His pretty boy was smart, but Dev had still thought it might take at least a couple of hours for Cash to put two and two together.
A house full of federal agents, on the coldest night of the year, and they not only couldn’t keep Dev inside, but never knew he’d been gone. Amateurs.
No wonder the Dallas DEA field office, the local FBI field office, probably the ATF, the DEA national headquarters in DC, and the US Attorney General’s office couldn’t keep up with the Disciples. They continually underestimated him and his brothers.
“Hang on. There’s more.” Joe took the tablet, swiping this way and that until he turned the screen back to Cash. “It’s the lead story in every DFW publication. It’s gaining national attention now.”
Cash read for several long seconds then abruptly turned back to Dev, assessing him.
“How did this happen?”
Dev had to remind himself that Cash hadn’t told him what happened, so he couldn’t give the answer he wanted to, namely:I don’t know how the intel on the bitch Dallas district attorney who dated my Disciples’ brother a million years ago got leaked to the press.
His brows dropped together as he stared at Cash. He gave his best confused glare. He’d perfected that look. He added a solid head shake for good measure.
Cash didn’t buy it. He was dating a fucking James Bond with as efficiently as Cash put it all together. Huh. He’d have to be on his A game all the time now.
“I’m still waiting?” Cash lifted a hand, giving an exaggerated look of innocence.
Was Cash mocking him?
Before Dev could get too angry over being derided, the agent’s shoulders squared off, tightening under his frustration.
Dev rolled his eyes. He sucked at lying. The truth was just easier all the way around.
Whatever. He wasn’t taking the total blame. This was one hundred percent the fault of the government and their bullshit bureaucracy and rules. Trial by peers… Right. What peers did Keyes have? A jury box filled with LGBT positive one-percenter motorcycle club members to give him a fair trial? All the while, that poser Cummings was released from prison early to narc on the Disciples club activity to the bitch district attorney. No fairness in that.
Dev liked his brand of justice better. Seemed easier and saved the taxpayers’ millions of dollars. He should run for fucking public office.
On that note, he went back into the bedroom, now feeling like a caged lion.
The quiet Cash’s presence induced inside Dev’s head didn’t help. He’d always been able to talk his way out of his misdeeds. How did he come up with a believable excuse if his head went so damned silent?
“There’s more,” Joe said.
Well, whatever that was didn’t involve him. They’d already covered everything he had a hand in. Dev sent the bedroom door flying shut. For a few blissful seconds, the racing thoughts were back, zipping through his mind like cars on the autobahn.
At least until he heard the door being pushed open again. This time, Cash’s foot came to the middle of the doorframe to keep it open.
“Say that again,” Cash said to Joe. His direct stare on Dev.
“Dev sent these texts to Keyes while we had his cell phone,” Joe repeated louder.
Fuck! Okay, now he was pissed off. How the fuck had that happened?
Of course he sent Keyes a couple of text messages after the job with Cummings was complete. He had to establish an alibi for both him and Keyes, but Joe was right, he hadn’t sent those messages from his current cell phone.
He’d had the very first iPhone ever made. For whatever reason, he could still access the messaging app, able to send and receive text messages. But it had never recorded the messages over to his current cell phone before.
Fuck. No one else was supposed to know about the texts unless they were needed for some reason down the line. It was designed for insurance purposes only.
This was too much spying. Uncle Sam had their greedy tentacles in everything. Fucking technology. You couldn’t depend on it for shit.
“Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he barked. “I have no idea what he’s talkin’ about.” Frustrated and angry with himself, Dev went for the small bathroom connected to the bedroom. The only place he had to be alone. He sent that door slamming shut.
Chaos zipped through his head again.
He could think so much better this way.
