.”
“Fair enough. He’ll appreciate it.” Win gave him a quick man hug. “Wear your vest anyway, man? You’re not a half-bad client.”
“I will. I know people in jail can still hire a hit.” He clapped Win on the back. “Out. You need to go make up with your man.”
“Yeah. I have the sinking feeling I’m sleeping at the office tonight.” Win winked and pocketed his check, heading out the door.
Jayden’s assistant, Patrick, waved at Win on his way out before bringing Jayden his almond milk latte with a triple shot. “Good lunch, Jayden?”
“Boring.” He grinned and took his jacket off, and Patrick took it to hang up.
“Well, Mr. Winchester didn’t seem bored.” Patrick did love to gossip.
“Win just needs a little backup. His SO is a softie. It happens.” Not to him, of course, but to some.
“Ah. Well, you don’t have to worry about that. You have a brief with Mr. Leonard at two thirty. Can I get you anything?”
“Grab me his file, please, and make sure there’s something sweet that we can offer him?” Hank’s wife had him on a diet, and he was a whore for a decent forbidden pastry.
“I got a selection when I went to the coffee shop. Lemon pound cake for you, bear claws, honey buns, and pecan rolls for him to choose from.”
“You are a gentleman and a scholar.” He grinned at Patrick. “I’ll have a file for you to look up for me. Win is texting me the deets.”
“You got it.” He loved the sound of Patrick’s boot heels on the wood floors of his office. The Craftsman cottage had been his first commercial real estate purchase, and he loved this old building with a stupid passion. Nowadays it was worth a fortune, the real estate boom in Austin netting Jayden two or three offers on it a week.
He settled back in his old chair and pulled his laptop out of his briefcase. He loved the look of the old solicitor’s office that he was rocking, but he needed the best and most modern gadgets, so he kept them well hidden from his clients.
He had a billion things to do before his brief, but damn, he wanted that text from Win. Jayden wanted an interesting case for a change.
Being bored sucked almost enough to take the pay cut and the embarrassment of going back.
Almost.
His phone buzzed, a file popping up attached to Win’s name. It held news articles, websites, and pictures. Bingo.
Time to play.
Chapter Four
“LANDRY!” THE boss’s voice snapped out like a whip. “You got a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Oh God. You fucker. He looked up from his nail gun where he was fastening fence panels to posts. “Be right there.”
He nodded to Jaime. “Un momento.”
He had just enough Spanish to get in trouble, but he hoped the rest of the crew got that he was trying.
The little cowboy who stood there in the blazing sun was familiar, if not totally welcome. Sage Redding, his own personal self-appointed guardian angel. “Mr. Redding. How goes it?”
“Good. Good. Jim here says y’all are fixin’ to break for the siesta. I figured, since I was out this way, I’d see if you wanted to lunch.”
Azel was a nosy bastard and a busybody to boot.
“Sure. You need me to do anything else, boss?”
“Nah. It’s too hot to breathe. Be back at two, and we’ll spend the rest of the day cleaning trash in the shade. This heat ain’t fit for man nor beast.”
“Yessir.” He had about six bucks in his pocket, so maybe he could get a sandwich at Subway or something.
“Come on out to the truck. There’s a Mexican restaurant out here that does a buffet. I got me a coupon. Buy one, get one free.”
“Why are you here?”
“Get in the truck, huh?”
He sighed but nodded and climbed up in, settled, and put on his seat belt. “You can tell Azel that I’ll be out by the end of the week. I have my PO meeting tonight, and I’ll ask him to put me in a place for a week or two.”
“Azel doesn’t want you to move out.” Sage got the truck moving, the air-conditioning raising goose bumps on h
is arms.
God, did he have to take his driver’s test again? He’d never been old enough to have a horizontal license. Did he even want to try? Everyone would know.
Of course, he had to try. A man needed his driver’s license. Just another thing to ask at the parole office. How do I get one of those phones? How do they work?
He was pretty sure that he didn’t need to show up at the UGLI on campus, but surely he could go to a city library without anyone knowing he was looking shit up that he was supposed to know. God, he’d spent hours at the undergrad library, just hiding out and being another random undergrad in the machine that was UT.
Big fat lot of good that had done him. His back hurt, and he realized he was sitting up ramrod straight, breathing hard.
“Hey. In and out through your nose,” Sage said.
“I’m sorry.” Come on. Come on, you stupid son of a bitch. You fucking lived through a dozen years of hell. You can go have lunch with a do-gooder.
“I know how it feels, Dakota. Heck, I had to move back to my hometown. Someone shot my dog.”
“That sucks. Did you… I mean, does it ever stop? Ever?” Did you ever feel like you belonged out here?
“The urge to go back in?”
The sheer relief that Sage did get that, that he heard what Dakota was asking, almost made him puke. “Yeah.”
“Not completely. Something shitty happens and you think, in the joint the rules are easy. It ain’t that that’s the worst for me—it’s the normal shit where someone talks about their memories and yours are of hard time and getting ass-fucked over a dirty sink so that someone didn’t kill you. That don’t get better.”
Dammit. “You coulda lied, you know.”
“Ain’t my job.”
“Neither am I, come to that,” Dakota said.
“A friend helped me out. I want to do the same for someone else.” Sage shrugged, a tiny smile playing around his mouth. “’Sides, it pisses off my man, and we’re having a good old-fashioned dick-measuring match right now.”
Dakota snorted, making this noise that was part duck quack and part strangled moose call.
“Yep. He pays for being an ex-cop. Trust me.”
