“Ah…” My eyes narrow and flick back across the yard. “I’m not sure about… Does Chief Turner know about this?”
“He does not. What we have to discuss with you is… private. We need your discretion, Mr. Cruz. We can’t have a leak on this.”
“Are you accusing my C.O. of something, Grady? You saying we have dirty cops?” I push the back gate open and leave the beautiful woman to sit with another man. “Because with all due respect, Assistant to Whoever-the-fuck-you-said-you-were; fuck you.” Stepping onto the path that runs the side of Oz’s house, I move toward the front yard and make sure none of the cops I’ve come to respect and admire can hear this bullshit. “There are no dirty cops in my house, Grady, and you won’t turn me into one.”
His gritty chuckle makes my stomach twist. “I’m not accusing your people of anything, Cruz, but I love your loyalty. I’m not in a position to share information over the phone; we already have men in dangerous places, so if word gets out, they’re dead, and our investigation is bust.”
“Men? You’re talking undercover agents?” When he neither confirms or denies what my stomach says is true, my heart gives a heavy thump. “Why are you calling me, Grady? Why didn’t you call my chief?”
“Because you’re in good standing at your precinct. You’re young, eager, and educated beyond any regular rookie. Your record is squeaky clean, and you’re new enough that no one would suspect you’re on the inside.”
“Everyone under Turner’s command is on the inside. He’s a good boss.”
“Which is why I didn’t call him.” The man on the other side of my call sighs. “I can’t afford for this to leak, Cruz. Our assets are decorated, highly trained, and they’re already under. Our country has invested a lot of time and money into training these men; I’d rather we didn’t lose them.”
They’rethingsto him. Assets. Tools.
Not people.
“I’m just saying, we need someone we can trust. Someone that can help if our agents ever find themselves locked up in your cages for crimes your chief would, from his point of view, rightfully, arrest them for.”
“Things like what?”
I can almost see his shrug. “Petty crimes. Theft. Assault. Things like that.”
“According to the promise I made to my badge, those aren’t petty crimes, Grady. Those are punishable acts.”
“But these are undercover agents, not your regular Joe Smith.”
Stopping against my truck and leaning against the front panel, I push a hand through my hair and will my heart to slow. “I feel like this is a trap. I feel like you’re setting me up for something. Did Oz set this up?”
“I assure you, this isn’t a game. Look me up if you want. Search my office online, you’ll find I’m legitimate, as is my request. A phone call out of the blue may not be standard operating procedure, but when you’re in a position such as mine, not much is. Come to my office tomorrow at eight, I’ll fill you in then.”
Grady talks for a few more minutes, he tells me where to go, who to ask for, and reminds me to keep my trap shut. And the whole time, dread swirls in my gut. A black cloud of foreboding settles heavily on my shoulders and makes me sick.
A man with my experience should know to trust my gut…
Walking back into Oz’s backyard with the weight of the world on my shoulders, I watch my boss talk to his lawyer wife. I watch Oz make out with his new fiancé. Then I stop where I was before the phone call that would forever change my life and pause when my eyes meet Andi’s. She sits all alone on that bench now, and her eyes follow my every move.
Maybe it’s the sense of danger that I carry around since Grady’s call. Perhaps the sense of bad juju. But her eyes don’t stray from mine.
In silence, we stare.
And stare.
And stare.
The pulse in her throat bounces with what may be nerves. Her chest lifts and drops like she can’t catch her breath, but when the chief and his wife step toward me, they break our connection and the spell that Andi bounds me with.
One look into my absolutely-not-a-dirty-cop boss’ eyes, and I turn on my heels and walk inside the house.
I can’t stand in this yard, I can’t celebrate with these people after the phone call I just took.
I already feel like a traitor.
* * *
The very nextmorning at eight on the dot, I walk into a boardroom filled with dangerous men and stop on a pair of almost black eyes. Tan skin, ink up to his ears, short brown hair, and flexing fists, he paces the room, but stops in front of me with a dangerous scowl.
“Riley Cruz.” The man I assume to be Grady – because of his stark contrast to the other men in this room – his extra-large belly, to their fit and trim, his dangling jowls, to their youthful glare – gestures toward the man in front of me. “Special Agent Kane Bishop; he’s with the ATF.” He points to another that bears uncanny resemblance to the first. “Special Agent Jay Bishop; drug enforcement, and brothers, in case you missed it. And Special Agent Eric DeWhit, joint task coordinator.”
Kane Bishop takes my hand and squeezes so tight, I know this isn’t a pissing match. This isn’t a ‘who can squeeze the hardest’ test. It’s a straight up ‘if you fuck me over, I’ll slit your damn throat and watch your blood run beneath my shoes.’ “Cruz.”
Without breaking eye contact, I nod and let him squeeze. “Bishop. I’m told you guys need a friend.”
“Yeah. Sit down and prove yourself worthy. There are very few people in this world I trust, and Grady’s asking me to make you one of them. You get me or my little brother killed, and I’ll tear the fuckin’ skin from your bones.”