Rogue Alliance

THIRTY-EIGHT



Shyla spotted Shawn sitting at the top of her stairs as she parked the Range Rover in its designated spot. Sometimes, she really wished that no one knew where the hell she lived. People had a bad habit of showing up at her place unannounced, Shawn and Carmen being the worst offenders.

The thought of Carmen reminded her that she had agreed to have dinner at her house at the end of the week. Ever since she met her mother and had given the not-so-subtle warning about the consequences of striking her daughter, the mother had made it clear that she wanted no trouble and wanted to make friends. Although she wasn’t keen on the idea of making a social call, she was a proponent for making Carmen’s home life a bit healthier. If that meant making friends with her mother, then so be it.

Setting the parking brake, she glanced toward Shawn and had a fleeting thought of backing right back out of the space and avoiding him altogether. But she knew he was both concerned and pushy, which meant he wouldn’t give up so easily.

As she crossed the lot, she tried to evaluate his mood. He was sitting on the top stair, both elbows comfortably rested on his knees, and a small, brown paper bag dangling from his hands. Instead of his typical stern expression, he seemed relaxed.

She paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked up.

“What’s up, Shawn?” she called, “I’m guessing you’ve heard the news?”

“You mean the whole you threw your career out the window thing? Yeah, I caught wind of that.”

“And you’re here to talk some sense into me?”

“Why would I waste my breath? Trying to tell you anything is like ramming your head against a wall, and a really thick one at that.”

He reached into the paper bag and pulled out a bottle of 1800 Select Silver tequila.

“I was thinking more along the lines of having a drink and picking your brain about what exactly your plan is. Maybe I can get in on the action.”

She eyeballed the bottle.

“I prefer Patron. But I guess I can settle for mid-shelf quality. Come on up.”

Tossing her keys on the counter she marched to the kitchen for tumblers.

“I hope you don’t think that just because I’m off the case that we’re going to cross those boundaries we just set. I still have my eye set on Victor and you…well you’re still an employee of the Redding Police department.”

Grabbing the glasses she held out, Shawn filled them generously. He passed hers over then held his up.

“Cheers,” he said.

“What exactly are we toasting? I’m black and blue and unemployed. What’s to celebrate?”

He smiled and for a second she thought he looked very attractive in a rangy kind of way.

“Here’s to going rogue.”

Shyla almost choked on her drink. It burned her sinuses as she tried not to spit it out. It was the first time in days she’d actually laughed.

“Rogue, huh? Yeah, I guess so. I’m no longer following the system or part of the bureaucracy,” she said before the humor stepped aside for thoughtful consideration of where she was at and where she had been, “but then again, maybe I’ve always been that way. Maybe trying to adhere to policy and procedure was going against the grain of who I really am. Maybe I’ve just been fooling myself into thinking I was a good detective. I mean, I am after all the girl who, instead of just telling someone about what her dad was doing, she decided to stab him with the kitchen steak knife.”

Shawn sat his drink down and rested his hands on her shoulders.

“You are a good detective,” he said, “and you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

He was too close. The conversation was too intimate. She brushed his hands away and stepped back.

“So what’s your angle here?” she asked, “you said maybe you could get in on the action. What exactly did you mean by that?”

Shrugging, he took a seat at her small dining room table.

“Well, if you plan on sticking around with the intention of being a permanent thorn in Victor’s side, I imagine that you could use someone on the inside to help you out. Jason and I are still on the case. I got no problem sharing intel with you, as long as you share with us.

“I don’t know what your plan is exactly, but I imagine you’re going to make the best of not having to follow certain protocols and guidelines that the rest of us do. You might actually get further that way. But in the end, you won’t get too far with whatever evidence you gather if it’s not acquired by procedure and you know that. It will be inadmissible in court, worthless. You’re going to need me to help you.”

“And you want to help because…?’

“Hey, you aren’t the only one who’s invested time and energy on this bastard. I want to nail him almost as bad as you do, especially after what he did to you. We’re protective of our own. Besides nothing drives me more crazy than someone like Victor who thinks that he’s above the system, an exception to the rule. It would give me great satisfaction to put him away for a very long time.”

Shyla could appreciate everything that Shawn was saying and knew he was speaking his truth. What she was concerned about was her suspicion that Shawn had other reasons to want to help her. However, he was right. She was going to need someone from the inside to ensure anything she dug up on Victor would be processed within the parameters of the law.

“Well, I can’t really claim to have a plan per se,” she said, “but I have every intention of using my training to get to the core of his business transactions. I want to start with some of these connections that we’ve been able to confirm over this past few weeks. If we start digging into their backgrounds and watching their behaviors, I’m betting we can get to Victor through them. It’s a bit indirect, but if we slowly establish who exactly is all under him and find a way to track where the shipments are coming from, we could possibly do a bust that would take out most of his henchmen.”

“It’s a good plan. Take out his men, confiscate his wares, and generally cause his business some real trouble. He’d have to scurry fast to save his ass and regroup. It could even lead to some hasty decisions on his part. I like it. I’m in.”

She chuckled and enjoyed the way the alcohol was melting away the tensions from the day. She basked in its familiar warmth and solace.

“Don’t get too hasty, now, Shawn. It’s going to take some time. I’ll obviously need to make a few trips south. I want to talk with Ricardo and do some digging on Cougar, the guy Victor met with last time we were in San Francisco. I refuse to allow that trip to be a complete waste of time.”

Shawn furrowed his brow.

“What about Brennan?” he asked, “I really think we need to get that guy’s number. He’s too much of an enigma. It bugs me. Was there anything that came up during the time you spent with either him or Victor?”

Shyla hesitated. The urge to protect Brennan was still confusing and unsettling, but she had no intention to share what she knew. Reasoning that it was best to keep his secrets in order to maintain the possibility of still using him to get to Victor, she shook her head.

“No, but leave that me. I’ve got a few ideas. You just focus on Champlain.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Why do you think he stepped in and stopped Victor from killing you that night?” Shawn asked.

Shyla searched his eyes. He was watching her very carefully, looking for the answer beyond her words.

“What he reasoned with Victor is that killing me would be the beginning of the end. There would be nothing that would keep him out of jail for life if he killed a cop. That’s it. He wasn’t caught up in the mania, like Victor was. He was logical and calm.”

“He seemed very concerned about you that night when he brought you home,” Shawn said, looking skeptical, “I get the feeling that he’s got feelings for you.”

Memories of the kiss she and Brennan had shared were seared into her brain. Shyla averted her gaze and took a deep slug of her drink.

“I don’t think so. I think his loyalty to Victor runs deep and nothing is going to change that. It’s Victor whom he’s protecting at all costs. It will be that dedication, that cause, which will destroy them both.”

Suddenly tired, she wanted to be alone. Shawn’s perceptive read of Brennan made her uneasy. She didn’t want him to read anything in regards to her emotions toward the forever elusive Brennan. They were for her to sort out, no one else.

She walked to the kitchen sink and rinsed out her glass.

“Well, Shawn, I appreciate the drink. I will definitely keep in mind everything that you’ve said tonight. I’ll sleep on it and give you a call.”

Taking the hint, he capped the tequila.

“I’ll leave this with you, a little present for the epic day you’ve had. You did a good job this morning. I know it must have been tough to face him again.”

He opened the front door.

“Let me know when you’ve decided to go back to LA,” he said.

“Sure. No problem. Goodnight, Shawn.”