Blissful Surrender (22 page)

“It’s a rundown bar off West North Ave in Austin. He said they’re in a room at the back. Sounds classy right?” He laughs sarcastically. “Sam, go back to bed. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Having already decided what I’m going to do, I nod my head at him. His eyes go soft as he looks at me one last time. “Good night, sweetheart.”

And with that, he turns and walks out of the bedroom. I listen as his footsteps get further and further away as he goes down the stairs to the second floor, then down the two flights of stairs to the basement parking garage.

Sitting down on the bed, I rest my head in my hands as I struggle to compose myself enough to do what I have to do. What I
must
do.

I grab my cell off the bedside cabinet and stare at it, cradling it in my hands as I contemplate the consequences of what I’m about to do. But I didn’t lie to Sean when I said my job was non-negotiable. If a crime is being committed it is my duty to call it in and protect people. Or in this case, the man I love and his brother who, despite being an idiot who doesn’t learn from his past mistakes, I also care about.

I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to either of them and I could have stopped it.

Scrolling through my contacts, I pull up my friend Jeremy’s number. He’s a detective at my precinct who has been investigating illegal gambling and was also involved in investigating the robbery at Throb until I told him discretely what really went down, then the case was wound up quickly. There was no need to keep it open when there was no robbery and no way of identifying the assailant. But I’ve since found out that Jeremy had been heading an investigation into a string of illegal gambling events reportedly being organized and held in the Chicago city area, so I know that he is the person to talk to about whatever Sean is heading into.

“Richards, what the hell? It’s 2 a.m. and you should be sleeping or fucking. Or a bit of both. What gives?”

“Jeremy, Sean just got a call from his brother. He’s in trouble at a backroom poker table in an Austin bar. Sean told me not to call it in, but I had to call you. If it’s that same bookie that roughed him up a few months ago, then who knows what might happen. What should I do?”

“Shit, Sam. I’m at my desk, but I can grab some officers and try and get there, but there are no promises that I can protect Sean in this. It’ll be a blanket arrest, then weed out the bad from the good after that. You okay with that?

“Anything, please Jeremy. I can’t sleep knowing him or Ryan could get hurt.”

“Okay. I’ll call you back in a while once we get the lay of the land. What bar?”

“I don’t know. He just said it was off West North.”

“Ah yes, I know exactly where. We’d been staking it out up until last week. Gotta go. Keep your phone on. You’ll hear from either me or your man.”

The call ends and I feel my stomach tighten. I feel sick. If I’ve overreacted … Why the fuck is it the middle of the night and why the hell isn’t Helen working a night shift.

I go downstairs and turn on Sean’s
very
expensive coffee machine, pacing the kitchen as I wait for the liquid gold to brew. With my now full cup in my hands, I walk over to the couch, bending my legs up close to my body as I stare out the window waiting for word from Sean or Jeremy.

The problem is that, as a seasoned cop, I know the city never sleeps. There is always a criminal element that comes out at night, making itself known … or not if they’re smart. Men and women are robbed or attacked, cars are stolen, houses are broken into, illegal poker games with high bets and even higher stakes are played. Kingpins preying on the addicted few, desperate to win their money back, adamant that their next hand will be the one that takes them back into black again. But it never happens. Lines of credit are offered and accepted, and soon enough, like Ryan is right now, they’re staring down the barrel of an even larger debt.

My fingers tighten around the warm ceramic cup in my hands. Ten grand! Ten fucking grand! Who lets themselves get that far into a hole in one fucking game? Don’t get me wrong, ten years in the department and I’ve seen it all. Doesn’t mean I can’t be surprised when it happens to someone I thought knew better, or had at least learned their lesson from last time.

I wouldn’t want to be Ryan when Sean gets his hands on him. I had to intervene last time when Sean said he’d washed his hands of his brother. This might just be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. If not that, then I might have just stepped over the line myself. I can only hope that Sean realizes the position I was in and can forgive me.

Sean

I slide my black Maserati into a parking spot opposite the bar where Ryan said he was. From the outside, it looks like a standard upmarket Chicago cocktail bar. I shake my head and check the address again, looking for some dodgy warehouse or something more fitting for underground gambling. Surely this can’t be right. Illegal gambling should be held in rundown, hole-in-the-wall bars that look like the health department should be knocking on their door any day now, nothing like this scene in front of me.

Knowing that Ryan’s phone will be on silent, I have no option, but to find him myself. Getting out of the car, I set the alarm and stroll across the street, noticing with interest that the bar is closed, and a few staff are the only ones left inside as they pack away for the night. I check the neighboring premises and see that there is an alleyway around the side of the building. Knowing that Ryan is inside somewhere and in trouble, I waste no time in crossing the street and walking down the alley, checking constantly for anyone following me or coming out in front of me. I’m not worried about having to defend myself, it’s more the surprise factor. I’d rather be on guard than be caught unprepared, and since I came unarmed, I may be at a disadvantage.

I see an old wooden door at the end of the alleyway with a rather large black man guarding the door.

“You Sean?”

“Yep.”

“Got ID? Can never be too careful.”

“Right. I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, showing him my license. He hands it back to me and steps forward, pulling the door open. “You better be here to bail your bro out. He’s in trouble. So far in the hole he’s losing sight of the light, if you know what I mean.”

I swallow hard. Fuck! I lift my chin to the guy before stepping inside, the hazy, smoke-filled room stifling as I walk toward a large round table. Checking the table and not seeing Ryan, my eyes go to the guy leaning back in his chair at the head of the table.

