Chapter nine: Anything You Can Spare

Later that evening Danny was minding his own business flipping through a magazine and chewing on a toothpick when someone suddenly sat on the couch beside him. He practically jumped out of his skin, having heard no sound of anyone entering his apartment. When he saw that the person sitting next to him was none other than his boss, Sonny, he nearly choked on the toothpick, spitting it out onto the floor like a slob. He quickly forgot about the magazine but kept it in his hands for some reason.

"I heard you had a conversation earlier today," Sonny spoke his voice calm and even, betraying no emotion. "I don't mind my guys talking with cops as long they keep their mouths shut, you know that right, Danny?"

Danny nodded, afraid that if he should speak he would hear a tremble in his words. Being around Sonny always made him edgy. It was one of the biggest mistakes in his life, getting involved with the likes of Sonny Sassone. But he had always looked up to his brother and when his brother got in good with Sonny he wanted to do the same. Unfortunately for his older brother things went south about a year ago and now he was stuck with Sonny, his brother used as a constant pawn to keep him under control. Somehow he managed to avoid doing anything real horrible, always selected as the one to drive Sonny around the city. He figured it was Sonny's way of keeping an eye on him. If things kept up this way he might be able to live with it but something told him everything was about to change. Sonny was here to ask for a favor. Only Sonny's favors were more like demands that had to be obeyed or a price was paid. A hefty price.

"Imagine how I felt when I learned that the particular detective you were having words with works for Mister Mac Taylor," Sonny had a hint of something in his voice. Malice? Disgust? Danny knew about the bad blood between Mac and Sonny, knew all the horrible things Sonny wanted to do with Mac if he ever managed to get his hands on the dude. Personally, Danny had never met him. He thought once that he might have seen him from a distance but he wasn't so sure. Since he tended to avoid police scrutiny for the most part he hadn't met too many of the boys in blue. He planned on keeping it that way.

"Was he harassing you, Danny?"

"No," this time he spoke, his voice low, almost a whisper. It didn't matter to him how long he worked for Sonny, the man freaked him out. He knew Sonny had something to do with the attack on his older brother even if he hadn't been able to get solid proof. And the cops, they hadn't been of any help. Not a damn lick. What else was new? They never cared about him or his family because of the people he associated with. They probably thought his brother had it coming.

"I got this wonderful idea, Danny," Sonny said, a smile creeping across his face. "Next time you see this lovely detective, and I am going to assume that it is Mac Taylor's pet Don Flack, you strike up a good conversation with him. Get him talking. I want to take Mac down, Danny. I need a bit of inside dirt, something I can use against him."

Danny felt a jolt of pain. He had been hoping to go unnoticed when he grabbed the detective off the sidewalk simply to avoid this conversation. He already had a pretty good idea of where it was going to go and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. But if he refused then Sonny would do something to spur him into action. He swallowed nervously. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just chat with him," Sonny said, standing. "Nothing more than a few friendly chats. Make it look real cozy and nice. I'll have someone with a camera snap a few pictures, make it look like Don Flack is up to no good. Make it look like Taylor's pet is playing both sides. It'll cause a rift between them, get my plan in action. One by one they house of cards falls apart, Danny."

Sonny stepped around behind the couch intent on leaving and Danny was only too happy to see him go. But then he felt a hand on his shoulder and Sonny whispered in his ear. "Don't let me, Danny. I know where your brother got off to and he isn't exactly out of my reach."

Danny felt his heart skip a beat. As quickly as he had come Sonny left, disappearing through the apartment door. Thinking about his brother Danny bunched his hands into fists tearing and crumbling the magazine in the process. Then he stood, walked over to the apartment door and slipped all of the locks into place. He thought he did that when he got home but he must have been mistaken. Unless of course…a shiver ran down his spine as a very unpleasant thought crossed his mind. What if Sonny had a key to his place? A key for each of the three locks? Danny wouldn't put it passed him. Sonny liked keeping tabs on his people. He may not have been part of the big time mafia or something but he ran the Tanglewood Boys with a first of iron and bucket full of threats.

Resting his head against the closed apartment door he wondered what he was going to do. Up until he managed to get away with nothing major, no big mark on his record. He shouldn't even have a record, that is what his momma would tell him. They hadn't spoken since his brother got out of the hospital. She apparently had nothing she wanted to say to him, throwing him out the door and kicking him to the curb. And now, now it looked like he was going to be forced to ruin the career of a detective. Some guy that probably had all these great moments in his life, the kind of record that made a mother proud.

And now he had to help destroy it.

"Fuck," Danny swore as he beat his hand against the apartment door.


Flack moved restlessly around his apartment unable to sleep as darkness washed over the city. He felt haunted by a number of things. One being the death of Chandler. The other being the words spoken to him in that damned alley. He went from having a perfect life worth being envious of to something else entirely. And now on top of everything he was worried about Mac. Sonny was not a good man, not the type of person one wanted to get on the bad side of. But that is what it was like working in as a cop or anybody else who helped put the bad guys behind bars. They made enemies day in and day out. Apparently even Chandler made a few enemies. Flack refused to think of the death as anything more than accident. Yeah, the fire had been ruled an arson and there was no way anyone would have known Chandler was going to be there but he couldn't help feeling as though Chandler was a target.

"You're crazy, Flack, crazy," he muttered. "A fucking lunatic."

He continued his restless night be cleaning up his messy apartment in an attempt to avoid thinking about matters that brought him down. It didn't help because he kept stumbling across things that reminded him of Chandler. When he found one of Chandler's shirts he just fell onto the couch with the object in his hands. It still smelled like Chandler, that alluring mixture of his body chemistry with his aftershave and the smell of the firehouse. He felt a few tears welling in his eyes. How might things have turned out had they been given a decent chance, he wondered. For all he knew Chandler was the one. The one he was meant to spend the rest of his life with and now it was gone, ruined, torn from him.

"Get a grip," he muttered, throwing the shirt in the direction of his bedroom where the laundry hamper was located.

Suddenly he felt like the walls were closing in on him. Unable to take it anymore he grabbed his keys and walked out the door. Downstairs he climbed into his unmarked patrol car and pulled into the night traffic. At least at night the flow of cars wasn't nearly as bad as it was during the day, though not entirely too much better. With an address in mind he drove through the streets not really focusing. At one point he nearly ran a red light, stomping on his brakes at the last second. He had the comfort of no one being right behind him so he managed to avoid an accident. Just about the time he was thinking it a bad idea to have gotten on the road in the first place he reached his destination, grabbing a spot along the curb.

Entering the building and trudging up the stairs he began to think this was all some big mistake on his part. He shouldn't have acted so quickly. He should have called a head first. What if he got turned away? As though moving on autopilot he knocked upon the door of his intended goal and waited, chewing his bottom lip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. This was wrong, a bad idea. He was about ready to leave when he heard the lock being undone. Then the door opened.

"Flack, it's the middle of the night," Hawkes said, rubbing a bit of sleep from his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"I need a place to crash," Flack said, smiling sheepishly. "I can't stay there. I can't-"

Hawkes took a step back inviting him in. "Say no more, buddy, you can crash on my couch."