Brooklyn Sinners 3 -A Sinner Born (3 page)

“That’s one slippery so-and-so.” Kane Ashby slammed his coffee cup down on the desk without watching, his gaze on the black-and-white video playing on his computer screen.

The man his team had been hunting for almost a month looked directly into the camera with a sickly smirk on his face, death in his eyes. He knew he was being taped, he knew, and that didn’t stop him from putting two into the head of the gas station attendant. If Kane looked hard enough he could see the blood splatter on Radcliffe’s white t-shirt. Cold.

He didn’t run when the local cops nabbed him in his home in New Jersey, but he did when the guys transporting him to the courthouse stopped for gas. Radcliffe slipped out of his leg shackles and ran. Didn’t look as if the escape was planned, but Kane wanted his ass bad. The New Jersey office was working hand in hand with the NOPD since Radcliffe had been sighted in the area. He had family and friends in New Orleans so Kane and his team set up shop there too.

“Hey.” A hand came down on the back of his neck and Kane flinched away without thinking.
The hand disappeared.
Shit. He swung around in his chair and looked up at Vince Hardin. “Sorry, I’m a bit on edge.” Story of his life lately and Vince had every right to call him on it, but he didn’t. Instead he pulled up a chair and sat close.
“We’ll get him. The place on Bourbon was a bust, but we’ll get him.”
Vince’s brown gaze felt way too piercing so Kane turned back to the computer with a nod. “I know.” Two days they’d wasted at that shitty whorehouse and they’d achieved nothing, but reminded Kane of how long he’d gone without physical release. Not a good or safe topic so once again he shifted gears. “I’ve got one of my CIs asking around. Discretely,” he added when Vince lifted an eyebrow.
“If we get nothing we’ll have to regroup,” Vince said. “Go back and start from scratch.”
Kane grimaced. Start over. He wasn’t a fan. He threw down the pencil he held and rose. “I need a walk. Maybe some fresh air will help.” Not likely, but he was game to try anything at this point.
Vince stood with him. “Want some company? We can brainstorm, see if we missed anything.” He tried really hard to keep it neutral, Kane could tell, but didn’t quite make it.
He shook his head, the familiar pressure of walls closing in building in his chest. “No, I’m—I need to be alone.” He took a step toward the door and Vince grabbed his arm.
“We have to talk about it sometime, Kane.”
The fuck they did. “No.” He shook his head with his eyes closed.
Breathe. Remember to breathe.
“Kane—”
“I said no!” He opened his eyes and pinned Vince in place with a glare. “This isn’t the time or the place, Vince.” His friend opened his mouth and Kane lowered his tone. “Don’t fucking push me. You took liberties you had no right to and I’m trying to figure out if I can still work with you.” He broke off and swallowed. Vince looked so lost suddenly and Kane couldn’t bear it, he looked away. “Just—don’t push me.”
This time Vince didn’t try to stop him as Kane walked out the office. He made his way to the back of the building and leaned against it, his head tilted toward the cloudy sky.
Vince should’ve known better. He knew Kane wasn’t ready, that he might never be ready. Maybe he wanted to force Kane into it? Why else would he do it, kiss him like that?
Kane curled his fingers into his palm. He thought about closing his eyes, but that didn’t help things at all. He just saw wheat-blond hair and twinkling gray eyes.
“Bay.” He groaned out the name of his dead lover as if the wound were still fresh, as if it’d happened only yesterday. Sometimes the pain was manageable and sometimes, like today, seeing Vince, having him near, the pain was debilitating.
The fucked-up thing was they’d all been friends, Bailey and Kane, Vince and his partner Tom. Only Kane had been out and Vince wasn’t. Still wasn’t, but Tom had given up on waiting to be open and left. Now Vince decided he’d make a play for Kane. A week ago he’d cornered Kane and kissed him.
Full on. On Bailey’s birthday. Kane couldn’t get past the hurt. He had to in order to function. To
do
his job. For the moment he worked with Vince and he had to be a professional and do his job, find Anton Radcliffe and get him back behind bars.
Once that was taken care of he’d deal with Vince.
He took a deep breath then pulled out his phone and dialed his confidential informant. C.J. answered on the fifth ring.
“Yo, who this?”
“It’s Kane.” Kane pinched the bridge of his nose. “You got something for me?”
