Shades of Gray (2 page)

“Special Agent Sutton will do just fine.”

“All right.” Danny tipped his chair forward with a bang. He rested his elbows on the table, left forearm and hand streaked with crimson battle paint. “What the fuck do you want, Special Agent Sutton?” Miller leaned forward, too, until their faces were only a few inches apart. “Roberto Hinestroza’s head on a platter,” he whispered.

“That’s what I want.”

Danny sat back with a thud. His body slammed into his chair hard enough to force out air and his hand came up to hover over his injured side. “Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” he said finally.

Not so cocky now, are you, asshole?
Miller could smell blood in the air and not just from Danny’s wound. He steepled his hands, rested his chin on his fingers, and waited. He wasn’t impressed with Danny’s denial, knew he was lying even without the eyes flickering from ceiling to floor to table, never once landing on Miller.

“What makes you think I know Roberto Hinestroza?” Danny asked when the silence grew thick, nervous fingers picking at the dried Shades of Gray | 7

blood on his arm.

Bingo.
“Well, gee, Danny, I don’t know. Could it be because you’re his number-two man? Been running coke for him since you were old enough to drive?”

“Don’t know where you get your information, but I’m not his right-hand man,” Danny scoffed.

“You don’t want to fuck with me, Danny,” Miller warned, voice level, no room for misinterpretation. “I’ve been investigating Hinestroza for three years now. I eat, sleep, and breathe Hinestroza. I know more about that piece of shit than he knows about himself. And I’ve had my eye on you all that time.”

“Jesus,” Danny leered. “I knew I was good-looking, but—”

“Shut up!”
Cool it, Miller. He’s working you now. Bring him back
to where you want him, let him know who’s boss.
“We’ve been waiting for a reason to arrest you and today you gave us one.”

“Running a red light?” Danny waved a dismissive hand. “That’s the best you can do?”

“They didn’t arrest you for the traffic violation. Arrested you for that Sig Sauer you had in the glove compartment.”

“Speaking of my arrest, you gonna get me some medical attention anytime soon?” Danny gestured to his still-leaking side. “This has lawsuit city written all over it.”

“That’s what happens when you run from the cops.”

“He didn’t have to drag me back out through that busted window.

Cut me all to hell.”

Miller gave Danny a blank stare. “He wasn’t going to follow you into an abandoned building. Besides, he had orders. I need you breathing to be any good to me at all.”

“You’re just a prince of a guy,” Danny muttered under his breath.

“Okay, I’ll play along. Let’s assume I even know this Roberto Hinestroza, I’m guessing you want me to roll over on him?” Miller nodded, tapped his top lip with his pen. “Among other 8 | Brooke McKinley

things.”

Danny leaned his head back and howled. “Oh, man, that’s a good one, Special Agent Sutton.”

“I’m serious, Danny.”

Danny’s head snapped down again. “So am I. No—fucking—

way.”

“We’re not going to throw you to the wolves. We can protect—”

“Ummm… the last guy I knew who fell for that line, they found him floating in the river with his tongue ripped out and his dick shoved down his throat. So you’ll pardon me if I’m not jumping up and down and squealing like a teenage girl at your offer.”

“That’s not going to happen this time.”
You sure about that,
Miller? Because you know as well as he does there’s no protecting
someone twenty-four seven. Hinestroza wants him bad enough, he’ll
get him. You willing to make that trade? Yeah… fuck, yeah. What’s one
low-life drug dealer? Who gives a shit about Butler if he nets me the
big fish?
Miller looked down at his hands. Sometimes he made himself sick.

Danny was watching him with knowing eyes, eyes that had been around this block a time or two before. Eyes that knew all the nasty truths hidden behind the pretty exteriors. “Thanks for the reassurance.

Might work better if you believed it yourself,” he pointed out. “Think I’ll take my chances on the five years in prison, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Thing is, Danny,” Miller said, voice all silky menace, “I doubt you’ll make it out of those five years alive. Rumor gets around in prison you already ratted on Hinestroza….” He raised his eyebrows.

