Page 6 of Danger Close
“At first, we thought he was just covering his ass.That he’d made a mistake or two.Then we found the crate.”
Bateman’s mouth pressed into a line.
“Artifacts,” Dev said.“Smuggled from Iran.Rugs, coins, burial masks.Underneath?Bricks of opium.He wasn’t just moving product, he was facilitating the route.And worse, there was proof that they were trafficking people, too.Kids.Locals caught in the crossfire.Selling them off like inventory.”
Bateman’s knuckles whitened.
“We confronted him.Thought maybe it was just greed.Maybe he was scared, that he was being forced into it.Then he pulled a gun on Ricky.”Dev’s voice dropped.“And I didn’t hesitate.Put two rounds center mass before he could squeeze the trigger.Clean.Fast.But not quiet.”
He paused.
“We filed the report.Told command exactly what happened.They redacted it.Said Wallace died in action.Honorable discharge.No ceremony but he got a pension.”
Bateman looked up.“And Ricky?”
“As the junior he shouldered the label of troublemaker, of turning against one of his own, and he carried it,” Dev said.“Still does.We told the truth.Followed protocol.And it didn’t matter.The system didn’t protect Ricky.Not as a kid, and not as a soldier.Didn’t believe him.That kind of betrayal—by someone in your own uniform—it gets under your skin.”
He crossed the room again, sat on the edge of the desk, eyes steady on Bateman’s.
“He’s never trusted easy.And after Veracruz?He barely trusted at all.”Dev’s tone was solemn.
Bateman exhaled, low and rough.“He trusts us.”
“He did,” Dev said.“But if he let Ezra in—even for a second—and Ezra ran?”
He didn’t finish the sentence.He didn’t have to.
Bateman rubbed a hand over his face.“So, what do I do?”
Dev leaned forward.“You wait.You hold the space.And when he’s ready, you be there.Not as a leader but as his anchor.Because if you push now?He’ll fold.He’ll walk, Bateman.”
Bateman nodded, slow and reluctant.“To be honest I think he’s mostly out the door anyway.He’ll go.Something will set him off and he will leave.But after that?What if he doesn’t come back?”
Dev’s gaze didn’t waver.“Then we go find what’s left of him.”
They were quiet for a long minute.
“And Ezra?”Bateman asked, pushing to stand.
Dev finally turned to face him.“You can’t know for sure if he had anything to do with it, but my guess is things went from flirty to hot too damn fast and Ezra bolted.For whatever reason.He left, and if Ricky ain’t talking about it, then you can’t know.Not for sure.”
Bateman looked up.“Then I guess that man’s got some serious explaining to do.”
****
Ricky’s fists hit thebag with a rhythm that felt like survival.
Every impact was precise.Controlled.Mechanical.Jab.Cross.Hook.Reset.Again.He didn’t feel the sweat slicking down his back or the dull ache radiating from his shoulder—the one that still twinged from catching a bullet meant for Bateman.
Didn’t care.
Pain was better than stillness.Better than thinking.
Because when he stopped moving, his mind drifted.Always back to that night.
Ezra’s room had smelled like cedar soap and gun oil.
Quiet.