“Your boy’s ghost ’round these parts,” C.J. whispered. “Word is, he’s got a piece of ass over in Bayou St. John.”
“Shit.” Kane hurried back into the building. “I’ll look into it. Keep your ears to the ground for me.”
C.J. snickered. “Don’t I always?”
Kane ended the call and rushed back into the office. Vince sat there, fiddling with the computer. “Radcliffe has a woman in Bayou St. John.” He punched some numbers into his phone and Vince pulled out his cell and did the same. “Let’s get the local guys in here, see if we can’t get a name and address.
A new hunt. Perfect distraction.
En route to the house of one Jessie Fletcher—Radcliffe’s girlfriend—Kane’s phone rang. Lucky for him Vince was driving. He pulled out the phone and frowned at the unfamiliar area code shown on the caller ID.
301?
“This is Kane.”
“Ah, Marshal,” a silky voice purred. “That voice of yours does wonders. It really does.”
“Who is this?” He moved the phone from his ear and stared at it again, as if by some miracle the caller’s identity would show up.
“How quickly they forget.” The man sighed. “The whorehouse, we had a rather intimate moment on the stairs?” He paused. “Ring any bells?”
“Wha— What?”
His caller chuckled. “Yeah, I do tend to have that effect. Anyhow,” his tone turned brusque, “this isn’t a social call. Sadly.”
Kane normally didn’t find himself speechless, but somehow, right then, he couldn’t find his tongue. The blond, delicate man from the whorehouse he’d staked out the other day. The tiny man with feminine features and snarky attitude was calling him.
Why?
“Why are you calling me?” He didn’t look over at Vince, but Kane felt the other man’s curious stare. He ignored it, keeping his gaze on the passing scenery.
“You gave me your card, Marshal. Had your name and number and everything.” Kane heard the grin. “Tell me you didn’t expect me to ring you up and shoot the shit.”
What the hell was happening? Kane coughed. “Listen, Mister, uh—”
A bark of laughter cut him off. “Oh I like what you did there. Sly dog, but listen, Marshal, I’ve got a little present for you.”
Enough already. “Listen, whoever you are, I don’t have time for this. I have to go.”
“Yes. Yes. I know.” The man switched from playful to all business in a heartbeat. “Get yourself a pen and paper.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I said so?” Kane damn near heard the eye roll. The mystery caller rattled off an address. “The man you’re looking for is there, now, waiting for you.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Kane’s voice went up about three octaves. “What the fuck is this? Is this some kind of game, you sick—”
“Jeez, hand a man his fugitive all tied up in a pretty bow and he resorts to calling you names,” the caller grumbled. “Some people.”
“I don’t know who you are, but let me tell you something—”
“Go to that address.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the authority rang out nonetheless. “I’ll call you back, Marshal, and you can tell me all the somethings you like.”
Kane stared down at the phone in his hand. What the hell just happened?
“What was that?” Vince asked.
Kane snorted. “I’m not sure.” He used the GPS in the SUV and found the address the caller gave. Two miles from Anton’s girlfriend’s place. “We’re going here first. I’ll call ahead to the local PD.” He dialed while keeping his fingers crossed that he didn’t just fuck up irrevocably.
Somehow the sight of Anton Radcliffe, naked and tied to a chair with a red silk bow outside a rundown farmhouse wasn’t the surprise it should’ve been.
They got Anton in county lockup, awaiting transportation back to Connecticut the next day and as Kane let himself into the motel for a shower and shave, dead on his feet, his phone rang.
He toed off his boots and answered. “Who are you?”
“Who do you wish I was, Marshal? Did you tell your people how you came by the useful piece of info I handed you?”
Don’t remind him. “Told them my CI came through.”
His caller snickered.
Kane dropped onto the bed and rolled onto his back. “Do you always go around doing what you did today?” Who was this guy?
“Are we doing twenty questions? Because I’m not sure you want my answers.”
Kane’s eyes dropped and he stifled a yawn. “Just, don’t—don’t do it again. Okay? Whoever you are, do not make this a habit.”
A soft chuckled teased him. “Uh-huh. Get some rest, Marshal. You looked tired today.”
Kane sat up. “You’ve been watching me?” Jesus Christ!
“Oops, gotta go.” He paused. “Safe trip back to Connecticut.”
Dial tone buzzed in Kane’s ear. What the fuck?