“Not gonna be long before you’re out of the picture, so to speak. Why don’t you do the right thing for once in your pathetic life and help us out?”

The threat hung heavy in the room. Danny’s eyes darkened with the knowledge he was trapped. Miller felt his own body tense up, registering Danny’s anger, ready for however Danny tried to run.

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“You fucking piece of shit,” Danny spit out. “Gonna have me killed if I don’t give you what you want? That it?”

“Never said one word about having you killed. It’s just that without you being an informant, being protected by the FBI, word’s going to get out pretty quick that you were in here talking to us. I’m a powerful guy. But I can’t stop what people whisper about on the street.”

“Unbelievable. You pricks are unbelievable.” Danny pushed back in his chair.

Miller laid his hands flat on the table, gave Danny his beseeching eyes, practiced hundreds of times in his bathroom mirror. One more trick of the trade. “You don’t have a choice here, Danny. I’m your best option and we both know it.”

“Fuck off,” Danny bit out. He got up and walked across the room.

“I want out of here!” he yelled at the mirror. “Either charge me or open the goddamn door!”

Miller was up and out of his chair before Danny could say another word. He spun Danny around, shoving him back against the wall beside the mirror, out of the sight line of whoever might be watching. He bumped his chest roughly against Danny’s.

“Listen to me, asshole. You’re going to do this thing whether you like it or not.” Miller’s thumb came up to rest a millimeter from Danny’s wound.

Danny’s eyes went wide, the muscle in his jaw clamping tight as he prepared himself for the pain. Miller had always been a master at honing in on a suspect’s weak spot. And once discovered, he had absolutely no compunction about pushing it—hard. Whether it was the sobbing wife out in the waiting room, the adored child destined for the endless foster care roulette, or the actual physical injury that Danny Butler was sporting now, Miller always went for the jugular once he found the vein.

But now, with his face pressed up into Danny’s, watching those green eyes watch him, he found he couldn’t do it. Didn’t have it in him 10 | Brooke McKinley

to bring his thumb down and gouge out the answer he wanted.

What the fuck’s wrong with you, Miller? Do it. Do it!

He lowered his hand, pushed back slightly to give Danny some breathing room. “What’s it gonna be, Danny?” Danny stared at him with wary eyes, his tongue sneaking out to rub once across his upper lip. “Yeah,” he said after an endless moment of silence. “I’ll help you.” He turned toward the door and looked over his shoulder, voice mocking. “But only because you need it so fucking bad, Sutton.”

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SUTTON led Danny into the empty hallway, gesturing him toward a wooden bench screwed to the floor with rusted bolts. The whole contraption tilted dangerously, threatening to pitch anyone seated there onto the ground.

Danny sat anyway, his fingers sticking to the splintery wood. He didn’t want to picture the combination of bodily fluids that caused the tackiness under his skin. He watched Sutton walk away, surprised there wasn’t more swagger in his step. The bastard had gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he?

Danny’s lips tingled, the tips of his fingers and toes numb. He didn’t want to pass out; partly out of pride, partly because he didn’t trust Sutton to pick him up off the floor. He tried to put his head between his knees and take deep breaths but his side screamed too loudly to allow that kind of movement.

It’s not only the cut that’s making you light-headed. It’s the
thought of how many pieces Hinestroza is going to chop you into when
he finds out what you’re doing that’s really making you sick.

Danny’s foot bounced against the floor, fingers drumming a staccato rhythm on the wall. He had never been good at sitting still. Or following orders. Be damned if he would sit on the bench like some dog told to stay. He stood on wobbly legs, feet heavy as lead blocks, and hobbled down the hall in search of Sutton. If he was selling his soul to the Feds, then he expected some help in return. Accepting a death-sentence assignment had to involve a few perks.

12 | Brooke McKinley

He followed the sound of voices around the corner to a small office, where Sutton and a short guy with a bad comb-over were in the middle of an argument. Danny had a fleeting thought of retracing his steps and walking out the front doors. But Sutton would only have to follow the blood—a vampire movie version of the breadcrumb trail.

