“Thank you,” Danny said, and he meant it. He’d been so alone when he’d stepped beyond the prison walls with not a single place in the world to go. And now he had his old apartment back and someone to eat dinner with and a place where he belonged. Hinestroza bought Danny cheap. But the truth was, he could have had him for less.
“GODDAMN IT,” Miller laughed. “Stop doing that!”
“What?” Danny murmured, his tongue stealing into Miller’s ear. “This… or this?”
Miller bucked his shoulder, shoving Danny onto his side of the bed, both of them buried beneath the covers, head to toe.
Danny grinned. “You know what this reminds me of, being in bed like this?” His breath floated hot into the air as he talked, their combined exhales steaming up the quilted cave.
“What?”
“When I was a little kid, I used to build forts in my bed. I’d use a whole bunch of pillows and a blanket and sometimes my mom would give me a snack to take under there, too, cookies or a brownie. Although that was always risky, because my old man would beat my ass if he found out I’d been eating in bed.”
“We used to build forts outside sometimes.” Miller smiled, his skin glowing like a rainbow from the light shining through the patterned bedspread.
“Getting the fort ready was always more fun than actually being in it. I’d get in there, but then I’d be lonely—no one to talk to, no one to share it with.” Danny twined a lock of Miller’s hair around his finger. “I like it better this way… with you.”
Miller stared at Danny, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. Then he pressed forward against Danny’s mouth, palming the back of Danny’s head as they kissed. Danny pushed back the covers with one hand, the warm air in the room feeling almost cold when it hit his over-heated cheeks. They’d moved to a new motel two days ago, a nicer place where the thermostat actually worked.
They’d been careful since their fight, stepping lightly for fear of re-opening wounds. They hadn’t revisited Danny’s revelations about Ortiz, pretended their tears had never fallen. But the aftermath pressed heavy against them, that morning still alive in all the words they did not say.
Danny nipped Miller’s lower lip to get his attention, smiling when Miller groaned softly in response. “We ever going to get out of bed today?”
“I have to soon. I’ve got that meeting with the Assistant U.S. Attorney at one.”
Danny pulled his hand away too quickly, snagging at Miller’s hair. “Sorry.” Danny flopped over onto his back, tucking one arm behind his head.
“What’s wrong?” Miller asked, leaning over, his eyes coated with a dull sheen of worry.
“Just thinking about what’s coming,” Danny sighed, pulling against his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger. He turned his head to look at Miller. “When I testify, will I be behind a screen or something?”
Miller shook his head. “There’s no point. Hinestroza knows who the witness is against him. It’ll be a closed courtroom, so there’s no harm in having you on the witness stand.” Miller paused. “Why?”
“I wish I didn’t have to look at him when I testify.”
“He won’t be able to hurt you, Danny. He can’t get to you.”
Danny didn’t answer, shifting his eyes back to where his feet drew restless circles under the sheet.
“This isn’t about you being scared, is it?”
“I’m scared shitless, Miller, don’t get me wrong. But, no, that wasn’t what I was talking about.”
“Then what?” Miller was trying hard to sound understanding, but Danny could hear the impatience trickling into his words.
“I hate letting Hinestroza down. I hate throwing all the faith he had in me back in his face.” Danny closed his eyes, not wanting to witness Miller’s changing expression.
“What the hell?” Miller exclaimed. “How can you still care about that man, about what he thinks or what happens to him? After what he did to Ortiz? After what he did to you?”
“Hinestroza didn’t kill Ortiz, Madrigal did.”
“Danny….” Miller’s voice gusted out on a wave of disbelief.
Danny was aware how his words must sound, like the ravings of a crazy man, and he wondered briefly if he should censor himself. But he didn’t want to pretend, not with Miller. He wanted to reveal all the complicated, messy parts of him that would never go away.
“I know Hinestroza ordered him killed, Miller. I’m not an idiot. But he had his reasons for doing it. They may have been cruel and hard, but at least they were reasons. Madrigal killed him because it was fun.”
