by Jaime Reese
"I can't do that."
"Sure you can. It's been over a month and a half, and it's going to drop on the list of priorities. I'll work it on off time, I don't care. But grant me access, so I don't have to drive anyone crazy and I have the resources on this without raising any red flags or stepping on anyone's toes."
The captain squared his shoulders. "One condition."
Aidan straightened and crossed his arms.
"You're not on the case. However, I can assign it to the task force. It's the only way I can allow you to be anywhere near it." He held up a stopping hand before Aidan had a chance to interrupt him. "But you are not working it. You are there, you get your info real-time, and you can even offer suggestions and review the case. But that's it. Detective Reyes is lead since it's his specialty. That's my condition. Accept or decline?"
At this point, he'd be willing to agree to anything just to have some involvement in the case. "Accept. But, I have a…request."
Harry nodded, encouraging him to continue.
"I talk to Jessie about this guy. I'm not going to subject him to any Reyes bullshit during his recovery. I don't want Jessie under the team's scrutiny until I get a take on their position."
"There's no position to take. This is another case they're going to work."
Aidan raised an eyebrow. "Do you really believe that?"
The captain sighed and ran his hand down his face. "Fine. You're going to give me an ulcer with all this shit."
They exited the captain's office and silently walked down the corridor to the task force's secure area. After a thumbprint identification and passcode, they entered the gated area and walked down the hallway to the small conference room where the team members met and were probably already a few minutes into the weekly recap meeting.
"Morning. You guys are now on the Vega case."
No one commented other than Manny's groan.
"Is there a problem, Detective Reyes?" the captain immediately asked.
Aidan hid a smile. Just one of the reasons he liked his captain. He didn't take shit from people and rarely ever backed down.
"No, sir," Manny forced through a tight grin.
"I didn't think so. As you were," Harry said before exiting the private room and closing the door behind him.
"Now where were we," Manny said before resuming the weekly recap of cases and lead progress.
Aidan walked over and pulled out the chair next to Sunny.
"How's Vega doing?" she said, bumping his shoulder.
"Hanging in there. Pushing himself too much sometimes. He's stubborn."
"He's obviously been around you too long," she said with a teasing grin.
Aidan scoffed. He peered up at Manny, pointing to one of the three large bulletin boards with papers, photos, and notes haphazardly pinned and taped. The boards were constantly updated and discussed so everyone could cross-contribute with a fresh perspective when an epiphany hit. They split the cases up within the team and reported updates and leads, either real-time if critical, or during the weekly benchmark meetings. They reviewed the leads and planned the next steps, delegating responsibilities along the way.
He humored Manny and his need to lead; after all, everyone had their quirks in the group and most preferred to not have the spotlight shone on them for the dog and pony show. But Manny, that man loved to be the central focus. He was the mouthpiece. Sure, he was a great detective as well, but it was tough to see past that aura of superiority he loved to flaunt. He worked with the Special Victims Bureau. Regardless of all the arrogance that surrounded him and his craptastic attitude, Aidan did respect the jerk. It took a special type of personality to handle so many assault-related cases and stay sane without hitting the bottle as so many others had in that position.
Every now and then, Travis would jump in with a question or comment about one of the updates. Travis Keller came to the team from the Organized Crime Section. Aidan had known Travis for a while before actually working with him, tackling some of Cam's related cases in his division. He was a by-the-book type. That book had one line in it—get the bad guy, one way or another. Period. End of story. He wasn't a dirty cop by any means and his clean-cut boyish looks often fooled everyone, but the guy must have taken a crash course at the whatever-means-necessary school of thought while acing the cover-your-ass workshop. He was unconventional but always legit and loved to push the boundaries.
And his classmate at the school of hard knocks must have been Wall. Not short for Wally, Wallace or anything sweet or posh like that. He came to the group from the Special Response Team, and SRT had given him that nickname because they all felt talking to him was the equivalent of talking to a brick wall. The guy rarely spoke and had most people guessing if he'd had his vocal cords removed. Most of his responses were a random head shake or nod. Occasionally, people heard a mumble or a grunt, but that was the extent of his communication. Aidan liked him best. Wall always minded his own business. Out in the field, he was stealthy silence, and pure, brute force. He could take down a man twice his size with ease, and had done so in several instances. While others did the talking during interrogations, he stood in the corner, arms crossed and watched. That stare would make anyone piss in their pants and sing like a bird when they needed a confession.
Manny finished his soapbox speech and reached out for Jessie's case file, thumbing through the pages. His thick, wavy, perfectly-styled dark hair matched his dark brown eyes. His tall, broad physique always seemed to be polished and his tan skin freshly shaved, ready for an impromptu television statement appearance. His attire of choice was a three-piece suit, and the son of a bitch looked sharp and ready to campaign for a political position. He closed the file and pitched it to the center of the table. "I thought it might have been linked to the serial attacks trickling into the state, but it looks more like a pissed off ex."
Aidan's hands curled into fists, pushing through the red haze clouding his focus, resisting the urge to pummel the man. "You're making assumptions. You don't know any details."
