Sweet Talk (Buchanan-Renard #10)

Sweet Talk (Buchanan-Renard #10) Page 11

“Have you ever been called when it wasn’t an emergency?”

“No, never,” she said emphatically. “These kids understand real danger, and they wouldn’t exaggerate. There’s too much at stake to cry wolf.”

The neighborhood they drove into was in the heart of gang territory. A few of the owners of the cookie-cutter houses had at one time tried to keep up maintenance, but the vast majority had let their homes go to seed. Half of them had already been abandoned and condemned. Grayson drove past a house that was falling apart. One side of the porch had collapsed, and the front lawn had been turned into a junkyard. There was a rusted-out washing machine and a stripped-down motorcycle blocking the broken sidewalk. It was impossible to tell if there was any grass because every inch of the yard was layered with trash. The air smelled of mildew, rotting garbage, and despair.

Three blocks west was the Purdy house. Grayson slammed on the brakes, threw the car in park, and said, “Stay in the car, Olivia.” His voice was calm, almost soothing.

He pulled his tie off and tossed it on the seat as he got out of the car. His jacket followed. Opening the trunk, he reached for his bulletproof vest and slipped it on. He was adjusting the Velcro straps when Ronan arrived. He took the corner on two wheels and came to a hard stop inches from Grayson’s car. Grabbing his vest, he walked over to Grayson, saw Olivia, and nodded to her.

“How many inside?”

“Four adults, but there could be more.”

They could hear sirens wailing in the distance. “Are we waiting for additional backup?”

“No, there’s a boy inside. We can’t wait.”

Grayson bent down to look at Olivia and once again ordered her to stay inside the car.

“Be careful,” she said. “I’ve been to court with these people. They’re . . . sadistic.”

His nod indicated he’d heard her. He pulled his gun free, and with Ronan at his side headed to the house.

The streetlights were dim, but Olivia could see that the Purdy house should have been condemned years ago. At least half of the shingles were missing from the sagging roof, and the aluminum siding had been torn off both sides. The wood on the front porch looked as though it had been torched, and there were holes in the porch floor. In the shadows, she could just make out Grayson kicking in the front door.

Olivia didn’t realize she was holding her breath until her chest started to hurt. Two shots were fired in rapid succession, then another and another. A man came running around the side of the house. He had a gun in his hand and was glancing over his shoulder. He appeared to be young, in his late teens. Dressed in a filthy tank top and jeans, he had a crazed look in his eyes.

He headed to the street but didn’t make it. Ronan came at him from one direction, and Grayson from the other. The man fired wild, and a second later they had him facedown in the dirt.

Two squad cars arrived. The policemen ran to Grayson, and after he filled them in, they rushed into the house.

Where was Tyler? Was he safe? He knew to hide, but would he come out for the FBI or the police?

Olivia glanced in the rearview mirror and saw three men she was pretty sure were gang members. They were half a block away and were walking toward her. One of them picked up a board from the gutter, but an older man in the middle of the three shook his head, and the board was immediately tossed back into the street. Were the three simply curious to know what was going on, or were they wanting a fight?

The police brought out two of the most frightening-looking men Olivia had ever seen. They were handcuffed and shouting for lawyers. Odd how even the most drugged degenerates with burned-out brains still understood the law and knew how to manipulate it. Odd and disgusting.

Grayson and Ronan were both talking to a policeman, but she noticed their gazes were locked on the group that had stopped in the street a couple of houses away. Their number had increased from three to six. A child, no older than six or seven, ran down the street to join them.

Olivia watched as the leader of the group grabbed the little boy by the arm and pivoted him in the opposite direction, yelling, “Marcus, I told you to stay inside. Now, go home.”

The boy started to protest, but when the older man gave him a hard shove, he reluctantly walked away with slouched shoulders, dragging his feet.

Olivia turned back to the house and saw something moving on the roof. Oh God, it was Tyler. In the moonlight she could see him creeping along the ridge.

She flew out of the car and called to Grayson. “Tyler’s on the roof.”

