Dream Chaser (Dream Team, #2)(118)

“Doing that making a pretty fuckin’ bold move,” Mo pointed out.

“Yeah,” Hawk agreed. “But you can’t deny there’s a finality to it.”

The men nodded because none of them could deny it.

“I want bugs in Lynn Crowley’s house, and I want eyes on it,” Hawk ordered.

In other words, Ryn was safe, Cisco in the clear, but the team wasn’t giving up.

That didn’t sit great with Boone.

“On it,” Mag said.

“You don’t think Lynn Crowley is working for them,” Axl put in, doubt in his voice.

“I think she’s scared as fuck and under their thumb,” Hawk told him.

“Hang on with this,” Boone cut in, feeling some weight that his boys were doing this partly on their time, partly on Hawk’s dime, and if the bad guys could be believed, Ryn was safe. “We’re not pulling up stakes?”

Hawk locked eyes with him.

“I got two men who mean a lot to me who’ve spent their entire careers dealing with some seedy shit for the betterment of society. And this kind of thing muddies anyone holding a badge. But more, it’d crawl deep into my gut I knew there was a possibility that every day I went to work next to a piece of shit. Slim has dealt with the dregs, he knows how low humanity can go, he lived with it undercover. He’s keeping his shit on this. But it’s torturing Mitch. And I want it stopped.”

Boone got that.

Totally.

He lifted his chin.

“I want you to establish a connection with Cisco,” Hawk continued. “I’ll give you a safe phone. I doubt this is done for him. He’s not going to sigh with relief, get back to business and ignore that they targeted him. And we can’t control him. We might have the same goal, but we’d be working it at cross purposes. We need to see if he’s in to work together. If he is, he could be an asset.”

Boone did not question this.

They’d worked with far worse.

Hawk dismissed them, and Boone left with a safe phone.

He looked up the number in his own cell, put it in the safe one, and called Cisco on his way home.

“Let me guess, you had an interesting night,” Cisco said by way of answer.

“Take it the word’s out.”

“You take it right. News crews and everything, my man. Cop on cop murder suicide? Big shit.”

“So you’re in the clear,” Boone told him.

“Say what?” Cisco asked.

“Message sent, you were framed. Suicide note was a very long confession about Crowley, Morton and what happened to Ryn.”

“Well…shit,” Cisco said slowly.

“And from here, Hawk wants to work together.”

“Well, shit,” Cisco repeated, this time with humor.

“We’re not feelin’ real amused by any of this, Cisco,” Boone told him.

All humor left his voice when he asked, “You think I am?”

“I think shit needs to get done and the best way of doing it is not chewing on opposite ends and hoping we meet at the middle.”

Cisco took his time replying.

Then he said, “Obviously, I have some things to sort out.”

Obviously.

“Then we’ll have a sit-down,” Cisco finished.

“Obliged,” Boone replied. “And last thing, consider whatever debt you think you still owe paid to Ryn.”

It had not been lost on him Cisco’s note mentioned “partial” payment.

“She okay?” Cisco asked.

“She’ll be a lot better when I share my news when I get home tonight.”

“Living together,” Cisco mumbled. “That was fast.”

Not officially.

But the new shine of meeting someone you connected with who made you laugh and made you feel deep and was a great fuck was not wearing off.

And Boone knew it never would.

Considering their volatile start, he still thought they should have their own space to retire to their corners if they had the kind of situation that they needed to do it.

But in a few months, yeah.

He’d make moves to make it official.

A few months after that, he’d make more moves to make it very official.

“Take care of her, Sadler,” Cisco demanded.

“Like you have to tell me that,” Boone replied. “We’re done. Chat soon.”

And then he hung up.

The rest of his drive home wasn’t long, but he did it thinking a little about Kevin Bogart, who had been married twice, divorced twice, and had three kids, two with the first, one with the last, none of them who lived with him.

But Lance Mueller had been married for eighteen years, that appeared to be going strong (until that night), and had two kids, both in high school.

Now they had a dad who was a dirty cop, but he probably didn’t take freebies from prostitutes, and even if Hawk’s crew cleared up this mess, Mueller’s wife and kids would probably live the rest of their lives thinking that he not only did that, but he also killed his partner.

And this got Boone to wondering what the other soldiers in that crew were going to think of all of this.

You get out of hand, you’re not only dead, but your memory is tainted in ugly ways, both publicly, and worse, to those you love.