My wrist were raw by the time we made it to the station. The two men executing justice on either side of my refrained body found no pleasure in the task, only indifference. I was ushered in a cold room, shackled to the table, I could hardly move.
“Call my lawyer.” I yell as they both turn their expressionless faces and ignore my pleas and walk out. Fuck. I need Alex Storm.
Where was Flynn, and most importantly was he alive?
This was one hell of a night, what I didn’t anticipate was, it was only getting started. When the next one to open the door was none other than the love of my life. My disheveled appearance and blood-stained clothes didn’t help my case. And the fact she hadn’t uttered a word was not a good sign.
“Rough day?”
“I’m alive.”
“I know that now.” Her voice softened but she couldn’t fool me, she wanted to pummel me. “You realize I can’t help you Steel.” I was about to be taken to the wood shed by one pissed off FBI agent. Who I just happen to be sleeping with, and from the looks of it may never again.
“I was protecting you.”
“Protecting me?” She scoffs. “From what?”
“I think it’s best I talk to Alex.”
“Alex your friend or Alex your lawyer?” She leans over the table, the urge to reach out and touch her was intense, but the cuffs only clanked at my feeble attempt.
“Alex my lawyer.”
“Interesting.”
Her hair falls framing her face in strands of silk. I wanted to twist a strand around my finger, feeling its smoothness, it’s warmth. But mostly, I wanted to search through her mind, but I was afraid what I’d find. I felt the distance between us, I created it, I was the cause.
“So, I don’t have to tell you how bad this looks?”
“No.” Her watchful eyes gripping, constricting my breath. “I’m fully aware.” Shame rolling over me as the bulldozer rest on my chest. There’s a light knock on the door, and a suited man peeks his head in.
“New developments.” He says, his expression filled with desolation, as his gaze ricochets from Nick to mine. Panic stirs as one thought races through my mind.
“Is it Flynn? Jesus Nick tell me he’s okay.”
“I don’t know anything Steel, I’d tell you if I knew, I have to go.” She turns away and walks out the door leaving me alone in this room. The sound loud enough to momentarily deafen all sounds.
Now, I see the world through a solitary window. Bound, imprisoned, for a crime I may have committed.
And there, down the hall leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed, his smirk evident as he just watches two FBI agents escort my handcuffed boyfriend behind closed doors. My boss, Andrew Quentin, the shady attorney general. Looking smug and so pleased with himself. And still pissy over his rejected advances at the party.
“I don’t trust him.” He says as he approaches. That much is clear as he snakes nearer with each step. His full attention glaring my way. “What were they doing there Nick?” His head tilts triumphantly. “At Vane’s home.”
“Following a lead.” But in reality, I wish I knew.
“Possible homicide Nick, we found Vane dead in his mansion.” His tone intensifying, the harsh words coming from the voice belonging to the man I suspect has his own scandalous secrets.
“He’s a decorated military vet.” I defend. My throat dry, my voice strained. The man I’d fallen in love with isn’t capable of murder. My gut knows it. With the heart of a lion, he’s a leader and above all, a good man, he wouldn’t go there with the intension to hurt anyone. Flynn will collaborate his story, once he’s conscience.
“I don’t have to remind you, you’re off the case.”
“What? No…Sir.” Defying logic, and his authority, I barge on. “You know as well as I do…”
“You won’t be assigned to this case because of your personal relationship with the suspect, Nick.”
“Alright, alright.” I say. “But I’m contacting his lawyer.” Turning my back as I pull out my phone searching contacts, Madison appears and I press call. Ringing, the FBI are not idiots, they will figure out what really happened, the truth will reveal itself, and his name will be cleared.
“It’s me, Steel’s in trouble can Alex meets us downtown?”
Thirty minutes later I see Alex walk through the door, his gaze searches for mine as I’m slumped into a chair. “Alex.” I call out, then push off the chair standing only inches from him, but his expression is grim and worry rolling off in waves.
