Page 21 of Secondhand Smoke

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As it turned out, none of the club’s resources were needed to find Jesse the drug buyer, and abandoner of teenage girls. A quick text to Sam yielded his name and address.

“She must be spending too much time at my house,” Mercy said of her, grinning. “She’s turning vigilante.”

“If you’d seen her sister looking all skanky this morning, you’d understand,” Aidan said, checking his phone one last time to verify this was the address.

It was. And the house was…well, it looked a lot like the sort of frat house nightmare where he belonged. Unmown grass, overflowing trash cans at the curb, rotted and warped woodwork along the windows, all of which had the blinds drawn tight. He could already envision the way it would look and smell inside: the darkness, stink of mildew, of stale takeout food in the fridge.

Beside him, Mercy cracked his knuckles.

“I was just gonna knock,” Aidan said.

Mercy sighed. “Spoilsport. Alright.Knock.”

Aidan grinned. “I’m having a shit day already. Having Ava chew my ass out for letting you get arrested isn’t gonna make it any better.”

Mercy grinned back. “It’d be fun to watch, though.”

Aidan made a disagreeing sound. They reached the front stoop, littered with scrappy year-old leaves and dead grass, and pushed the bell, listened to it echo through the house. He rang it a second time before the lock finally clicked and the door opened.

The guy who appeared in the threshold was older than Erin Walton, but not by much. Messy reddish blonde hair, a scruffy pretend beard, bloodshot eyes. He had a puka shell choker around his throat, and a silver cross on a leather string.

Douche. Aidan hated him immediately.

“You Jesse?” he asked.

“Who wants to know?” the guy asked, dashing at his nose with the back of his hand.

“Take that as a yes,” Mercy said, and charged into the house, his size, and the element of surprise pushing Jesse back at a stumbling run, until the kid tripped and landed hard on his ass on the mashed carpet.

Aidan shut the door behind them, approached more slowly, confirmed his theory about the stench of the place.

Mercy stood over their intended prey, one giant booted foot landing on the floor between Jesse’s thighs, one good stomp away from rendering him sterile.

“Hey!” Jesse shouted, “you can’t–” His exclamation turned into a squeal when Mercy started to lift his foot.

“Careful,garçon.” Mercy gave him his most frightening grin. “I don’t think you want to find out what I do for a living.”

Aidan crouched down next to Jesse, feigning casual. This was good for him, he realized. This was his element, and it was a nice reminder of his vitality. When he questioned someone with Tango, it was cool cop/sweet cop. Here, with Mercy – that was Rottweiler and handler.

“Okay, Jesse,” he said. “Here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna ask you some questions, and every time you try to jerk me around, this guy here is gonna jerkyouaround. Clear?”

Jesse looked between them, eyes huge.

“Pay attention,” Aidan told him.

“Who are you guys?”

“Erin Walton’s friends. So maybe next time you think about making her walk back into town, you’ll remember this here.” He gestured between the two of them.

“Whoa.” Jesse lifted a hand. “I didn’t make her do anything. I swear–”

“Nice try, but no.”

“But–”

“I know all about what was going on this morning,” Aidan continued, “up at Hamilton House. What I need from you is the name of the guy you bought the stuff from.”

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