Dirty Read Free Page B

hadn’t killed anybody lately and couldn’t recall pissing off a member of law enforcement, I should be out of here before Nance had time to think of a witty comeback.
    I closed the door and tacked my team player smile into place.   When interacting with other law enforcement authorities (Nance not included) I’d learned to respond humbly whenever possible.   Most of them were a little on the sensitive side.   “What can I do for you today, chief?” I asked with all the team spirit I could rally.
    “I think you’ve done quite enough.”
    My gaze shot to the left where the owner of the unfamiliar voice pushed off the conference table and started in my direction.   Classy charcoal suit.   Crisp white shirt.   Red power tie and shiny black leather loafers.   Regulation haircut with not a single brunette strand out of place.   A cloying whiff of Hugo Boss cologne preceded him, making my nose twitch with distaste before I even learned his name.
    Federal agent.   I could spot one a mile off.   You could shoot’em and bury’em in the same suit.   My instincts went on point.
    “Mercer, this is Special Agent Terrence Brooks from our local Bureau office.   He replaced Agent Watts.”
    I flicked a glance back at the chief.   “What’s this about?”   Thanks for the setup, Cates.   Go team!
    “You compromised our primary asset in an ongoing operation,” Brooks accused.   Judging by his tone he was seriously PO’d.   He stopped right next to me and pumped up the intimidation in the gray eyes that were one or two shades lighter than his thousand-dollar suit.   “Now we’re going to have to scramble to get him back in the game.”
    Ah-ha.   Willis.   This must be his handler.   “Well, Agent Brooks,” I said, propping a hand on my hip in a show of unrepentant confidence, “the Bureau should consider concealing the warrants on a fugitive felon they don’t want picked off the street.”   So much for humility.
    Fury tightened the smooth, probably-purchased-at-the-spa tanned features of his face.   “Willis is working undercover for us,” he snapped.   “We need him.   We’re keeping him.”
    Chief Cates cleared his throat, drawing my flabbergasted attention back to him before I could shake off the denial and launch a defensive.   “Mercer, we’re going to have to pretend this never happened and put him back on the street.”
    “What?”   They couldn’t do this!   One look at the Fed next to me and I knew they not only could but would.
    The chief held up a hand as if he feared I might do something rash, like scramble over his desk and shake the hell out of him or punch the suit towering over me.   “Our cooperation is essential,” he stated flatly as if the final decision had already been made and this discussion was a mere technicality.   “No one can know that Willis has been made.”
    Say what?   I gave my head a shake to arrest the mounting mixture of anger and confusion.   “You’re not serious?”
    “You made a mistake, Mercer,” Brooks cut in.   “As far as the world knows the man you brought in this morning is Kevin Williams.   That’s the way it has to stay.”
    “Bullshit.”   I glared up at Brooks.   “I got this guy fair and square.   No mistake about it.”   I waved the body receipt in his face.
    The arrogant Fed had the nerve to smile at me!   I wanted to shoot him.   But that amounted to capitol murder and the idea of taking my last breath in old Sparky changed my mind.
    “You have any solid evidence to back up your claim?” he challenged smugly.   “If not, Mr. Williams is free to go.”   The smile turned into a cold, hard smirk.   “Any more questions?”
    For one second I felt defeated.   But then victory roared through me.   Hobbs always double-checked his sources.   I’d bet my Birkin he’d run Willis’s prints.   Prints, I suddenly realized, that my over zealous, perpetually resourceful assistant had probably lifted off