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We’re already in the parking lot, but I don’t tell him that. I just walk through the doors like I own the place. The woman behind the glass hits the button to release the lock without a word from me. Most of the people here know I’m someone…
It’s the who part they haven’t figured out.
But I’m done hiding behind Gemma Smith.
As soon as Juan is gone, Jasper is running this fucking town.
I skip knocking politely on Shawn’s office door, instead opting to keep my momentum of impending destruction and violence.
Someone is going to die today.
I’m not feeling too picky about who the victim is, either.
I lean over Shawn’s desk, flattening my hands on the top as I choose my words carefully. “Today isn’t the day to put me off, Douglas. I’m looking for two men who had something to do with the fires at The Lofts. And I want them within the next twenty-four hours.”
“I can’t do anything without a name and a profile,” he defends, sweating dripping from his temples.
“Don Hernandez and Jose Aguilar. Both just shy of six feet, dark hair, tattooed knuckles.”
“You just described three quarters of the guys we picked up in the last twenty-four hours,” he claims.
“What about the last eight hours?” Lory asks. “Can we see who’s in holding?”
Shawn nods. “You’re familiar with Micheal Sharpe, yeah?”
“We are,” I answer.
“He can take you back. If we’ve got your guys, you know the deal. Bail them out, and pay for the mess you make.”
“Bill me,” I call over my shoulder, walking out to find Michael.
It doesn’t take me long.
He leans against the counter in the break room, blowing the steam away from his overly milky coffee. Between breaths, he takes a bite of his bagel, smothered in cream cheese.
I’ve done this a time or two.
Michael never changes. I’m not even sure why he has a desk.
“Can I borrow you for a bit?” I ask from the doorway.
“I’m on break,” he grumbles.
I smile. “Yes, you are. With me. Now.”
“Don’t you ever say please?”
“Only when I mean it.”
Michael makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “What do you need?”
“I’m looking for some guys of mine.”
“Shocking,” he sings, then nods his head toward the back hall. “Leon picked up two Mals early this morning. They were trying to boost a car at Sokolov’s. Almost lost their heads too. That guy is fucking crazy.”
“I like him.”
He grunts. “Doesn’t surprise me.”