Manny opened his arms and raised his palms. "Do tell. I'm curious, how do two guys—"
"Does your fiancée prefer missionary or good ol' fashion doggie—"
Manny launched from his seat, stopped only by the force of Wall, holding him back. "Where the hell do you get off talking about her? What she and I do is none of your fucking—"
"Exactly," Aidan said, slowly rising from his seat and leaning forward toward Manny. "You can hate me all you want, but show Jessie and his case some fucking respect. The captain thinks you guys can help. If he's wrong, then maybe you should tell him."
Manny quieted but refused to back away.
"Reyes, calm down," Travis said. "You know if shit went south, you'd want Calloway behind you all the way."
Manny yanked himself out of Wall's hold, maintaining his laser focus on Aidan. "I don't want you behind me at all."
Aidan rolled his eyes. "I'll fight the urge to suck your precious dick or lick your ass. Can we focus on work? I need to get back to the hospital."
The team members coughed to cover their laughter but still held their smiles while Manny gave each of them a menacing glare. "Fine," he said, tugging the edges of his vest and pulling his cuffs before returning to his seat to address the group. "Now that we're all up to speed, we need to decide who's following up on which leads."
They switched into work mode with the standoff forgotten. Aidan had done everything in his power to keep his life private. That cat was now out of the bag and hissing and clawing at every dog that challenged it. He hated losing control, but there was no way in hell he was going to let anyone disrespect Jessie or their friendship, even if that was all it was ever meant to be.
Aidan stared at the metal elevator doors, waiting for them to slide open to Jessie's floor. He tightened the grip on his heavier than usual duffle bag. Aside from the few items he had picked up from Jessie's now sparkling clean apartment, he had packed most of his remaining clean clothes, not plannin
g on returning to his house anytime soon. He stared at the elevator buttons as each dimmed and lit the next. He stepped out and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the guard standing by Jessie's door.
"Hi, Bull," he said, greeting his Marine friend. The man was built like a lineman—big, broad, and thick—with enough power to have earned his nickname. "Everything cool?"
"Yeah. Your brother-in-law is still in there and only the nurses have gone in and out."
He nodded, thankful his friend was always alert, so he decided to ignore the wrong assessment of his relationship with Cole. After all, Cole told everyone who'd listen about his plans with Ty. The man bragged about his My-Ty more than his love for cars. That loud-mouth brat drove him up the wall, but his deep love for Ty offset his need to wring the little shit's neck.
Barely.
He knocked and pushed open Jessie's door, quickly scanning the room until his focus landed on Cole and his worried expression. Great. What trouble had his mouth gotten him into now? He tried to hide it, but the crease between his brows couldn't be hidden, regardless of how low he tugged that beanie over his forehead.
"Aidan's back, so I'm going to bail. I'll call you tomorrow." Cole stood and returned the chair to its place against the side wall.
Jessie's demeanor was different, silent, as if his mind had taken a vacation to la-la land. Aidan dropped his duffle bag in the chair and the dinner bag on the table.
Cole fidgeted in the corner, chewing his lip as if he wanted to say something. He tugged on his beanie again then walked out the door.
"I'll be right back," Aidan said to Jessie then followed Cole out. In a few quick strides, he reached Cole bouncing on his feet by the elevator. "What the hell happened?"
Cole shoved his hands in his pockets, his arms straight as a board. "I think I fucked up. I'm sorry."
"Why is he shut down like that?"
Cole looked at him and squirmed, the concern screaming from those mismatched eyes.
"I swear, if you don't start talking—"
"I don't know, okay! We were talking then he got all quiet. I talked about everything I could think of, but it's like he checked out somewhere along the way."
"Backtrack. What were you guys talking about before he spaced out?"
Cole cycled through topics of what they discussed like checking off items from a grocery list. Obviously, Cole could talk, but the randomness of the conversation was jarring. How the hell could someone go from talking about rusting parts of a car to gourmet ingredients in a recipe, then jump to such random facts like horses couldn't vomit? No wonder Jessie sat numbly in bed, and it was an outright miracle Cole's head didn't explode on a daily basis. Something did manage to break through in the middle of Cole's verbal diarrhea.
"Wait…you told him his father came by?"
Cole nodded quickly. "I know you said it wasn't him, but shit, man, those eyes. That same pale blue."
Aidan shut his eyes and lowered his head. "Get out of here."
"I'm sorry. I didn't—"
He looked up and, for some reason he couldn't understand, felt the need to console him. Cole may be a lot of things, but he would never do anything to intentionally hurt anyone. But that damn mouth of his didn't know when to stop. "I know you didn't. But there's a reason people don't talk about certain things. Remember that the next time."
Cole ducked his head. "I fucked up. I'm so sorry. I'd never hurt him."
And that right there was another reason Cole remained on Aidan's good side, regardless of all his twisted shit. "I know. Thanks for staying with him while I was out."
Cole nodded before entering the elevator and apologized again before the doors closed between them.
Aidan stood with his head down and his hands planted on his waist. He didn't know what exactly had happened between Jessie and his father, but the pained look in those crystal blue eyes when the subject had come up once before had sliced through his heart. It had been enough to never speak of it again. But now, he felt as if he didn't have a choice but to broach the subject.