“Where’s Ryan Miller?”

“You his banker?”

“What the fuck do you think?”

“You got his money? He said his brother was coming and would sort it all out for him. We put him somewhere safe until it was all taken care of.” The smarmy man smiles, his mouth full of big, overly white teeth. It’s almost creepy, and I’m a hard man to rattle.

“You think I could pull that kind of money out of my ass at 2.30 in the morning? You know as well as I do that most law abiding citizens don’t have that kind of dough lying around. So I give you my word that the money is paid into your account as soon as the bank opens.”

I just hope Ryan isn’t in so much trouble that I can’t save him. I may be pissed, but he’s my only family. Ryan and Sam are the only ones who matter to me. Why do you think I didn’t bring her along? It wasn’t because I didn’t think she could handle herself, but I refused to put her in a position where she would have to defend herself or put her job on the line. She loves her career too much for that.

The Cheshire cat starts laughing, slamming his palm on the table, seemingly finding the situation hilarious. “See, mister lawyer man, here’s the thing. I know you think you’ve got a leg to stand on, and I don’t doubt that you’re packing some big kahones down below, but I don’t give a fuck.” The smile on his face fades and he glares at me, his eyes almost venomous. “I’m trying to run a business here. I don’t operate credit without collateral or without knowing that I can get the money back from somewhere. Your brother has a big mouth when he’s desperate. He says you own that hot place in the club district and that you’ve got a hot piece of cop ass for a girlfriend. That was all the collateral I needed because I knew you wouldn’t put her in hot water, unless she’s just a piece of ass—”

“You shut your fucking mouth. Leave her out of this,” I spit out, clenching my fists at my side as I try to rein in my anger, knowing I just fucked up and gave him what he was gunning for.

He smirks at me, knowing he has my back to the wall. “So we have an understanding. Fifteen grand tomorrow morning 10 a.m. or else I start causing trouble for you and your little girlfriend. I bet she’s hot too. What do you think, boys? You think a hot shot like this guy would have a tight piece?”

The three guys flanking him start murmuring to each other, agreeing with him if their nods are any indication.

“Ryan said ten grand.”

“It’s now fifteen.” For fuck’s sake! “Deal. Now bring Ryan out here and we’ll go.”

“Maybe I should keep him as insurance—”

His threats are cut off by a thud against the door and the splintering of wood behind me as suddenly the words “Chicago PD!” ring out and I’m pushed against the wall, face first, my hands held forcefully behind my back.

“Don’t say a word,” a stern male voice mutters in my ear. Not being stupid, I shut my mouth. I feel the cold metal of handcuffs wrap around first one wrist, then the other, as my hands are shackled behind my back.

I hear a scuffle behind me as more officers pour in. “There’s another room back here,” an officer calls out to the others. “Shit, there’s more of them.”

“My brother, he’s back there!” I shout, my voice muffled.

“We know what we’re doing, Mr. Miller, so I suggest you stay silent. I’m taking you back to the station where you’ll stay until we can ascertain your part in all of this.”

“You know I’m a lawyer right?”

“Don’t care. Right now you are a suspect in an illegal gambling racket that we’ve been investigating for a long time. Lawyer or not, I recommend you keep your mouth shut.”

I clamp my mouth shut as I’m pulled back by my arms and pushed out of the door and up the alley, like an everyday common criminal. Just as one of the cops undoes my handcuffs and stuffs me into the back of a waiting patrol car, I turn my head and see a worse for wear Ryan being led by another officer to the car behind me. His eyes meet mine and I can see the guilt residing there. His shoulders are drawn up and there’s none of his normal cocky swagger that Ryan’s known for. Just as he is about to disappear from sight, he looks back up at me and mouths ‘I’m sorry’ before the officer puts a hand on top of his head and ushers him into the back seat of the car.

When the patrol car I’m in pulls away from the curb, I shake my head and stare out the window. After a few minutes, the detective in the passenger seat turns around and faces me.

“I’m Jeremy, lead detective on this case. Samantha Richards called me an hour ago and informed me that there was a poker game going on that I would be interested in and that she was concerned for the welfare of you and your brother—”

I shoot him an incredulous look. “Sam called it in?”

He nods his response and I clench my fists. My Sammy, the woman I left in my bed to come save my brother’s ass, ignored my request and called it in anyway. I shake my head in disbelief.

“She was worried that you would get hurt, especially if it’s the same bookie that assaulted your brother last time. She did the right thing, Mr. Miller.”

I trusted her to listen to me. I
told
her not to call, that I’d let her know if I needed help. She didn’t trust me to deal with this myself. She didn’t
believe
that I could do it without her help.

My anger simmers under the surface as we pull up outside the precinct. It continues to fester and eat away at me as I’m lead inside to an interrogation room. I don’t see Ryan arrive; in fact, I don’t see him again.

After being read my Miranda rights, I explain everything that went down from the moment I received Ryan’s call, to recounting everything the asshole bookie said to me, including his threats against me, the club, and Samantha. The detective grew antsy when he heard that Sam had been mentioned.

When I was released clear and free a few hours later, the sun was just starting to rise. A patrol car dropped me back at my car which thankfully was still parked outside the bar.

But instead of driving straight home to Sammy, I drove to the club, parking at the back and going straight to my office where I became acquainted with a nice bottle of 1800 tequila that I swiped from the bar.