A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! Here is your belated Christmas gift, a chapter that kicked my ass and kept me up way too late for far too many nights. But you wonderful readers always make it all worth it. Cheers!
[Chapter 51: Serve and Protect]
...
It felt like getting shoved from behind by a giant hand. The window beside them shattered as they ducked. Debris pelted the back of him. Something big skimmed across the concrete, slamming into Connor's boot. For a strange moment, he thought he was still hearing her keys jingle.
Leah's hands covered her head. He'd blocked her inside the brick corner of the doorway.
She uncurled herself now, choking on smoke, squinting to see past him.
"That's my…that's my…"
There was no more car, only a fragmented steel shell enveloped in raging orange flames.
"Are you okay?" Connor asked, barely hearing his own voice from the ringing in his ears.
Leah nodded dazedly, looking down. Her car door lay at Connor's feet, her keys still dangling from the lock.
Gradually, onlookers were emerging from the nearby buildings to watch the roiling black smoke pour from the blown out windows. One man tried to see inside, then saw Connor and hurried over, shouting as his tie flew behind him.
"Hey! Was there anyone inside?"
Leah watched the flames, her expression blank. "My vitamins," she said.
Connor and the man both looked at her like she was crazy.
"It was empty," Connor told him.
Leah grasped the dislodged door and flipped it over. "If you want to help someone, tell those morons to get back."
"Wait, was that your car? Are you okay?"
"We're fine," Connor told him, not quite sure it was true. "You should get out of here in case it-"
Another explosion shook the ground. The tail end of the car's frame lifted off the asphalt and then crashed back down. Leah shielded her face, losing her balance in the scattered glass and debris.
People were screaming. Those who'd foolishly gotten too close were now running away, coming right towards them. He'd started to help Leah up when customers he recognized from the bar rounded the corner. All of them stopped at the sight of the flaming steel bonfire, except one. The man in the leather jacket scanned the gathering of bystanders, and then his eyes fell on Leah, and his face darkened. His gaze cut to Connor and the man backed up quickly, pulling out his phone as he turned and walked upstream through the converging crowd. Connor's heart went cold.
"Come on," he said. "We need to get out of here."
Leah was struggling to pull the keys from the door. They were stuck fast.
"Leah. We gotta go."
"But my keys-"
"Damn it, woman, you think you're gonna drive home?"
She twisted with both hands, screaming in frustration.
A siren whooped, lights flashing in the smoky twilight.
Connor pushed her aside, braced a foot on the door and yanked the keys out, then took her by the wrist and pulled her alongside him.
"My car. Now."
He practically pushed her into the passenger seat.
There were several new chips in his windshield, but since the LTD had been facing away from the explosion, most of the damage was to the rear window. They slipped quietly from the scene. Two police cars and a fire engine passed them. Checking the mirror constantly, Connor drove them towards the west end of South Boston, intending to circle back once he was sure they weren't being tailed, but it took all he had not to get on the Mass Pike and keep driving until he'd put a hundred miles behind them.
She hadn't spoken. A normal woman might be crying, and he'd be killing himself to come up with the right thing to say to make her stop. Not Leah. She stared blankly ahead, her head turning only slightly to watch a second fire engine speed past them.
"You okay?"
"Fine. You can drop me off at the next corner. I can walk to the substation from there."
He was hoping the light would stay green, but luck was not on his side. She gathered her purse as the light flicked to yellow. Connor gunned it and blew through the intersection, just beating the red.
She watched the intersection fly by. "Connor-"
"Your car just exploded, Leah. Exploded. I know you've got this emergency thing down, but I almost just watched you…" He spit the words out, hoping to wake her up to reality, "…burn to death."
"It's the blast wave that would have killed me, not the fire."
He wanted to bang his head on the steering wheel. How had he ever hooked up with this woman? "The Boston mafia is trying to off you. I am not dropping you on a fucking street corner so they can have another go at it."
"Thank you. That's very thoughtful, but really, I think Ortie can cover the bodyguard thing."
"Does he carry a gun?"
"No."
"Then get comfortable. Until we figure this out, you're not leaving my sight."
"Do I get a choice in the matter?"
"Are you always this difficult when someone tries to help you? Your father issues make a lot more sense now."
She stared at him a long moment before dropping her purse back onto the floor. "So do your brother issues."
"My what?"
"I saw you two in the kitchen. I'll bet he lets you run the show most of the time. But when something matters, and instead of listening, you turn into a controlling, authoritative asshole, he pushes the only kind of reset button you understand."
