Callye's Justice

by Donica Covey

  “That’s absolutely horrible. What a nightmare for you and the poor woman. But after all, this is a fairly busy restaurant. Any number of people were in here. Have you hunted and hassled any of them?”

  “Do you feel hassled?” He shot looks at Mickey and Chase. “Am I hassling this man?”

  “What? This friendly little conversation? Nah, no hassling here,” Chase answered.

  “See, all we want to do is talk. So how about I ask some questions and you answer them. Why don’t you tell me who would use her to get to me. I mean, that’s the act of a true coward, don’t you think so?” He looked at Chase and Mickey.

  “Definitely a coward,” Mickey answered and Chase agreed with a nod.

  “So, maybe you can tell me where we could find the chickenshit?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Justice leaned in and grabbed the man’s collar. “See, that’s where I have a problem. I know that you have the answers somewhere in that pea brain of yours. If I have to split your head open digging them out, well then, that’s what I’m willing to do.”

  The man shifted in his seat and pulled out of Justice’s grip. “If you’re charging me, you better have good reason. Otherwise, back off or I’ll slap you with a harassment suit that you’ll still be paying ten years in the grave.”

  Chase pulled him back. “Don’t go making a public scene,” he hissed in Justice’s ear.

  Justice pulled upright and looked down. “All right, Abrahms, I’m leaving. But know this—” He stood and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, squeezing into the pressure point at the collarbone. “I’m going to be all over you like stink on shit. You so much as toss a gum wrapper on the sidewalk and I’ll haul your ass in.”

  Abrahms tossed a smug smile at him. “We’ll see. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to enjoy my lunch.”

  The urge to throw him through the window flooded Justice, and he bunched his fists in rage.

  Chase grabbed his arm and shook his head.

  “I’ll see you again soon,” Justice gritted out the promise.

  * * *

  Jarold watched as the three men walked out the front door. His temper was beginning to roast. How dare they confront him like this? Who would’ve sent them to him anyway?

  He groused while he picked at pasta primavera. Someone put them on his trail, and that someone would pay dearly. Dozens of eyes weighed on him, making him shift uncomfortably in the chair. His gaze darted around the room, daring them all to look at him.

  He dialed a number on his cell and sat back to wait. “Charlie, it’s Jarold. I’ve got a job for you. I want you to find out what made a trio of Feds crawl all over me thinking I had something to do with the recent kidnapping and explosions. Got it?”

  “Yes. I’ll get back to you.”

  The line went dead, and Jarold clicked the phone shut. He picked up a stray bite of pasta and popped it into his mouth. Things were beginning to get a little hairy for him. If they were sniffing after him for this, how long before they discovered the rest?

  If he wasn’t careful, the entire operation would be exposed, and then he’d get nailed from both sides. Cops he could handle, but Rivera? He shuddered lightly. A bullet to the brain was better than dealing with Rivera.

  His appetite officially gone, he paid the tab and left the restaurant, squaring his shoulders as he walked out to try and make it appear he was untouchable, but the slight tremors in his stomach weren’t helping at all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Justice, you make all kinds of threats, in public, man.” Chase shook his head. “You know when I said I missed my partner? I didn’t mean it.”

  “Too late now.” Justice was seething.

  “Hey, I can make a call and see if we have enough with Bug’s statement to get a warrant.”

  Justice looked over at Mickey. “If it was anyone else I’d say go for it, but let’s face it—even in this case, Edmond won’t be too willing to go to a judge on Bug’s word.” The DA was a good guy. He had walked the line before, even stretched the bounds, as long as he was still in legal limits. This was a weak case even by the unit’s standards.

  “Something will turn up.”

  “Oh, something is definitely going to turn up.” He’d sit on Abrahms as long as he had to. Then he’d follow the man and get the information from him, whatever it took.

  Chase said something to Mickey, and then climbed in the car. “So?”

  “So we wait.”

  Chase scratched under his eye, then examined his nails. “We’re walking a fine line.”

  “Stuff it, partner. You’re either in or you’re out. You don’t have to stick with me in this. I never asked you to.”

  “Nope, you didn’t. But we have to go at this with eyes wide open. You screw it up and legally he’ll walk.”

  “Not if I fix it so he can’t.”

  Chase cleared his throat roughly but didn’t say anything, only settled into the seat and leaned his head back.

  Justice’s mind whirled. Had Bobby found out anything different from the other kid? Would Cas be all right? Could he keep from killing Abrahms once he had him alone?

  * * *

  Abrahms headed down the highway and pulled into the lot of a dive bar. He got out of the car and scurried across the lot.

  Justice slipped the car into a dark corner of the lot and kept an eye on the door.

  He drummed his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel, the urge to hit something swelling inside. The images of Cas, bruised and bloody, floated through his mind. Then the look in her eyes when she told him to leave.

  The pain bubbled back to the surface and it nearly ripped him in two. His eyes stung, heat pricked them and tears threatened to escape the lids. He turned to look out the window while wiping at his eyes roughly with his thumb. Tears were a sign of weakness, and right now he teetered from feeling as weak as a kitten to feeling a killing rage. He couldn’t get a grip on either one to help it win out against the other.

