Dirty War: Dirty Justice Book Two

by N. E. Henderson

  “There’s no way your department would allow you on that case, Bri. What are you doing?”

  I eye my father, telling him to shut up with my eyes. If given a crumb, Jackson is like a bloodhound; he won’t leave without answers.

  I wonder what all his wife told him?

  If she had told him about Drago and Gabriel, why isn’t he trying to pull that information out of me? I know my brother. If he knew, he would have had a conniption fit. He’s mad, but he’s only upset that I didn’t tell him about being shot or the miscarriage. If he knows I lost a baby, then questions about the father are bound to be asked.

  As if hearing my thoughts, Jackson asks the inevitable.

  “Since when were you seeing someone? And who is it?”

  Why couldn’t my sister-in-law have told him everything I told her? It would have made this so much easier. I’m not a pussy though. My problem is I don’t have time for this shit. His answers can wait until I locate the baby that needs me. The baby that I need.

  “She isn’t seeing anyone, Jackson. Now leave your sister be. When she is ready to talk to you about it, she’ll talk.”

  “Butt out, Dad.”

  “No!” The authority in his voice rings clear. Jackson has pushed him too far. “Brianna doesn’t need people hounding her. And that’s exactly what you’re doing. Act like the thirty-six-year-old you are and shut up.”

  Taking in a long pull of air, my dad cuts his eyes to me.

  “Let’s go, kiddo. Your brother is finished.”

  “Goddammit, Dad,” Jackson huffs.

  “Watch your mouth in front of me.”

  “Like you said, I’m thirty-six. You don’t get a say in how I act or what I say.” Jackson faces me again. “This isn’t over, Bri. We’re going to talk, whether you want to or not. What happened isn’t something you can bury with work. Hell, you were shot. Why are you even working in the first place?”

  “My gunshot wound isn’t bad.” My father’s eyes tell me I’m full of shit, but I continue. “The bullet grazed my leg. Thankfully, I was still wearing my bulletproof vest. My ribs were bruised, but I didn’t break anything. I came out okay. And as far as mentally, I’m okay there too.”

  Even I know that’s a lie, but I need them both to believe it, and when Jackson relaxes his stance for the first time, I think I’ve convinced him. Looking out of the corner of my eyes, I know I didn’t convince my dad. Sadness passes over the eyes that mirror Jackson and mine. I’m guessing he’s thinking about my mom. For the first time, I want to console my father, but because Jackson is here I can’t. It would raise more questions and I’m not sure if my dad has told Jackson about our mom’s miscarriages. It’s not my place to do so if he hasn’t.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I promise I am, big brother. And if that changes, I’ll call you.”

  He grabs my forearm lightly, pulling me to his chest where I’m wrapped in a tight hold.

  “You better, Sis. You better.”

  17

  The next day, Eric and I are at a coffee shop where we know Chasity frequents often. She’s also posting selfies with the latest coffee fad. Who knew coffee could be a fad; I didn’t. I thought it was just a drink. One I love unconditionally, but still just a drink.

  I miss my daily trek to the coffee house across the street from the precinct where either Connie or I would go, or we would meet there when the office got tiresome.

  I miss her, but I’m still not over how she acted even if we are back to talking.

  “Why does finding Gabriel seem more personal to you now?” I ask, attempting to get my mind back on track as I stir the heavy cream around in my cup.

  “It’s not,” he bites out, the lie evident not only to me. He knows it too.

  “Level with me, Alders.” I lift my eyes to meet his. “Why are you so hell-bent on helping me find Gabe versus focusing on Vincent Acerbi?”

  His eyes drift down to the table as if in thought. Lifting his lids, our gazes lock once again.

  “It’s you. Your determination to find a kid that isn’t yours. You care more than that boy’s mother does. You don’t just want to save him, Bri. You need to save him. I see it clearly. You love that boy like he’s yours when he isn’t.”

  His words stab me square in the chest. I don’t like hearing the words “he isn’t yours.” I know he’s not, but I don’t like being reminded.

