Hold On

And Carlito Gutierrez was a scary guy. Unless you had a solid deal with the Feds or a beef with him and were capable of laughing in the face of death like Ryker, you didn’t give him up.

“Right now, Gutierrez is scrambling,” Faria carried on. “We’re coordinating our men to make arrests before that scrambling takes anyone to Mexico. In the meantime, we need to get Mr. Cutler into protective custody. This is something that’s being arranged as we speak. And when the arrests are made, something we hope will happen this afternoon, we’ll turn over what we know about who may have killed Wendy Derian.”

“As you can see, we’re up to our necks in it. Lots of shit to do and not a lot of time to do it. So this, right here, is a courtesy,” Harleman added, pointing to the floor to indicate the meet. “With that, we’re askin’ you to return it and curtail your investigation until this afternoon.”

“A courtesy,” Mike muttered irritably.

Garrett was irritated too.

However, he, like Mike, was aware that the RICO case took precedence and there was no way in hell their cap would let them push the homicide at this juncture. But it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t do it anyway. Especially not when their suspects would be hand delivered within hours.

So he didn’t focus on that.

He looked to Tanner and asked, “How is any of this funny?”

“None of that is,” Tanner replied.

“So what’s funny?” Garrett asked.

“Bro, serious as shit, you were hung up on that ex-twat of yours and takin’ way too long.”

This came from Ryker, and it was so out of left field considering what was being discussed, Garrett braced.

“Come again?” he asked Ryker, who was looking up at him from his chair, mouth wiped clean but powdered sugar still all down his front.

“It was drivin’ Lissa crazy,” Ryker said in answer, an answer that wasn’t an answer.

“Explain, Ryker,” Garrett clipped.

“Two birds.” He tipped his head to Cutler. “One stone.”

“Come…” Garrett bent slightly toward Ryker. “Again?”

“Right, son, Cher’s so into you, the minute you hit that bar, it was lit up in neon, right there in front of your face for everyone to read,” Ryker declared.

Garrett’s body got tight.

“Everyone but you,” Ryker carried on. “You were so hung up on your ex, completely fuckin’ blind. Finally, that woman tags another guy with her ball and chain, you pull your head outta your ass long enough to tap Cher’s. Problem is, after, you two start fuckin’ shit up. Lissa got worried. So when Cher called me and she heard shit comin’ down the way from someone I got on a string…”

He shrugged, threw out a hand, and said no more.

Garrett clenched his teeth.

Tanner urged helpfully, “Think the man needs more, Ryker.”

“Fuck, gotta spell it out? Okay,” Ryker muttered impatiently.

He straightened in his chair and looked back up at Garrett.

“I made a big deal of it, but it wasn’t a big deal.” He tossed a beefy mitt Cutler’s way. “He’s an assclown and he was part of Carlito’s operation before and after he turned rat. But that didn’t have shit to do with shit. I made a big deal of it, freakin Cher out, thinkin’ once you got wind of it, you’d make a big deal of it and swoop in to the rescue. Don’t know what the fuck happened with that ’cause it took you a long time to get wind of it. Doesn’t matter. I’ll point out now I wasn’t wrong, seein’ as shit went down and now she and her kid are livin’ with you. This means both your heads are outta your asses and my job is done.”

Garrett stared at Ryker.

“Lissa’s over the moon, which translates to more blowjobs for her old man, and seein’ as my baby’s got unqualified talent in that arena, I’m thinkin’ this matchmaking shit is gonna be my new gig,” Ryker finished.

“You lied to Cher in order to freak her out, which you hoped in turn would tweak me so I’d protect her and Ethan?” Garrett said low.