“You think Ortiz stealing some cocaine is a good enough reason to justify being tortured to death?”
“No, of course not. But Hinestroza doesn’t care about fair. He cares about results. About making sure people don’t cross him or underestimate him. Violence is the way he communicates.”
“But that’s not justice, Danny, that’s just depravity.”
Danny exhaled a bitter laugh. “Justice? What the fuck is that? What does that word even mean? Is that what you guys hand out? Where’s the justice in sending a twenty-two-year-old kid to a maximum security prison for selling a little cocaine? Tossing him in there to be fought over and ripped apart like a scrap of meat? You think my punishment fit my crime, Miller?”
Danny watched as Miller swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple squeezing into a rigid lump in his throat. “We’re not talking about you. We’re talking about Hinestroza, and I can’t fucking believe you’re defending him!” Miller’s voice rose with each word.
“I’ve known him for a long time,” Danny said, his own voice thrumming with feeling. “You only concentrate on what’s bad about him. But I see more than that. The truth is, I’m probably more like him than I am like you.”
Miller jerked away, maneuvering to sit on the side of the bed, lowering his head into his hands. “I don’t understand how you can even say something like that, Danny. He made you a criminal. He forced that life on you.”
Danny knee-walked over to Miller’s back, sliding his legs around Miller’s hips to hold him from behind. “You’re always so quick to think people are all one way, Miller. It’s more complicated than that.” Danny ran his mouth up Miller’s bare spine, his lips thumping over the notches of bone. “Hinestroza may have opened the door, but I walked right through and never searched very hard for a detour sign.”
Miller blew out a deep breath, his fingers stroking across Danny’s calves. “Is this how you punish yourself?” Miller asked finally. “Make it all your fault instead of giving him his portion of the blame?”
Danny tried to draw back, but Miller gripped his legs tight, not allowing him to escape. “Maybe,” Danny choked out. “Maybe that’s what I’m doing. But he protected me for a lot of years. He was the closest thing I had to a family. And no, I don’t need you to tell me how fucked-up that is.” He rested his forehead on Miller’s back. “I know he deserves to go to prison. I just don’t want to be the one to send him there.”
“You’re goddamn right he deserves it,” Miller said viciously. “Deserves worse. And if I play even the smallest part in making that happen, I’ll be a happy man.”
Danny didn’t reply. Miller had never seen the way Hinestroza’s daughters and granddaughter adored him, the way his wife’s face lit up when he walked into a room. Miller had never stepped out of prison lonely and scared and found Hinestroza on the other side, waiting with words of praise and comfort. All Miller could see was Ortiz. But Danny knew more than one person was responsible for Ortiz’s death, that his own hands would never be washed clean.
Miller lowered Danny’s legs gently to the floor. “I’d better start getting ready,” he said, fingers picking at the sheet. “Don’t want to be late to the meeting.”
“How long?” Danny asked, his voice hoarse. “How long do we have before I go?”
Miller’s answer was muffled, speaking through half-closed lips. “A week. Maybe less.”
A week. Maybe less.
Danny tried to imagine waking up in a distant city without Miller by his side, his sheets smelling like detergent instead of sex and Miller’s cinnamon skin. He pictured coming home at night to a dark apartment and watching TV alone, always wondering where Miller was and if he was happy.
Danny wanted to be the kind of man who hoped for something better, who believed deep down that life was going to start passing out gifts it had been stingy with so far. He wanted to hope that he and Miller could find a way to be together. But this was real life, and men like him didn’t get happy endings. He wanted to leave Miller better than he’d found him, though, wanted Miller to understand what he meant to him.
“This is the best, most real thing that’s ever happened to me,” Danny said quietly. “I’ve spent my whole life jumping from one bad choice to the next. Choosing this, with you, is probably the only decision I’ve ever been proud of making.” He pressed himself closer to Miller’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I’ll never be sorry.”
