Stone Cold - Ashby Crime Family

I kept my hands on the steering wheel and waited, groaning when two familiar faces appeared, one at the passenger door and one at mine. Lucky me. “That was a pretty reckless U-turn, Mr. Ashby.”

I relaxed a little and smiled. “Traffic stops is out of your jurisdiction, isn’t it, Agent Marshall?”

Baxter Marshall, age forty-eight, was a twenty-year veteran with the FBI. He had a mostly clean record in the department and was fair and decent, except for his obvious beef against my family. “It is, but we spotted you and decided to take advantage of the opportunity.”

“To?”

Agent Beck chose that moment to chime in. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the murder of Father Seamus O’Brien, would you?” Her tone was as harsh as the neon lights I’d just left in Vegas, but I didn’t let it get to me.

I shrugged and kept my gaze focused on Agent Marshall. “I don’t know any priests, don’t even believe in the man upstairs anymore.” A Catholic childhood had cured me of any desire to believe or belong to any religion. Ever again.

Marshall’s brown eyes went wide in surprise. “The old faithful Irish Ashbys aren’t true believers?” He let out a low whistle followed up by a deep, rumbling laugh. “Maybe you or someone in your family has an unknown beef against the Church?”

He wasn’t all that far off, so I tossed my head back and let out a laugh of my own. “Lapsed Catholics would be more accurate, not that our religious practices are any of your damn business. Then again, Agent Beck’s been watching us closely enough that she’d know if any Ashby had anything to do with these murders. Isn’t that right?”

Beck faked a deer in the headlights look that might have been hilarious if the disfigured dude who looked a hell of a lot like Brendan Rhymer hadn’t vanished while these two harassed me. “Just keeping an eye on any and all suspects.”

Bullshit. “Am I a suspect? Nope, didn’t think so. Anything else?”

“One thing I’ve learned over the years, Calvin.” Agent Marshall dipped down so we were eye to eye, the wise old sage routine down pat. “Is never to underestimate an Ashby. Your old man died at just the right time for Sadie to take over, and The Crusaders keep coming up missing with every trip to Glitz.”

I shrugged again. “The desert is a barren, unwelcoming place. Most people aren’t cut out for it, and they don’t learn that lesson until it’s too late.”

“Was that a threat?” Agent Beck already had her hand at her waistband. “Did you just threaten a federal law enforcement officer?”

I chuckled. “Did you hear me threaten anyone or are you looking to lose your little bungalow and pension in a civil suit?” Agent Beck might be used to dealing with gangbangers and low level gangsters who thought being tough meant acting tough. She’d learn the Ashbys were a different beast altogether.

Marshall nodded at her to back off, but Beck wasn’t easily deterred. “What about Wyatt Greene? Know anything about his death?”

I shook my head, happy I could truthfully say, “I don’t know the guy.”

“Interesting you don’t know him since his girlfriend is now living at your house.” Agent Beck’s sarcasm was about as subtle as a sixteen-year-olds.

“What does that have to do with anything? Thanks to your brothers in blue arresting her without any fucking proof, Bonnie lost everything. Her parents kicked her out and cut her off. Were you gonna move her in with you, Agent Beck? How about you Marshall? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Never met the guy, and I didn’t know he even existed until Bonnie found out he was dead and made all the other shit that much worse.” I smiled and shook my head. “It’s almost as if law enforcement single-handedly fucked up her life. A poor little church girl, now forced to take up with the big bad Ashbys.” Before either of the agents could say another word, my phone chimed and I picked it up. “Yeah?”

“It’s done,” Virgil said.

“Nothing at all,” I added breezily. “Just having a chat with Agents Marshall and Beck. Order me a big fat fucking cheeseburger. I’ll be there soon.” I ended the call, giving Virgil the info he needed just in case, and looked up into skeptical brown eyes. “Anything else?”

“We tell you when we’re done,” Beck barked.

I glared at her and nodded. “Okay, then. Am I being detained for the U-turn, which is allowed on this street?”

Her mouth opened and then shut, floundering like a fish plucked from the safety of water. “No.”

“Am I suspected of committing a crime?”

“Nothing I can prove. Yet,” she muttered to herself.

“When you can, you know where to find me. Have a good day.” I drove away with a smile on my face, but it quickly faded as I thought about everything the Feds had distracted me from.