"What?” Wolfe asked in the still air of the parking garage, stunned on multiple levels. “Emmett’s dead?”

For half a second Wolfe though about Emmett, and imagined him dead, lying in a pool of his own blood somewhere. He wondered if Rhett had done it.

But he glanced over at the detective. The two of them were alone, and Rhett’s face shown with righteous indignation. Not a hint of the smugness he would have shown if he was pinning something on Wolfe.

And he wasn’t one of the corrupt cops that Emmett had fingered as working with Worldwide Decurion.

Rhett continued. “Yeah, Emmett was murdered by a Peter Brown—better known by his street name of ‘Piper’ for some inane reason. Piper was found with a fifty thousand in cash, and he claims you paid him to do in Emmett, and provided the thug with the location of the old detective. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Wolfe gave a single dark laugh. Piper? That stupid street-level enforcer has somehow caused me no end of problems, despite a half-ass attitude about work, no deck, and not a lot of skills. I should have finished him off in the train yard.

“Laughing?” Rhett asked. “That’s all you have to say? Why’d you do it, Wolfe? Did Emmett know about you and your bloody past?”

Rhett stalked closer, his hands remaining by his gun and chest respectively.

Wolfe, still standing perfectly still, shook his head. “Emmett had plenty of information on bad people—including corrupt cops. Information I have in a box at home, now. But Emmett didn’t know a damn thing about me, and whatever past you think I have. He was helping a new detective get his hours, and I was helping him catch some bad guys—including bad guys protected by the system. That’s it.”

“You expect me to believe you had nothing to do with this? I know you’re not who you say you are, and if you’re who I think, you have a truly bloody history.”

Wolfe laughed, long and rich, as the full absurdity of the situation hit him. “So you believe that Piper, who Emmett and I found at the scene of a mass human trafficking case, is telling the truth when he says that the guy that got him arrested after shooting him was definitely also the one that paid him to kill the other guy that also, let me think, arrested him. Yeah, Piper definitely had no motive to take care of this himself, and no motive at all to finger me. Pure chance he names me. Any other evidence?”

Rhett frowned, his brow furrowed. “I won’t deny it’s a bit convenient, but given everything he told me, and who you likely are, I have more than enough to take you in. In a court at trial, the evidence is beyond a reasonable doubt, and this probably won’t hold up. But for me to detain you and investigate and see if there’s anything else that will hold up, the evidence needed is only that of reasonable suspicion. Given that Piper is probably your old gang buddy, I think his accusation qualifies.”

“Great,” Wolfe said.

There was another pause in which neither moved. Wolfe was a bit surprised—normally when cops wanted to take someone in, they just did it.

“Where was he?” Wolfe asked. “When he was found, I mean.”

“Piper?”

“No, Emmett.”

Rhett frowned, and his hands dropped a tiny bit from his gun and chest.

“He was found in a dirty hotel room he had rented less than an hour before, tied to a chair and shot.”

Wolfe sighed. “So what now?”

“Now I put you in handcuffs and we go for a ride. I’m trying to do it here so it doesn’t mess up Shel. I think she can still have a great career, if we distance her from any association to you.”

Wolfe was deeply, deeply frustrated. He wanted to beat the shit out of Rhett and put a stop to this.

On the one hand, if who Wolfe actually was came out formally to the cops, he might have a lot to answer for, and more importantly… Damian and his crew, or Worldwide Decurion, might find a way to shank him in jail. Wouldn’t even be that hard. But Wolfe would have a chance to fight back.

But on the other hand, Wolfe knew that beating up Rhett, or killing him, would make Wolfe a permanent criminal—one that would be arrested by any cop that saw him. Plus, Wolfe would almost certainly be cleared for Emmett’s murder—Piper was the worst person to finger him, and there would be absolutely no evidence to link him. Wolfe remembered enough of his father to know he would have laughed about a case like this.

And, last and final, he had told Shel he would try to be a good guy.

“Let’s get this over with,” Wolfe said.

Rhett tensed and stepped back, half-drawing his gun.

Wolfe smiled to see how much the huge man, obviously a bruiser, still considered Wolfe a threat. But he turned around and placed his hands behind his back.

Rhett stepped up and pulled on Wolfe’s arm. Wolfe snarled.

“Sorry,” Rhett said. “Don’t make a scene though, for Shel’s sake if nothing else.”

“Am I cooperating, or am I cooperating?” Wolfe asked.

“Surprisingly, you’re cooperating, which reflects well on you,” Rhett said as he snapped handcuffs onto Wolfe’s wrists. Quite loosely, which surprised Wolfe. Maybe Rhett wasn’t as sure Wolfe was a bad guy as he was letting on.

Rhett straightened, putting a key to the handcuffs in his back pocket. “I have a transport team nearby, to take you in. You’ll get a fair hearing.”

“Hurray,” Wolfe sardonically said, wishing he wasn’t cuffed so he could do the most sarcastic jazz hands ever.

Rhett gripped Wolfe’s upper arm and slowly pushed him out toward the main, open portion of the parking garage.

