Devil's Due. Рейчел Кейн
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for him that he can’t do for himself?”
“Maintain the network,” Borden said. “Deliver his messages when he needs it. Attend to the money and the business.”
Jazz had turned away from McCarthy, and now she was staring at Borden. “Did you know they’d put him in jail?” she asked. Whatever logical path Jazz had followed inside her head, there seemed to be no doubt in her now that McCarthy was telling the truth.
“No,” Borden said. He sounded suddenly weary. “I’d have told you.”
“We can talk about that later,” Lucia said, after a few seconds of painful silence. “McCarthy. The money you were taking, the payoffs. Were they payments from the Cross Society to you?”
He didn’t answer. Maybe that was answer enough.
“What were you, stupid?” Jazz yelled. “Didn’t you see how easily they could turn you? How deep they had their claws in you?”
“Not until I killed that guy,” McCarthy said. “And then it was too late. Simms already had me. The payments used to come through a bank, then they came through some friend of his, then they started making the drops at the Velvet. Then pretty soon it was handovers from Big Sal and his crew, and there was no point in fighting it anymore.”
“You could have walked away.”
He looked grim. “I tried.”
“Oh, so taking that last payoff on camera, that was, what—for the widows and orphans fund?” Jazz demanded. “Don’t bullshit me, Ben. Don’t you dare.”
He shook his head tiredly. “No point in doing that, either,” he said. “Look, you believe me or not. This is why I never even tried to explain any of it to you. How do you think this would have gone before you’d seen how it works for yourself?”
She wasn’t done yet, Lucia saw. “So what were they paying you to do, Ben? Compromise evidence? Get cases thrown out?”
“Fuck! Come on, Jazz! You can’t believe—”
“I don’t believe!”
“I wouldn’t do that. I was a cop!”
“Yeah? You thought about letting me die, didn’t you?”
He swallowed, and some of the anger drained out of his expression. “No. I just thought—look, I didn’t know they were talking about killing you.”
“So it was okay if they just messed me up a little? Crippled me? Where’s the line, Ben? It’s okay for them to put a scare into me, not to touch me? Or okay to throw me a beating, so long as it doesn’t scar?”
They settled into mutual glaring, jaws tight, teeth set. Lucia let a few seconds of silence go by, and then cleared her throat. “If I may continue,” she said carefully. “Evidently, the Cross Society decided you weren’t of use to them any longer. Was that because you moved to save Jazz when you did?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m out. I’m not taking orders from those creepy sons of bitches anymore, and neither should you. Either of you.” McCarthy turned a glare toward Borden, who was slumped against the wall by the broad windows. “And you should get rid of him. You’re sleeping with the enemy, Jazz. Watch what you say around him.”
“Hey!” Borden said sharply, and straightened up. “Watch your mouth.”
“Why? You’re not sleeping with my partner?” McCarthy showed teeth. “Or do you just not want to admit to it? Ashamed?”
Borden’s eyes turned dark and cold. “I mean it, man. Shut up.”
“Jazz wants me to shut up, she can say something about it.”
Jazz didn’t seem inclined to say much about it either way, Lucia noticed. Her mouth was closed, her jawline tight. Her hands were fisted on her thighs, knuckles white.
Borden towered over McCarthy when McCarthy walked toward him, but it seemed obvious to Lucia that it wouldn’t matter. McCarthy was the dangerous one here. Borden was tall and rangy and could probably hold his own in most situations, but McCarthy had done two years of hard time, and he’d gone in hard to start with.
And Lucia didn’t like the flat look in his eyes.
“Gentlemen,” she said, her voice pitched low and calm. Standing up with deliberate grace, she moved to form the third point of a triangle—not between them, but pulling their focus away from each other. Jazz, still seated behind her, would have done it differently; she would have waded in, shoving and shouting. That would work, but it would take time to sort out.
This worked instantly.
McCarthy stepped back. “Sorry,” he said. “You’re right. Your house. You want to have amoral bastards in it, that’s not my business.”
“Borden stays,” Lucia said. “He’s proved himself to us. You haven’t, Ben.”
“Hey, wait a second!” Jazz snapped.
“Jazz, shut up.” Lucia gave her voice an edge of steel.
Jazz pressed her lips together, eyes blazing.
“I’m talking to you, Ben,” Lucia continued. “The three of us, we’ve been through a lot together. You’re new to this agency. You don’t just walk in here and throw doubt on Borden, do you understand? And you don’t try to pull me and Jazz apart by playing on old loyalties. If you do, you can walk out the door and find your own way.”
Jazz badly wanted to speak, but somehow she controlled herself; Lucia watched the battle on her face. The outcome was a lowering of her blond head, deep breaths and silence.
Lucia transferred her attention back to Ben.
“I’m not working for the Cross Society again,” he said. “Get that straight right now.”
“Fine. If you want to work for us, you do straight-up work,” she agreed. “Straightforward investigation. You don’t deal with Cross at all.”
He thrust a thumb over his shoulder toward Borden. “Do I have to deal with him?”
“You have to deal with me if you disrespect him,” she said. “Are we clear?”
He nodded—one sharp movement, nothing more. After a few seconds, he said, “Thanks for the suit.”
He meant it to be embarrassing, as if he’d conned her out of something. She gave him a cool smile. “You’re representing us now. Can’t have you looking like a lowlife ex-con.”
Borden glanced from one to the other. “Did I miss something? You hired him?”
“Over breakfast,” Lucia said. “Jazz? Will that be a problem?”
Jazz didn’t answer. She was watching McCarthy, waiting for something.
He walked over to her, took her fists in his hands and slowly smoothed her fingers out. He wasn’t looking at her face. Borden had stiffened at the touch, Lucia noticed in her peripheral vision.
“Jazz,” Ben said quietly. “I couldn’t tell you any of it. Don’t you think that was hell for me? I was almost glad they set me up. At least then I didn’t have to face you every morning and lie to you. Look, I know you can’t forgive me for it, but—”
“I forgave you a long time ago,” she said. “I forgave you when there wasn’t a reason to do it. That’s why I’m angry.”
“Ah,” he said, and nodded. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. If you work here, I’m your boss. You think I won’t make you pay?”
He smiled. It was one of those warm, sweet smiles that had such devastating effect, and Lucia saw it had the same impact on Jazz that it did on her. “I’m counting on it. I owe you.”