  He raked his fingers through his hair and scrubbed his scalp. Once more his leg bounced in impatient frustration.

  “You better get control before you confront him again,” Chase muttered.

  Justice didn’t say anything. Abrahms came out and Justice followed, but had to drop back when Abrahms pulled onto an overpass.

  Justice slowed and slid off to the curb as Abrahms pulled into a driveway and parked. Abrahms got out of the car. His body was rigid as he scanned the area. What was he looking for? Abrahms shook his head, his body posture relaxed a bit, then he walked up the sidewalk and entered a house.

  Justice started to get out, but Chase grabbed his sleeve.

  “We can’t yet.”

  He pulled free and got out. Walking around the car, his steps were heavy and quick as he followed the concrete to the front door. At his knock, a woman answered.

  “Yeah?”

  “I want to see Abrahms.”

  “What business have you got with him?”

  “Lady, get out of my way,” he warned as he pushed inside.

  Abrahms stormed in from the other room. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out of my house.”

  Justice grabbed Abrahms and shoved him into the wall. The sound of the man’s skull slamming into the solid surface brought little satisfaction. “I want answers, and you’re going to give them to me. Why hire Bismarck?”

  Abrahms put his hands up between Justice’s arms and tried to pry out of his grip. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Alice, call the cops.”

  Chase stepped in front of the woman and pulled out his shield. “We trump cops.”

  She froze and Chase shut the door.

  Justice pressed against Abrahms harder, forcing him deep into the wall. “Now, let’s try this again. Why try and kill an innocent woman?”

  “Jack Staunton, my attorney. I want to call him.”

  “I only have to honor that request when you’re in custody. You’re not in c
ustody, yet. Right now you only have to worry about one thing: am I mad enough to rip you apart limb by limb?”

  Abrahms’ bravado never slipped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Was this guy joking? Justice’s control cracked. He hauled Abrahms back from the wall and threw him into a small table. The wood splintered, crashing beneath the weight, and Abrahms hit the floor.

  Alice screamed, trying to lunge forward, but Chase stood between her and the action.

  Justice stalked closer. With his rage at the surface, he was going to make Abrahms wish he were dead. “Care to keep testing me?” Justice threw him farther down the hall into a door.

  Still Abrahms refused to cave. His gaze, as hard and belligerent as before, locked with Justice’s, almost daring him, urging him, on.

  “If that’s the way you want it.” Justice threw a few punches and slammed Abrahms to the ground, his fist hitting him again and again. He pressed his arm against Abrahms’ throat and applied pressure. Despite the fat in the guy’s neck, the windpipe wouldn’t be hard to crush.

  Chase grabbed him from behind. “Justice.”

  He turned on Chase, the fury still burning. “What the hell? Stay out of my way.” He’d beat a confession out of the bastard.

  Abrahms sat up and Alice ran to him. She gave Justice a hard look full of hate. “You’ll lose your badge for this,” she shrieked and reached for the phone.

  Justice moved in Chase’s iron vise grip but couldn’t shake free. Blood seeped from Abrahms’ nose and the corner of his mouth. It was almost enough to make Justice feel a bit of vengeance. Almost

  Sirens warbled outside, and Chase pulled Justice back to the door. “There’s no wiggle room on this one.”

  Justice looked down at him. “I’m not worried.”

  “You should be,” Chase growled at him.

  “I want to press charges,” Abrahms shouted in the background. Alice was sniffling and whining about Justice and Chase barging in. All the sounds stumbled over each other.

  The rage was still burning deep, and Justice lunged at Abrahms again. It took Chase and three uniforms to keep him away.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here,” Chase urged, pushing him through the front door.

  “I can’t let you go,” a cop spoke up.

  Chase pulled out his identification. “We’re not hard to find.”

  “But, I need to…”

  “You need to back off.” Chase’s voice held a low warning.

  “Got it.”

  Through the open door, Justice heard Alice shouting about the cops letting him go, but he just kept moving.

  In the car, Chase took the keys. “You just had to go and do it, didn’t you? Damn, Justice. We won’t get another crack at him. This won’t help Callye. We can’t touch the son of a bitch now. Hell, you’ll be lucky if they don’t bust you down.”

  Justice flexed his fist, looking at the cuts and bruises forming in the classic image known as the “fight bite” from knuckles connecting with teeth and jaws.

  He still hadn’t said a word as the car pulled up in front of headquarters. Before the car even completely stopped, he jumped out and stormed inside. In the bathroom, he ran cold water over his fist, opening and closing the fingers.

  “All right, Bernard, my office, now,” Director Barker roared as he threw the bathroom door open.

  Justice looked down his nose at his boss and sniffed. “Right,” he answered and followed in the director’s furious wake.

  At Barker’s office, he went inside and the door slammed shut behind him.

  “I warned you, didn’t I? I said to watch your step. I said to be careful and I’d cover as best I could.” An angry flush crept up Barker’s cheeks. A vein in his neck enlarged and throbbed. The director took a deep breath. “Damn it. I know you’ve been through hell. I know you’re angry. We’re all angry for you. But to break into a man’s house and try beating him to death? What the hell were you thinking?”

