The Untouchables (Ruthless People 2)

Stepping towards the door, the sad lump of shit that was my brother called out.

“Liam, she…”

“Don’t make excuses!” I roared. I took a deep breath, trying to calm down before I blew his brains out in this hospital. “All I need from you is to find Declan and tell him to pick up his damn phone.”

Stepping out into the hall, my mother stood waiting. The bundle of sunflowers that was once in her arms were now replaced with a first aid kit. Her eyes went straight to my lip before falling to the scratches on my arm and hand.

“Excuse me, dear.” She pulled a male nurse. “Can we get a private room please?”

“Mother.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry I can’t—”

“Let me rephrase this, can you please show me and my bleeding son here to a private room in the hospital he helped fund and damn well near saved from bankruptcy?” Her voice was polite, but the grip she held on the nurse’s arm screamed hostile.

Nodding, he pointed over to an empty bed. “I can handle his wounds.”

“No thank you, dear.” She patted his arm. “Come on, Liam…”

“Mother, I’m fine. Stop being ridiculous.”

She stepped forward, and although I had to drop my head to meet her gaze, I knew better than to fight her on this. This…this was code for ‘I need to talk to you, so shut the fuck up and listen.’

Pulling out my phone, I dialed, as we walked towards the private bed in the corner with the blue curtains.

“I knew one of you were going to need this.” She sighed, pulling out the bandages.

“I’m fine. I would be a lot better if people would answer their fucking phones.”

“Language.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Honestly, mother?”

“I’m just trying to help you. Do your really want your son coming out swearing? You should prepare to censor yourself. Now, give me your hand.” Obeying her, I tried once again to contact Brooks, but he kept sending me to voicemail. Something was happening.

“Declan?”

“No,” I hissed at the alcohol she poured on my cuts. “Work. Work I shouldn’t have to do, but your daughter-in-law has become nothing but a growing cancerous pain in my…ah! Damn it, Ma!”

“Stop being a baby.” She laughed as she wrapped my hand. “Have you gotten any real sleep since this all started?”

I didn’t answer, not because I hadn’t slept, but because I knew she would say it wasn’t enough. I spent most of the day watching over security tapes, Mel’s vitals, and contacts with the police.

“You were born with a short fuse, Liam. It becomes even shorter when you lose sleep.”

“Sleep or no sleep, Olivia crossed a line and I was so close to killing her just now.”

“But you didn’t because deep down you love your brother, despite how much you still want to hate him.”

“So this isn’t about my actions against Olivia, it’s about Neal.” I should have known.

“As much as I love your wives, my first priority will always be you and your brothers’ happiness. Whatever this is with Olivia will tear you both further apart. Neal has waited years—”

“Mother, I don’t care. If he wants to stand with me, a spot is open. But he needs to make sure his wife knows where she stands, and that needs to be far away from me. I no longer trust her.”

“If you can’t stand her now, as the wife of your brother, how will you stand her as daughter to your President? You’re the ones elevating her status. Remember, Frankenstein was not the monster, but the doctor.”

I hated when she did this. “You’re going to drive me to smoke, Ma.”

“Smoke? Not drink?” She laughed.

“Dad did that years ago.”

Before she could reply, my phone went off; a blocked call trying to come in. Only one person had this number…Brooks.

“Callahan.”

“Sir, I got your calls. I couldn’t speak…”

“What’s going on?”

“The FBI is drafting up a visa, all they need is for her to say the words. I think she has a son across the border.”

“You think?” Why the fuck did everyone think and no one knew? “Brooks, step up and fix this. Find a way to let her know what will happen if she opens her mouth. Our public image will not be tarred by this, do you understand me?”

“I’m on it sir.”

BEAU

Closing my phone, I looked up at all the badges in front of me. Most of them greeting me as they walked around.

“Way to go, Brooks.”

“Brooks, working your way up.”

“Congrats, Brooks.”

All I could do was nod, take a deep breath, and ingest the scent of sweat and stale coffee, before repeating the same old line: “Just doin’ my job.” For years, I was nothing but a beat cop, and I never asked to be much more. My real job was to watch the streets. Now, word around the department was that I was on the shortlist to becoming a detective.

I needed to get to that maid as soon as possible, but the FBI had her on lockdown in the back of the precinct. They wanted their names on this since they couldn’t get their tags on the President’s wife. But collaring the Callahans was as close to first place as they came.

“You think it’s true?” my partner asked. “If it is, we need to be on this case.” He leaned against my desk.

“You’re a pup, Scooter. Stop trying to bite off cases when you don’t even have teeth,” I told him, eyeing the water bottle on my desk. I had a plan, I just needed more time.

“They say the Callahans are the worst thing that happened to this city since Al Capone. That they murder men, women, and children, no problem. They move drugs in the mist; weed, cocaine, heroin. If it’s illegal, they sell it and make millions all over the country, yet they’re still…”

“That’s because we have nothing!” I yelled, drawing attention towards us. “Has anyone ever spoken to a dealer that pointed a finger at a Callahan?”

“Everybody knows it’s ‘cause they’re scared.”

“Who is everybody? Is everybody going to testify at trial? There has never been any evidence to prove that the Callahans are anything but upstanding citizens of this city. We don’t even have a parking ticket to pin on them. All I’ve ever heard were just rumors from one cop to another, told over a cold coffeepot. We got officers trying to make cases out of thin air to try and prove themselves. Prove that they could do what so many others had failed to do. Give me evidence and I’ll slap the cuffs on ‘em. But until then, save your ghost stories and ‘drugs in the mist’ for your playmates and get the hell out of my face.”

He took a step back, biting his lips before placing his hat back on his blonde head. “Well, we got a maid, their maid.”

“No, we got an illegal immigrant who feels jilted after being fired, and is now blackmailing the U.S. government for a visa.”

“You know what Brooks? All of us are doing something. We’re trying! We’re trying to save our city. To bring it back from the mobsters and thugs, the Callahans. Why don’t you start supporting the team?”