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He thought about it for a moment. “I’ll give you her address if you give me your number.”
Cassie didn’t even hesitate. “Deal.”
23
Harris shifted in the front seat of her car, shaking out a cramp that had formed in her calf. It’d been half an hour since she’d seen Francisco Aguilar enter the Brazilian steakhouse, and she was moments from making her move.
The attack at Cassie’s house felt like it had happened days ago rather than a few brief hours. The vet had cleared Bear, saying he had some bruising, but would be fine with rest and extra love and attention. As much as it pained her to leave him alone at the house after such a traumatic event, Harris had work to do.
She’d returned to the office long enough to inform Clementine what had happened and to turn over the bloody napkin, hoping to find out who had attacked her. Not that she needed to know. The man who’d broken into Cassie’s house didn’t matter. Only Aguilar did.
After all, he was the one behind all of this. She was sure of it.
But there was protocol. And procedure. And bureaucratic bullshit. She’d fired her weapon, so there’d be an inquiry and more paperwork than Harris had patience for. Clementine told her to sit and wait for the results. She did. It didn’t take long. Harris had almost become the third dead cop in as many weeks. Everyone wanted answers.
When the hit came back, Harris was the first to get the call. Stanley “Shark” Gibson. He had a few priors, but mostly breaking and entering. He’d never gone to jail for murder. Didn’t mean he’d never committed it, though. If he had no qualms attacking an officer in broad daylight—even if it had been in the privacy of someone’s home—then this wasn’t his first rodeo.
Harris found all the information she could on the man. It wasn’t hard. Not only was he in the system, but his social media presence was far from quiet. He enjoyed checking in at restaurants and Instagramming his food. He was either a complete idiot or had no regard for his own well-being. Then again, those usually went hand in hand.
Against her better judgement, she’d followed his last known location to the Brazilian steakhouse. Clementine would be pissed, but Harris would deal with that later. Consequences be damned. Harris rarely went off book. They’d have to give her a pass on this one.
When Aguilar arrived, her heart kicked into overdrive. It hadn’t surprised her, but she didn’t expect coming face to face with him so soon. As far as kingpins went, Aguilar wasn’t shy. You’d find him all around the city, eating out, going to festivals, catching a movie. He was a big-time hotshot in Savannah, though most people assumed he was just a rich business owner. Those who knew what he was really into tended to keep their mouth shut.
The buzz of her phone made Harris jump. She stopped rubbing her calf and flipped over the device to see who was calling. Clementine. She was either calling to ask where she was or to chew her out because she already knew. Harris sent it to voicemail, knowing she’d regret that later.
Harris had tracked Gibson down on her own, but she was only ahead of the game by a few minutes. Soon enough, Savannah PD would show up to arrest him, and Harris couldn’t take that chance. She wanted to do this on her own.
What was that she’d said about idiocy and no regard for one’s own well-being?
The detective pushed the thought out of her head while she shouldered open her door. She had her phone, her badge, her gun, and a hope that they would be enough. She banked on the fact that being in the restaurant would help avoid any kind of scene. Most criminals didn’t want to draw too much attention to themselves, and Aguilar didn’t seem to be an exception. He emerged when it was convenient for him and stayed out of the limelight when it wasn’t.
That’s how he’d stayed out of jail for so long.
As Harris crossed the road, she compiled a list of scenarios in her head. It’s not like she didn’t know she was being stupid by going after Gibson alone. But the reward outweighed the risk. She’d get the guy and be able to look Aguilar in the eyes at the same time.
What would she say? She was still working on that part. She had a feeling it’d come to her when the time was right.
Harris resisted the urge to draw her pistol before she walked through the door
. It’d put her at a disadvantage if they were lying in wait for her, but unholstering her weapon around innocent civilians could escalate the situation in a way she couldn’t handle on her own. Risking her own life was one thing; risking someone else’s was another.
Outside the door to the steakhouse, Harris took one sharp breath and blew it out, releasing a portion of her amped-up nerves into the air. It grounded her momentarily, and that was all the reprieve she allowed herself before pulling the handle and walking inside.
The restaurant was dimly lit, despite the blazing sun outside the windows. The staff had drawn the shades, but the art deco lamps emitted a hint of light. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and her fingers twitched to her gun out of reflex.
When the room came into view, Harris relaxed. The restaurant was half full, with members of the staff darting from one table to the next, trying to keep up with everyone’s requests. There was a dim murmur of conversation, and an occasional laugh would break through.
A blond woman in her early twenties with pink cheeks and dark eyes walked up to her. “Detective Harris?”
Whatever had uncoiled inside of her had grown taut again. “Yes?”
“I can take you to your table.”
Without waiting for an answer, the waitress sped off toward a table in the back. Harris followed her, dodging servers and patrons, and attempting not to knock anything over as she tried to keep up. The room was packed to the limit with tables, which Harris took to mean that it maxed out in the evenings and on weekends. She had no interest in ever dining around that many people.
Once they reached the back of the restaurant, the woman slid a curtain to the side to reveal a private room. Inside were half a dozen men, including Francisco Aguilar. He was already standing with his arms splayed to the side.
“Detective Harris. I thought you’d never come inside.”