  “He’s the one who hired Bismarck. I wanted him to pay for the pain, the torture, he put Cas through.” Justice slammed his already injured hand into the wall. “Cas could’ve been killed. She may…” His voice cracked. “Valerie called. They said Cas… There’s a swollen mass forming in her skull, pressing against her brain.”

  He couldn’t look up from a spot on the wall. “If the medicine doesn’t bring the swelling down, they’re going to have to operate.” He finally looked up at Barker.

  Barker gave him a look of sympathetic understanding. “Look, I get it, I really do. You’re hurt, you’re angry and you’re scared. But Justice, you can’t take it out on the man you think is responsible. No matter what your gut says, you have to back off and do this right. Abrahms will get his lawyer in here, and we know he’s going to press for charges against you.”

  Justice wiped his hands down his cheeks. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Go home and get some rest. Go to the hospital and sit with Callye. But stay away from here, and stay away from Abrahms.”

  Justice stared at the floor, and then he nodded. “I’ll be at the hospital.”

  “Good. While you’re there have the E.R. doc check out your hand.”

  Justice focused his gaze on his rapidly swelling hand. The deep reddish purple stained his fist and worked its way up to his wrist. After the number of people and objects he’d pummeled over the last week, he was surprised it had taken this long to break. “Yeah, guess I should, huh?”

  He and Barker walked out into the squad room. Several sets of eyes met his, but he barely acknowledged the understanding he found there.

  In all but two sets, anyway. Abrahms and his lawyer had arrived, and they sat back, watching him.

  The lawyer rushed to them. “Why isn’t this man behind bars? He assaulted my client in his own home.”

  “Listen, Mr.—?” Barker asked.

  “Staunton. There is nothing to listen to but the clank of the door slamming shut on his freedom and his career.”

  “He’s under disciplinary action. Unpaid leave while the matter is resolved,” Barker answered.

  “Unpaid leave? Unpaid leave?” Abrahms snarled as he jerked to his feet.

  Several men pressed him back into his chair.

  “I’m sitting here, battered, after being attacked in my own home. This is unbelievable.” Abrahms’ voice raised an octave with each word.

  “Get out of here,” Barker urged as he pushed Justice to the doors. “We’ll handle this.”

  Justice nodded and headed outside. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself on his feet. He should’ve kept it under control.

  Cas. He had to go to her, even if she didn’t want him.

  Was the medicine going to work? The question looped through his brain.

  In the parking lot at the hospital, he once more questioned the wisdom of coming. Still, like a moth drawn to a flame, he went to her.

  The hospital seemed eerily quiet as he headed for the elevators and rode up alone. His steps heavy with dread, he gave a nod to the unobtrusive guard before walking into the room. She was so damn still, so pale.

  His eyes began to mist and he had to battle it with everything he had. He slid the chair over as quietly as he could.

  The fingers of his right hand resembled sausages, and he knew he should have it taken care of, but he was beyond caring. The pain only reminded him that this was really happening, not just some rotten nightmare he’d be pulling himself out of.

  “Justice?”

  He turned to see Terese Flannery standing in the doorway. “Hey, Terese.”

  She came in slowly, her steps not making a sound as she moved to his side. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve come sooner.”

  He stood to accept the hug she offered. “It’s all right.” He stepped back for her to sit in the chair.

  “How is she?”

  “She’s got some kind of mass in her brain. Swelling or bleeding or something.”

  She reached for his hand and paused. “Wha
t have you done to yourself?” she demanded softly as she carefully turned his hand over in hers.

  He tried to pull it back, but she refused to release it. “I had an accident with a wall.”

  “It looks like you connected with more than a wall.”

  A slight guilty flush crawled up his face. The only person besides Cas who could make him feel like a foolish jerk was Terese. The woman was a combination of fretting sister and self-assigned mother hen to the unit.

  Mickey’s Irish lineage showed in his snapping green eyes and his short fuse. Terese was the complete opposite—a soft-spoken, gentle woman about Cas’s size, with waist-length, deep brown hair, huge chocolate brown eyes and bronze skin. There was no doubt of her Native American heritage. She offered her gentle compassion and advice to anyone who needed it, even if they didn’t always know when or how to ask for it.

  He finally slid his hand free of her grasp. “I’m glad you’re here. I know Cas is happy, too.”

  “Go have your hand cared for. I’ll stay here with Callye.”

  He didn’t want to go. Then again, if Cas woke up and found him there, would she be upset? Probably. “I’ll be back later,” he whispered and pressed a kiss against Cas’s forehead.

  Downstairs at the emergency room window he gave his name and then had to wait for triage. Just a week ago, he’d paced this same waiting room, his stomach churning acid and his head spinning as he waited to hear if Cas was going to live or die. The same worry still plagued him.

  “Agent Bernard?”

  The nurse led him down the hall and had him sit in a chair while she checked his pulse and respirations.

  “It’s my hand,” he growled low in his throat.

  “I can see that, but we need baseline vitals. Did this happen on the job?”

  “You could say that.”

  She scratched a note on the paper, then jotted down the numbers and stood up. “All right, come back this way.”