The Untouchables (28 page)

Mel froze, looking up at me. “Not unless she’s more afraid of what will happen if she didn’t talk. Her visa, Liam. For whatever reason she needs a visa and she needs it now.”

“Relax.” I kissed her forehead. “I will bring you up to speed after it’s dealt with.”

“Liam…”

“Mel, no.”

The last thing I needed was her stressing out over this. It wasn’t worth it. Thankfully, before she could call me a sexist asshole, Adriana walked in with a tray of her food.

“Feed her, I’ll be back soon,” I said, already dialing as I walked towards the door.

“I’m not a dog, you chauvinistic asshole, and we aren’t done here. Who…”

Closing the door, I yelled a quick, “I love you too!”

Stepping into the hall, I was met with a bunch of nosy nurses all staring at the door. “What are you all looking at? Don’t you people have lives to save or something?”

They looked away immediately, pretending to be otherwise occupied.

“Declan, this is my ninth call to you. You better be dead or dying somewhere.” This family was starting to tick me the fuck off.

“Liam, is Mel alright?” My mother glided on over to me with an array of bright sunflowers in one hand and Olivia standing by the other. She held her head high and rolled her manicured hand over those stupid fucking pearls she always wore.

I didn’t bother answering my mother. Instead, I snatched Olivia’s arm and pulled.

“What the hell are you doing? Let go of me this instant!” she screamed like the hideous banshee she was.

Pushing her into the stairwell, I grasped on to her neck, forcing her against the wall. “Do you know what I get to do today? I get to clean up your shit. Do I look like a shit cleaning type of person?”

“I…can’t…breathe…” she gasped, clawing at my hands so harshly her fake nails popped off.

“If you can’t breathe, you can’t speak. I’m seconds away from popping your ugly head off of your shoulders—”

“Get the fuck off my wife!” Neal pulled me back, his fist quickly colliding with my jaw.

Falling to the ground, Olivia gasped for air, her hands around her throat, as Neal hovered over her.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he shouted.

Brushing the side of my lip, I stared at the red stain on my sleeve. I could feel the sadistic smile tugging on my lips as I stared at my brother.

“This is your final warning, Neal. Control your wife or I swear to God I will kill her.”

“I should control my wife? How about not letting your wife fucking control you? Everything is about her! What has she done? Did she not agree with Mel’s shoes?”

“The drama between my wife and yours does not concern me. You of all people should know Mel does not need me to fight those battles for her.” I again wiped my bruised lip, staring at the jackass in front of me. “However, the moment your sniveling breallóg of a wife fired the maids in my house without speaking to me or fully explaining to them what would happen if they spoke to the police, your wife became my enemy.”

He froze as if he was encased in ice.

“I didn’t think any of them would…” she said weakly.

“You didn’t think!” I roared at her, causing her to jump back. “The drama you’ve created in this family I can, and have, overlooked. The drama you create in my work—my way of my life—you’re lucky you’re still alive! Breathe in the wrong direction and you will not live long enough to regret it.”

Stepping towards the door, the sad lump of shit that was my brother called out.

“Liam, she…”

“Don’t make excuses!” I roared. I took a deep breath, trying to calm down before I blew his brains out in this hospital. “All I need from you is to find Declan and tell him to pick up his damn phone.”

Stepping out into the hall, my mother stood waiting. The bundle of sunflowers that was once in her arms were now replaced with a first aid kit. Her eyes went straight to my lip before falling to the scratches on my arm and hand.

“Excuse me, dear.” She pulled a male nurse. “Can we get a private room please?”

“Mother.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry I can’t—”

“Let me rephrase this, can you please show me and my bleeding son here to a private room in the hospital he helped fund and damn well near saved from bankruptcy?” Her voice was polite, but the grip she held on the nurse’s arm screamed hostile.

Nodding, he pointed over to an empty bed. “I can handle his wounds.”

“No thank you, dear.” She patted his arm. “Come on, Liam…”

“Mother, I’m fine. Stop being ridiculous.”