“Hey,” Danny called from the hall, voice unsteady. “I’m not fucking around. I need a doctor.”

Sutton turned his head, ran his eyes up and down Danny. “We’re working on it,” he said, his manner vaguely bored, as though Danny were complaining about a splinter.

Danny leaned against the wall, and then slid down onto his ass, leaving a shiny red streak in his wake. Fuck it, whole place needed a paint job anyway. The cold linoleum bit through his jeans, revving his shivers up into high gear. Sutton and the short guy were giving each other hell, their words floating out to Danny as the volume increased.

“He needs stitches,” Sutton said, biting off each word.

“No shit! I tried to tell you that a half hour ago. Take him to the emergency room.”

“Why can’t one of your officers take him and then bring him back here?”

“Because, Special Agent Sutton, you Feds have taken over this case. He’s not my fucking problem anymore. You’re so anxious for Mr.

Butler, have at him.”

“Whenever you two are done fighting over me, I’ll be right here, bleeding to death,” Danny interjected.

He heard the sharp click of footsteps. Sutton’s annoyed face flashed out at him as the door shut with a bang. Danny rested his head against the wall and let his eyelids drift downwards.

“Hey. Hey!” A rough hand shoved his shoulder, snapping him back to consciousness.

He peeled his eyes open. “What?” he asked around a throat full of glass.

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“Don’t pass out on me,” Sutton instructed, taking a cell phone from his pocket.

“I wasn’t passed out, I was resting,” Danny corrected, not entirely sure if the distinction was true.

“I have to make some calls. Sit tight.”

“Easy for you to say. Your ribs aren’t sticking out of your skin like toothpicks.”

Sutton ignored him, turned his back halfway when his phone call was answered. Danny shifted slightly on the floor, straining to hear.

“It’s Sutton. Yeah, I’ve got him. He’s going to need medical attention for—” Sutton paused, listened. “I know. Who should take him? No. No!” A heavy sigh, then Sutton ran a hand across his face.

“Yeah, fine. You got someone watching his place? Okay. We’ll be there later.” He hung up the phone with a snap of his wrist and pivoted to look at Danny.

“Get up. Let’s get going.”

Danny leveraged himself off the floor, a groan escaping his lips before he could snatch it back. “You taking me yourself?” he asked, running his mouth to cover the pain.

“Looks like it.”

“Wow, how’d I rate that?” He followed Sutton down the hall.

“Thought you’d get one of your flunkies to handle it.”

“I tried that. You’re mine to babysit, apparently. Must be my lucky night.” Sutton didn’t sound pleased and his pace didn’t slow on Danny’s account; he was already half a hallway’s length ahead, his suit-clad legs in a hurry to reach their destination.

Sutton looked good in a suit; Danny would give him that. Danny had always liked men in suits, with their crisp shirts, shiny ties, and polished shoes cracking against the floor. Maybe because growing up in a small town he’d never seen men dressed that way. Seemed like a better world than the one he’d come from. It was sure as hell a step up from the one he lived in now. Men in suits gave the appearance of having made something of themselves, of being in control inside and 14 | Brooke McKinley

out—even if it was all an illusion. Those men weren’t going to turn their lives into the kind of fucked-up mess Danny’s had become.

Danny and Sutton rounded the corner at the end of the hall, dumping them out into the main area of the police station, where officers swarmed like flies. The room was reminiscent of every police station Danny had ever frequented: busy, loud, run-down. The same ever-present fluorescent lights as in the interrogation room, several bulbs flickering and snapping to cast gloomy shadows on the desks below. There were even a few obligatory handcuffed suspects spewing obscenities at unimpressed detectives. Danny could see a corner of the waiting area up ahead, small children crowded onto chairs for the privilege of watching their fathers or mothers paraded in front of them shackled at wrist and ankle. Just setting foot in the place sucked the life out of you.