by Rhys Ford
Chapter Five
Miki: This looks like a tree took a shit in a cup.
Forest: It’s tea. Just… take a sip. It’s supposed to help calm you down. Ease away anxiety.
Miki: Dude, there isn’t enough tree shit in this world to help me calm down, but I’ll give it a try.
Forest: I’d appreciate it. Especially now since I won’t ever be able to brew tea without thinking I’m making a cup of tree shit.
—Staff Table, Marshall’s Amp Coffee Shop
“MICK, YOU should have let them take you to the hospital.” Kane didn’t like the stubborn look on Miki’s face any more than he liked seeing the blood on his arm. “I know you think it isn’t a big deal, but—”
“The ambulance guys wouldn’t let me take Dude.” Miki’s jaw clenched, a signal he wasn’t going to budge in this fight. “The dog doesn’t go, I don’t go.”
Kane debated with himself for a brief moment on whether or not to push. A few feet away, his father, Donal, caught his attention with a shake of his head, warning Kane off. “Why do you have to be so….” He stopped himself before he dug a hole he couldn’t get out of.
He’d rinsed his mouth out before finding Miki. The drive over to the station was a blur in his mind, but the sour taste of his sick lingered at the back of Kane’s throat. Relief at seeing his father in the bullpen took off some of the edge, but Kane’s nerves were stretched too thin and his spit felt viscous, sticking to his teeth and hard to swallow. He’d known fear before he’d met Miki St. John, but he hadn’t realized what terror tasted like until he’d fallen in love.
The sounds of the police station were oddly soothing for Kane. The rattle of handcuffs and gun belts combined with the smell of hand-oiled leather and slightly burnt coffee was practically the backdrop of his childhood. The time he spent in San Francisco as a young boy was among a sea of blue and badges. The chatter was familiar, the kind of low rumble, crowd noise someone would find in any cop house, regardless of where it was. It was almost cliché how there was always a splash of inappropriate, boisterous laughter and the mock outrage of someone being pulled in after being caught red-handed. It was a million and one conversations amid ringing phones, complaining perps, and overeager rookies, but to Kane’s ears, it was as much his home as the warehouse he shared with the sensual, pretty man sprawled on a borrowed inspector’s chair.
It was difficult to alter his perspective to see the police station as Miki did. It was hard to hear the camaraderie of a shared shift as a steel-toed boot of authority on his neck. If ever there was a divide between them, it was the badge Kane wore, and not the brother who’d crawled back up from the pits of hell. He’d resented Damien a little bit; then the tour the band took opened Kane’s eyes. Damien protected as much as he pushed, forming a barrier between the fragile-souled artist Kane knew and the charismatic, sexy singer fronting Crossroads Gin. They’d reached an understanding of sorts—he and Damien—about Miki, a silent pact that they would do anything to keep him happy and whole. Staring at Miki’s closed-off expression, Kane realized he hadn’t been holding up his end of the bargain, and now he was going to have to dance fast and hard to catch up.
“Why don’t you finish what you were going to say?” Miki cocked his head, a bit of street rat peeking out. “Why do I have to be so what?”
The last thing he needed was to have a fight in the far corner of an intake area while waiting for the inspector who’d taken Miki’s statement. It was already bad enough Donal beat him to the police station, but he was thankful for the support, especially since it looked like Miki was in one of his moods. To be fair, getting shot—even just winged—would make anyone pissy.
“I don’t think I’m going to. What I’d like to do is kiss the hell out of you right now, but this isn’t the time or place for that. Let me see if they’ll cut you loose.” Glancing around, Kane couldn’t find the inspector in charge but knew the man was around someplace. “Then you and I have to talk about keeping you safe until we get to the bottom of this.”
“I’ll be looking for yer man, K,” Donal offered. “Chances are, I’ll be able to shake him out of the trees before ye could. And I want to be in on that talk the two of ye have. Don’t give me that look, Miki boy. Yer getting locked down even if I’m the one tossing ye into a cage to do it.”
