Page 89 of Faded Gray Lines

Bright loosened the tie knotted around his neck. “There’s more.” Clicking a few more keys, he turned the screen around as another black box popped up. “This one isn’t so pleasant.”

“911 dispatch, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s a drug deal going down on Gray and Elgin. I think it involves one of those Carrera Cartel guys.”

“We have an undercover officer in the area already on it. What’s your name, sir?”

“That’s all,” Bright said. “The caller hung up after that.” Closing his laptop, he dropped it in his bag and secured the latch.

“I’ll need a copy of these.”

“Already have it.” Pulling another flash drive out of his pocket, he dropped it into the cupholder as he quickly climbed out of the Tahoe.

* * *

Brody was waiting by the curb outside the DA’s office when I pulled up. He’d barely closed the door before I hit the gas.

“Do you mind telling me what the hell was so urgent I had to postpone a very important meeting?”

I didn’t even glance at him. “Your stepfather killed Hector Diaz.”

“What?” I expected the shock in his voice, but it still irritated me. “Are you insane? Finn is the CEO of an oil company, not asicario. Turn this fucking car around. You’ve lost your damn mind.”

“I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not. You can ask him yourself.”

“Oh, sure, when he turns up, I’ll just—” His voice trailed off as everything clicked. Dropping his head against the headrest, he groaned. “Oh fuck, Mateo, you didn’t.”

“You’re damn right I did, and I’d do it again.” I jerked the wheel, my tone harsh. “But that isn’t what has him in one of our holding tanks.” Turning my head, I held his stare for a moment. “Brody, I have to tell you something, and I need you to keep as calm as possible.”

He let out a breath. “If it’s about you and my sister being together when she was a teenager, I already know.”

What? Fuck, I didn’t expect that.

“No. It’s about Finn and your sister.”

Brody’s voice got deathly low. “What the fuck did you just say?”

He listened quietly as I recounted the story Leighton had told me. Brody sat motionless, gripping the door handle until his arm shook. When I finished, he just stared at me, his face chalk white.

“Brody? Say something.”

“Pull over,” he rasped.

I pulled off the shoulder of the road, and he ripped off his seat belt. Flinging the door open, he wretched onto the asphalt until I was sure he’d pass out. Finally wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he climbed back into the truck.

“Take me to him.”

Putting the Tahoe in drive, I pulled back into traffic. “With pleasure.”

* * *

After I unlocked the heavy steel door, Brody didn’t bother opening it. He just kicked it in. The black tarp crunched under his expensive dress shoes as he stormed across the room.

“Oh, thank God, Brody! You have to get me out of—” Finn’s head snapped back as Brody barreled straight into him, landing one hell of an impressive right hook across his face. Blood poured from his already broken nose as he let out a strangled howl. “You hit me!”

“I trusted you. I stood up for you,” Brody roared, wrapping his hand around Finn’s throat. “I should rip your throat out.”

I stood against the wall, watching what was left of the cultured lawyer in Brody Harcourt be replaced by a ruthless killer. While I couldn’t say the transformation wasn’t overdue, this wasn’t his show.