“A word of advice. Don’t make up any bullshit about dirty cops. The judges prefer honesty, and anything you say will come out.”

“Me and judges have a lot in common, then.”

“Don’t start,” Rhett said, his voice irritated. “You’ve already said too much.”

“Emmett wanted to catch his kid’s killers. He gave me all the evidence—dates, times, locations, contacts, payments, even pictures—of the cops working with the traffickers. Problem was, he could never find out who was really behind it all. I still haven’t, not a hundred percent, although I have a damn good idea. But Emmett said I should turn it all over if he died. I’m guessing there is going to be a shitstorm in Noimoire when it all goes out.”

Rhett stopped. “You have evidence of dirty cops? Hard evidence?”

“Yeah, it’s all in a box that Emmett kept in his office—which was ransacked by someone, I might add. But I got there first, and now the box is in my house.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Wolfe glanced back over his shoulder. “Want to make a detour on the way to the slammer, lieutenant?”

He loaded the last word with as much sarcasm as possible.

“It doesn’t really matter. Either we get it now, or Shel will turn it over tomorrow when she hears what happens. I’m sure you’re very excited about that.”

“Shel shouldn’t openly involve herself in this,” Rhett repeated.

“So you’ve said,” Wolfe muttered. “We’ll stop by then?”

“Of course not. I know that Wolfe, who I think you are, was once a deadly killer with outcomes far above his supposed capabilities. So I’m not going to give you a chance to escape and try something. I’ll go get it later tonight with Shel, and I’ll turn it in.”

Wolfe felt a twinge of rage at the statement, as if Rhett being with Shel in their house was natural, but he pushed it down. She’s never betrayed you.

“Is that what this is about? Being with Shel?” Wolfe asked, trying to control his rising rage.

“I would never, ever, arrest someone for personal gain. Not ever,” Rhett said, his voice angry.

A large police van drove into the parking garage and pulled up to Wolfe and Rhett. Both stiffened at the same time, and Wolfe knew Rhett was seeing the same thing that Wolfe was—the van had Noimoire police department on its side—not Joliet.

The passenger door opened and a huge man stepped out. Wolfe was six two and muscled, and Rhett was about the same. But neither held a candle to the man that squeezed his way out of the front door.

If someone had told Wolfe this man was born of a woman that had figured out how to mate with an ogre card, he wouldn’t have been surprised. The man looked like he ate steroids for lunch rather than taking them per se. He was a good two inches taller than Wolfe, and must have weighed nearly three hundred pounds, the vast majority of it bulging muscle—his biceps were beyond cut, and thicker around than most people’s thighs. Sweat glistened on his bald head, off-setting his thick veins, probably from the heat of wearing a huge tactical vest over his police uniform.

“Deputy Chief Charleston,” Rhett said, surprised. “How did you even…?”

Deputy Chief Charleston was one of the people on the dirty cops list…

“Thompson called me,” Charleston said, pulling an assault rifle out from the car and then

turning back again and walking over to Wolfe. “No need for you to do anything else, lieutenant, we’ll take it from here.”

As if in time to his words, the back of the van opened and another eight men leapt out and came over, all holding guns on Wolfe.

Rhett blinked. “Isn’t this a bit much?”

Charleston glanced around. “This man is a dangerous criminal, wanted for conspiracy for murder. He was once an enforcer for the Grimm mob family. Aren’t you doing this with a bit too little?”

“I had a team waiting, but William—or Wolfe—was reasonable.”

“Well, either way, I’m head of the task force investigating the situation in Noimoire. I’ll take it from here.”

“Of course,” Rhett said, stepping back.

Charleston came over and grabbed Wolfe by the lower arm, wrenching him toward the giant deputy chief. Wolfe growled.

They have no intention of taking me in. I could cause far too many problems for them. I’m not going to make it to jail.

Wolfe wasn’t afraid, he told himself. But he was becoming very concerned. In jail he could handle. Handcuffed with ten armed men around him would be… a stretch.

Wolfe stared at the police chief, trying to figure a way out of the situation. But without the ability to summon a deck, or even get a gun, Wolfe wasn’t sure what to do.

The police chief must not have liked the way Wolfe was staring at him.

He growled out, “Lowlife like you doesn’t deserve the comfort of our prison system. If it were up to me, you’d have a fast-track right to the electric chair.”

The hypocrisy of the comment almost floored Wolfe, but he didn’t call it out. It wouldn’t do him any good in the moment, and besides—Charleston might actually think he was doing good by getting criminals off the streets, even if the method itself was criminal.

Besides, Wolfe was handcuffed and the other guys were packing all the heat. Now wasn’t the moment.

“There’s one other thing,” Rhett said, obviously not with Wolfe when it came to keeping quiet. “William—Wolfe—mentioned that Emmett had some information regarding dirty cops.”

By all that is Divine, why can’t anyone keep their damn mouths shut?

The air in the parking garage seemed to get three degrees chillier, and all eight of the other officers exchanged glances with at least one of their fellows. Instantly Wolfe knew that they were all in on it, although of course they were if they were all taking him in when he wouldn’t make it.