"A gut-punch. That's very fucking insightful. You got any psycho-babble about a girl who cares more about her vitamins than an attempt on her life?" He pressed the door locks. "Authoritative? Damn fucking straight I am. D'you really think hiding behind an ambulance is going to save you? They're out there killing cops for Christ's sake!"
Her head swiveled his direction. "Are we going to talk about that now?" she asked. "You know who I mean."
Duffy. The name practically danced in neon and strobe.
"Aye, I know who you mean. Do you want to talk about him?"
There was a beat of silence.
Connor didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed.
"Murphy had a right to be pissed at me," he said. "Bringing you home was dangerous for everyone."
"You didn't bring me, I drove. I'm a big girl, Connor. Nobody makes my mistakes for me."
He felt his face get hot. "Speaking of mistakes, who did you tell you were going to the Blue Heron?"
"You assume I was stupid enough to do that?"
"I assume the bomber either followed you, or he already knew you were going to be there."
"How did you know where to find me? Did you follow me?"
"I talked to Ortie. Your Head of Security."
She gave an irritated sigh. "He wasn't even supposed to be at the station."
"Neither were you."
"I needed the shower. My hair smelled like cigarettes."
If she wanted an apology for that particular detail, it would not be forthcoming. There hadn't been any complaints last night, and she'd squandered her bathing opportunity, as well as all his hot water, walking out on him that morning.
Without a word, he tapped out a cigarette. It was a complete asshole move, guaranteed to annoy her, which was probably why he suddenly felt compelled to do it.
"Would you have my Zippo on you, by chance?" he asked.
"It was in my car." She didn't sound particularly sad about it.
He used his plastic Bic lighter instead, the bright flame leaving a spot in his vision in the deepening twilight. He needed the nicotine, but the hot smoke made his throat feel raw after the explosion, a fact that he chose not to share.
"Nobody followed me," she said. "I don't even know who would be left to do this. You already took care of Mancini, and most of his henchmen. Three more hit men were in those crates. I assume those were yours, too."
Connor blew a stream of smoke out the window, unsure how he felt about how easily she rattled off the grizzly facts.
"Bobby Vigoda came after me, but he's dead, too."
"That was an accident."
She was too much on a roll to care. "That man who attacked me in my parking lot-the one with the ring in his nose? He's still out there."
"I wouldn't worry about him."
"But he wasn't on the rooftop—"
"You walked around and looked at all the bodies?"
She glared at him. "I made Chaffey show me pictures of all of them this morning, when he escorted me back to my apartment to get my suitcase, which…"
Had just burned up in her trunk.
She lapsed into silence. It's finally hitting home, he thought. Took long enough.
Connor glanced over. It was dark enough that it took a few seconds to realize she was staring at him. She'd tilted her head slightly, focusing just to the side of his eye. She turned on the dome light.
"When did you get that?" she asked. "You didn't have it this morning." He lifted his hand automatically to touch the cut, hoping it hadn't opened up again.
He cleared his throat. "Happened after you left." Completely true.
She was still frowning at him. "So, why don't you think it was that creep with the ring in his nose? He seems the most likely."
Because I sent his soul to judgment hours before that bomb was set.
"Because I think the bomber was that man in the leather jacket," he said. He told her about what he'd seen after the second explosion.
"I don't know," she said doubtfully. "That guy was inside the bar with us. When would he have had time?"
"Your car didn't blow until the wind pushed the door shut. It's not as fail-safe as an ignition switch, but the connections would only have to be in the doorframe, instead of the steering column. It's faster, less obvious to plant. He probably did it right after he saw you go in, then waited to watch when you left."
She was quiet again. "How do you know so much about car bombs?"
"I'm Irish."
They stopped at a red light, and he caught her making a face that said, Well, that makes sense.
"I'm joking, Jesus. I saw it on the Discovery Channel."
She ducked her head, but not before he saw the beginnings of a smile. Then she noticed a hole in her sleeve where a burning piece of shrapnel must have landed. The light turned and they drove on, Connor grateful that she hadn't attempted to jump out while they were stopped.
"Listen, we don't have to talk about this right now," he said. "Why don't you just close your eyes and relax for a minute."
"Close my eyes? You know full well what happens when I close my eyes."
"Actually, I only know what happens when they're open."