He returned to Jessie's room and grabbed the bag from the table with the burger and fries he had picked up from the cafeteria. He pulled the chair closer to Jessie's bed and noticed the tray of untouched food. Dammit. Jessie needed to eat to remain strong with all the pain meds and physical therapy. "How about you join me and eat something so I don't feel like a greedy pig?"
Nothing.
"Jess?"
Jessie finally made eye contact and forced a smile. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
"You haven't eaten."
"I'm not hungry."
"Not even for one of these?" Aidan teased, holding up one of the fries Jessie couldn't resist.
"Thanks," Jessie said, taking the fry and biting into it. He closed his eyes as he took another bite. "I swear, I think they inject something highly addictive into these things. Fries just don't taste this good on their own."
Aidan smiled and made a mental note about the power of drug-laced fries and their ability to break down Jessie's walls. He reached into the bag and gave Jessie another while he rolled the tray of hospital food within reach and handed him the fork. Jessie gave in and ate his dinner while Aidan shared more wall-crushing fries along the way. When they finally finished, Aidan repositioned the pillows behind Jessie and set the now empty tray on the small counter area by the door. He filled a cup with a little water and set it on the table within Jessie's reach, finally settling in his usual chair to Jessie's right, where he had a clear line of sight to the door.
"Can we try walking later?" Jessie asked.
"Only a few steps," Aidan said. "I don't want to overstress your good leg." That was putting it mildly. A few weeks of inactivity coupled with all the broken parts and surgery had weakened Jessie's body and he was too hard-headed to pace himself. "Something's on your mind and I want to get that out in the open first, then I need to ask you a few questions."
"Ask me about what?"
"Your attacker. Michael. We don't have much to go on so I'm hoping you can…tell me about him to see if there's anything we can maybe use to find him." The last thing he wanted to hear about was Jessie's prior relationship with the asshole attacker, but better him than another detective who wouldn't be able to pick up on the minor nuances when something struck a nerve.
Jessie nodded, more an absent reaction than a response.
"Jess?"
He looked up, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Is it true? Was my father here?"
Aidan swallowed heavily, thinking of how best to steer around the metaphorical elephant in the room. Fuck, he hated knowing he would hurt Jessie, because he couldn't imagine the conversation ending on a positive note. "Yes."
Jessie did that subtle, slow nod thing again, as if digesting bits of information at a time. "It was a mistake…him being here. It's not something he wanted to do. Right?"
Aidan's chest ached at the sadness in Jessie's eyes. He wanted to kill that bastard who had caused this much pain to haze the otherwise bright, crystal blue. "I don't think he's coming back."
Jessie took a deep breath and his expression softened. Acceptance. As if he had known what Aidan would say, but finally hearing it released a huge weight off his shoulders. He remained quiet for a few, never-ending seconds, until he finally spoke. "I didn't think so." His focus shifted again to the bedsheet and the routine of flattening it when he tried to gather his thoughts. "I've told you about my mom and how close we were when I was growing up, but I guess I've never told you anything about my father, huh?"
Aidan's throat tightened. "No. I know your mom died when you were twelve and you told me she was like a buffer between you and your father, but we haven't talked about it. I know it's…not a good subject." After hearing Jessie's father's words straight from the asshole's mouth, yeah, understatement of the year.
Jessie reached out for Aidan's hand, clasping it tightly as if it would give him strength before he spoke. "There was always friction. He was very old school. He belie
ved men should be big and strong and women should be at their husband's beck and call. My mom… She was my best friend. She took me everywhere. I think part of that might have been that my father didn't really care for her to have any friends of her own. I don't know. But I know we went shopping together, grocery stores, anywhere she needed to go. I remember watching her one time in the kitchen, cooking dinner. My father came home that day and he lost it. Told me it was not my responsibility to know my way around the kitchen."
He paused for a moment as if trying to choose the right words. "A few months after my mom died, he said he was tired of trying. He said he couldn't understand me or why I couldn't throw a football straight or hit a baseball farther than the baseline. He didn't understand why I loved our neighbor's shih tzu and would play with her whenever she dug her way out of her yard into ours to spend some time with me when I came home from school. He said it was a little girl's dog and that young men wouldn't play with dogs like that."
He spoke distantly, as if reading a detached script, trying to avoid any emotion. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "He made his feelings about me very clear when he threw me head first into the grass and I landed inches away from one of the presents she'd left in our yard I hadn't had a chance to clean up yet. He laughed and called it ironic considering I was a shitty excuse for a son," he said in a mocking deep voice. He paused again and swallowed heavily before looking over to Aidan. "He gave up on me and told me to leave. If I'm going to be honest with you, I didn't want to stay. I was terrified of becoming him."
Aidan gripped Jessie's hand almost as much as the hold that twisted his stomach and threatened to cause his dinner to come back up. Although he had never really felt a connection with his father the way Ty had, his dad would never, ever have treated him that way.
"You are nothing like him."
"You spoke to him?"