But it solidified for Wolfe that Rhett wasn’t in on it, even though Wolfe had already been pretty sure. None of the other officers so much as glanced at him afterward.

Wolfe was sure Rhett should never have admitted he knew about the dirty cops. If they were willing to kill Emmett to keep their secret, they would most likely be willing to kill Rhett, too.

“Is this true?” Chief Charleston asked. “You tried to disparage my fine fellow brothers and sisters in blue?”

Wolfe had no idea what to say, so he just grit his teeth and remained silent.

Without warning, without any hint in eyes or body, Deputy Chief Charleston slammed his fist into Wolfe’s undefended stomach. The blow shocked him, and he felt as if things inside him were crushed. His breath exploded from him and he dropped to his knees, then fell forward and hit the cool parking garage floor, the blow to his face a welcome distraction from the agony in his gut.

The single punch had done seven damage, a fourth of his life—no way Charleston didn’t have enhancers of some kind in his deck. Magical steroids, so to speak. Because that kind of damage wasn’t normally humanly possible.

“Charleston!” Rhett barked. “What’re you—”

“He was resisting,” the deputy chief chortled. Some of the men with him laughed as well, but most just kept their guns vaguely pointed in Wolfe, and now Rhett’s, direction.

“No he wasn’t!” Rhett said. “He’s been nothing but cooperative to this point! It’s an abuse of your authority, not to mention generally morally reprehensible, to strike a man in custody!”

Rhett knelt down and placed a hand on Wolfe’s back, then tried to help him to stand. He only got Wolfe to his knees before Wolfe vomited what little food he had eaten, surrounded by a fair amount of blood. Man he did a number on me.

“Leave the filth alone,” Deputy Chief Charleston said. “He’s a criminal with the sheer audacity to say we’re like him. He’s as slimy as they come. Don’t be a chump manipulated by his pathetic attempts for pity.”

That annoyed Wolfe. He hadn’t tried for pity from anyone since he was an adult.

“He says he has proof. Physical proof. And Emmett did work with numerous police departments. I think we should take this seriously.”

Wolfe almost laughed again. Rhett was such a damn boy scout—but he was also the only one in the entire freaking parking garage playing this straight. Wolfe almost liked the guy, but he also couldn’t help but be a little amused at the idiocy wrought by Rhett’s combination of naiveite and sheer bravado.

Charleston looked down at Rhett where he knelt beside Wolfe. “Rhett, you’ve been helpful in this investigation, but I’ll take it from here. I’m handling the case, which occurred in Noimoire, I’ll remind you—my jurisdiction. Just forget you ever met this lowlife scum.”

Rhett stood, tall and proud. “Well, Joliet—where we are now—is my jurisdiction. It’s also where Emmett had his office. You can take Wolfe and question him, but I’m going to investigate his claim. We need to know if someone in our ranks is using their post for personal gain. Especially if it involves human trafficking.”

Charleston didn’t say anything, merely staring balefully at Rhett.

Rhett continued. “To be frank, it also disturbs me how quick you were to manhandle someone in custody. You’re the deputy chief of police for all of Noimoire, for the Divine’s sake. Everyone here looks to you as an example, and you’re setting a terrible one. I have half a mind to report you.”

Wolfe smiled where he knelt on the ground. He’s naïve as fuck, but Rhett has some testicles on him.

Deputy Chief Charleston surprised Wolfe by laughing, his voice suddenly jolly. “You know what Rhett? You’re right. Maybe I’m overworked and taking it out on the little guys. You take this guy over to the Noimoire station, and I’ll speak to Chief Huang on the subject. Maybe we can use some of the internal affairs guys.”

Rhett took a deep breath, calming himself. “Alright. I’ll take him in, and get you the report as soon as possible.”

“Good man.”

Rhett bent down and took Wolfe’s upper arm.

Before Rhett could straighten, and again without warning, Deputy Charleston threw a punch impossibly fast at Rhett’s face, which was at Charleston’s gut level. Rhett turned away, but still took most of the force to his head. He went sprawling, rolling and reaching for gun and deck, but he was rattled and slow.

As Rhett fell, Wolfe saw his opportunity, and he went with the fall, acting as if he had been pulled down with Rhett by the hand on his shoulder. He rolled onto his side, back against Rhett, and took the key from his pocket.

A cop shot Rhett with a taser, and Rhett spasmed. Then three more descended on him, turning the lieutenant over and handcuffing him. They grabbed Wolfe as well, but no one checked his hand.

“Take them to the boathouse,” Charleston said. “Have Caine’s man figure out what they know. Then dispose of them.”

“Even Rhett?” the officer yanking Wolfe to his feet asked.

Poor stupid officer didn’t learn the lesson.

“You want to join him?” Deputy Chief Charleston asked, his voice pure menace.

The officer finally got the clue and shook his head.

“Then shut the fuck up. No one was here, and no one saw Rhett. Write the report that he went rogue on this—that he went to apprehend this piece of shit and never came back.”

Weirdly, the thing that worried Wolfe the most as he was taken away was the possibility that Shel might actually believe he had been responsible for Rhett’s death.