Grumpy Best Friend

“Are you sure?” I asked, blinking rapidly, trying to fit all this inside my skull. It was a complete flip from before—but she sounded like she wanted revenge, and that was a powerful motivation. “If we go after him, he really might release the pictures.”

“Let him,” she said. “I swear to you, let him. I want him destroyed. Can you do that, Jude? Go to the police, or your FBI. I don’t care, but I want him finished. Go ask that security team of yours to kill him if you’d like.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. This was so absurd. I expected her to tell me to pay him off, and now she was talking about hiring a hitman.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.

“Please do,” she said. “And I’m not joking, not in the slightest. Forget about me. Do what you need to do and bring him down.”

“I will,” I said.

“Very good. Thank you, Jude, for your discretion.” She hesitated another moment, and I hung there like a spider on a string. “I was pretty back then, wasn’t I?”

“You still are, Lady Fluke.”

She laughed softly. “Ah, well, maybe, but not quite. Do what you have to do.” She hung up the phone then, and I hung up my receiver, in a total daze. Bret stood and walked over. He sat in the chair Lisa had been in a few minutes before.

“What happened?” he asked.

“She wants us to go to the police,” I said, shaking my head in astonishment. “I mean, really, she said she wants us to kill him. She wants us to nail him and bring him down. She was serious, Bret.”

His eyes lit up with fire. A smile spread across his face and his teeth clenched down. “Finally,” he said. “No more bullshit.”

“What do we do now? Call the cops?”

“Yes,” he said, then shook his head. “No, wait. I’ll ask Hal who we should talk to first.”

“Hal?” I asked, shaking my head. “We’re not going to really try to kill him, are we?”

“No, we’re not going to kill him,” he said and stood up. He came around my desk and knelt down next to me. “But Hal might know people who can help. This next bit might be hard, Jude. Are you sure you want to go this route? We can still pay him.”

“No,” I said, taking his hands in mine. “Let’s burn the motherfucker.”

“Perfect.” His grin lit up his face like lightning. “Let me talk to Hal. We’ll figure this out.” He leaned forward and kissed me. “Shred that folder, darling.”

“I will.” I kissed him again. “How about you close those blinds first and we make out on my couch for a while?”

He kissed me longer and slower before pulling away. “Don’t tempt me,” he said. “I’ll talk to Hal. Stay here and shred that damn folder.”

I watched him go, smiling like an idiot. But slowly, as it dawned on me what we were about to do, my smile disappeared.

We were going after a mobster. Zeke was dangerous. So far, he hadn’t gotten violent, but the potential was there. This wasn’t a game, and it wasn’t fun, and I didn’t want anything to do with it—but god, if I was going to play, I was going to make sure we’d win.

And make sure Zeke went down for a long, long time.

21

Bret

I leaned on the uncomfortable wood crate that passed as a chair in the back of the packed police van. Equipment was set up along the one wall—tiny TV screens, recording devices, wireless antennas, and all manner of little black boxes with fancy dials that I didn’t remotely understand. Jude sat up front, nervously fidgeting next to the driver, a big guy with a square head everyone affectionally called Butch. Luke sat in front of the screen, clicking away, frowning a bit. He seemed young to be in the FBI, with a cleanshaven face and a Hawaiian shirt.

Hal clipped a microphone to the inside of my shirt and ran the wire down to a transmitter he expertly hid along the waist of my jeans.

“Test that for me,” he said. “Talk normal.”

“Test, test,” I said. “The arsonist has oddly shaped feet.”

“Perfect,” Hal said, and patted Luke on the shoulder. “Looking good?”

“Good enough,” Luke said, frowning at some incomprehensible data that streamed across the screen in front of him. “Just don’t cough. I hate it when they cough.”

Hal rolled his eyes then sat across from me. The van was cramped and excruciatingly hot from all the electronic equipment. “You good?” he asked, meeting my gaze.

“I’m good,” I said, and realized I mean it. “Although I never imagined I’d be wearing a wire for the feds.”

“That’s what they all say,” Butch rumbled. “But don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“We’re nice guys,” Luke said. “Mostly, anyway.”

“Trust me,” Hal said. “We’ll take care of you. There won’t be any surprises.”