  He continues when I don’t speak. I can’t. My throat locks up, not allowing words to come out.

  “It’s not DNA that makes a person a parent, Bri. It’s not giving birth or holding your child when they’re only seconds old that makes a parent either. It’s here.” He stabs his chest with his pointer finger. “And it’s here.” He does the same, jabbing his finger into his temple. “Being a parent is about loving someone without conditions. It’s about not only wanting but also needing to be in that child’s life; doing anything and everything to make sure they are safe and happy. It’s a form of true love in a way, because there is no love that compares to that of a parent.”

  His words penetrate, but there is still doubt that continues to linger in my head. Gabriel isn’t mine. He’s Drago’s. His father should want him. Need him. It doesn’t matter the reason or how he came into this world. He’s here. He is D’s son. Not mine and I hate that. I shouldn’t resent the fact that he has a real mother, no matter how much of a piece of shit she is. Gabe is hers too.

  “She isn’t his real mother,” he says as if hearing my thoughts.

  “Maybe not,” I concede, then down my drink, needing the hot liquid to coat my throat to keep the tears locked away. I’m sick of the tears. I’m sick of crying over what I’ve lost: Drago, Gabriel, my baby. Life fucking sucks right now, and I don’t know how I got here.

  “My dad isn’t my biological father.”

  I snap out of my choking thoughts.

  “What?” I remember my thought yesterday when Justin revealed the DEA director is Eric’s dad. Does that mean he’s adopted then?

  “My dad, the man I love and look up to the most in this world is not the man that took part in creating me. Doesn’t mean he isn’t my father. He is and there is no one that will ever take his place. He molded me into the man I am today. He loves my mother so fiercely I wonder if it’s even possible to find the kind of love they have. Looking at them and knowing the fucked-up shit that happens day in and day out, it doesn’t seem like a possibility. I love my dad even more simply for how he loves my mother and me. So, what I’m saying is you are that boy’s mother whether you believe it or not. You love him like no other person does and that makes you his mom.”

  Does it? Does it really?

  I’ve never admitted to wanting him out loud. I can’t want him, because when we do find him, Drago and I won’t be together. What good is wanting something I can’t have?

  “Hey!” We both pop our heads up, seeing Connie stop in front of our booth. After a beat of silence, she cocks her head to the side, eyeing downing at me. “You going to scoot over and let me sit or not?”

  I slide over and she lowers down, taking a seat next to me and in front of Eric.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask suspiciously.

  She smiles, widening her mouth into a grin at Eric before placing her forearms on the table and turning her head to face me. Her smile instantly turns into a scowl. “I hate the douche-prick the chief assigned to me. I had to get out of the office. I knew you were here.”

  “How?” I question, and then realize my stupidity.

  “How do you think? Duh!” She grips her cell phone, flashing it at me. “We are still sharing our location like good partners.”

  Connie and I met in the academy, but we didn’t become close until we were both promoted to detective and assigned to the same precinct two years ago. We decided it was in both of our best interests to continuously share our location with each other using our cellular devices. That way if something happened or we couldn’t reach each other, we’d
know where to look.

  Turning her head, she looks back at Eric.

  “So, pretty boy, how do I get in on this DEA thing Bri has going on? She and I are a package deal.”

  I almost snort my coffee. Just yesterday she was name-calling them and now she wants to be one. Yeah, right! That transferred detective must be a piece of work if she can’t deal with him.

  “That bad, huh?”

  She throws her head back against the cushioned headrest. “You have no idea.”

  Connie usually isn’t this dramatic. Leaning forward, her blonde hair skims over the table and her eyes land back on Eric. He’s observing her, yet he’s keeping his expression neutral. I know he’s her type, but is she his?

  Suddenly, I feel like the third wheel even though I’m the one that’s supposed to be here with Eric discussing our next move if Chasity doesn’t make an appearance. I’m getting tired of no action. Day by day my hope wanes.

  “Sorry, Detective,” Eric says, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “I don’t think I’m man enough to handle both of you.”