She stepped forward, and although I had to drop my head to meet her gaze, I knew better than to fight her on this. This…this was code for ‘I need to talk to you, so shut the fuck up and listen.’

Pulling out my phone, I dialed, as we walked towards the private bed in the corner with the blue curtains.

“I knew one of you were going to need this.” She sighed, pulling out the bandages.

“I’m fine. I would be a lot better if people would answer their fucking phones.”

“Language.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Honestly, mother?”

“I’m just trying to help you. Do your really want your son coming out swearing? You should prepare to censor yourself. Now, give me your hand.” Obeying her, I tried once again to contact Brooks, but he kept sending me to voicemail. Something was happening.

“Declan?”

“No,” I hissed at the alcohol she poured on my cuts. “Work. Work I shouldn’t have to do, but your daughter-in-law has become nothing but a growing cancerous pain in my…ah! Damn it, Ma!”

“Stop being a baby.” She laughed as she wrapped my hand. “Have you gotten any real sleep since this all started?”

I didn’t answer, not because I hadn’t slept, but because I knew she would say it wasn’t enough. I spent most of the day watching over security tapes, Mel’s vitals, and contacts with the police.

“You were born with a short fuse, Liam. It becomes even shorter when you lose sleep.”

“Sleep or no sleep, Olivia crossed a line and I was so close to killing her just now.”

“But you didn’t because deep down you love your brother, despite how much you still want to hate him.”

“So this isn’t about my actions against Olivia, it’s about Neal.” I should have known.

“As much as I love your wives, my first priority will always be you and your brothers’ happiness. Whatever this is with Olivia will tear you both further apart. Neal has waited years—”

“Mother, I don’t care. If he wants to stand with me, a spot is open. But he needs to make sure his wife knows where she stands, and that needs to be far away from me. I no longer trust her.”

“If you can’t stand her now, as the wife of your brother, how will you stand her as daughter to your President? You’re the ones elevating her status. Remember, Frankenstein was not the monster, but the doctor.”

I hated when she did this. “You’re going to drive me to smoke, Ma.”

“Smoke? Not drink?” She laughed.

“Dad did that years ago.”

Before she could reply, my phone went off; a blocked call trying to come in. Only one person had this number…Brooks.

“Callahan.”

“Sir, I got your calls. I couldn’t speak…”

“What’s going on?”

“The FBI is drafting up a visa, all they need is for her to say the words. I think she has a son across the border.”

“You think?” Why the fuck did everyone think and no one knew? “Brooks, step up and fix this. Find a way to let her know what will happen if she opens her mouth. Our public image will not be tarred by this, do you understand me?”

“I’m on it sir.”

BEAU

Closing my phone, I looked up at all the badges in front of me. Most of them greeting me as they walked around.

“Way to go, Brooks.”

“Brooks, working your way up.”

“Congrats, Brooks.”

All I could do was nod, take a deep breath, and ingest the scent of sweat and stale coffee, before repeating the same old line: “Just doin’ my job.” For years, I was nothing but a beat cop, and I never asked to be much more. My real job was to watch the streets. Now, word around the department was that I was on the shortlist to becoming a detective.

I needed to get to that maid as soon as possible, but the FBI had her on lockdown in the back of the precinct. They wanted their names on this since they couldn’t get their tags on the President’s wife. But collaring the Callahans was as close to first place as they came.

“You think it’s true?” my partner asked. “If it is, we need to be on this case.” He leaned against my desk.

“You’re a pup, Scooter. Stop trying to bite off cases when you don’t even have teeth,” I told him, eyeing the water bottle on my desk. I had a plan, I just needed more time.

“They say the Callahans are the worst thing that happened to this city since Al Capone. That they murder men, women, and children, no problem. They move drugs in the mist; weed, cocaine, heroin. If it’s illegal, they sell it and make millions all over the country, yet they’re still…”

“That’s because we have nothing!” I yelled, drawing attention towards us. “Has anyone ever spoken to a dealer that pointed a finger at a Callahan?”

“Everybody knows it’s ‘cause they’re scared.”

