Read MASON (Second Chance Novels Book 2) Online
Authors: Kemmie Michaels
"Mason?" she finally answers.
"Hey, Dig," I say.
"What's going on? Is Cam ok?"
"Yeah, she's good. Ledger's on it."
"I can imagine. He's pretty intense about her," she says with understanding. Now that she's not in full-on cop mode, she doesn't sound quite as sharp-voiced. The thought that a hard-core badass like her can have a softer side would never occur to most people. This doesn't surprise me much as I can be the same way in the right circumstances.
"Yeah, but that whole situation is more or less what I wanted to talk about. You got a minute?"
"Sure. Let's grab a beer. I'm a regular at Obie's on Fifth."
"Half hour?"
"See you then."
I grab a quick shower and hang my cork board on my living room wall before I get in my pickup truck. Obie's isn't too far from Second Chance so getting there is a quick trip. Dig's already got something from the tap waiting for me.
"So what got you thinking again?" she asks with a smile when I sit down. She actually has a really nice smile. This may be the first time I've seen it. I certainly appreciated her all-business attitude while we were searching for Cam, but a human conversation is welcome.
"Hey, Dig," I say as I take my first sip. "Thanks for the beer."
"We're off duty here. Call me Sofia." There's that smile again.
"Sofia, then," I smile back. "First, Ledger and Cam want me to thank you again for everything you did. We all know the time and risk you took to investigate off-book like that."
"I'd do it again," she nods.
"And second, I'm not sure we're off duty," I say with a smile of my own.
"Really? What's up?" I'm disappointed because her smile fades, so I try to bring it back with my class-clown routine.
"First,
what's up
is me being awesome by treating you to that beer."
"Two things, Mason. The beer's already paid for, and don't bullshit me." I didn't bring back her smile at all, damn it.
"Right, sorry," I almost stumble. Her bullshit meter is as impressive as mine. "Ok, so here's the thing. I started looking at all of Shelby's files and none of it sits right with me. Garrett's down but his asshole friends aren't. At least we got Miller taken out."
"Ha," she snorts in disgust. "Internal Affairs kicked him for lack of evidence. They couldn't use what I showed them because none of it was obtained legally. He's on their radar now but he's back as my partner again and worse than ever."
"Shit."
"No fucking kidding."
"And that's exactly what I'm talking about. I want to systematically take them down one at a time. Since I don't want to land my ass in jail, I'm not going to work the blackmail angle even though it would be the most fun. If you work with me through the legal channels and let me do the field work, we can take them all down. Every last fucking one of them."
And there's her smile again.
"Your serious."
"Dead serious," I return. "Between the two of us, we got this. I'm convinced. We already have basic background on all of them, and we know where to start with the details. We can hit the ground running."
Her smile is wider. "That is fan-
fucking
-tastic."
"I say we start with your partner. Let's get that fuck-head off your case so we can work through the list without him over your shoulder. For all we know, he'd come up with a way to get
you
on IA's radar and then we're both screwed."
"I like the way you think, Pratt," she says as she chugs the rest of her beer in a few large gulps. Damn. "We start now."
Not to be outdone by a chick, I chug the rest of mine and set it on the table with an arrogant smile.
"Don't be so impressed with yourself," she smiles with sass. "I've seen my fourteen-year-old cousin do better."
"You're a pain in the ass," I say shaking my head.
She grins. "So I guess we're not setting up at Second Chance."
"Nah, I've got a few things ready at my apartment…if you're not scared to be alone with me," I grin.
"Ha. You're the one who should be scared. You may think you're a badass, but I'll kick your not-so-badass any day. All I need is an invitation."
"Ok, I get it. You're short. You're a girl. You talk big because you have to prove yourself," I toss back with a condescending shrug.
"That is definitely an invitation." She grabs my arm and twists it back while putting pressure at the back of my shoulder with her other hand, right here in the bar. She kicks my knee out from under me and I'm on the floor. Fuck me. I won't hit a girl, especially not in public, but damn if she didn't turn on my combat instinct. I could easily drop her on the floor beside me in about one point two seconds. Knocking her down would not be appropriate right now, but shit, I would love to get this woman on a sparring mat so I could.
Once I get off the floor, and with no way to salvage my ego, I shake my head, chuckle, and get into my truck. Dig…
Sofia
…follows me home. As soon as we're inside she returns to all business. Her stance is solid and her eyes efficiently scan our files for the first time since Cam's rescue.
"I don't see anything new," she says in cop-staccato.
"No, nothing new, but look at this," I say, pointing at two of the files.
I show her some of the connections I made, including common credit card purchases among four of them, common parking garages among others which are nowhere near their workplaces, etc. "Nice work. Look at this…Miller is right in it with these two."
"Yep," I say as I scan the information again. I pull Miller's photo from his file and tack his smug face at the top of the cork board in the center. "Yep, we start here."
"If Shelby's still willing to help, have her find the financial records of any personal assistants, too. I know Miller has one of the beat cops take care of things for him that he won't talk about with me. She's either banging him or using him for a promotion. Either way, She'll know more about his misdeeds than his file will show."
"Ok, make a list of who you know could be supporting these other dumb fucks, and I'll see if Shelby can work her magic with any others."
So Dig and I start tacking up pictures and jotting notes of which assholes are into what deeds so we can get the dominos to fall in
just
the right way. I fill her in on how Cam is doing, that things are going well with Shelby, and that Ledger hasn't gotten back to work yet.
"No, he'll stay with Cam as long as it takes. He's dragging her to a therapist tomorrow, which she isn't thrilled about, but he insists. He doesn't want her to fade out after what Garrett did to her. She still wakes up with nightmares every night or so. Ledge says she doesn't scream. She only curls up in a ball and hugs her self. Breaks his heart every time. That's why he insists on therapy."