  She leans forward, her upper abdomen pressing against the edge of the table as her low cut top pulls a little lower down her chest.

  Jesus. I shake my head. She isn’t subtle at all. And from the way Eric’s eyes dilate a little makes me think he’s just as interested as she is.

  At least the one thing I do know is Connie will only be in it for the pleasure. She doesn’t do boyfriends. She loves her independence and freedom. Plus, she’s more career-driven than I am. If our roles had been reversed, I’m certain she wouldn’t have made any of the decisions I made. She wouldn’t have found herself obsessed over a baby that wasn’t hers or in love with a man that doesn’t want her.

  I need to clear my head. My mind keeps wandering between everything, which is exactly what I don’t need. I can’t focus on finding Drago’s son when I allow him to take up too much space in my head and my heart. I keep telling myself to shove him back, but I haven’t yet. As impossible as it seems, I have to stop thinking about him.

  Why do people fall in love? This sucks!

  That night, Eric and I head to The Cove, the upscale hotel Justin and I ate at yesterday. Eric says there is a quaint little bar inside that the three of us can grab a bite to eat and have a couple of drinks. It’s a lot later than I usually eat, but Eric and I were busy all day and Justin was working several of his IA cases. I knew Internal Affairs was a needed function inside the police department, but I had no idea the number of daily complaints that come in that Justin’s department has to follow up on.

  “What time did Justin say he would meet us here?” I ask, walking through the side door to the hotel that Eric holds open for me.

  “I got a text before I got out of my SUV. He said he was leaving headquarters and should be here in fifteen. With traffic, he’ll probably be more like twenty.”

  “Do you think we’re wasting too much time and energy waiting for Chasity to show up at one of the places she’s known to frequent?”

  Unfortunately, we can’t ping her cell phone. There isn’t one in her name or under her aunt or uncle that aren’t their own. Eric hasn’t come up with any possible source of cellular contact to track. She has one. Come on; who doesn’t these days. Plus, she’s young. Of course she would have a cell phone. I’ve had one since I was thirteen.

  “Diaz has plans for that boy. He’s not going to harm him until he gets Acerbi to do what he wants,” Eric says, sounding confident.

  “Unless he gets tired of waiting or realizes Drago isn’t going to take his bait.”

  He eyes me sideways. “What makes you so sure your boy isn’t going to do exactly what Diaz wants?”

  “You said it yourself, Drago nor his siblings are criminals.”

  “Young Bri,” he chastises me. “Even good people are capable of committing crimes—especially when it comes to the safety of their children.”

  “D doesn’t believe me,” I explain. “He’s convinced himself there is no possible way Gabriel is his.” Eric simply shrugs at my last statement.

  When we enter the small, dimly lit bar, I only see a handful of patrons. Some are sitting in booths, talking quietly among themselves. Then I see a group of younger adults cackling to my right. They’re taking up every amount of space in a sectional booth.

  “Fuck,” Eric drawls out, bringing my attention back to him. His body locks, as does his jaw. When I start to turn to see who has pulled this reaction out of him, he clutches my arm by the elbow, pulling. My eyes stop their scan, cutting back to now furious eyes. “Let’s hit up another place. There are plenty of restaurants in the area.”

  “But you wanted somewhere quiet where we could eat and discuss the case.”

  “We can do that someplace else.”

  Suspicion gets the better of me, so as he starts to pull me out of the restaurant, I turn my head, looking at the bar. A fury I’ve never felt before strikes me like a bolt of lightning igniting the summer brush of dead greenery. I see red and don’t even remember snatching my arm back from Eric’s grasp until I’m standing behind Drago.

  It’s not him per se I’m fixated on.

  “Bri.” His voice is surprised and perhaps I hear a twinge of guilt, but it could be my imagination playing tricks on me. I’ve always thought I could look at any situation, personal or professional, and be objective. See things for what they really are, but ever since I’ve met Drago, I’ve been questioning that skill.

  My eyes finally snap up, looking away from where her hand is wrapped firmly around D’s exposed lower bicep.