Miller’s whole body caved under, his hands coming up to grasp Danny’s as they leaned against each other. Danny wanted to howl and rage like a wounded animal, demand that they find a way to make it work. But there was no point in that. Danny had learned early that sometimes there was nothing to do but suffer through.
MILLER PULLED at his tie, making sure it was straight and not hanging too low, before he turned away from his reflection. Danny was lounging in a chair near the window and he ran his eyes up and down Miller slowly, letting loose with a wolfish whistle.
“Shut up,” Miller said, slipping on his black overcoat.
“What?” Danny smiled. “You look handsome.”
Miller felt his cheeks warming. “Thanks,” he said, fighting back the urge to look at the floor. “But you’ve seen me in a suit before.”
“I know. Thought you looked good then too.” Danny managed to wink and smirk at the same time as he stood. “Even though I wanted to kick your ass.” He paused, grabbing his leather jacket from the chair. “Are you sure it’s okay if I go with you?”
“Yes. I don’t want you staying here alone. Colin said we’ll go in through the judges’ underground entrance at the courthouse, so there’s no risk anyone will see you. He should be here any minute.”
As if on cue, Miller heard the light tapping of a horn. He glanced out the window and saw Colin parked in a dark green sedan with tinted windows. “He’s here.” Miller let the curtain drop back into place. “You ready?”
“Yes,” Danny replied. He looked calm, in control, Miller’s Danny retreating behind a wall of indifference. Miller didn’t blame him. Danny was stepping back out into the world; he couldn’t afford to walk unprotected, not even with Miller by his side.
“Hi,” Colin called as they approached the car.
Miller pointed Danny toward the backseat, taking the front passenger seat for himself. “Let’s do this,” he said, closing his door.
Colin swiveled around, reaching over the back of the seat with his right hand. “Colin Riggs.”
“Danny Butler.” Danny leaned forward to shake hands and the scent of his skin wafted into Miller’s nose.
Colin pivoted in his seat, putting the car in drive. He glanced at Miller. “You forget to shave today?” He seemed amused, smiling with one corner of his mouth.
“Huh?” Miller ran a hand over his stubbly jaw. “Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled, Danny’s smile burning a hole into the back of his neck.
The federal courthouse always made Miller’s stomach knot in anticipation, even when he wasn’t there to take the stand. The courthouse represented the most dreaded sort of battleground, one where words were the weapons of choice. Defense attorneys lived to pick Miller’s words apart, to force him to stumble over facts, to twist his version of the truth into a lie. He could never step through the doors without bracing himself for war.
Their footsteps echoed across the cavernous rotunda, two pairs of dress shoes clicking with purpose and Danny’s thudding boot-steps bringing up the rear. The glass walls of the entry hall stretched three stories high, sunlight slanting in to illuminate the giant cast-iron sculpture in the middle of the room. It was a collection of five slender columns, tipped with a variety of sharp implements, what appeared to be spears or screws. When Miller had first seen them, he’d thought they resembled instruments of torture. Even with his feet firmly planted in the prosecution camp, he imagined the sculpture, titled Sentinels of Justice, was not all that comforting to defendants awaiting trial.
They escorted Danny to a small conference room inside the U.S. Attorney’s main office. It was empty save for a table and two chairs and a stack of legal books piled high. Danny flipped through one with a raised eyebrow. “Real page-turner,” he muttered, throwing himself into a chair.
“We’ll be back soon,” Miller said, telling Danny with his eyes that it would be all right, but he wasn’t sure if Danny received the message.
Assistant U.S. Attorney Patterson kept them waiting in the lobby for ten minutes. It was an old routine that Miller was used to—the prosecutors forever having to prove their superiority even though they were all supposed to be playing for the same team.
Tanya Patterson was seated behind her desk when they were ushered into her office, her cocoa-colored skin complemented by a crisp, cream suit. She gave them a thin-lipped smile, but Miller didn’t take it personally. What she lacked in warm fuzzies she made up for in being a relentless prosecutor, well-prepared in the courtroom and not easily intimidated. Miller knew she’d take on Hinestroza with guns blazing.