He wanted to face-palm himself the second the words were out. He'd shamelessly exploited her camera eyes in his bed last night, and whether she'd enjoyed it at the time wasn't going to make him any more likely to be forgiven.
There was the rustle of fabric as she shifted in her seat.
"When they close, it's instant replay," she said quietly. "It doesn't go away."
He watched her profile in the passing glow of street lights, unfocused, gazing at the things her mind couldn't stop showing her.
He wished he could pull over, but knew they had to get back to the apartment. "Leah," he said, hating how she wouldn't look at him. "I never wanted to-"
"I know," she said, cutting him off. "You can take me to the hospital. They have security, and I can wait for my dad to finish in the O.R."
It took a moment for his brain to switch directions. There was no doubt that she'd caught the scent of an apology, or at the very least an explanation—Connor himself didn't know for sure. But she didn't want to hear it. He tried not to take it personally.
"That bug made you and your father both targets," he said. "Let's not hand them two birds in one bush so they can kill them with one…stone…. You know what I mean."
She sighed. "Your bug sounds like feds to me."
"It's not feds."
"You sound pretty confident. Is…Agent Smecker looking into it for you?"
"It's not like that, Leah. He doesn't work for me; I don't work for him."
"But you work together," she said. "Nevermind. I don't want to know. I would like to know what he was going to ask me about Duffy's wound."
He glanced at her, surprised. "I've no idea. I figured there was something unusual about it."
"Not really."
"Duffy died because of it. You can't think of anything? Smecker must have a good reason for asking."
"Duffy died because a bullet severed his carotid artery. Pretty straight-forward. It's the fact that he was there that's questionable to me."
It took a moment to find his voice. "Do you mean the fact that he was there on the roof, or the fact that he was there, behind Mancini's soldiers, with the only weapons pointing in his direction belonging to my brother and me?"
Silence.
"Do you want to ask me if I shot him? Go on. Ask me if I killed my friend. Wouldn't want you to lose any more sleep not knowing."
He could see her curled into herself, her knees tucked under her chin. "There were so many bullets flying, the police will probably never know for sure."
She chose her words so carefully, but she wouldn't ask. It was like slow dagger through the heart.
They stopped at another light. His smoke was pretty much spent, but he took a last, deep drag, burning the tips of his finger and thumb before flicking it out the cracked window.
Leah cleared her throat. "So, you must have a theory. About the bug, I mean. If you're sure it's not FBI."
"We think Beckman had Annie plant the bug when she was at our place with Murphy on Tuesday."
"You can't be serious. Annie wouldn't-"
"She's 'reckless' and 'impulsive.' Your words."
"She's in love with your brother!"
"She sure as fuck is not."
"Whatever. Because you're such an expert."
He rolled his window the rest of the way down, letting the cold air blast him. Theories about the bug had flooded him since he'd left the shop, mostly centering on Beckman and his unholy quest. Then Leah came along and turned his brain into a blender.
He saw a blinking light on his phone and welcomed the distraction. When had he missed a call from Murphy? Oh, right.
He checked the voicemail. Three little words clamped like a vice around his heart.
Don't go home.
Don't go home. Don't go home. Not, don't come home. Don't go home, which meant his brother was no longer there. And something bad enough had happened that Murphy hadn't been able to explain. He'd said only that he'd call right back.
Connor hung up the phone and spun a U-turn. Doc's was the first place he'd go, if it was possible. Or Doc's house, or Seamus's. Or if there were no other options, the church.
"What's wrong?" Leah asked.
"Nothing."
"Then slow down."
He did, with effort.
"Is it Murphy?"
He must have nodded.
"Is he okay?"
He shook his head, then shrugged.
"He's with Annie."
Leah stopped her questioning, probably mulling whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Connor had an easier time of it. It was bad.
They crossed over train tracks and the box of .22 rounds in the console rattled.
"You have that pistol with you?" he asked.
She reached into her purse and pulled it out.
He handed over the box. "Keep it loaded at all times," he said. "Do you need me to show you how?"
"I looked it up online."
He raised an eyebrow, which was lost on her in the dark. He turned the dome light on again for her.
She found the release and the magazine dropped into her lap. She opened the box of ammunition with shaking fingers, and the sight caused an unexpected pang in his chest. He'd first discovered she'd kept that pistol when he'd rescued her from Ring-Nose in her parking lot. That night her fingers had been shaking so badly she could hardly grip a flashlight.