  “Take your hands off him,” I order. Do I have that right? No. But suddenly I find myself not in the right state of mind. It’s pissing me off, but she’s pissing me off more.

  She turns her face, looking over her shoulder. A smirk slowly climbs up her lips. “And why would I do that, Detective?”

  Shit. I guess she remembers me from the first time I was inside Drago’s office on the day we met.

  Drago jerks away from her, his body and stool putting several inches between them. Was it guilt? He’s acting like it is. And the fact that I want to punch him in the balls for allowing her to touch him again doesn’t go unnoticed by him either. He visibly swallows.

  “Because he isn’t yours,” I bark at her.

  “Please excuse us.” Eric’s deep voice cuts like a sharp blade as I’m jerked away from them and I’m hauled out the front entrance of the bar. He doesn’t stop pulling on me until he rounds a corner, where my back is pushed against a wall. My head tips up, looking into blazing eyes.

  “What the fuck was that?” I cross my arms over my chest, needing the small barrier it places between us. Not that it helps much. He still looms over me. “Do you know how fucking hard I worked to spin your pregnancy when that dick of a boss of yours brought it into question?”

  “I don’t care!” I yell, fuming mad. That bitch was hanging all over him.

  “Well, I do,” Eric spits in my face. Placing his hands on my arms, he pushes them apart, taking a step into my personal space, scowling at me. He could be really handsome if he wasn’t wearing that “someone pissed in his Cheerios” look all the time. “You can’t get spotted acting like the jealous girlfriend. What if—”

  Eric is snatched backward, yanking me forward with him. I don’t have time to brace myself as my face plants in the center of his chest. Rapidly, he releases my wrists.

  “Bri, are you—” he starts to ask me, ignoring the person who dare lay a hand on a cop.

  I’m pushing off him when I hear Drago’s deep, fire-penetrating voice. Looking up, I see D’s mouth inches from Eric’s ear. Drago has him in a hold that Eric isn’t even trying to get out of.

  “Don’t ever fucking touch her, E. She’s mine.”

  E?

  Where have I heard that before?

  I step back, watching them. Eric’s body is being forced, held in an arch against Drago’s chest.

  “D,” Eric says in war
ning through clenched teeth, clearly not likely being immobilized, yet still not making one move to get out of the hold he’s in.

  A memory from weeks ago flashes before me. E was what Drago called a person he was having a telephone conversation with on a day I showed up at the dock unannounced.

  They both stumble backward, landing into the wall on the other side of the hallway. Drago’s hold loosens enough for Eric to slip out and spins around to face him.

  “Good God, look at you. You’re piss-poor drunk, you stupid fuck. I can smell it on you like it’s seeping out of your pores.”

  They know each other. That realization hits me in the face, and suddenly, I’m wondering just who I can trust. Eric’s acted like—no, he told me he’s been investigating Vincent Acerbi for years. He never once mentioned knowing Drago on a personal level.

  And now I’m wondering why.

  What could possibly be the reason for keeping that major detail from me?

  Drago goes to push off the wall and stumbles again, almost falling forward. I’m at his side without thought, gliding my body under his for support.

  There is a lot both of them need to explain to me. Detective Justin Summers for one. Is he in on this too, or is Eric so deep into bringing Drago’s father to justice that he’s found a way to infiltrate Drago’s life? Could that a possibility?

  I can’t and don’t even want to think about that right now. I need to get Drago out of here and far away from that slut that clearly doesn’t have real feelings for him like I do.

  “Let’s go, D. You’re coming with me.”

  “Bri,” Eric bites out.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He gives me a look like he’s about to rip into me, but I beat him to it. “This isn’t up for a discussion. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  I pull Drago away, leaving Eric standing there fuming. For a second, I wonder if I’m digging myself into a deeper hole than I already am. What’s Eric going to tell Justin? I don’t need him to re-open my Internal Affairs case. It would only ruin my chance to find Gabriel. I can’t let that happen, but I can’t and won’t leave Drago here.