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“Have a seat,” Logan said smoothly and took a chair across from the couch. His living space was open and modern with wood and organic materials. It was obvious that Logan did a brisk business.
He might be a young and competent CEO of his small business, but he still had the street in him. There was a sharpness about him, an awareness of everyone and everything. Dean expected nothing got by him.
“I’ve heard from Gage about why you’re here.” He and Gage exchanged looks, a silent conversation. Dean knew all about that kind of friendship. It was the building block for the brotherhood. “I have to agree with my roommate. I don’t like what I’m hearing. I’ll help any way I can, but I’ve been out of the gang business for a long time.”
Jessica said, “We understand, but any leads we could get would be one step closer to getting these weapons off the street.”
Dean sat forward. “You’ve kept your ear to the street. It’s important for you to keep tabs on what’s going on.”
Logan smiled, showing even, white teeth. “This guy knows his shit.” Respect gleamed in Logan’s eyes as he, too, leaned forward. “I have a younger brother and an unruly sister to keep safe, so yeah, I keep tabs.”
That wasn’t what Dean expected to hear. He thought that Logan kept tabs because he had once been into that life. Dean was sure that given an opportunity, that life would reel Logan Carter back inside. “Maybe some of these tabs can send us in the right direction?”
Gage stood, “I’ll get us all some coffee. Have a seat.”
After being gone for a few moments, Gage was back, and he handed cups to Dean and Jessica, then Logan, and placed a small sugar bowl on the table before finally taking the last one for himself and making himself comfortable in the oversized recliner pushed up against the far wall. Dean recognized the warrior mentality. Back against the wall with everyone and everything in the room in sight.
Gage watched Jessica fix her coffee, his eyes locking on her hands as they did the small tasks, then moved to her face. When he realized Dean had taken notice of his scrutiny, he unabashedly smiled.
Jessica looked up and Gage’s attention returned to her, his eyes dark, intense, and filled with enough raw appreciation that she couldn’t have missed it. The coffee cup stopped halfway to her mouth and her lips parted. Gage’s grin returned as if he knew exactly what had just happened to her inside the privacy of her skin.
Dean was certain Gage’s thoughts in that moment were the same ones that went through his head the last time he stopped by O’s. He’d watched her move around the kitchen, making coffee, placing the croissants on plates, setting out butter and jam. The way her compact body moved, the toned muscles sliding beneath her skin, the warmth of her sparkling eyes, mesmerized him.
Jessica glanced over at him wordlessly, and Dean slashed a look at Gage that told him to focus.
Gage shrugged and sat back.
Logan set down his cup a bit forcefully, clearing his throat. “The guy you want to talk to goes by the name of Benny. He sells dope for the Sixth Street Bastards. Remnants of my old gang. He knows everything going on in LA. If he can’t help you, no one can.”
“Does Benny have a last name?” Jessica asked, pulling out her tablet.
“Stocks,” Logan said.
Jessica tapped on her tablet and then showed him what she’d pulled up. Benjamin Stocks was a penny-ante offender. His mug shot was rough—shock of messy black hair, bloodshot brown eyes, unshaven jaw. He was slim almost to the point of looking malnourished. Drugs did that to a person. He couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty by the looks of him. Half a dozen collars for possession with intent to sell. Nothing too alarming.
“I can set something up for us, but I’ll need to be there, or Benny won’t talk. He doesn’t like cops or people who look like cops.”
Dean nodded. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Logan looked at Gage. “You expecting anyone?”
Gage shook his head. “I’ll go see who it is. Probably a delivery.” He disappeared into the kitchen and Dean heard him open the door, followed by muffled conversation. Then Gage reappeared in the room.
“It’s a—”
“I’m looking for someone who goes by the nickname of Bullet,” a female voice echoed in the loft.
Dean stiffened.Oh, fuck!
“That would be me,” Logan said, standing. “What can I do for you, Officer?”
Dean started to rise as well. When he turned toward the kitchen doorway, O stood there with three burly men behind her. She was dressed in her uniform. This was definitely an official call by the LAPD.
“I need to ask you some…” Her voice faltered when she saw him. “Dean? What are you doing here?”
“You know this cop? Is this some kind of a set up?” Gage asked, his eyes going dark with suspicion.
“No. It’s not a set-up, Gage, Logan. I swear.” He turned back to O with a sigh. “It’s a complicated story, O.”
“Well, then I think we can work all of it out down at Metro.”