Kane sank into the old beat-up leather chair he’d been avoiding since he stepped into his house in Connecticut. The time had come—and gone—to get rid of the piece of furniture. The damn thing didn’t blend in with anything else in the living room, but it had been Bailey’s favorite. Kane kept it when he’d gone through Bailey’s things, giving some mementos to his parents and donating the majority of it to Goodwill.

Bailey would’ve loved that, giving shit away. Always willing to help the needy, the less fortunate. Kane used to love that about him. He used to admire the trait in the man he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with and now? Now he found himself hating that side of Bailey. Because it was the do-gooder side that got him killed.

It’d been years and he couldn’t get past it. No escape from the guilt, the anger and the grief. They all sat on his chest in a nice, thick knot, refusing to budge. Bailey’s parents and his siblings had long since moved on. They would never forget him, but they had to live.

Kane didn’t know how to do the same.
Bailey wouldn’t like that. His dead lover had been all about life and living it to the fullest. Kane would love nothing more than to be able to move on, live again, love again, maybe, but he remained stuck down a well so deep and so dark, daylight seemed nonexistent.
He’d been doing well these past months, concentrating on work and sleeping in Jersey instead of coming home to the silence and the memories. Vince and his unwelcome kiss dredged everything back up.
Vince had no right to kiss him, but what upset Kane more was the fact that for a brief moment, he’d allowed himself to respond to another human touch, to relax, kiss back.
He gripped the arms of the chair and rocked back and forth, eyes unseeing. Fear was right there, the most intense fear, telling him he couldn’t hold on to Bailey forever. A time would come when Bailey would be only a distant memory and Kane wasn’t ready to leave it behind, all the memories. All the laughter. The joy. The plans they’d made, the future they’d assumed would always be theirs.
“Bay.” He whispered his lover’s name, voice hoarse as his vision swam. He didn’t have to look over to the fireplace to see Bailey’s face smiling back at him from the photographs there. His smile, so big and bright, one of his front teeth chipped from a bar fight in college, his hair catching the light as it fell into his eyes. Kane loved brushing away the hair that perpetually fell into Bailey’s eyes. His favorite thing to do, brush away Bailey’s hair and kiss him there, above his left brow.
All the little things, gone as if they’d never been. Kane wanted them back. He wanted back the weekends they spent upstairs in their bed making love and sleeping, ignoring the phone. He wanted back the fights like when Bailey broke all the dishes by throwing them at Kane the night they moved in together.
Kane smiled, tasting the salt of his tears. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what that fight was about, but the next morning they woke up with no dishes and Bailey suffering from an acute case of rug burn.
His brother might say Kane was punishing himself, hanging on to the past, but Gabe hadn’t been in Kane’s shoes. Gabe had never experienced loss like Kane had. Yes, on some level Kane knew Bailey wouldn’t want him to hide away in a dark, empty house. Bailey wanted him to live, but what kind of life would Kane have without Bailey? He wasn’t one of those men who messed around in bars or went for casual sex. He’d never been that guy and he had no plans to start. He liked the security of being in a relationship, of coming home to someone at the end of the day. He liked the commitment.
A bell dinged, echoing through the house and it took Kane a while to realize he’d heard the doorbell. He got to his feet with a heavy sigh and used the hem of his t-shirt to wipe his face as he made his way to the front door. He didn’t normally get visitors so it must be the church folk come to tout the gospel.
He just might let them go through their entire spiel before he informed them he was a gay man who loved sucking a good cock. That should help to put his address on some “do not visit” list somewhere.
He yanked the door open and thought seriously of slamming it shut when he saw Vince standing there.
“What are you doing here?” He peered over Vince’s shoulder and out into the deserted street in the gathering dusk.
“You weren’t answering your phone.” Vince shrugged, as if that should explain everything.
“I didn’t answer my phone and you drive from Jersey to Connecticut to tell me to answer my phone?” Kane raised an eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe, barring Vince from getting in. “Did it even occur to you I wanted to be alone? That I didn’t answer my phone for a reason?”
Clad in a black t-shirt sporting the marshal’s logo and faded jeans, Vince nodded, but didn’t flinch away from the glare Kane directed at him. “It did occur to me and that’s why I came.” He pushed past Kane and into the house.
Kane shook his head before he closed the door and followed Vince into the living room.