She looked up at him and he saw something change in her eyes. Carefully, she slid another round into the clip. "Annie is one issue," she said conversationally, "but it doesn't make sense for it to be Beckman. Police would need a federal warrant; they'd need proof. Wouldn't you have found out about it from your cop buddies?"
He tried to process what she was saying, but all he could think about was Murphy, exposed on that damn Harley.
He felt a cool hand rest on top of his on the steering wheel.
"Connor, wouldn't someone have told you if you were being bugged by the police?"
He took a deep breath. Her hand slipped away and he felt a jarring loss-which irritated him to no end. "Only if it's all legit," he said. "Aren't you the one who told me there's a judge on Scuderi's list?"
She frowned. "If it's not law enforcement, then that leaves the mafia."
"That's one option," he said, finally realizing she was trying to distract him, and deciding that distraction could work both ways. For now, he could only loop the general area of their potential safe houses while waiting for Murphy to call back. Until he had a specific destination, he'd be smart to keep Leah as preoccupied as possible, lest she grow desperate enough to jump from the damn car.
"The Family wouldn't be slowed down by warrants," he said. "And their break-in work could be very professional if they were willing to pay for it. If it was Mancini, there's two options-"
"Either the monitoring died with him, or it's been taken over by someone else."
"Right."
"And now you want to take me back to the place they've been monitoring. I feel safer already."
He heard the slide of metal as she replaced the magazine. She shut off the light. "If you insist on taking me to your place, then it would be smarter to turn and cut over on L street."
"I don't need to from this direction."
"It's a faster route, even if it's longer."
"Do you drive your ambulance with that kind of logic?"
"It'll avoid the delay from the Yolk detour!"
"That should be over by now, don't you think?"
They were nearing the intersection in question.
"What I think is that I am the one with a map in my brain, and you are the one torturing me with your directionless, half-assed kidnapping rescue attempt. Just turn left here!"
He slowed for the light, staying in the straight lane. The turn lane beside them was empty.
She gave a groan that morphed into a scream.
"Christ, woman, you want to take it down a notch? These ears have been damaged enough today."
"I have a lot more where that came from. Want to hear my siren impression?"
"Thought I didn't have to threaten you to keep you quiet."
The light changed. She didn't scream. He wondered how seriously she'd taken his remark. Part of him knew it was the drop of adrenaline, but he suddenly felt exhausted.
The car behind them honked. He changed lanes and swung through the turn as she wanted. "This is the last time I'm going to tell you," he said. "I'm doing this for you."
"Connor, whether you want it to be true or not, you have more reason than anyone to shut me up."
"If you were afraid of that, why'd you make it so obvious that you knew? Why'd you leave the needle?"
She gave a harsh sigh that told him he'd struck a nerve. "There's no deep meaning. It was an impulse, I followed it, end of story."
"You left the needle because you wanted me to know that you figured it out."
"Why would I want that?"
"I…don't know."
They hit a pothole, and he heard the ammunition slide off the console and onto the floor on Leah's side, the rounds tumbling out of the box.
"Crap," she muttered.
There was a street light coming up, with an expanse of empty curb below it. He let off the gas, checking the rearview just in time to be blinded by a flash of blue lights.
An ear-splitting whoop, and his pulse spiked again, about one palpitation away from an early death.
"Fuck."
This was not happening. He was not getting pulled over, tonight of all nights, now of all times, alongside an unraveling Leah-of all people. He held off saying a prayer. Instinct told him that when punishment was this personal, plea bargains fell on Deaf Ears.
"Pick up those bullets," he said. "Do it quick."
The cops were taking their time getting out of their car. Letting him sweat. He hadn't been speeding. In fact, he'd been looking for a place to stop.
He should've been more careful. He knew this spot. He knew cops like to hide out here and catch kids driving home after too many rounds at the next-door pub. It was half the reason he never went to that pub.
"Relax," Leah told him, shoveling the spilled rounds back into the box. "It's just Chaffey and Mitchell."
Connor tried to see in the rearview. "How do you know?"
"They always post here." Of course, she'd know this spot, too. Much better than him, actually.
He watched her struggle with the zipper on her purse, too full now with the box of ammo jammed inside. She closed it as best she could, then tucked the purse up under the dash. She sat up and straightened her sweater.
"You drove us past here on purpose," he realized.
"I didn't drive us. You drove us."
He could think of at least a dozen different ways to choke that smirk right out of her voice.
"You're lucky I'm such a nice fucking guy. This might be the stupidest thing you've ever done."