His father slapped him on the shoulder as he went by, a stinging reminder he was an adult and had to deal with the things life threw his way. Things like a rock star boyfriend with a serious chip on his shoulder and a hatred for authority. Watching Donal cut a path through the uniforms hovering nearby, Kane wondered if he would ever be as unflappable as the man who’d raised him.
Then again, there probably was a very good reason Donal’s study was usually stocked with at least four full whiskey bottles and had a thick wooden door that shut out most of the family’s noise.
Kane dragged a chair over, straddling it to talk to Miki. Dude whined at the intrusion of Kane’s foot, then rested his muzzle on his shoe. Leaning over, he scratched the dog’s ears, and then his heart clenched over the speckles of dried blood he found on the tips. Picking off the crusty spots gave Kane something to focus on, anything to take his mind off the gauze dressing wrapped around Miki’s arm and the heart-stopping phone call he’d taken in the middle of the task force’s control center.
“You’ve got to see Da’s right in this,” Kane murmured beneath the bustle around them. He didn’t want to push, but the panic in his thoughts drove him to reach some kind of compromise with the man he loved. “I’m not saying that you were wrong for taking a walk today. You should be safe in your own neighborhood, on your own streets, but what I found out today leads me to believe we need to keep you inside for a while.”
Kane hated the dead silence Miki could achieve. Hot molten-steel thoughts churned behind Miki’s cunning hazel eyes, but unspoken, so Kane couldn’t counter them with any reasonable argument. It was impossible to fight with the stone, his grandmother used to say, and if ever she’d met Miki, she would probably have agreed with Kane he was less a single stone and more an entire cliff.
“Talk to me, Mick. I just want to keep you safe. I’ve got a few names to chase down—”
“Fred Wu said he recognized the guy who shot me. Some old gangbanger named Rodney Chin. Donal’s not talking. So I guess I am going to have to ask you.” Miki’s attention drifted to the rest of the room, a dead gaze taking in the goings-on of a busy police station. “Fred knew this guy. Said he used to work for some asshole who got taken down. Was my mother connected to that asshole? Is that why I have to watch my back, because that woman came sniffing around me? Is that why Edie got shot? Because of me?”
Any doubt Miki spent more than a few of his formative years on the street was wiped away. The prickliness slathered over Miki’s artistic soul was gone, replaced by a hard-edged armor battered from more than a decade of abuse. Rage was barely controlled in his lover’s taut, muscular body, his thighs tense beneath his jeans, and his long fingers were curled into trembling fists he’d pushed into the chair’s vinyl seat. Dude’s eyes were on Miki’s face, his ears alert and his haunches primed, his weight resting on his forelegs, ready to strike if Miki needed him. Someone passed by, his pants’ fabric squeaking between his legs as he walked, and Dude’s hackles rose, his teeth bared when his upper lip lifted.
Telling Miki to calm down would be like taking a lit match to a firecracker or tapping a nuclear bomb with a ball peen hammer. Kane had seen that explosive reaction only a few times since he’d hooked up with Miki, but those instances were more than enough of a warning. Lately, the tension never seemed to leave Miki’s shoulders, and he slept less and less, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night to pace off the living room until he dropped from exhaustion. Edie’s shooting hadn’t helped, and today’s events at the market would probably mean another bout of angry insomnia, something Kane was helpless to cure.
“There is no one to blame for Edie’s shooting or Sandy Chaiprasit’s d
eath other than the man who pulled the trigger. You did not put either one of those women in front of those bullets any more than you put yourself in front of that gun today. I know you. And I love you, so I’m not blind to how you feel about being caged in.” Kane inched forward until his knees touched Miki’s and he laid his hands upon Miki’s thighs. He felt warm beneath Kane’s palms, but Kane’s thumb rested on top of a splatter of dried blood near a frayed hole by Miki’s reconstructed knee. “I understand. You know I do. I know the walls close in on you sometimes, and maybe you feel like you’re back with Shing and—”
“Don’t bring them into this,” Miki urged. The raspy, honey-slick voice Kane sometimes heard croon over the radio turned harsh, and Dude shifted, putting himself between Kane’s and Miki’s legs. Reaching down, Miki stroked the dog’s head, soothing the crinkle between his eyes. “I know what you’re saying. I’m not stupid. I’m just… mad. I’m being led around by the nose by people who didn’t care I existed, but now all of a sudden they’ve got to kill me? And why now? What changed over the last week that all of a sudden I’m the most important thing in the world they’ve got to wipe out?”
