Page 70 of Hesi-Dating
"Who else would be here other than Henry?"
Dylan frowned.
"You said you have something about the robbery case?" I prompted.
"Right…" He removed his ball cap to scratch his head. "I found some footage that I thought you should see." He scrolled on his phone.
I barely watched it, more focused on Dylan's nervousness. "You woke me up for this? You could've emailed it or shown me tomorrow."
He rubbed his face. "Guess so. Felt important."
I worked my teeth back and forth and squinted at him. I'd been his best man. He chose money over loyalty? I comforted myself by hoping maybe it wasn't about money. Perhaps, someone threatened his wife. That might make sense. I cleared my throat. "Look, I'm tired as hell and hurting. This is a waste of time. Go home. We'll talk about it tomorrow when I have better pain relief on board."
I didn't move when the door closed. I'd trusted Dylan. How many others in my department were on a gang leader's payroll?
I phoned a person I didn't like but knew was wound so tight he'd rather shoot himself than go crooked. Into his voicemail I said, "Ben, it's Seth Briscoe. I need to speak with you in person. Tomorrow."
Time to bring the FBI in on this. This wasn't just about cleaning up my department. It was about catching a criminal to set Joley free.
ChapterTwenty-Six
SETH
The last four weeks since Joley ran away from me for the second time had been one hell of a rocky ride. The worst part was remaining no-contact with Joley. I assumed she didn’t reach out to me because Nosh threatened her. But I didn’t know. Maybe she was done with me. Maybe I was more hung up on her than she was on me. I needed reassurance our connection was still there.
As time passed, I hated my inability to fix the problem. Which wasn't her. It wasn't me. It was the shadow of a gang leader that kept us apart.
I had to get her free of him. Then maybe, just maybe, there could be an us for real. At least, we could figure out if we could be something. The problem was I still had no clue how to find Nosh, even less how to stop him for good.
Ben and his team had worked their way through most of my department and identified not only Dylan, but six other compromised officers. Six!
Dylan's begging still haunted me. Literally. The man texted me daily. He'd moved beyond wanting his job back to pleading we remain friends. How was that possible? He'd faked coming over to my house for that Crips leader to see if Joley was there. He might not have admitted so much, but we found money from an account the FBI knew was linked to the Red Crips. He'd sworn he hadn't taken money, but the organization was threatening his family.
What haunted me most was thinking about what the gang leader would have done if Dylan reported she had been there. Nosh might've hurt Joley or her siblings. I wished he'd have come after me.
One hell of a Thanksgiving. I hung my head as I sat on the edge of the hotel bed. I'd come up to San Francisco at the beckoning of a state senator. This was the first time I'd served as an escort for a swanky event. It'd gone great until I ran into Joley's sister, Amber, whose reality TV show had cranked up the heat with a seeming romance between her and Dr. Ian Todd. Ian came from money, a real estate mogul family. His family had hosted the Thanksgiving event. Amber and Ian were so into each other. I was happy for them. Except seeing her brought back everything with Joley in a rush. A huge rush.
And…I'd committed to helping a friend visit Dr. Amber in two days with their family dog who needed surgery. That rush would happen when I saw Amber again.
As I did every time I thought of Joley, I realigned her memory in my mind as something on pause until I figured out my next step or until she reached out to me again.
Deep in my soul rebellion festered.
I wanted her in my life.
The senator had wanted us to hookup tonight, but I couldn't. The thought of an emotionless encounter for sex only turned me off.
I wanted Joley.
It was ten-thirty. How I wished to go home, to not be up in San Francisco stuck in a sterile hotel room alone. The senator wanted me here tomorrow for some breakfast thing that'd be good for political fundraising. We hadn't come up here together. My campaign manager had made this happen through a friend of a friend that knew the senator needed a date. The event had been a political and donor success, which was important to my reelection campaign. The thought of a year of schmoozing donors and lots of meet-and-greets made me want to simultaneously puke and drink. Then I remembered my people. The ones who weren't dirty. They were why I'd campaign to keep my job one more term.
I walked to the window and gazed down into the parking lot. A car parked cockeyed in a parallel spot made me smile. Joley wasn't the only one who couldn't get the rear of the car sorted while parallel parking. The urge to text her a picture pressed hard. This happened a lot. I'd see something and want to share. But I wouldn't.
Not going to do so now.
I scrolled through my campaign manager's schedule of planned events for the first few months of the year. We'd agreed on one event a week. With my regular work schedule doing any more would be too hectic. He'd been thrilled at our social media following and suggested with my popularity I should think about running for mayor. Not interested.
My fingers wrote Joley a text to the phone number she'd given me that night she showed up crying. This happened from time to time.