“They’re holding Steel. I think they’re going to charge him. Can you help?” I ask riddled with anxiety.
“Christ Nick, maybe. But, I’m not a criminal attorney, I have a name Edward Jacobson, I put in a call, but his service said he was out of town. That’s why I’m here.” His fingers fork through his hair. “And Flynn, what do we know about him?”
“He’s in surgery, head wound.” Fire cracking through my veins burning from the inside out, as I answer. “It looks bad.”
“Jesus.” Alex starts pacing. “I’m going to be forced to step in.”
“He’s already asked for you, Alex.” Yet I see a flash of hesitancy, as if he’s torn. He turns away and heads towards the room where Steel’s fate awaits him. And enters unannounced appearing competent, equipped to handle the situation.
I follow close behind and silently open the second door where several others are discussing the new developments of the case. And sitting between us is a one-way mirror glass patrician, and Steel shackled in place. Trying to harness the rage stampeding through my veins. I watch as if in slow motion. Andrew Quinton and Alex Storm approach as Steels gaze shifts between them both.
“Alex, how’s Flynn?” Steels pleading eyes move me, knowing every man he loses, he loses a piece of himself.
“In surgery.” Fishing something out of his pocket, he clutches his phone and dials. “This is Alexander Storm.” Then careened off to the right. “Yes, that’s right. I need an update concerning Mr. Flynn’s condition.” An unknown voice echoes through the phone and several long beats of silence pass, as my mind attempts to fill the emptiness. “I understand. Yes, thank you.” Alex turns as Steels unanswered questions pulse through the air. “Steel.” A hands lands on his shoulder as I see the gentle squeeze. “He’s in a medically-induced coma, it’s only temporary to relieve swelling in the brain.”
“Jesus.” Steels head drops in agony.
“Can we get on with it?” Quinton barks.
“Remove my clients handcuffs.” I watch as Quinton removes the restraints, and Steel is left rubbing his wrists. His eyes wonder over to the tinted glass, the one-way mirror hiding myself as my own eyes take him in. I stand helpless as Quinton approaches.
“Let me bring you up to speed.” His distinctive presence fills the room, as he quietly slides a manila envelope over to Steels side of the table where he gazes at the two men, his smirk firmly in place. Alex grabs the file from where it rests, and opens it pulling its contents out. “A bank statement?” Alex questions. Three pages slide through his fingers reading each page until his eyes land on the last page.
“I see you’re finally grasping the severity of the situation.”
“This only proves my client’s business is doing quite well.”
“I disagree, it proves motive.” The two men sparring as Steel sits quietly, too quiet. Never once looking at the bank statement. Panic begins to set in as I regain focus. “A single deposit for five hundred thousand dollars?” He scoffs. “I highly doubt it, you’re grasping at straws.”
“It was Carrington.” Steel begins. As adrenaline pumps through me like a shot of morphine numbing then exploding into fire all in seconds. “He did this.”
“Gun for hire?”
“Of course not, he framed me.”
“But you knew about the money and did nothing.”
“I told you, Carrington deposited it, I was working on the case. He has an accomplice, we, Flynn and I spoke to her, Pe
yton…she works at the bank.”
“Does Peyton have a last name?”
I felt the panic rising, I’m tempted to run in but I can’t hide my own emotions filled with confusion and suffocating betrayal. He knew, Steel knew and chose to keep it from me, why?
“Peyton Ramirez.”
“If that has any merit, where’s the connection between Vane and Carrington?”
“That’s what we were working on.”
Alex quickly steps in. “I need a word with my client.” Quintin nods, pointing to the bubble camera mounted high in the corner, flashing its red light signaling record. He exits the room and the loud click locking the two inside, although far from alone.
“Steel.” Alex pulls the chair opposite him, falling into it in frustration. “This is serious, and it doesn’t help matters you’re notorious for being a loose cannon. You’re sure Carrington’s behind this?”
“Of course, who else?”