“See, a ghra,” Kane murmured, taking Miki’s hands in his and holding them, hoping his lover could feel how deeply he cared for him in his touch. “It’s more than this last week. That guy in Vegas, he’s connected to this too, and right now, all I’ve got to go on is a couple of names and a gut feeling that you might be neck-deep in some really nasty shit. I don’t ever beg, Mick, but I’m begging you now. I need to know that you’re safe while Kel and I work this case and nail whoever is behind those attacks. I can’t work worrying if someone’s going to kill you because you’ve gone out. So I’m asking you to please let me protect you until this is done.”
“What does that mean? Protect me?” Miki’s eyes narrowed, and his snarl resembled Dude’s. “Are you going to pin me down and microchip me like we did the dog?”
“No, although that wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He saw his joke didn’t go over as well as he’d hoped. Miki had no intention of lightening the mood between them.
“Fuck you,” Miki spat, but his hands remained in Kane’s.
“Actually, I was thinking Sionn could keep you and Damie safe.” It was an ace of spades card Kane hadn’t wanted to play, but sometimes life dealt a hand that could only be beat by cheating. “Because I don’t want what happened to Edie to happen to Damie. He’s already been taken from you once. You’d not survive him being taken from you again.”
STANDING IN the living room with Donal cloaked in the partial shadows as the afternoon sun drifted down into the horizon, Kane could see how much his older brother, Connor, resembled their father. Their parents began their family early in their marriage, with Connor and Kane being born before they immigrated to San Francisco. Their ties to Ireland were strong, but there was never any question about where Donal’s loyalty lay. His heart and soul belonged to the city he’d adopted as his own, and that love was something he’d shared with his children, along with a love for family and a generosity of spirit Kane always hoped to emulate.
He’d known he was going to be a cop since the day he’d placed his father’s uniform cap on his head and fought with Connor over who would own their father’s first name tag. Con won that fight for the tag, but Kane eventually got the cap. If anyone had asked him who would end up more like their father, Kane would’ve said Connor, but he was the one who ended up with the mercurial partner, while Con found the love of his life with Crossroads Gin’s drummer, Forest, who was the exact opposite of their mother, Brigid.
“He’s not going to like being penned in. Ye heard him right now arguing about having to take the dog to the bathroom in the alley. That’s not going to get any better.” Kane’s father was a master at stating the obvious. For once, Donal looked a little perplexed when he studied his son. Up until that point in his life, Kane had always thought his father could peel away any layers he might have wrapped around himself and see directly into Kane’s soul. “My question to ye is why are ye having him stay here instead of up at the house?”
“One word: Mom.” He held up a finger—his index finger—then matched his father’s grimace. “They may be getting along better than they ever have, but that’s not something I want to ruin unless I really have to. From what little I’ve been able to read, Danny Wong and his people were mostly brute force. Once Sionn gets some guys on the property and we lock down the front gate at the cul-de-sac entrance, Miki will be okay. It’s easily defensible and the band can come here and practice, so that will go a long way in keeping his mind off of things.”
“Just knowing he can’t go out that front gate without somebody on his tail is going to drive him crazy,” Donal remarked. “He’s too much like yer mother. This would drive her spare.
“I don’t have to tell ye, son, this could go very wrong very fast if Miki doesn’t cooperate. The last thing I want is to lose him. I love that boy,” his father rumbled, leaning against the back of the couch and crossing his arms over his chest. “Now why don’t ye catch me up about what’s going on so I know what we’re facing.”
“I have a dead woman in the morgue named Sandy Chaiprasit. She is connected to a recently released prison inmate named Danny Wong. Wong used to control a major part of Chinatown’s drug and prostitution rackets before the DEA took him down. He was given almost thirty years, but a few months ago, they released him on sympathy leave because he has terminal cancer.” Kane shoved his hands into his pockets, listening for the back door to open. Grateful for Dude’s reluctant bladder and Miki’s need to bitch to Damien, he figured he had a few minutes before they had to take their conversation elsewhere. “Problem is, they lost track of him, and Chang, who’s the head of the Asian Gang Task Force for C-Town, thinks Wong is getting some of his people to settle outstanding grudges before he dies.