Grayson rushed back inside, and a minute later he was reaching for Tyler from the second-story window. The boy wouldn’t budge, but when Grayson pointed to Olivia, he began to inch his way down the slope.

While she waited for them, yet another squad car arrived. When one of the policemen asked how many bodies were inside, Ronan answered, “Two in the kitchen, one male, one female.”

The front door opened, and Tyler flew across the porch and down the stairs. He ran to Olivia and nearly knocked her off her feet when he threw himself into her arms.

She hugged him tight. “Are you all right? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

His head was tucked under her chin, his voice muffled when he answered. She could feel him trembling, and he was crying softly.

“I did it the right way, didn’t I?” he asked. “I said your name when I called you on the phone, just like you told me to if I was in trouble.”

“Yes, you did it just the way we practiced. You’re very brave, Tyler.”

“I knew you’d come for me.”

“Of course. Are you ready to let go of me yet?”

He stepped back. “You smell good. How come you’re all dressed up?”

As she walked to Grayson’s car and opened the back door for him, she explained that her aunt had received a special award.

One of the gang members who had been watching shouted to Tyler. “Is she going to put you in juvie?”

Another yelled, “What’d you do, kid?”

Tyler turned to the group. “I’m not going to juvie, and I didn’t do anything wrong.” He pointed to Olivia and said, “She’s my lawyer. I called her, and she came right away. She’s taking me back to my new home.” His voice was filled with pride.

The leader of the group, a hard-looking man who was probably still in his twenties but looked fifty, motioned to his friends to stay where they were as he walked over to Olivia. Grayson was suddenly standing in front of her.

The man stepped to the side so that he could see Olivia and asked, “Are you really his lawyer?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I’m Tyler’s attorney.”

The man glanced warily at Grayson, then said, “Uh . . . do you have any cards on you with your phone number in case one of us needs a lawyer? I didn’t like my last one. He didn’t do anything to help me.”

She didn’t know how to answer him. The thought of representing a gang member made her shudder.

Although he didn’t realize it, Tyler came to her rescue. “You have to go through court to get her,” he said, sounding very grown-up. “The judge gave her to me.”

The explanation seemed plausible to the man. He nodded and headed back to his friends. He suddenly stopped, then turned to Grayson. “You got the kid out just in time. Another couple of hours would have been too late. Those fools decided they would make their own meth. Cut out the middleman,” he added. “They were going to start cooking tonight. They would have blown themselves up and taken the kid with them.”

Grayson wanted to get the boy away before the bodies were carried out. He and Ronan had surprised the aunt and the uncle when they burst into the house. Startled, the woman had thrown a meat cleaver at them and then she and the uncle reached for their guns and began shooting. Grayson heard Ronan mutter, “Son of a bitch,” a scant second before he shot her.

Olivia waited while Grayson and Ronan wrapped up things with the police. She had put Tyler in the backseat. After he’d snapped on the seat belt, she’d covered him with Grayson’s jacket. Clearly exhausted, the child was sound asleep minutes later.

She called the foster mother and filled her in on what had happened, assured her that Tyler was all right, and estimated that she’d have him back home within an hour.

When they were finally on their way, Grayson said, “One of the policemen told me they’d been to the aunt and uncle’s house this evening looking for Tyler. They searched the house but couldn’t find him. The foster mother reported him missing when he didn’t come home in the carpool from soccer practice.”

“The aunt was probably waiting to grab him,” she said. She looked back at Tyler to make sure he was sleeping and then asked in a whisper, “Are they both dead?”

“Yes.”

She was pleased he didn’t embellish. “I shouldn’t feel relieved, should I? It’s just that they were such vicious people, and they wouldn’t have left Tyler alone. The drugs made them evil.”

He shook his head. “No, they were already evil. Drugs made them bolder. Does Tyler like where he’s living now?”

“Oh yes, very much,” she said. “The foster mother is a loving woman. He’s very comfortable there.”

“Would he tell you if he weren’t?”

“We’ve got a secret code for that, too.”

As they drove toward Tyler’s new home, Olivia was thinking how fortunate it was that Grayson had been with her tonight.

“I’m glad you were with me. It made it so much easier. Thank you.”