Listening to the sound of each breath, each word as if squeezing my heart, questioning his story. Is it real or contrived? I couldn’t be sure, not now. His lapse of judgement, and the fact he concealed the entire event has me reeling.
“In case you haven’t noticed, this looks bad.” Alex rubbing the scruff on his chin. “There’s not a lot to go on, not a thread of evidence to support your story.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth.” He explains like it was happening in slow motion. “I’ll prove once and for all Vane was consuming young women, then grooming them into God knows what, then discarding them as quickly as he saw fit.”
“Listen to yourself Steel, this doesn’t add up and I’m on your side.” He immediately stands palms resting on the table. “Let me tell you how this works, the attorney general, the prosecuting attorney will handle the case. The state has the burden of proving beyond a reasonable doubt the defendant-you, Steel Archer committed the alleged crime. Once a formal charge has been filed, written complaint goes to the judge to obtain an arrest warrant. And it’s safe to say, Quinton is going after you.”
“Jesus Christ Alex, you can’t believe I would purposely murder someone for money.”
“Of course not, but it doesn’t matter what I think, it’s what they can prove.” His head slowly moving from side to side. “We need big guns, we need the best criminal attorney money can buy. He’s highly aggressive, Edward Jacobson, and presently unavailable. But let me make a few calls, money talks.” Reaching for his phone again. “Give me a few minutes.” Then rises and knocks on the door, immediately it’s unlocked, and Alex disappears into the hall.
I drift in-between anger and confusion as the news unfolds. I had to know for sure, I needed to see him face to face. Crossing the room, I race over to him before anyone tries to stop me. And once inside I rest my body on the closed door.
“Then it’s true?” I ask sharply, as Steel rubs a hand over his face aiming a glare smack dab into my soul. I could see the hurt radiating off him as he searches for just the right words, but what words would ring true?
“You’re doubting me too Nick?” Bracing his elbows on his thighs, his head falls into his waiting hands. “Say something.”
But I could barely breath. I swear to God the weight of it, sitting on my chest as doubt seeps in. The concrete block resting heavy on my heart. And yet, I can’t help myself.
“I thought we’d grown to trust each other…all along you’ve been keeping secrets.” A knife stabbing straight into my heart twisting with each word. “You didn’t think I would find out eventually?” Exasperation laced my voice, a mixture of confusion and contradiction taking center stage.
“I was protecting you, protecting your job.” Staring back at him his face covered with dread. “It has nothing to do with trust.”
“It has everything to do with trust. You didn’t trust me enough to share the threats, the money, Carrington’s set up. I could have helped, without jeopardizing my career.”
I see sweat forming at his temple slowly tracking down his hairline, disappearing before my eyes. I stumble through regrets, and I can’t pretend, not now. Seeing the evidence stacked against him is daunting. I felt it down to my very soul, the agony into the abyss.
“Talk to me, Nick.” He shifts in his seat. “Don’t make me beg.”
“I don’t mean to, but…” The room is spinning, just needing air, I need air, I’m suffocating in this place. I wound my arms around myself, shutting down. “I have to go.” The chair scrapes loud against the floor, as he rushes at me. And in a split second, two armed FBI officers have him by the arms, shacking him once again to the table.
“Nichole, wait. Please.”
But, I don’t. I turn and leave, blindsided. Now facing something more than a measure of justice. Our foundation has cracked, crumbling down around me, around us. With the key fob in my hand I make my way outside, the wind hits in the fading light. The mustang, the shiny candy-apple red waiting for me, and once inside, it’s only then did the air return to my lungs.
“Agent Lancaster.” I say when I flash my FBI badge and duck under the yellow tape surrounding Vane’s manor. The starkness of the black sky causing the old place to look more sinister than ever. But, I had to see for myself. I pull myself together only enough to enter the old mansion. I’m greeted immediately. “Detective.” A nod to the man in blue. As soon as the police had seen it they called us in. The second suspicious death within a two-mile radius making it a case for the FBI. Still, seeing the close-up effects of a bullet wound to the head hits us all, swallowing hard as I approach.
