The Choice by Jean Brashear

“My parents’ whole house could have fit in this space.”
    Cullinane nodded. His, too. “So you weren’t a Boy Scout, either?”
    Hafner chuckled. “Lifting wallets was a little more my speed, at that age.” His gaze rose to Cullinane’s. “Or feeling up girls.”
    The atmosphere thickened, as two dominant males remembered the earlier clash, a topic better left unexplored. Cullinane refused to drop his eyes, knowing a lot was on the line at this moment. Hafner’s respect for him had come because the man couldn’t bully him. Cullinane yielded only when he wanted to yield, and Hafner had thus far side-stepped any full confrontation. He suspected Hafner didn’t want to find out that he might not win.
    Hafner broke off first and leaned his head back on the overstuffed cushion, sliding lower in his seat and closing his eyes. “Let’s talk about the next shipment.”
    So typical of him. He slept little and expected those around him to keep his erratic hours. The middle of the night was high noon for him, a man who’d gotten soft letting others guard him, who’d lost the sharp physical edge he’d once used as a weapon. Cullinane and his men had to keep their bodies honed, and that meant rest and proper care. Hafner forgot that when the night specters beckoned.
    Cullinane sat down. “What’s up?”
    “It’s going to be trickier than usual. Some of the boats will be coming in with specialty items I don’t usually carry, along with the coke. We’ll need to set up carefully to off-load the coke but not disturb the other stuff, then finish filling those boats with part of the outgoing shipment.”
    “What kind of specialty items?”
    Hafner’s sly smile made his scalp crawl. “Biological weapons.”
    Cullinane barely blinked. “You’re planning, of course, to help load those particular boats.”
    A wide grin creased Hafner’s face, then he laughed out loud. “I can’t shock you, can I, watchdog?” He shook his head. “Never let ‘em see you sweat, do you, Cullinane?”
    He couldn’t believe Hafner was serious, but he had to be sure. “You really think our people are prepared to handle them?”
    “They’d better be, but that’s your job. You make sure we have what we need.”
    “I’ll need figures on quantity and space required.”
    Hafner nodded. “I’ll get them to you tomorrow or the next day.”
    He’s really going to do it. The bastard was insane. He’d damn sure upped the ante on the operation. Not only was the stuff lethal, but Hafner would get the book thrown at him if he were caught.
    And he would be caught this time. Cullinane would make sure of it. He’d lock Hafner up and throw away the key himself.
    Cullinane met the gaze of a madman, wily as a fox but dangerous as they came, a true sociopath. The lives of most other human beings meant nothing to him and his ilk.
    Jesus, he was tired. Slapping his palms down on his thighs, Cullinane rose. “Well, I’m calling it a day. Unless you have something else?”
    Hafner studied him for a moment, smiling oddly. “Jillian is lovely, isn’t she?”
    He refused to rise to the bait. “I suppose.”
    Hafner’s smile was at odds with the gleam in his gaze. “Sweet dreams, watchdog.”
    Words unspoken passed between them.
    “I’m sure they will be. Good night.” He turned and left.
    * * *
    Jillian heard the fight break out in the game room the next day. Headed down the hall to see why J.T. and Rabbit were going after each other, she’d almost turned the corner when she heard the deep voice cut through the fracas like a hot knife through butter.
    She couldn’t hear the words, but Rabbit’s protest came through, loud and clear, followed by J.T.’s own. Cullinane’s tone of command stopped them before they could get rolling again.
    Rabbit’s sullen shout echoed, “Fine, just fine. I’m outta here.”
    Stepping back into the library next door, Jillian saw the boy rush past, face screwed up in anger. Before she could make her way back