Page 108 of Hush

[Seven hours until I see you again.]

You’ll be there at 6?

[Waiting for you with your diabetic nightmare. I mean, your coffee. :) ]

He sent four hearts, all in a row. He didn’t know what else to say. He heard Villegas moving around, heading for the bathroom. Brush his teeth behind the closed door and change into sleep clothes. Head back out to the couch. “Good night, Judge Brewer.”

“Night.”

Night, Mike. See you in seven hours.

[Goodnight, babe.

Babe. Him, being called “babe” by Mike. He was dreaming. He was absolutely dreaming. His toes curled again, squeezing the sheets as lightning raced through his body, fireworks going off at the ends of his neurons. He swiped the screen and pulled up the picture Mike had sent earlier, his golden skin and tiny yellow briefs, his soulful, electric-blue eyes and his pouty, just-smiling lips. Tom propped his phone up beside him, laying it against the pillow’s edge. He blew a kiss at the screen.

After a few minutes, he powered it down and plugged it in, and then rolled over to go to sleep.

Villegas slipped into the bathroom, holding his toiletries bag. He’d gone home in the middle of the day to grab clothes and what he needed for the overnight, and then went straight to Winters.

“Put this in Judge Brewer’s belongings,” Winters had said.

Villegas fingered the GPS transmitter, a tiny tracker that could easily get lost in Brewer’s duffel or bag. Brewer would never see it, if Villegas did his job right.

Brewer’s toiletries bag was open on the counter, everything inside arranged neatly in rows and stacks. His toothbrush rested a perfect right angle to the sink, drip drying. Okay. So Brewer was neater than average. Villegas turned to the closet and spotted two duffels tucked just inside the door.

Perfect.

He pulled them both out. One was unzipped, and he flipped the top. Bunched up shirts, suit pants, a balled-up tie… and spare ammo clips. A spare shoulder holster.

This wasn’t Judge Brewer’s bag. It was Lucciano’s.

He rifled through everything, through Lucciano’s socks and ridiculously tiny underwear. There were shorts and a swimsuit, still flecked with sand. Shirts that smelled like salt and sunscreen. And, at the very bottom, a half-full bottle of lube.

Villegas’s eyes rolled up, as if he could stare through the closet wall, right to where Judge Brewer was lying in bed and texting. Texting who? Lucciano? Could they really be…

He shoved it all back into Lucciano’s bag and flipped open the second. Brewer’s bag was neater, everything folded and in its place. Dirty shirts that smelled like sunscreen and sand, a swimsuit, flip-flops.

They’d obviously gone to the beach together.

Villegas tucked the transmitter into the bottom of Brewer’s bag, hidden by a seam. He slipped out of the closet and back to the bathroom, and then changed and brushed his teeth.

Mission accomplished.

“Good night, Judge Brewer,” he said, heading back for the couch.

“Night.”

Chapter 30

July 7th

Tom waited in his silent chambers, listening to footsteps clap and snap down the hall. Mike leaned against his desk beside him, their hands tangled together. Mike couldn’t offer any advice, but he could hold Tom’s hand, be there, and that meant more than anything.

Winters had let Mike back onto Tom’s protective detail, but growled that Mike would be sharing the load from now on. Tom was expected to spend some time in the Hyatt for Mike’s relief. Mike agreed quickly, and then he delivered the good news to Tom.

Knocks sounded on Tom’s door, delicate raps from Peggy’s gentle fist. “Judge Brewer, your ten o’clock is here.”

His ten o’clock. The pre-trial hearing to decide discovery, what was admissible and inadmissible in trial. Knives would be out, and blood would be shed. He squeezed Mike’s hand and stood. “Send them in.”