Except Jared hadn’t appreciated getting the shit beat out of him. As far as he was concerned, he’d only been helping them out, and making a little dough as a reward for his trouble.
Unfortunately, they hadn’ t seen it in quite the same way, and that’s where the trouble began. Ordinarily, Jared was the easiest going person you could ever meet, but get him pissed, and all bets were off. He’d limped back to his hotel, logged on to his computer, and proceeded to raise a little hell through a back door entry into their mainframe computer system. He triggered the fire alarm system, which in turn set off the sprinkler systems. At the same time he messed with the slots so they all started shooting out winning tickets, making for some very happy, if a little bit damp, customers.
Metro PD picked him up not long after as a person of interest and now here was Frank, six and a half friggin’ hours and two airplanes later, cooling his heels in their dismal little waiting room. Happy, happy.
A few minutes later, a fresh-faced rookie stepped out from behind the counter and nervously approached, “This way, sir, they’ve gone to get him now.”
Frank came to his feet, more than ready to kick Jared’s no doubt already bruised ass, just on principle. The rookie’s eyes grew round and he jumped back a couple of paces. Gesturing, he turned and started down a narrow hall, and Frank’s black mood turned even grimmer. He’d developed a real aversion to closed in places, after spending a good part of his Navy career in gloomy little holes on the lookout for drug runners, bombs, or gun-laden insurgents. He craved wide-open spaces and blue Texas skies these days. Sure enough, the little person in front of him led Frank right into a broom closet, disguised as an interrogation room. Man, Jared was going to owe him big for this.
As the rookie backed out and closed the door, Frank sat in one of three dinky little chairs pulled up to a pitted steel table that had seen far better days. He’d felt the eyes on him ever since he entered the shithole, and turned his full attention to the one way mirror in front of him. Placing both of his big hands face down on the scarred tabletop, he leaned in and mouthed, “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”
***
The man standing on the other side of the mirror grinned. Good to see the chief hadn’t changed much in the past few years. He still commanded attention with no effort at all.
It c ould be because the man was built like a brick shithouse, six-five, and somewhere around two hundred eighty pounds, none of it extra either. On the other hand, maybe it was those steel grey eyes of his. If he ever had cause to reprimand his men, usually a slicing look stopped even the most pugnacious of them.
He hated that he had to stay st anding there, behind that glass. He wanted nothing more than to go in there and shake the hand of one of the men who had been instrumental in saving his life.
“You can’t.” T he other person standing in the dark room commented. She’d read his thoughts perfectly, which is why they’d made such an unbeatable team for the past five years. “If you go in there now, you risk everything. Don’t be an idiot.”
She was right. It sucked, but she was right. “Fine, go in there and find out what they know then. I’m telling you they’re clean. They’re being set up, and you know it.”
“I know no such thing. They’re your friends, not mine. Besides, people change. You know that better than anyone.”
He watched her leave the room, regret a lodestone around his heart. They’d once had a hot and heavy fling, but his own asshole attitude had destroyed that. He was lucky they’d managed to overcome it and remain partners, and more importantly, friends. She hadn’t deserved half the crap he’d put her through, but he was more glad than he could say that she had stuck by him through it.
***
Frank leaned back as the door opened and a woman walked in.
Unfortunately, they hadn’ t seen it in quite the same way, and that’s where the trouble began. Ordinarily, Jared was the easiest going person you could ever meet, but get him pissed, and all bets were off. He’d limped back to his hotel, logged on to his computer, and proceeded to raise a little hell through a back door entry into their mainframe computer system. He triggered the fire alarm system, which in turn set off the sprinkler systems. At the same time he messed with the slots so they all started shooting out winning tickets, making for some very happy, if a little bit damp, customers.
Metro PD picked him up not long after as a person of interest and now here was Frank, six and a half friggin’ hours and two airplanes later, cooling his heels in their dismal little waiting room. Happy, happy.
A few minutes later, a fresh-faced rookie stepped out from behind the counter and nervously approached, “This way, sir, they’ve gone to get him now.”
Frank came to his feet, more than ready to kick Jared’s no doubt already bruised ass, just on principle. The rookie’s eyes grew round and he jumped back a couple of paces. Gesturing, he turned and started down a narrow hall, and Frank’s black mood turned even grimmer. He’d developed a real aversion to closed in places, after spending a good part of his Navy career in gloomy little holes on the lookout for drug runners, bombs, or gun-laden insurgents. He craved wide-open spaces and blue Texas skies these days. Sure enough, the little person in front of him led Frank right into a broom closet, disguised as an interrogation room. Man, Jared was going to owe him big for this.
As the rookie backed out and closed the door, Frank sat in one of three dinky little chairs pulled up to a pitted steel table that had seen far better days. He’d felt the eyes on him ever since he entered the shithole, and turned his full attention to the one way mirror in front of him. Placing both of his big hands face down on the scarred tabletop, he leaned in and mouthed, “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”
***
The man standing on the other side of the mirror grinned. Good to see the chief hadn’t changed much in the past few years. He still commanded attention with no effort at all.
It c ould be because the man was built like a brick shithouse, six-five, and somewhere around two hundred eighty pounds, none of it extra either. On the other hand, maybe it was those steel grey eyes of his. If he ever had cause to reprimand his men, usually a slicing look stopped even the most pugnacious of them.
He hated that he had to stay st anding there, behind that glass. He wanted nothing more than to go in there and shake the hand of one of the men who had been instrumental in saving his life.
“You can’t.” T he other person standing in the dark room commented. She’d read his thoughts perfectly, which is why they’d made such an unbeatable team for the past five years. “If you go in there now, you risk everything. Don’t be an idiot.”
She was right. It sucked, but she was right. “Fine, go in there and find out what they know then. I’m telling you they’re clean. They’re being set up, and you know it.”
“I know no such thing. They’re your friends, not mine. Besides, people change. You know that better than anyone.”
He watched her leave the room, regret a lodestone around his heart. They’d once had a hot and heavy fling, but his own asshole attitude had destroyed that. He was lucky they’d managed to overcome it and remain partners, and more importantly, friends. She hadn’t deserved half the crap he’d put her through, but he was more glad than he could say that she had stuck by him through it.
***
Frank leaned back as the door opened and a woman walked in.
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