Page 127 of Until the Day You're Mine

“You got shit! You and I both know it takes a second to put a bullet through someone’s head.”

“Harris won’t kill her.”

“You’re speculating! What do you think his end game is? Do you think he’s just going to let her go? Fuck, Sullivan, what is this bullshit?”

“No, fuck you, Tyger! Okay? Fuck you! Do you want out or not? Do you want Harris Kelly gone and paying for the death of Cyril, Sebastian, and countless others or not? This shit ain’t fucking easy, okay? I get her out, I show my cards too soon, and he says nothing. I need him to fucking lose his shit. I need his men turning on him. I need a public fucking meltdown. Do I feel bad about Margarita? No. I don’t fucking know her. But I’ll tell you what, that woman is fucking ballsy. My team has been listening to her laying it thick onto that moron Lincoln, and oh boy is he about to lose his shit soon. Do I want her to get hurt? Fuck no. Will I let a possible casualty, the death of a civilian, stop a five-year investigation?” He swallows hard panting, narrowing his eyes at Ty. “You fucking tell me.”

Ty holds his gaze. No matter how tempting it is to scoff and look away, pretending this shit has nothing to do with what he wants, he can’t deny the truth. He nods in agreement as the plane begins its slow descent over Boston.

Suddenly, it dawns on him – fuck this. He isn’t military anymore. He doesn’t care to follow orders blindly. And he sure as shit doesn’t care for Sullivan’s agenda.

Tayida grabs a fistful of Sullivan’s shirt, dragging him closer. Sullivan is startled but as always, remains calm and collected. He doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t make a move to shove Tayida away.

“This woman, Margarita, she helped us get away from the house on the day I went to get Rian. She is very dear to Rian and me by extension. If she gets hurt, I’ll fucking nail your ass ––”

“Cool it,” Sullivan snaps, finally wiggling away from his grip. They are glaring at each other, panting. Sullivan breaks eye contact first and growls. “Fuck!” He digs out his phone from the pocket of his jeans and makes a call.

“Apay. Yes, I got him. We’re on our way.” He leans back in his seat, closes his eyes, and asks, “You got eyes on the housekeeper? Margarita?” He bobs his head and exhales.

Ty can only assume that meant she is alright for now, but that wasn’t fucking enough.

Sullivan’s next instructions to the caller on the other side put him somewhat at ease, “If Lincoln or Harris make a move to harm her…get her out.” This clearly didn’t sit well with the person he was relaying his orders to. Sullivan’s eyes fly open, and he snaps, giving Ty an angry glare. “I know what I said! Just fucking do it! Yes! I mean it!” He huffs and his expression softens slightly, morphing into a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, yeah. Fuck you too, buddy.” As he hangs up, Sullivan gives Ty his best,are-you-fucking-happy-nowlook, raising his eyebrows comically high.

Ty shakes his head, unable to hold back his own grin. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“Shut up. You’re totally cramping my style, Tyger. Besides, I may have forgotten to mention Margarita was in on it from the moment you two left the house. My men intercepted her vehicle after she drove away and asked her if she wanted to cooperate. I’ve never seen anyone say yes as fast as that woman. In all honesty, your man Rian has some solid friends. The next phone call I got was from August Duncan, and the bells may not be ringing right now, but I’m telling you, he is one hell of an ace to have in your pocket. I have been struggling to get the upper hand in this investigation for years, and I wouldn’t have been able to pull it off if it wasn’t for their involvement.”

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me all of that?”

Sullivan shrugs his shoulders. “I honestly don’t know. I…I’m learning how to do this shit okay? I don’t…I fucking hate that you make me say this, you colossal dick, but I care about you. You might not believe me now, or ever, but I… you’re my friend. Okay? There! I regret not trusting you more. I regret being dishonest and manipulating you. But this is who I am – I keep secrets, I make deals, I plan, I scheme. It’s my job, and I’m afraid I’ve let it become me. But I care about you, pretty boy, even if you call yourself lame shit, like Tyger.”

That earns him a punch on the shoulder, but he’s grinning, perfectly pleased to have had the last word.

* * *

They endtheir journey in a private office building, on an empty floor that looks more or less under construction. Only a handful of offices are illuminated by fluorescent light. Some don’t even have doors or carpeting. Sullivan’s base of operations looks hastily put together, something that seems to be typical of his friend – he works for the state, but even that fact can’t force him to look like a bureaucrat. To say his methods are unconventional is the understatement of the century.

The men and women working there pause their conversations as they enter the space. The weight of so many sets of eyes on him is making his stomach churn. He has known this whole time that Sullivan isn’t someone to be underestimated, but he is yet to figure out the full scope of his operation. For so many years Harris Sebastian Kelly has seemed utterly unreachable and beyond justice. Looking at the men and women feverishly building a case against this monster is overwhelming. For the first time in months, Tayida can truly believe they have a chance.

Sullivan wastes no time with introductions as he weaves past him, ending the silence. “Man of the hour, our top witness, and my best buddy, Ty. Ty, this is my team of shit shovelers.”

Ty bobs his head, giving the group a small two-finger wave as he follows Sullivan to a large conference room.

Sullivan immediately makes himself comfortable at the long table next to Christopher Phan. Christopher looks up to meet Ty’s eyes and winks. Then he not so discreetly shoves a dossier type of folder in front of Sullivan, who gives it a quick glance, rolls his eyes, and tucks it away somewhere in the back of his pants under his shirt, where apparently all his secrets are stashed.

“Was that so fucking hard now, Phan?” Sullivan mutters, leaning way too close to Christopher, who is organizing the rest of his paperwork on the table.

Ty can confidently tell that boundaries and personal space truly mean nothing to Sullivan. He is often found closer than necessary on any occasion. Tayida chuckles at their hilarious interaction.

He’s not getting any preferential treatment, that’s for sure. Even Phan gets the up-way-too-close-and-personal attention Sullivan is normally giving Ty, as he is crowding the lawyer’s personal space grinning in his face and smacking his arm excitedly.

The lawyer swats him away like he is some obnoxious offending smelly sock.

“Shut up, you unprofessional prick. This Ricky-boy better really bethe one, because I am not doinga deep diveever again.” He takes his glasses off, rubs the bridge of his nose, where they have left a reddish print, and gives him a pointed look. “You really know how to pick’em, don’t ya?”

Ty shakes his head at the hilarious exchange, chuckling. “Is that Rick Landon’s file?”

Christopher grins at him. “You bet your ass it’s Rick’s file.”

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