She smoothed her hair. "I've got myself a safe ride with a driver who'll listen to me. And you'll be free to go help Murphy or hunt mobsters or whatever it is you don't want to drag me along for. You're welcome."
He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she joined him in reality.
He could see the officers approaching now, pausing to examine the rear of the car.
"You'll be fine," she said. "Chaffey likes you."
"Not as much as he likes you. This isn't going to end well."
Knuckles rapped on his window, and he rolled it down, trying to suppress his murderous thoughts and summon friendly ones.
"Evenin', Officer," he said, wincing in Chaffey's bright flashlight beam. "What can I do for you?"
Chaffey gave a surprised smile, tilting the light away. "Oh, it's you, Connor. Did you know you got a taillight—Leah?"
"Hi, Mike."
"Leah, Jeez. Do you know how many people are looking for you right now?"
Connor felt Leah's pause of apprehension.
Chaffey's face disappeared as he straightened, calling Mitchell over. "It's Leah," he said, "She's with Connor MacManus."
Mitchell bent down, his whole face lighting up when he saw her. "Boy, are we glad to see you."
Mitchell moved, giving the window back to Chaffey, whose eyes were a bit sharper now.
"Do you know about your car?" he asked Leah carefully.
"Yeah. It was pretty close."
"Yeah, it looked that way." Chaffey's voice had changed, and Connor couldn't help but sympathize. How would he have felt, coming up on a scene like that, not knowing how closely to examine the ashes? Connor could hear Mitchell behind him on the radio, spreading the good news.
"You should have called and told us you were okay," Chaffey said. "When we ran the plates…and we couldn't find you…
"I know, I'm sorry-,"
"Did you even stop to think how it would look?"
Under the flashlight beam, her cheeks were flaming.
"Chaffey, give her a break. Someone tried to kill her, she ran. She's fine, by the way."
Chaffey's eyes cut to Connor. "And where were you when this happened?"
"We were on the sidewalk."
"Together?"
Connor lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the beam, suddenly wary of this line of questioning. "Aye."
"Did the bomb take out your taillight, too?"
He was going to kill Murphy for that taillight. Once he found him and made sure he was okay.
"Nah, I was parked a ways down."
"So, you've been driving around with it like that. Can I see your license and registration?"
"Oh, Mike, don't be like that," Leah said.
But this day had been coming for a long time. Connor could feel the inevitability deep in his bones, like an ache before the rain. Chaffey stepped back from the window, waiting, his flashlight beam on Connor's hands. Connor pulled his license from his wallet and the registration from the center console. A quick scan confirmed that the paperwork was expired, but there was nothing to do but hand it over. Chaffey marched back to his car without a word.
"This will take a minute," Mitchell said. "Don't go anywhere."
Connor waited until they'd returned to the patrol car.
"Still proud of your clever plan?"
"It can still work if you'll just act like a law-abiding citizen."
Too late.
He dialed Murphy and got no answer, then tried again, noticing when he hung up the second time that Leah was hanging up hers as well.
"My dad's still in surgery." She began to fiddle with the hole in her sweater. "Connor, what if there's a bomb in his car, too?"
"Have him call someone to check it out. Greenly, or Dolly, or Duf-"
He wanted to cut out his own tongue. He gripped the phone in his hand, remembering when Duffy had given it to him. So concerned about him and Murphy, and their safety, and keeping their mission secure.
"You were right about him, you know. About why Duffy was on the list."
Leah froze, eyes locked on her sweater.
"It was a judgment call. No easy way out. Dolly told us this morning. He was the only one who knew."
"So it's not just my father."
"No. And there could be others. I was wrong to assume that everyone on the list was corrupt. And…it was brave of you to tell me."
"It wasn't brave. I didn't know who I was telling."
Connor pushed a hand through his hair, wishing the truth didn't hurt the way it always did coming from her.
"Ask Greenly or Dolly to check out your dad's car," he said again. "Not Beckman."
She gave him a doubtful look, and he decided she'd better hear it all.
"In all honesty, I don't think there was any judge involved with the bug, or police for that matter, not officially. I think it's personal."
"For Annie, or for Beckman?"
"Both. Was it Beckman you were going to meet at the bar?"
"What? No, are you kidding?"
"Then who?"
"Connor, I…I can't bring another person into this. I can't."
"What are you talking about? If you're giving up the list to them, they're already in."
Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.
