Full Disclosure (Nice Guys 2)

“I’ve got you access to the family. I just can’t guarantee Stuart’s full access. He’s a loose cannon, Knox. ” Mitch punched the gas as the light switched to green, turning on to Oak Lawn.

“That’s bullshit,” Mitch started, but the director jumped in.

“Stuart’s on probation for the last stunt he pulled, Knox. He should’ve been fired. There’s no telling what’ll happen if we let him loose in our system.”

“I’m a loose cannon…” Mitch went silent. Aaron Stuart excelled in the world of technology and hackers. He probably already had full access. “Look, I’m on my way to the airport. I need to check in with Director Carpenter.”

“Get there as quick as you can.” The last words Director Skinner said made him smile.

“Yes, sir,” Mitch ended the call as he hit the next red light. He searched Director Carpenter’s number in his contact list. As he waited for the phone to connect, a single last stray thought surfaced. He pulled up his photo gallery to see if he’d gotten a decent shot of Cody. He didn’t need the picture, he could find Cody easily with the information he had, but with the picture, he’d let the computers handle the leg-work. Plus, he now had a little something for his spank bank.

Somehow, he’d managed to get a decent shot, and after a minute more of staring at the hot picture, he slid his finger across the screen, pushing Cody away. He had to focus on the case. Guys like Cody didn’t just happen along every day. He was sure their day would come, just not today. He focused his thoughts to the business at hand. He needed to fully concentrate on the case.

The Greyson kid would make number eight. The eighth victim targeted in the last nine months. Three were still alive, the others weren’t so lucky. His mind ran in overdrive as the magnitude to the situation settled in.

Chapter 10

Eight hours later, Mitch dug his thumb and forefinger into his closed eyes as he listened to the dialog going on around him. His new partner was already pissing him off. Blathering on and on about procedures, regulations, and protocols. And saying this sucked like a motherfucker would be a serious understatement.

The biggest problem right now? Connors wouldn’t shut the fuck up. He was standard issue FBI. Clean-cut, clean shaven, freshly-pressed suit, in love with himself, and most definitely the smartest man on the planet—just ask him. Mitch had learned long ago you just couldn’t reason with brilliant people. At that thought, Mitch rolled his eyes.

Irritatingly, once you cut through the miles of babble, Connors had a keen instinct, almost a sixth sense and a remarkable success rate when it came to the cases he worked. Mitch didn’t know him well, or really at all, but he had heard about his reputation. Nothing got past the man.

Mitch needed that kind of agent on this investigation, no matter how much he droned on and on about his to-date findings on the Greyson case. Just imagine how he would react once he knew the details of the other incidents linking to this one.

As Connors repeated his last sentence for the third time, just in a different way, Mitch made a very dramatic show of rolling his eyes and dropping his head back, giving a long exaggerated yawn. It didn’t seem to faze Connors or Director Carpenter.

All Mitch could do was look up at the heavens and pray for patience or a nice big bottle of tequila. The prayer was a symbolic gesture more than anything else, because he was already stuck in hell. This small office slash conference room would apparently be his home base for the next however many weeks it took to resolve this case. The décor reeked of uptight government. Chrome, black, and contemporarily boring furnishings.

The office wasn’t much bigger than an oversized cubicle, and the sterile smell made him want to gag. The room was stiff, tedious, and ostentatious much like Connors who now stood, drawing things out on a dry-erase board, outlining the details of the cases he knew so far.

Mitch glanced across the room and Director Carpenter looked intrigued. Oh hell, fuck my life. He couldn’t help the second yawn that slipped free.

“Am I boring you, Deputy Marshal Knox?” Connors asked in his perfectly correct way of saying everything.

“You know, kind of you are,” Mitch answered truthfully, dropping his feet to the floor, ready for his fourth or fifth cup of coffee in the last few hours. In midstep he changed his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can get in with the Greyson family a little early. Connors, you can keep rehashing this or you can put your little red marker down and get your ass in the car and get moving on this case with me.”

Mitch smirked at the open-eyed stare and the silence that greeted him. Well, whaddaya know, he’d actually stunned Connors speechless. His triumph was short-lived though as Director Carpenter’s brow dropped. He honestly hadn’t meant any disrespect. What was the old saying? Drastic times called for drastic measures. These were drastic times, and he was in dire need of some shut-the-fuck-up.

“Okay, okay, look,” Mitch started, attempting to gather some decorum as he rambled something else to appease these two. “You can keep filling me in on the way over there, but we really need to get this show on the road.” Mitch considered that a half-assed apology as he angled himself toward the door. He’d already decided FBI wonder boy might be a prodigy, but he wanted Aaron on this case, even if it were an incognito unauthorized move.

Mitch was willing to take the blame just to get this case solved faster. Cell phone calls, city surveillance videos, even identifying and tracking vehicles by just providing tire tracks were definitely within the guy’s wheelhouse. Mitch just had to ditch the straight-arrow FBI agent before he made contact.

“I’m not through,” Connors started, but began to rush around, gathering his things.

“If you’re coming with me, you are,” Mitch shot back as he lowered his laptop lid and stuffed it haphazardly into his bag.