“I’m going to hit up a guy I know at the DEA to see if they will release the list of Wong’s closest associates. Chang’s records are sketchy because they’re old, the SFPD wasn’t in charge of the case, and they haven’t been digitized. Or at least not a lot of them.” His head ached at the thought of digging through the reports he’d piled into the back of his Hummer. “Chang gave us copies, but the information is only as good as what someone decided was worthy of putting in.”
“And this Sandy woman knew Miki’s mother?” Donal frowned, staring off into space as he thought. “So they were both probably working for Wong’s. Question is, was his mother an associate or victim? And why go after our Mick?”
“That is something we might find out, but Book was very clear, my focus is solving Chaiprasit’s murder. Now with the shooting, I’m going to be working with whoever I can tap to hunt down Rodney Chin, who was IDed on the scene. I’m hoping the lab can at least say there is a likelihood of the first shooting’s bullets matching today’s. If not, then I’ve either got another gun or another shooter.”
“Eyewitness ID? Or cameras?” his father asked.
“Witness, but fairly reliable. One of the inspectors who works in the area says Wu is a solid guy. He’s also known Miki since before he and Damien met. My gut says he’s telling the truth about Chin. So I have one name—a solid line—to Wong, who is probably orchestrating all of this. Even if Chin goes down for the shooting, Wong will probably have at least a couple of other people willing to go dirty for him. He’s the head of the snake in this. If I cut him off, then hopefully anyone left will be easier to contain.” A bit of noise from outside drew Kane’s attention, but he recognized it as the garbage truck collecting the cans from the front of the warehouse. “Da, I’m on the fence here. There’s a good chance I’ll find Miki’s mother somewhere in this case. I don’t know what was in the package Chaiprasit gave to Edie, so it might be a moot point because her name might be in there. The DA still hasn’t ruled if the package is admissible, but they’re also not willing to hand it over to Edie. Either way, I’d get my hands on it, but someone’s not budging over there.
It shouldn’t be that hard. We do this kind of shit every day.”
“Someone’s either not pushed the right piece of paper across a desk or they’re holding it up on purpose. I can push on that for ye, son.” Donal unfolded his arms and looked toward the back door. “I think right now might be a good time to have a talk with our Mick. If the woman’s information isn’t in that package but ye stumble across it, yer going to be in a position to share it. The question is, after all of this, does he really want to know? It could be fair or foul with her, and that might be something he doesn’t want to deal with.”
“I know. That’s been hanging on me since I realized there was a good possibility of her being in those files. Kel agrees. Actually, he was the one who pointed out that since Miki was tattooed with Wong’s symbol, there is a good chance his mother is in pretty deep… or was.” Kane wrinkled his nose, contemplating the tangled threads and connections running through the case. “There’s also a good chance that she’s still alive. And if there’s one thing that I do need to prepare him for, it’s that.”
“I’ll be needing to tell your mother that too.” Donal sighed. “If she wanted to punch Forest’s mother out, she’s going to want to skin Miki’s. I’m going to be spending the next few weeks hiding the kitchen knives.”
“HE’S NOT going to go anywhere, Sinjun.” Damien pulled on Miki’s sleeve, keeping him by the back door. “Talk to me about what’s going on. Sionn said you and I are on lockdown. Going to have to tell you, you gave me a right scare what with being shot and everything.”
“Look, I just wanted to get something to eat and walk off the shit that was growing in my head.” Miki leaned against the brick wall, staring across the broad alley at Damie’s warehouse, not more than a few yards away. There’d been a lot of progress on building a woodworking shop for Kane between them, as well as a covered deck to connect their homes. With the renovations almost finished in the other warehouse, the last stages of construction on the workshop weren’t far behind. “I’m sick of saying that I’m tired. I can’t even wrap my head around what’s going on with me, and then today was just… a clusterfuck. I’m just pissed off at everyone, even Kane.”