"Oh, I see," Connor said. "They're not in danger until I know their name."
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Fun fact: the mob's contribution to the current population of the morgue is actually less than yours."
"Today, maybe." He checked the mirror. Chaffey sure was taking his sweet-ass time. "I know what I do is extreme. The point is to destroy evil men, for the sake of the good. The evil, Leah, not the good men who happen to stand in my way."
"What's that criteria again?"
"Oh, come off it. The laws of every fucking country-"
"Yes, I know. They're just variations of the same principles of human behavior, written down so people can live their lives with some semblance of order. It's when the enforcement falls apart that men like you and your brother become necessary." She rubbed a spot of ash on her finger. "Spare me the manifesto, I have it memorized."
He felt his jaw hanging somewhat slack, and snapped it back up.
"So…you understand."
"I understand."
The lights on the patrol car flashed at him in the mirror, giving him a headache. "Please just tell me who you were meeting. I can have someone look up the name, see if there's any red flags. If he's legit, at least you'll know you can still trust him. You can still get free of the list."
He saw her struggle reflected in her eyes. "James Bingle," she said after a moment. "The field office just gave me his name, and a time and place to meet him."
"Field office. F.B.I. field office?"
"Yes," she snapped, "and now you're going to tell me to talk to your best buddy, Smecker, who we both know is no longer running Organized Crime."
"At least you'd already know who you're dealing with."
"I suppose that would be nice, for a change." There was no need to guess what she meant by that.
He heard a car door open, and lowered his voice. "You said you understood. I always thought you understood. That's why I thought you and I could…never mind."
"Comprehension doesn't equal endorsement, Connor."
"Endorsement?" he hissed. "Don't act like you weren't on board from the moment I first saved your life! I never asked you to lie to the cops, or to cover for me. You trusted the man in the maskwhen you didn't even know who he was. And you trusted Connor MacManus. Then you find out we're one and the same, and you act like I'm the enemy."
Her eyes flashed. "Do you truly not get it?"
Chaffey was back, but like a gentleman, he was waiting for Leah to finish.
"Are you really going to shift the issue to my emotional transference, and deflect any call of accountability to your supposedly infallible Judeo-Christian moral code?"
She glared at him, expecting an answer.
"What?"
"You're a lying jackass! Don't try to put this on me!" She kicked the dash for emphasis, and he heard her purse tip over with a thud.
Chaffey chuckled. Connor prayed none of the bullets had fallen out.
"I'm not saying it's all you," he said, laying a calming hand on her thigh. He shouldn't have. She flung it off, making a sound like a growl.
"Hey," Chaffey warned.
"You let me chop those stupid quarters. You held me while I cried. And all that time-"
"You needed to chop those quarters. You needed to cry. I'm not sorry I was there for you."
"You were there for me? My God, you can justify anything."
"Hey," Chaffey said again. "Remember me? Your registration's expired, MacManus. I'm going to have to write you a ticket."
"Jesus Christ, Chaffey. I'm sorry you got all worried, I really am. I was trying to protect her, and hanging out to advertise to the bomber that he missed his target didn't seem like the best choice at the time."
In the dim light, he saw the color deepen in the cop's face.
"Protect her," Chaffey said. "Yeah, I've seen how you protect her. Wasn't it you locked in the bathroom, taking a shower while she was alone with a stranger in her apartment? You know, just to make sure she's safe, I think I'll need to see your proof of insurance, too. And you can address me as Officer."
Connor closed his eyes, swearing under his breath. Where the hell was Mitchell? Surely the both of them weren't going to act like dickheads. He glanced out Leah's side, but the other officer must have still been in the patrol car. Slowly, Connor opened the compartment in the center console and pretended to look for his insurance. It wasn't there, of course. He couldn't even remember the last time they'd paid for car insurance.
"Must be at home," he said.
"Fine. I'll drive you there and you can show it to me."
Connor's stomach turned over. He hadn't expected that. Leah twitched beside him. A dark shadow blocked the light from her window. Mitchell was back.
Connor looked at her, raising his brows. She was still pissed, but if she had any magic to work on Chaffey, now was the time.
"Maybe it's in the glove compartment," she offered.
"No, it's not in there-"
She opened it, and the H&K pistol he'd taken off the thug that morning tumbled out.
Neither of them moved.
Chaffey's flashlight beam cut over and the gun's matte finish swallowed the light, looking like a grotesque bat signal on the floor. Mitchell tried to open Leah's door but it was locked.
