to read Rookie and put it back on his uniform when he wasn’t looking. When people were snickering at him in the cafeteria, his eyes found me, and he arched his brow like, Really? I thought it was a win.
But overall, I’m still not sure exactly how I feel about him.
Movement by the doors that lead us back inside the prison catches my attention. I look over at the waving hand that belongs to a guard who I discovered has a situation I can use to my benefit. He looks nervous. I shake my head to myself as I watch him pace and wipe the sweat from his upper lip. I step away from my crew, tuning out whatever new topic is being discussed, and pocket my shank project as I start to walk over.
I approach the anxious guard, and he waves me around the side of the building where inmates aren’t normally allowed to go. I look around to see if anyone is paying attention, but only find Zen’s eyes tracking my movements. I give her a wave and smile as I disappear around the corner where I’m met by a manila folder practically being shoved in my face.
“Damn, activate your chill, Chuck,” I censure as I step back, checking my face for papercuts.
“I got what you wanted. Just take it. Before someone sees,” he tells me with a distressed catch in his tone.
“Chuck, you seriously need to just take a couple of deep breaths. It’s not like I’m asking you to shove a sub sandwich up your ass for me. It’s just some papers you printed for me to have a look at. No biggie,” I tell him reassuringly.
Chuck opens his mouth to say something, and then his features fold with confusion. “Why would you want me to shove a sandwich up my ass?” he asks, taking a step back and looking me over with renewed concern.
I huff out an exasperated breath. “Apparently it’s a thing, but I wouldn’t ask, that’s my point.”
“But how would that even fit?” he demands, his hands dropping to cover his butt, clearly not focusing on the fact that no one has requested an ass sandwich from him.
Rolling my eyes, I ignore the question and instead open the file and read through what I asked Chuck to get for me. My eyes scan the pages, and then I sigh a little. Officer Rook’s employment file isn’t half as exciting as I hoped it would be. The dates in this file confirm that he’s worked here for four years, and he’s received two promotions. From what I can see, he hasn’t had any complaints filed against him since he started here.
I flip through the copies of the reviews he’s had and read through the lease agreement that Chuck printed off for the condo it seems Officer Rook rents. I glance quickly over the registration in the file for a 1970 Ford Bronco and then close the file, handing it back to Chuck.
It seems Rook checks out.
I look past Chuck in thought, but his nervous rocking makes it hard to focus on other avenues I can discreetly check to be sure I’m not missing anything on the Rook front.
“You did real good, Chuck,” I coo, and the man wipes more sweat off his upper lip and gives me a smile. “I appreciate your help and your discretion,” I add with a hint of warning in my tone that this obviously needs to stay between us.
Chuck nods his head vigorously and shoves the file back up the front of his shirt.
“The next time that harpy gang comes into your wife’s shop, tell her to say shlecom...and that Sinclair said hi. After that, they won’t ask for the protection fee anymore, and they’ll make sure nobody else messes with her. Her new flower business will be blooming in no time,” I tell him, smirking at my pun. Chuck doesn’t appreciate it though, he’s too busy mouthing the code word multiple times to make sure he’s got it right.
I know for a fact it’s right, because I once got into a tussle with some of those harpies, but then we became fast friends once they realized I liked to cause mayhem just as much as they do. His wife will be under their wings of protection in no time.
“And that’s it?” he asks me, his gaze growing a touch leerier.
I offer him a wide smile. “That’s it, Chuck. Just a one-time thing like I promised it would be.