was the one who made everything questionable. What we did was not unusual, but the way he did it was cold-hearted and ruthless. If we were supposed to take over a radio tower where there were suspected terrorists sending out calls, Hutson wasn’t interested in talking and investigating. He was interested in beating the shit out of everyone until someone barely managed to choke some information out. But again, Aidan did whatever Hutson asked.”
“Maybe he fucked up somehow and thinks you know?” Leland suggests.
“Or Hutson could be behind it if he’s afraid you have proof he wasn’t ethical,” Cassel says.
Leland leans forward to peer down at Cassel’s laptop. “That could be true, but why now? Look into this Hutson guy and see if maybe he’s trying to run for a political position or something that his past could come back and bite him. Something about being in the public eye.”
“Alright,” Cassel says as he turns back to his computer.
Twenty-Two
Leland
“Well… I know we were concerned about him turning tail and running, but it doesn’t seem like he’s too worried,” I say as we eye the high-rise apartment building smack dab in the center of a large city about an hour from our home. We’d arrived about an hour ago, but there’s no way into the building without a code. And after watching it for a while, it’s clear the building has security.
“How the fuck is he so rich?” Jackson asks as he stares at the building from the café we’re sitting in that gives us a clear view of the front. “Trust me, we weren’t paid that well.”
“Maybe his parents?” I ask.
Cassel shakes his head as he stares at his phone. “They were both in the military. Maybe he has a sugar momma.”
“Aw! Just like Jackson has a sugar daddy!” I say as I nudge him.
Jackson turns to look at me from where we’re sitting at the window seat. “You… do realize that in order to be my sugar daddy you need to get my car waxed, right?”
“Lord, wax the car with your own knob,” I say.
“There’s… what… no…” Jackson says, oddly concerned. Maybe he thinks my knob is better for the job—and it might be.
“Stop being weird, it’s creepy,” Cassel says as he sips his tea.
“That’d be similar to asking Leland to not exist,” Jackson says.
I gasp as I stare at Cassel. “You want me to not exist?”
He grabs for his mug. “No! Stop taking everything out of context and twisting it around!”
“Jackson, threaten him for wanting me to not exist!”
Jackson lazily looks over at Cassel. “Um… uh… take that back, you… you… evil man.”
I grab my chest as I stare at Jackson. “My god, the threats that escape your lips are enough to make my heart stutter… not. That was not sexy. I wanted sex appeal. Torn shirt, both of you rolling around, slicked up in oil, fighting for my love. Jackson wins, of course.”
Cassel leans into Jackson. “If we just shouted that he had a gun on him right now, I bet the police would come and take him away.”
Jackson strangely seems to be considering this. “He’s so fast, though. And he talks his way out of everything. I’m just not sure it’d work,” Jackson whispers loudly back. I slide my menu between their annoying faces.
“I liked you two better when you hated each other.”
“Cassel pushed me off a balcony. You liked that better?” Jackson asks.
I hesitate. “Okay, maybe not, but who invited him?”
“I can leave,” Cassel says.
“Nope. No. You’re staying. It’s your punishment for being mean to me.”
After an entire day of watching the building, it’s clear Aidan isn’t planning on going anywhere and none of us are getting inside without… questionable measures that Jackson calls “immoral” and Cassel calls “entertaining.”
“I swear this will work,” I say from a hotel room balcony, my rifle set up. I’m lying on my stomach, body bent at an odd angle to work with the balcony.
After much investigative work, we figured out that Aidan is resting easily on the ninth floor, waiting for the shit storm to pass. Cassel, the little computer guru he is, got ahold of Aidan’s account information.
I watch through the open apartment window as Aidan walks over to the table and takes a seat with a glass of something.
“He’s in line,” I say.
“Leland, that’s a really far shot. What if you put a bullet between his eyes and it’s tracked back to us?” Jackson says.
I glance up at Jackson who is holding binoculars to his eyes from