"Is that yours?" Chaffey asked.
"Yes," Connor said.
"Leah, did you know this was here?"
"It's mine. She didn't know."
"Leah, hand it to me please. Slowly."
Leah met Connor's eyes. He nodded slightly. She leaned over him, passing the gun to Chaffey, her eyes dark with concern now instead of anger.
"Do you have a license to carry concealed?"
He looked Chaffey straight in the eye. "Not on me."
"Let me guess-at home, with your insurance?"
Mitchell rapped on the window and Leah rolled it down.
Connor took a slow breath. "Listen, Chaffey, I know it's been rough. Duffy was—" Both cops' faces turned to stone, and Connor stumbled on his words, kicking himself for forgetting who he was talking to. "Detective Duffy was…I can't imagine having to lose someone like that, and then go back to work the next day-"
"No," Chaffey said coldly. "You can't imagine. Step out of the car, please."
"Mike, please. This isn't necessary," Leah said.
Connor got out, finally saying that prayer, trying not to slam the door too hard and piss the man off further. Chaffey gestured for him to stay by the front wheel of the car, and looked back inside at Leah.
"You, too," he told her. "You can just…wait over on the sidewalk."
Mitchell held her door, and then switched places with her as soon as she was out. She stood nervously under the street light, her eyes locking with Connor's.
"Are there any other weapons in the vehicle?" Chaffey asked him.
"No."
The hairs on the back of Connor's neck rose as Mitchell began to search the vehicle. It would be all right, he told himself. Church had been the first order of the day, and leaving the gun bag at home had saved him. On the curb, Leah kept one hand on her purse, covering the open zipper.
Mitchell was thorough, popping the trunk and checking under all the seats. Finally, he finished, walking over to Chaffey to show him something. Connor caught the shine of copper in his hand and felt his hope evaporate.
Chaffey turned to Connor. "Your gun is a forty-five caliber," he said. "The rounds Mitchell just found under your seat are for a .22. Are you carrying another weapon?"
"No, Officer, I am not."
Chaffey handed the gun to Mitchell. "Place your hands on the hood of the car and spread your legs."
"Seriously, Mike?" Leah exclaimed.
"She means Officer," Connor said, turning slowly to face the car.
Mitchell shined his Maglite on the H&K, examining it.
"Guys, please," Leah said. "Let's remember we're all friends here."
If Murphy was here, they might have made a run for it by now. Or Murphy might have just joked his way out of the whole situation. Connor put his hands on the hood, thinking that at least it was good his phone was in the car, out of Chaffey's reach. Chaffey patted him down swiftly, and then again more slowly, seeming disappointed to find nothing. Connor's jaw began to ache from clenching. There was going to be a limit to his patience.
"Am I free to go, Officer?"
"Not just yet," Mitchell said from behind him. Connor could feel Chaffey turn around to look at his partner. There was some sort of exchange, involving gestures and half-words. The hand pressing on Connor's back did not let up.
"Are you aware there was a murder this morning at One Eyed Jake's tattoo shop?" Mitchell asked.
Leah's eyes went wide. Every curse Connor knew exploded in his mind.
"A man was shot in the head with a large caliber weapon similar to this one."
"Hadn't heard," Connor said.
"You know the place," Chaffey said. "But you don't seem too shocked."
"Sorry, Officer. I used up all my shock watching a bomb explode in my face. So unless you're going to arrest me, I'm going to go on home and sleep off all this fucking shock."
"Who was he?" Leah asked.
"Bruno Mancini," Mitchell told her. "Also known as 'The Bull.'"
"The Bull," Leah repeated, her eyes intent on Connor's.
"Heard of him?" Mitchell asked, glancing between them.
She shook her head, still looking at Connor. His neck was starting to cramp. He tested Chaffey's hold and found the younger man was stronger than he'd thought. Or angrier.
"He was Carmen Mancini's second cousin," Chaffey said, pushing Connor down harder. "His arrest record shows he likes to carry this same make and model of handgun. But no weapon was found at the scene."
"This is circumstance and conjecture, Mike," Leah said, stepping up to the other side of the hood. "You may have cause for a citation, but not for an arrest. Write your damn ticket and let him go."
"It's enough for questioning," Chaffey argued. "Especially since his car matches a description of a vehicle parked outside at the time."
Don't do it, a voice inside him warned. But it was this kind of shit that started everything. This, right here, was the reason for it all.
