Page 56 of Cosmo

As he got the wire pinned on the hem of his T-shirt collar, he said, “I won’t. I swear that to you.”

“Well, all right then. Cosmo, let’s get the fuck over with this shit.”

As they drove, Murphy explained about Hippy. “That kid wasn’t much more than a bag of bones when I first met him. He’s been with me since the first crew was put together. I thought he was underage, to be truthful. He didn’t look older than twelve, but he was determined and he needed the work.

“He was in the foster system for a long time. He never once put down roots. Got in with a gang, and that’s where he learned the gun trade. After he saw some nasty shit, he left, and they don’t let folks leave easily, you know. This guy found him next to his place and hired him to wash dishes. His place was a blues joint, and that is where he found the love of his life. Music.

“When old Joe died, Hippy was pretty lost. The club got sold off. Now it’s an import/export store. He got himself into some trouble, but I have friends who know the right people and they sent him to me. I caught him before he got himself thrown into prison. We’re the first real family he’s ever had, like a lot of the guys. He’s protective.”

Cosmo listened to the story and felt how close it was to his own. “Foster homes fuck up your head. Even the good ones. Stay a while, get comfortable, and bam, something happens that drags you away from them. Over and over.”

“And that’s the good ones. Sure, there’s a lot of good people doing it, but a lot of bad ones too. That’s why I’ve put up a lotof safeguards for the kids. They’ll always have a guardian, no matter what.”

“That’s good, Murphy. I’m glad you look after them like that.”

“I’m gonna look after you the same way, and I don’t give a good fucking hell if you don’t like it.”

Cosmo felt his defenses nearly leave him completely as his lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Yeah, I got that memo.”

“Good. Fucking punk.”

At the parking lot where the meeting was happening, Cosmo scanned around for more cars. Murphy caught him doing it. “You stole a car in front of a fed. I wouldn’t suggest doing it in front of two of them.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time. Even inside, we’d see the visitors’ parking lot, and I’d remember how to get into every car in the lot. Never really leaves my head.”

“I get it. But…no more with the fed. I think I understand why you did it, but no more.”

“Okay, boss.”

The car pulled up with a man driving that looked so much like a fed, Cosmo doubted he’d ever had to show his badge. Hair short and perfectly combed to the side, shaved so clean, Cosmo wondered if his five o’clock shadow was scared to show itself before nine at night.

Once he was out of the white sedan, it got worse. The cheap gray suit and cheaper red tie screamed federal agent. Taran came around the back of the car, smiling over to the two of them. “Cosmo, Mr. Murphy, this is Special Agent Campbell Rymes. Camp, this is Connor Murphy and Cosmo.”

“No need to use his codename, Rochester. I know all about Cosmo MacManus.”

Cosmo’s eyes narrowed at the man, and he asked, “You know what is in your folders. That doesn’t mean you know all about me.”

“Granted, but I know enough.”

Black hair and blue eyes were the nicest parts about him. The rest was plain as a brown paper bag, but Cosmo suddenly felt like he knew the guy.

As his dull blue eyes stared into Cosmo’s, he saw that he, like Taran, was disenchanted with his life. He thought he’d begun a career to get the bad guys until he saw he was getting few, and the real bad guys were the ones disguised as heroes.

Murphy started, “We can dispense with the niceties. We’re here to strike a deal, correct?”

“We are,” Taran said, and his partner nodded. “We have a group that you may or may not know about. There’s no way we’ll get them quickly or easily, but they know you all and they work with pretty much all your enemies.”

Murphy laughed and grunted, “The BBC?”

Cosmo watched Campbell’s eyebrows rise as surprise took him. “You know?”

Cosmo was lost. “Who’s the BBC?”

“The Blue Badge Cartel,” Taran answered. “They’re a group of former and current cops, federal agents, shit, even forestry officers. They were tired of earning a living that didn’t compete with the crooks, so they made their own cartel.”

“You want to work your way up to them. The head of the snake, so to speak,” Murphy said flatly.

“Yes. We do. Not only do they give us all a bad name, but they’re hurting people. A lot of people.”

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