“Who is everybody? Is everybody going to testify at trial? There has never been any evidence to prove that the Callahans are anything but upstanding citizens of this city. We don’t even have a parking ticket to pin on them. All I’ve ever heard were just rumors from one cop to another, told over a cold coffeepot. We got officers trying to make cases out of thin air to try and prove themselves. Prove that they could do what so many others had failed to do. Give me evidence and I’ll slap the cuffs on ‘em. But until then, save your ghost stories and ‘drugs in the mist’ for your playmates and get the hell out of my face.”

He took a step back, biting his lips before placing his hat back on his blonde head. “Well, we got a maid, their maid.”

“No, we got an illegal immigrant who feels jilted after being fired, and is now blackmailing the U.S. government for a visa.”

“You know what Brooks? All of us are doing something. We’re trying! We’re trying to save our city. To bring it back from the mobsters and thugs, the Callahans. Why don’t you start supporting the team?”

That stopped me. It took everything not to sock him in the face. “Support my team?” I laughed, pulling on my coat. “Kid, I’ve been here for seven years. I’ve been shot at, ran over and almost blown up. I work cases I can get arrests for. This ain’t a game,
boy
. My coat says ‘Chicago P.D.’ not Team Cop. My badge says Officer Brooks. You want to prove your stripes? You want to see the Callahans go down, even though you have no clue
who
they are? Fine, whatever. Just meet me in interrogation in five minutes.”

Grabbing a water bottle, I walked out of the pen.

“I ain’t no rookie anymore,” he yelled from behind me. What else could he say?

“Shut your pie-hole, kid and get us some coffee,” someone behind me yelled, but I didn’t bother to care or to look back.

You can always tell when the Feds were in town; they snatched any high profile case and made sure to slap their names in Big Bird yellow all over the joint. Walking down the hall, I did not meet anyone’s gaze before entering the file room. I didn’t have much time left. I was playing with a whole new type of fire here.

This water bottle was my only chance left.

The key to being a liar was that you had to believe your lies. It was as simple as that. Tell lies you can believe, and when you do, the world will believe them right along with you. So when I stepped into the hallway, I knew what I wanted to see. I knew the lie I would believe; the maid was a liar and I was going to make her admit it.

Everything felt sharp; my senses had never been so clear, and I was going play every single card I had. The FBI agents were all waiting, hoping they had something. Next to them was Scooter, who was just short of rubbing his hands together.

Staring at the tan skinned, dark haired woman praying at the table, I tried not to break character. “She said anything yet?”

She couldn’t have been a day over thirty maybe?

“She won’t talk until she sees a visa. It doesn’t make sense though. She has a kid over the border. Why not ask for him to get a free pass? She wants a visa for herself instead?” Scooter asked.

“After she told us about the First Lady, she was all ‘Hail Mary full of grace,’ over and over. If I were Mary, I would be annoyed,” the officer to my right scoffed before turning towards the two-way mirror. “This is a waste of time. They’re questioning the First Lady right now. It’s your collar you should go watch.”

“I’ll be over there in a minute. I just want to take a crack at her first.”

“We,” Scooter said, stepping up, “
We
want to take a crack at her.”

“Knock yourselves out. Ask Mother Mary for a prayer for me.” He laughed before walking off.

Step one; done.

“So, how are we going to go at her?” Scooter asked, trying to walk in, but I stopped him at the door.

“
You’re
not a police officer, remember? You’re a cheerleader. You can support the team from behind that glass.”

Stepping inside, the first thing I heard were her prayers:

“
Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia, el Señor es contigo
…”

“
Antoniodita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y Antoniodito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús. Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amén
,” I finished for her, putting the water bottle on the table before helping her into the chair.

“Mary mother of all mothers,” I said pulling out my own chair. “My mother loved her too.”

“Do you have my visa?” she asked in a thick accent.

“No.”

“Then I have nothing for you.”

“I don’t think you ever had anything for me to begin with.”

“I worked in that house! I saw things! I heard things!” she yelled at me.

“Have some water,” I told her, sliding the water bottle over.

She pushed it back. “I’m fine,
lo choto
.”