Chapter Thirty-Two
killian
Killian was distracted, not something that usually happened to him, but his girl was carrying his baby. He hadn’t been sure he was cut out for fatherhood, but as soon as he learned he was going to be one, fuck, but he wanted that. Knew he wanted it because of Cedar. He had work to do. His woman was under his roof, now he had to get ready for his baby.
He glanced at the clock, was tempted to punch out, to drag Cedar from her studio and take her home and spend the rest of the day fucking her. So tempted, he pushed back from his desk, but the crime photos he’d yet to put away pulled his attention. He lifted one, studied it, then left his office.
“We get a hit on that APB?”
Johnny glanced up. “Not yet.”
“What about that email you sent out? We know where it came from?”
“Haven’t heard, only one guy working the computer lab, but I’ll give him a call.”
“Yeah, let me know what you find out.”
He turned for his office when the door ripped open. “Fucking check your goddamn messages,” Brock roared, moving right up into Killian. “Where the fuck is Cedar?”
Killian’s voice was deceivingly soft. “You’re going to want to step the fuck back.”
“Where is she?”
It was the thread of fear he heard that had him answering, “Her studio. She’s covered.”
“You’re sure.”
Killian just gave him a look.
Brock paced. “Declan wasn’t the ring leader.”
Already alert, having an irate Brock storming into his office, he demanded, “Come again?”
He stopped pacing. “It’s my fucking mother.”
“Your mother is dead.”
“Presumed dead,” Brock said. “I know it sounds crazy but think about it. Declan couldn’t find his cock with both hands, but he masterminded, not one, but two cons on the mob. I don’t think so.”
“What else you got?”
“The night of the raid. Someone gave us up. Those two in the hall, I’d bet money she was one of them. Pain meds were like candy to her. And the wine bottle in the kitchen, Declan wouldn’t touch that shit.”
“It’s kind of thin.”
“Fuck, like I don’t know that, but I know it’s her. Calling me that night to come home…she’s been fucking pulling the strings from the start. And like Declan, she keeps her options open. She knew Cedar was here, so she’d have eyes on her because Cedar was the link to me. And knowing my mother, she’d have another sugar daddy in the wings.”
Johnny appeared, eyeing Brock, knowing an outlaw when he saw one. He didn’t take his eyes off Brock when he said, “Email came from Waverly.”
Killian’s head jerked to Johnny. Brock asked, “Where’s Waverly?”
“A town over,” Johnny offered.
Brock’s attention was on Killian. “That means something to you.”
“Got to check something,” Killian said, dropping the pic on the desk and strolling for the door. He glanced back and saw Brock right on his heels.
“Not fucking staying here.”
Killian had never in his life rolled his eyes, but he did then.
“She did it,” Brock said, looking around Cedar’s place, a note in his tone that Killian hadn’t heard before, a remnant of his younger self.
“She moved in with me,” Killian said, looking up at the camera.
Brock’s head snapped around. “Didn’t waste any time.”
Killian met his hot stare with one of his own. “In my shoes, you wouldn’t have either.”
He didn’t like it, but Brock had to admit, the man was right.
“How the fuck did she get that up there?” Killian thought out loud.
Brock followed his stare then grinned. “She always did like climbing trees.” Looking back at Killian, he said, “Want me to go, Sheriff? I am younger and more spry.”
“Fuck you.”
Killian grabbed the lower branch and pulled himself up, working his way to the camera. He tossed it down to Brock. By the time he joined him, Brock was looking through the footage.
“What are you looking for?”
“The cigarettes don’t fit.”
It was Brock’s turn to give Killian a look. “Is that code?”
Killian took the camera, advanced the footage. “Found cigarettes but not the smoker.”
Brock wasn’t amused, particularly when he glanced back and saw the perfect line of sight to Cedar’s place.
“Son of a bitch,” Killian hissed.
Brock studied the picture. “Guessing you know him?”
“Yeah, and if you’re right, we found her sugar daddy.”
“What are we waiting for?” Brock asked.
“You want to be sheriff?” Killian bit back.
Brock grinned. “Being wanted for first degree murder kind of throws me out of the running.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Killian walked back to his truck, stopped and asked, “You carrying?”
“What do you think?”
Killian dropped his head, shook it. “I need a new job.” He started back to his truck. “Let’s go.”
A half an hour later, Brock studied the house, much like what he grew up in, but whoever lived here had more money than taste. Parking, they climbed out. Brock eyed the license plate, three-dollar signs. What a douche.
Killian stepped up to the door and knocked. The housekeeper opened it, looked from Killian to Brock, fear moving over her face, before she stepped back and held the door wider.
“Where is he?” Killian asked.
She pointed to the door down the hall.
He took out his phone, pulled up a picture of Ashley Callahan. “Have you seen her?”
The woman nodded.
“She here now?” Brock demanded, earning him a look from Killian.
“No.”
“You never fucking saw us,” Brock warned.
The woman paled than hurried away.
Killian was glaring at him. Brock met his glare and shrugged.
They reached the room; both men had their hands on their guns, before Killian opened the door. The occupant in the room was sitting behind his lavish desk. His head snapped up; his face paled. His hand shook when he put out his cigarette.
Killian stood just inside the room, crossed his arms over his chest, stared down at his predecessor and said, “Still doing stakeouts, Webster?”
He should stop it. He knew as the