“Sit down, sit down,” she said, waving them toward two burgundy leather chairs opposite her desk. When they’d made themselves comfortable, she crossed her hands on her blotter. “We’ve got a problem with this case,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“What kind of problem?” Goosebumps broke out on Miller’s arms. Instinctively he knew it was bad, dread coiling hot inside his gut.
“We can’t get Hinestroza into the country for trial.”
Miller stared at her. “I thought that was all taken care of. I was told not to worry about that end of it, that it was being handled.”
“It was being handled, before your witness shot his mouth off to his ex-wife and Hinestroza found out what was going on. Now he’s not setting foot in the country. He’s staying put down in Colombia. Or if he is making trips up here, we’re not getting so much as a whisper about it through the usual channels.” She sighed. “Of course, if would could get our hands on the cell phone records faster, it might help. As it is, by the time we figure out where he’s been, he’s already somewhere else.”
“We do the best we can with the phone records. You know that.” Miller protested. “It’s not Danny’s fault!”
“Tanya,” Colin interjected. “What’s the bottom line here? Are you trying Hinestroza or not?”
“I’d love to,” Patterson said, “believe me. But if there’s no warm body in the defendant’s chair, then there’s no trial.”
“So, what happens now?” Miller demanded. “Danny’s just going to have to wait to start his new life until we can get Hinestroza up here?”
Patterson shifted her eyes to her white-tipped fingernails. “No. Chances are there’s never going to be a trial.” She looked up at Miller. “We’re cutting Mr. Butler loose.”
Miller blinked slowly, Patterson swimming across his line of vision. He heard her words but couldn’t process their meaning. “What? What about the Witness Protection Program?”
“You both know the drill. There’s no Witness Protection Program if you’re not a witness. He’s no longer eligible.”
Miller shot forward in his chair, slamming one hand down on the desk. “They’ll kill him!” he exclaimed. “They’re going to kill him!”
“You know how the system works, Miller,” Patterson said, her condescending lawyer voice scraping across his skin like sandpaper.
And the hell of it was, he did know. He’d seen similar scenarios play out dozen
s of times. Witnesses protected until the day the verdict came down, then cast into the wind as if murders couldn’t be ordered from behind an electrified fence. Men coerced into taking a plea and then told too late the Witness Protection Program wasn’t available to them. It had never bothered Miller in the past. He used his witnesses to get the information he needed and then forgot about them when the trial was over. Sacrificing your way up the criminal totem pole to reach the highest offender was how the game was played, and everyone understood the rules. But that was before now, before Danny.
Miller surged to his feet, jerking away when Colin reached for his arm. “I forced him into this deal! I didn’t give him any goddamn choice because we needed a witness, a good witness. And we got him. We got him because I promised him he’d be safe. And now we’re just throwing him back out there? That’s what we’re going to do?”
“Listen.” Patterson pushed back from her desk with both hands, her rolling chair squeaking across the floor. “It’s not a good situation. I admit it. But we don’t have any choice. We can’t protect him indefinitely. And frankly, Miller, I think you’re forgetting that it’s Mr. Butler’s own criminal record that got him into this predicament in the first place. He’s hardly a choir boy.”
“I don’t give a shit if he’s Jack the Ripper; we cut him loose and he’s dead the next day!” Miller yelled. “Have you seen what Hinestroza does to people who cross him? Do you have any fucking idea?”
“You had better watch yourself, Special Agent Sutton,” Patterson said, her voice dropping to freezer level. “I’m willing to take a pass on prosecuting Mr. Butler’s gun charge since he agreed to help us out. Please make sure he understands, though, that if he gets into trouble again, that gun charge will be pursued.”
Miller gaped at her. “Are you kidding me? I’m supposed to walk out there and tell him, ‘Sorry, deal’s off. Good luck staying alive. And, by the way, you should be thanking us because we’re not prosecuting your ass on the gun charge’?”
Dreamspinner Press Year Three Greatest Hits Page 63