“I don’t know what you do when you’re here, but I can guess,” Vince said. Kane wasn’t prepared to see understanding in his eyes. “You loved him and he’s gone. You miss him and you’re sentencing yourself to death right alongside Bailey.”
Kane took an involuntary step back and crossed his arms. “Don’t come into my home and lecture me, Vince. What I do is none of your business unless it affects my work.”
Vince’s gaze flicked to Bailey’s armchair then back to Kane. “I miss him too, did you ever think about that? He was your partner but he was my friend.”
“Get out.” Kane walked back to the door. No way in hell would he turn this into some kind of mourning session. He didn’t share his pain with anyone if he could help it. He put a hand on the doorknob and turned around. Vince stood a few feet away, his expression somber.
“I’m sorry about the kiss,” Vince spoke softly. “I should have done it a different day, or rethought my strategy, but I am not sorry for kissing you.”
He walked closer and Kane really wanted to barrel past him and into the safety of his bedroom, but he was a big boy so he remained in the same spot and waited.
“How can you not know I’ve wanted you for so long? I’ve watched you and I’ve waited for the right time, but there’s no right time, Kane.” Vince shook his head. “There’ll never be a right time.”
Kane stared at him. What the hell was going on? Since when did Vince have feelings for him? “What are you—”
“One night,” Vince interrupted. “Give me one night.”
Kane shook his head to clear the cobwebs. “What?”
“Have dinner with me.” Vince smiled, but it seemed shaky at best. “One date, that’s all I ask. If it doesn’t work out we go back to being colleagues, no harm, no foul.”
He’d say no, of course the answer was no, but as Kane opened his mouth, his brother’s words echoed in his head.
When will you give yourself permission to live again?
It’d been too long and he used to like Vince. He knew the other man well after working together for seven years. He could at least bring himself to bend enough to go out for drinks with Vince.
Kane jerked his head. “Okay.” He opened the door and stepped to the side. “Now leave.”
Vince clearly had more to say but he simply stepped outside with a slight smile. “We’ll talk soon,” he said over his shoulder. “Try answering the phone next time I call.”
Kane kicked the door closed and leaned against it. He’d agreed to a date with someone not Bailey. Panic gripped his chest and he fumbled in his pocket for his cell to call Gabe, but before he could dial the phone rang in his palm.
“Ashby.”
“It’s Darcy.”
“Darce!” Kane pushed away from the door with a grin. “How the hell are you, guy? Did you put a name to the face I sent your way?” He’d sent a photo of the well-dressed man from the whorehouse to a friend in New York. If the mystery guy was anyone worth knowing, Darcy would know.
“I’m good,” Darcy grumbled. “Could be better and yes, I’ve got a name.”
“Well, lay it on me.” Kane walked into the kitchen and picked up a pen and notepad from the counter.
“He goes by Faro. Word is he’s the face and the brains behind the Delatorre cartel’s business here in the States.”
Kane frowned down at the name he’d scribbled. “Faro? The Delatorres are Brazilians, right? Deals in sex, drugs and guns?”
“That’s the one.”
Why was this Faro going out of his way to help Kane? Why was he calling him, maybe even flirting with him? What did he want?
“All right, Darce. Thanks for the info. I owe you one.”
Darcy grunted. “By my tally you owe me quite a few, but really, who’s counting?” He hung up.
Kane placed his phone down on the counter and stared off into space. Faro. What did the face of the Delatorre cartel want with him, a federal marshal? He needed some more in-depth info on this Faro guy and he knew just the person to ask.
He made himself a sandwich and a glass of ginger ale and carried them upstairs to the bedroom where he sat on the edge of the bed and ate, all the while ignoring the picture of Bailey on the nightstand. When he finished eating, Kane took a shower and pulled on a pair of pajamas.
The only person who might know anything about the mysterious Faro and the Delatorres would be his brother’s husband Rafe Soto, formerly Angelo Pagan, notorious gunrunner. Kane sat at the desk over in the corner of the bedroom that once belonged to Bailey and dialed his brother’s cell phone.
“Hey, bro.”
“Gabe.” Kane smiled. “What’s up?” His younger brother had given up his life as a straight NYPD detective to be with the man he loved. He’d sacrificed and bled for a known criminal and even married the man and taken his name. Sometimes Kane admired and respected his little brother beyond measure and sometimes he feared for him, he feared him ever knowing the heartache Kane went though.
