Tobias complied, but only because he had some things of his own to say, and he didn’t want to get noticed yelling at Sullivan any more than Sullivan wanted to be noticed yelling at him. Tobias didn’t like yelling as a rule, but the itch under his skin was becoming downright painful, and he thought he could manage a yell very nicely at the moment, thank you very much.
For the next hour, Sullivan took photos and wrote down tag numbers for the cars in the lot. Tobias took out his phone and texted Church: who is Kellen? Why do I know that name?
A minute later, he received a handful of texts in rapid succession: fuck that dude works for mama when vasily and his brothers beat me up i guess kellen was the one who stepped in to stop it for mama.
And: even vasily jumped when keelen said to.
And: *Kellen* fuck i never saw him but he must be a scary bastard to make vasily nervous.
And: are you being careful fuck man you better be careful.
Wrapping up with: should i come over where are you.
Tobias sent back: I’ll fill you in soon. And don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control.
* * *
They didn’t make it into the house before Tobias’s temper broke.
“Wait in the car.” Tobias slammed the car door behind him. “That’s what you said to me. Wait in the car. Like I’m a child or your...your slave or something. But getting on my knees for you in the bedroom doesn’t mean I owe you obedience at any other time.”
“The fuck you don’t. Three rules, remember?” Sullivan countered, lifting the heavy, sagging gate so he could give them room to pass. Tobias refused to appreciate the way the muscles in his back worked under his T-shirt in the process. “Do as I say in the field. Obey when it matters because I might not have time to explain and you might fuck up my case out of sheer ignorance and stubbornness. It’s not about slavery, you ass, it’s about knowing what the hell you’re doing and being able to follow when you don’t. You promised, remember?”
“I thought you meant if we were getting shot at or something like that.” Tobias followed him into the house, slamming that door too. “This wasn’t like that. They were talking about Ghost, Sullivan. They called him a caged animal. That guy, Spratt, who gave the speech? He knows where Ghost is. It was important, and it wasn’t even dangerous. We were finally getting somewhere and you wouldn’t—”
“Not dangerous? You sure about that?” Sullivan stopped in the living room, yanked open the camera bag, and turned on the Mark III. With a sharp flick of his thumb, he flipped through the pictures he’d taken, then showed the screen to Tobias. There was a shot of the redheaded man who’d been speaking to the balding guy and Spratt. “Do you know who that is?”
“No,” Tobias said stiffly, because he could sense where this was going.
“I do.” Sullivan set the camera down with such careful restraint that Tobias got the distinct impression he’d been tempted to throw it. “That’s my fucking client.”
“What?”
“Yeah. My client, who has been searching for a missing girl since 1992, who claimed to be an insurance adjuster, who apparently hangs out with a bunch of cops. Why didn’t he go to his cop friends for help, do you think? Guess he didn’t need to, what with that badge there on his belt. But why does a cop go to a private detective? Why does he lie about his job? And his name?”
Tobias’s throat had shrunk. It took more effort than it should’ve to swallow. “I—I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t know. You were too busy going off half-cocked. Look, I get that you’re having a nice time with the rebellion and all, but my case is not the fucking place or time for you to indulge it by losing fifty damn IQ points. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what you do when our safety’s not on the line, but if we’re in the field and I tell you to do something, you’re gonna fucking do it. Clear?”
“Clear.” Tobias couldn’t think past the panic bubbling in his veins. What if the client—the redheaded man—had seen Sullivan? Why would a cop lie about who he was? Why would he go outside the department to track someone down? What if he knew the private detective he’d hired to find a missing girl had somehow traced it back to him?
There was only one answer to the first two questions that he could think of—the cop was dirty. And that made the potential answers to the third question much more frightening.
Tobias had put everything at risk with his impulsive, reckless decision. He’d put Ghost at risk, because the balding man knew where Ghost was, Spratt knew where Ghost was, which meant the redheaded man probably did too.
God, he couldn’t think. It was all too confusing. None of it made sense. All he knew was that Ghost was involved in something that included not just the Krayevs but dirty cops.
And he’d put Sullivan and Ghost in danger.
“H-he almost saw you,” Tobias stammered. “God, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I’d hope so,” Sullivan said, but his anger seemed to have shrunk; he sounded mostly frustrated and tired. He reached out with one hand, but Tobias flinched back. He wasn’t sure why, because he wanted Sullivan to touch him. He didn’t want Sullivan to feel rejected, either—it had only been last night that he’d taken that step of trusting Tobias enough to try the spanking thing, and was probably still feeling insecure about it, and having your...your...whatever Tobias was, having that person flinch from your touch couldn’t feel good, but Tobias couldn’t help it. He was jerking back before he had time to realize it was happening, and then his phone rang.
He took his phone out with numb, automatic fingers and answered.
“Now? Really?
