He’d spent a good portion of his time on the street hiding from a couple of cops. Not because they’d take him in to CPS, but because those were the assholes who usually wanted something hot wrapped around their dicks and not pay for it. They were also good for a beating when Forest refused them, and he’d learned that lesson really quickly. Never say no to a cop unless he had a clear shot at running away.
Marshall spent too many years fighting to break Forest of the habit of running. He’d run often, slinking into the underground and falling back into what he’d been doing before Frank found him. It was a familiar life. One he felt comfortable with. And every time someone knocked Forest’s brain loose from his skull, Frank’d been there to pick up the pieces, dragging Forest back to the Sound until he finally just got tired of running.
“Really, not Connor. He’s a white hat. Shit, his mom probably knitted it for him.” Forest snorted, and that set his head off again. “Hell, the only reason I’m shocked he’s out there is because I figured he must be sick of my shit by now. This is like the third time he’s dragged my ass out of the fire. At some point, the guy’s just going to get up and walk away.”
“I don’t think so,” Wyatt disagreed. “From my conversations with him, I get the feeling that he’s not going anywhere, Forest. No matter how hard you push or how many brick walls fall on you. He doesn’t seem the type of man who is going to just let you go.”
Chapter 9
Don’t talk to me about your God
I don’t need your broken bread
Not for my soul
Not for my heart
Not for my countless sins
You want to give me something?
Something to save my wicked soul?
Give me the same as you’ve got
Loving who I want, and leaving me alone.
—Freedom Torn
“SOME STUFF isn’t any of your business, Kiki,” Connor responded. “Do I want to find out who’s fucking with Forest’s life? Yeah. Do I think the shootings and this van are connected? How can they not be?”
“Random fuckery is never random,” she agreed with a nod. “They’ve got to be connected. I just don’t know how, and the only common denominator I’ve got between your raid and my cases is Forest Ackerman.”
“The property?” Connor mused. “But it’s not like anyone’s going to try to drive him out. It’s not like it’s on the bay. It’s Chinatown.”
“Chinatown’s stepping up its game there, Con,” Kiki replied. “All of the old-world flavor but with Wi-Fi and boba shops. Your boy Forest is sitting on a big chunk of property, and most of it is a parking lot where someone left his father’s shot-up body, then blew up the man’s RV. You don’t think that could be a big Get-The-Fuck-Out sticky note? It could be they didn’t know Marshall had a son, or they figured Ackerman could be forced out easily enough.”
“He hasn’t gotten anyone offering to buy the place.” He made a face, remembering they’d never really talked about the corner lot. “Shit, it’d be a way to drive the price down, but Keeks, it’s Chinatown, not Rock Ridge. The drugs, yeah. I can see that, but who the hell would kill a guy for a half block of property?”
“That’s why I get paid the big bucks—to dig this shit out while you break down doors and take names.” She studied her brother for a moment, and Connor definitely saw a bit of their mother in her assessing stare. “I just feel like I’m not getting the whole story out of you, and that pisses me off, Con. If it’s anything about the case—”
“It’s not about the case,” he promised. “And the biggest problem is that you’re my little sister, the same brat who spent most of her life digging up shit on me so she could tattle to our parents. It’s hard for you to break a lifetime habit of sticking your nose into my business.”
“Promise me you’ll tell me if you find out something about the case,” Kiki pressed. “And that you’re not going to go break someone’s head in because they’ve messed with your friend.”
“I can give you the first, Keeks,” Connor rumbled. “But the second? I don’t think that’s a promise I can keep.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” she conceded.
“Mr. Morgan?” The bespectacled, balding doctor barreled out through the ward doors, his coat flapping behind him. “Sorry, Lieutenant, isn’t it? I’m Doctor Wyatt.”
“Morgan’s fine,” Connor replied softly. “Forest? How is he?”
“He’s awake and doing well. We’re just going to do some blood work to rule out some things, and then he’ll be set up in a room.” The man flipped through a sheet of notes on his pad. “You’ll need to have yourself named his domestic partner on his paperwork, but just so you know, we’re keeping him overnight just as a precaution. He’s got a linear skull fracture, nothing overly serious, but still, a fracture is a fracture. He’s young and strong, so he’ll heal up in a couple of days.”