He pulled onto the expressway and cut over to the middle lane. “You’re welcome. Tell me, what would you have done if you’d been home when Tyler called? You told me there wasn’t time for me to take you home to get your car. Would you have driven into that neighborhood alone?”

She knew he wouldn’t like the answer. “I always call for backup,” she said. “And usually the squad car beats me to the address.”

“But not always?”

“No, not always.”

His frown was fierce. “What about tonight? What would you have done?”

“Tyler was on the roof. I would have signaled to him not to move because the roof wasn’t stable. Then I would have figured out a way to get him down.”

“What if he was inside the house, and you heard him screaming?” he asked. “Then what?”

She didn’t hesitate to answer. “I would have gone in after him.”

Even though Grayson knew that’s what she was going to say, it still infuriated him.

“No training, no weapon . . . what would you have done? Shout at them?”

“If I heard Tyler scream, I would have gone in,” she insisted. “And so would you.”

Only after she made that statement did she realize how foolish it was.

“Of course I would have,” he snapped. “I’ve been trained for situations like this, and I carry a weapon.”

“This conversation is ridiculous. Tyler’s safe, and that’s all that counts. It all worked out.”

He wasn’t ready to let it go. “It’s amazing you’re still alive.”

He had no idea how truthful that remark was. “Yes, it is,” she agreed.

“You’ve never been close to death, and maybe that’s why you’re such an optimist.”

Never been near death? Try two years’ worth, she thought. And optimistic? Her friends were constantly telling her she was too negative. What would Grayson think if he knew this about her?

The discussion finally ended when they reached the foster home. Grayson carried Tyler inside and put him in his bed. The child never opened his eyes.

It was three in the morning by the time they reached Olivia’s apartment. Unaccustomed to such late hours, Olivia was exhausted. Grayson, on the other hand, looked as though he’d just started the evening.

He parked in front of her building. The doorman rushed outside to tell him he had to move his car, but then he saw the weapon at his side and stepped back.

“It’s all right, John. He’s with the FBI,” Olivia said.

“Is everything okay, Miss MacKenzie?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine,” she said. She stopped at the elevator and turned to Grayson. “You don’t have to come up with me.”

“Sure I do.”

He pinned her to the wall when he reached around her to push the button.

“You’re still nervous with me, aren’t you?”

She looked up into his eyes. She was barely inches away from him. All she had to do was tilt her head ever so slightly and lean in, and she’d be kissing him. She didn’t give in to the urge.

“No. I’m no longer nervous with you.” It was a blatant lie, but she thought she’d told it well.

He wasn’t buying it. He flashed that adorable smile again. He could get anything he wanted with that smile, she thought. And probably did. That reminder helped. She knew women threw themselves at him, but she wouldn’t be one of them. He wasn’t her type.

She laughed. Talk about a whopper of a lie. That was the big daddy of them all.

The elevator doors opened on three. He stepped back to let her out first, then followed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking you’re not my type, and that was funny to me because . . .”

“Yes?”

“Because you are.”

He frowned. “Your type?”

You’re every woman’s type, she thought. She didn’t tell him that, thank God. Instead, she said, “I’m tired. I’m not making much sense.”

Her apartment was at the end of the hall. She got her keys out of her purse and unlocked the door. Grayson pushed it open and backed her inside. His eyes never left hers as he put his arms around her.

“I had a lovely time tonight,” she said, remembering the awards gala. “It was really nice . . .” She realized what she was saying. “Except for the two people you had to shoot and except for . . . Oh God, Grayson, just kiss me. I won’t stop talking until you do.”

He pulled her closer, and his lips brushed over hers. It was a quick middle-school kind of kiss, a prelude, she quickly realized, to driving her out of her mind. As soon as she put her arms around his neck, he stopped teasing her. His mouth opened and his tongue delved inside to rub against hers. She tightened her hold. His mouth was doing magical things to her, and every nerve in her body reacted. It was the most erotic kiss she’d ever experienced, and she never wanted it to end. He made love to her with his tongue, and when he lifted his head he could have taken anything he wanted.