“Blew half his brains out, the back of his skull missing.” The officer warned.
“Jesus.” It was gruesome. “And where’s the servant?”
“Godfrey?” He asks. “We’re holding him, seems he fired the first shot.” Then pointed behind him in the cruiser outside, where the man sat alone in the back seat. “Watch your step.” Taking a moment to appraise the crime scene.
“Do we know why he shot?”
“Check with the captain.”
Brushing me off as I make my way closer. “Excuse me, I’m agent Nichole Lancaster, with the FBI.” Walking up to the group of testosterone-fueled group of officers filling the air. My gender is their problem, I’ve had my share of run-ins in the past, but it only made me stronger, more calloused. Behind the men surrounding the squad car sat the ashen white-faced man. Then I watch as he buries his head in his blood-stained hands sobbing.
“Captain?” My voice ringing through the crowd, he turns and sighs, as if annoyed by my insertion into the case. “What do you make of this?” His grave expression lingers on his face.
“Two men down, one didn’t make it.”
“How many shots were fired?”
“Two that we know of.”
I didn’t know what I was up against. I knew the house was busy, agents collecting evidence, the remaining men circling the car.
“Has anyone attempted to interrogate the servant?”
His gaze rushes to mine. “No, we were waiting for someone from the FBI field office, I guess that’s you.” But I couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t happy about my being here.
“Sharp as a tack, I see.” I couldn’t stop myself, knowing it would only made matters worse. His sharp gaze fired back, as my words hung in the air like smog in the big city.
“He’s all yours.” Shielding his eyes from me. Pissed off, I’m sure.
“But we know he fired first?”
“That’s all he said.”
“Do you mind?” Nodding towards the locked car. I watch as he slowly digs deep in his pocket, he pulls out the car fob unlocking the car.
“Like I said, he’s all yours.” I lean over inserting myself in the car. I knew it was up to me to attempt to interview the man. Gather the relevant details before coming to any conclusions.
“Sir.” He looks up remorse blanketing his face. “I need to take your statement, may I?” The tearful nod appears. As I sit beside him, note pad in place
.
“Let’s start with your name.”
“Godfrey Brown.” I call it in, as he stares at me trembling. His gray hair and soft eyes look flustered, that much is obvious.
“Is this your home Godfrey?”
“Yes, I live here with my nephew.” Then silence, as if searching for the right words. “Or I did, my nephew, my poor boy.”
“You want to tell me what happened?” Simplest, safest way to approach our intended suspect, get his statement now. Trying to keep him calm in his panicked madness.
“They lied and...” Pausing mid-sentence.
“Who lied?”
“The two men that came to kill my boy.” Tears rushing down his cheeks. “Accused him of unthinkable monstrosities.” I didn’t have to ask who, I knew who.
“Then what happened.”
“The storm hit, we lost power. I tried to pull him to safety, but…”
My phone rings interrupting his train of thought. As I reach for it, Godfrey loses his eyes and turns away.
“ID’s fake.”
“What?”
“Godfrey Brown, we can’t find anything on him. Nothing.” Standard procedure, we run everyone through a data base used by law enforcement agencies worldwide. My pulse hammers, I didn’t see this coming.
“You sure?”
“You want me to check again?” A sigh is heard. “Nothing Nick.”
“Got it, thanks.” Disconnecting the call. “So, Godfrey Brown you want to tell me who you really are?”
At the drop of a hat he turns, and in its place, were signs of rage. I watch the slow intentional blink of irritation. A tight-lipped sneer attacks my senses. “They deserved everything they got, I only wished I killed them both.” As his words grew darker, I watch him going off the deep end. He has the uncanny ability to make my skin crawl for reasons I can’t explain. He penetrates right through me, some sort of omen warning me of imminent danger. I learned long ago to listen to my gut, and he’s not quite right. I’m bringing him in.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”
Hard as Steel: Book four ( Surviving Series ) Page 17