"Good for him," Dig nods. "Living with shit like that in your head is painful. And I'll be honest, I've never seen a man so dedicated before. He
loves
her."
"Yeah he does," I nod. I really don't want to discuss love lives right now, so I bring the topic back around to the files in front of us. We spend the next two hours going through levels of corruption. From what we can tell, we're dealing with issues which include drugs, prostitution, gambling, and trading unofficial favors through their positions…much like how Garrett Masters got the entire Health Department to systematically fuck over every bar Ledger owns.
The basics of this list are exactly what I expected, especially when we piece together what looks like discretely hidden apartment payments from a few higher-ups who are most likely keeping mistresses on the side. Wives and voters would be unhappy about such things.
By the time we're done sifting through all the information, we don't have much of a plan. We only have a web of corruption in front of us and a strong determination to deal with it. I grab two beers out of the fridge and open them. Dig more or less collapses on my chair with a tired look of resolve on her face.
"This is going to take a long fucking time," she says after sipping her beer.
"Well, Dig, a long fucking time is ok with me. I'm going to enjoy every minute of taking these bastards down."
"Stop calling me Dig when I'm relaxing with a beer."
"Sorry. Sofia," I smile. "That's going to take some time getting used to."
She smiles back and swigs her beer. I grin at her again and drink from my own. This is the kind of moment in life where true connection happens: two people, common goal, relaxing with a drink. She and I both get it — every part of what we're doing and what it will take to get it done. We don't have to share our feelings about any of it. Dig's a good person to have around, and I appreciate that she can work, relax, and kick ass…all things crucial to my own existence, if I'm being honest with myself.
If I had to guess, I'd say she has some complexity to her own life, too. If she's got hand-to-hand combat knowledge, she went after the skill. I only got a taste this evening, but I experienced enough to know she's good…better than an average cop, that's for certain. Oh, what I wouldn't do for 20 minutes with her on a mat. She may be 5'6" and weigh about a hundred twenty pounds, but she knows how to use every ounce of her strength. She obviously has an understanding of her body and has a good sense of leverage and balance. With all of that in mind, size matters very little. She could take down a beast of a man, I have no doubt. After all, she took me down quick.
Damn
. I almost chuckle out loud.
After nursing our beers and chatting idly about sports, Dig announces her departure.
"Sorry, Mase," she says. "Tomorrow's going to kick me in the ass if I don't get any sleep."
"Right. I forget not everyone lives without an alarm clock. I'm on at the bar tomorrow night at seven. If you have any time before that, give me a text. You still have the burner phone?"
"Yep," she nods. "I'll be in touch."
I walk her to the door and watch as she drives away. She is one fucking hell of a woman. Working with her on this is going to kick ass. With another real smile, I walk to my bedroom and flop down to my bed while refreshing thoughts roll through my head.
For the first time since my discharge, I have a methodical plan of attack. I have a sense of duty and a discernible enemy to fight. Fighting my own frustrations with a past I can't change has done nothing but drag me down and keep me wading in all my shit. I've made a good show of being part of life with my friends at Second Chance, but the truth is this: I've been empty and frustrated and no amount of witty banter will ever cure that.
I think Ledge suspects as much. He reads people entirely too well. But Cam and Shelby? They'd never guess the darkness I'm hiding. They don't see past my overt sense of humor, and that's how I plan on keeping it. This shit is mine to work through, and mine alone.
I have a sinking feeling, though, that Dig will figure me out soon. She may already have. I spoke one charming line tonight and she called me out on my bullshit within seconds. That, too, was surprisingly refreshing. I'm able to fall asleep easily for the first time in a very long time.
Eleven hours later I'm drinking coffee and rubbing my hand across my hair trying to wake up. I slept so fucking soundly that I woke up drowsy instead of half-frayed. I stand in front of my board and stare down the expressionless face of Randal Miller. Taking that bastard down will cure half of me, I'm sure. Not only was he directly responsible for the lack of investigation into Cam's disappearance, he constantly gives Dig a hard time. Not that she's some delicate damsel in distress needing a champion, far from it. But I'd love to take down her harasser anyway. She shouldn't have to put up with that shit from him. And my next target will go straight up from there.
I figure I should simply own up to my new obsession, so I angle a low-back living room chair directly in front of the board. I sit down with my coffee and take in the big picture. I rearrange these assholes six different ways in my head trying to find the right string to pull. A few times I stand for a closer look to refresh myself on the details, but I already remember everything.
Intelligence training doesn't fade, but rather remains instinctual. Without having made any effort, I know all my neighbors' license plate numbers. I know the schedules of all delivery trucks, I know what time the sprinklers turn on across the street, and I know where every potential weapon is behind the bar at Second Chance. I know exactly how I would use each and every one of them, straight down to the soda hose. No, my brain never turns off, no matter how hard I try to let go of that life and my anger that accompanies it.
Now I stand ready to return to that life, but on different terms. I answer only to me and my work schedule at the bar. Being there with Cam, Ledge, and Shelby will be a good way to keep myself from becoming completely consumed, but won't hinder me at all.
Hell yes, I'm ready.
With another genuine smile I drive to the bar and let myself in the back entrance. Inventory and garnish prep occupy my time until Jackson arrives for his shift. As far as work at the bar goes, things are normal, until Ledger and Cam show up and shock the hell out of me.
"Good to see you, Cam."
"You, too," Cam smiles warmly.
"What can I get you?" I ask with a smile. "Mojito? Maybe some solvent to remove the massive lump attached to your hip?"
She finally eases into a small, genuine smile and shakes her head. "Mojito's enough. I'm ok with the lump."
"Hey Ledge, will you buy my drinks next time?"
"As soon as you look as good in a negligée as she does," he jokes. Cam smacks his shoulder.