"I have a question," he said. Fury coursing through him, he pushed firmly off the car, breaking Chaffey's leverage so he could look him in the eye.
"What would an armed mafioso with a criminal record be doing there in the first place? Seems to me there might have been a lot more bodies. Somebody made your job a lot simpler."
"Yeah," Mitchell said. "The pennies on his eyes made it real simple."
Chaffey was still staring back at him. Connor knew the man had it in him to understand.
Both cops' radios squawked. Mitchell answered, and Connor's heart stopped as he heard the dispatcher report shots fired—at Connor's own address.
He heard Leah gasp and he almost lost it.
"We're out of time," Chaffey said. "Stand up and put your hands on the back of your head."
"Mike," Connor said, "you don't need to do this. I'll answer your questions—you can fucking interrogate me, just—not right now."
"I have a duty, Connor."
Leah put both hands to her temples, panic in her eyes.
Connor feigned cooperation, raising his arms, albeit slowly. He wouldn't go peacefully, that much he knew, but if they got the cuffs on, he was screwed. If he couldn't get away, he'd leave Murphy hanging, and he couldn't take that chance.
His best hope was the woman staring back at him. He had only seconds. The truth was the first thing that came to mind.
"Leah, you need to know-last night wasn't just blowing off steam for me."
Chaffey froze behind him.
"Jesus," Mitchell muttered.
Eyes glistening, Leah stepped closer, trying to read what he really wanted. "It's okay, Connor."
Chaffey shifted, pushing off of him. He heard the clink of the cuffs and felt the scars on his raised wrists start to burn with memory. "I wanted to tell you," he said, "but I was scared shitless you would leave. I knew you would've."
She shook her head, blinking. "You don't know that."
Chaffey started to pull one hand down behind him, and as soon as he felt the cold steel, he couldn't help it, he jerked away from Chaffey's grasp.
He was shoved roughly back against the car.
"Hands on your head!"
Mitchell moved into his view, his hand resting meaningfully on the gun in his holster.
Heart hammering, Connor planted both fists resolutely on the hood. "I couldn't risk it, Leah. Guess I needed you more than you needed me." He smiled, realizing it really was that simple. "I still do."
Leah's tears spilled over. One shaking hand reached to wipe them away. The other reached into her purse for a tissue.
"Last chance, MacManus, or we're doing this the hard way. Hands."
"You're right, Connor," Leah said, her voice cracking. "For once." And then her arm swung up suddenly, and it was not a tissue in her hand. "Let him go, Chaffey."
The barrel of her pistol shined brightly in the street light. There was a moment of quiet while Chaffey and Mitchell looked at her quizzically.
"It's a gun," she said. "Both of you, over here on the sidewalk, hands against the wall."
Chaffey gripped Connor's arm. "Did you put her up to this, MacManus?"
"Now!" Leah ordered.
Mitchell went for his holster and Leah reacted, firing off a shot that chipped the asphalt beside him.
"Shit!"
"What the fuck, Leah?" Chaffey exclaimed.
"Jesus Christ. Everybody just calm down," Connor said. He shoved Chaffey off of him. "Leah, this isn't what I was asking for."
"If they arrest you, me calling your brother isn't going to solve anything, and you know it. Go! I"ll be fine."
"You won't be fine," Chaffey muttered. "You just fired at a police officer!"
"I fired at the pavement. But keep in mind, I know all the places a GSW is lethal, and all the places it's just really, really painful."
"She's crazy," Mitchell said.
Leah fired another shot at the ground, dangerously close, making the man flinch.
"Yeah! Kinda feeling that way! Drop the guns, Mitchell, both of them. If you want to keep your toes."
Jaw clenched, Mitchell laid both the H&K and his service weapon on the ground. He and Chaffey moved toward the curb.
"Slowly," Leah said. "Hands where I can see them."
Chaffey glowered at Connor. "I'm not through with you, MacManus."
"You are for tonight." Quickly, he retrieved the H&K, then backed towards his car door, glancing through the window. Keys were still in the ignition. He looked at Leah. The streetlight shined down on her hair, a perfect golden halo. "You're sure about this?" he said.
"Yes, just get out of here. And please be careful—I'd hate to do all this for nothing."
He reached for the door handle. "Chaffey," he said. "You wanted to protect her, now's your chance."
Chaffey didn't answer, but Connor knew he got the message. It was his duty, after all.
...
A/N: Loving this? Hating this? Feedback is my drug! :)