“Nothing happening except dinner.” Dishes clattered in the background. “What’s the matter?”
Kane narrowed his eyes even though his brother couldn’t see. “What makes you think something’s the matter?”
“Dunno. You sound weird.”
“Weird, really?” Kane forced a laugh. “I’ll have you know I’m fine, thank you very much. I need to speak to your husband.”
“You and me both,” Gabe grumbled. “He’s in his office, on a deadline for a job. I’ve barely seen the man all day.”
“Can you have him call me back when he comes up for air? I need some information about some known gun dealers.”
“Yeah, sure. What else?”
“What, what else?”
“Is there anything else you want to share with your loving baby brother?” Gabe asked. “I’m all ears.”
“Jesus, you’re like an old nosy woman.” Kane leaned back with a sigh. “Fine. Remember I told you about Vince kissing me?”
“I do, I also recall you slipping him that tongue right back.” His brother chuckled.
“I don’t even know why I bother talking to your ass,” Kane griped. “You’re like a freaking teenager sometimes.”
“Uh-huh, don’t try to fucking blame me. What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is I have a date.” He paused and waited.
Silence greeted his words.
“Gabe? You there?”
“I had to make sure my ears weren’t messing with me. You’re serious. You have a date?”
“I do.”
“With who?”
“Christ, who do you think? Vince!”
“Huh. You have a date. Wow.” Gabe sounded stunned. “Okay, that’s great, but I didn’t know you saw Vince that way.”
Kane grimaced. “Well, I don’t. Not really, but he asked and you’re always harping on me to live so I said yes.”
“Well, at least you listen to me. Sometimes. That’s nice.”
“Yeah, whatever. I gotta go, just remind your man to call me when he gets the chance. It’s important.”
“I will and enjoy your date.”
Gabe made kissing sounds through the phone and Kane hung up on his crazy ass. Hopefully he’d have some info on Faro before the night was through, but right now he needed to get some rest, his recent travel itinerary was catching up with him. Fast.
His phone woke him hours later and he groped for it in the dark through barely opened eyelids. “Ashby.”
“Heard you’ve been looking for me, Marshal.”
Shit! “Faro?” Kane sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. “That is your name, right? Or should I call you something else?”
“Oh someone did his homework all right.” Faro chuckled. “You, Marshal, can call me whatever you like. I won’t mind.”
“I know who you are, Faro.” Kane wiped the sleep from his eyes. “I know who you work for. What I don’t know is why you’re doing what you’re doing. Calling me up. Helping me. What’s in it for you?” he asked.
“Maybe I like helping the less fortunate and the needy, did you ever think about that?” The laughter in his voice was almost musical, but something lurked under the surface. Something darker.
Kane shook his head. “Not for a second do I think or believe that.”
Faro laughed softly. “Good. Then you think I have an ulterior motive in giving you your fugitive all wrapped so neatly in a bow?”
“Of course. You know nothing about me and yet you single me out? Why?”
“Ah, Marshal.” Faro sighed. “This is why, right now. You intrigue me and for a man like me, that is…unheard of.”
Kane rolled his eyes. “Cut the bullshit and tell me what you want. I won’t be blackmailed by a sleazy drug- and gun-dealing lowlife.”
“Ooh blackmail? There you go intriguing me, Marshal.” Faro’s voice dropped lower. “Have you done anything for which you can be blackmailed? Do tell.”
“Is this a fucking joke to you? Am I a joke, someone to amuse you in between the buying and selling of human life?” Kane tried tamping down the rage in his chest. “Do not play with me, you won’t like how it all turns out.”
“I like your voice, how it rumbles,” Faro spoke as if Kane hadn’t. “I like how much of a good guy you are and I like that you—of all fucking people, Marshal, you—make me want.”
Kane flung the covers off his sweating lower half and swallowed. “Don’t even think about—”
“Trust me, you can’t control that.” Faro blew out a breath. “I like talking to you, even with your hostile attitude, so I will. I’ll call and maybe we can graduate to emails, wouldn’t that be swell?”
“Goddamn it.”
“Does he exist, do you think? Does he answer when you call on him?”
“Faro.”
“Never mind that.” A car honked. “Paris is beautiful at sunrise, Marshal. You should see it some time.
Au revoir
for now.”