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I want to do all of those things with Gabriel but one of those is dangerous for my health.
He drops me off in front of the Velvet Underground and takes off without so much as a peel-out, his emotions completely under control.
I’m the loose cannon here.
But something about this set-up bothers me, outside of the man himself. Gabriel clearly knows all about the case, many more details than I told him. Which tells me there’s a leak.
I’ve been around this city and its disgusting political and criminal dealings long enough to know that if he has confidential information on the murders there is no other explanation.
No matter how badly I want to place all the blame on him, I know I can’t do that. Unfortunately, besides there being an information leak, there will probably be a data breach as well, our sensitive information visible to whoever has enough skill to look for it.
I’ve got to go into the office and clean up shop.
* * *
After a night of piss-poor sleep and enough coffee to give an elephant a heart attack, I shower and head in to the office. It helps to channel some of my aggression into productivity.
Devan is expecting me, not bothered by the thunderous expression I wear like a good pair of boots. He’s waiting for me at the door with a cup of coffee as black as Gabriel’s soul.
“Update,” he demands immediately. “How did it go last night?”
I take a quick sip of coffee and scald the lining of my throat and stomach in the process. “This tastes like shit.” It’s my version of a thank-you.
Devan grins, smile lines fanning out from his eyes. “Better than the slop they have here. So? What are you hiding? Did you come up with anything that will help us?”
“A lead I tugged yielded some dirt, for sure.” We make our way to a private conference room and he closes the door behind us to make sure those pricks Jerry and Clint and their ilk don’t follow us. “I ended up going down to Docks on Markee last night.”
And I proceed to tell him everything.
“Are you kidding me? You’re working this alone and you went down to a shithole like Markee without me?” Devan drags a hand through his hair. “L, I get it. Youarecapable. You know how to do your job. But there are some things you shouldn't do on your own just because you can. Like going down to Docks. That is…well, it’s not okay.”
I know how to deal with an angry Devan. We’ve pissed each other off too many times to count over the years we’ve worked together.
He’s ticked off now and no mistake.
But more than the frustration and anger with me, he’s disappointed. And I’m not sure I can handle him feeling that way. My heart gives a sickening little thump to let me know I care enough about him to need to make this right, immediately.
“I’m sorry,” I say, gripping the coffee cup. “It was so last-minute that I had no choice but to—”
Devan cuts me off. “What, L?”
I sigh. “I didn’t have time to call you.”
“Literally takes a second or two to send me a text. You’re working this alone not because you have to but because you want to. That’s the difference.”
My voice softens. “You’re my partner.”
He blows out a forceful breath that has his nostrils flaring. “Then start fucking acting like you have one, because this is not fair. Not to me and not to you. You made the choice, L, not me.”
I’m uncomfortable in more ways than one, and I’m also out of energy to justify my actions. Excuses have no place with Devan.
I’ll apologize all day long and do whatever it takes to make this right…yet somehow I still haven’t told him about working with Gabriel. Not yet.
“I think there’s actually a leak somewhere, though. In the department.” I take another sip of coffee. “I ran into someone who had more information about the case than they should know.”
Devan narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?’
“They knew about the last hooker to die. Candy? Or rather Mallory. That’s her real name. They knew about her birthmark.” I drop my tone low, unsure if we should be talking about this here. “How can we find out if our computers or our case files have been hacked?”
