Page 88 of Damon

“Call the police,” I say to Harrison, and he immediately makes a call. Hunter pulls Brenton up to stand then holds his arms behind his back. The bastard grins at me.

“I have a lot of money, McKinney. However you try to keep me behind bars, I’ll always get out. I will always be there, a danger to your family. You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

“There’s still time,” I mutter, but drop my gun and replace it in my waistband.

As I turn away, he says, “Your wife was a good fuck, Chief Constable. Those days where you wondered where she had been, I would send her home smelling of me.” Even though I know it’s lies, the accusation cuts deep. Connie isn’t here to defend herself, and I’ve moved on. She has been let down in so many ways.

“That’s enough,” I hear Hunter snarl. I turn just in time to see him push the blade up through Brenton’s throat. His victim gasps for air as blood spurts from his body. “He may not be able to kill you, but I have no fucking problem with it.” My friend looks up. “Go, McKinney. Get out of here, and I’ll clean this mess up. It’s done.”

“Thanks, Devane. I’m going home.” And he knows I am not thanking him for cleaning up the mess, but for taking out the man set to ruin me. Without another word, I turn and walk away.

***

The following morning, I rise early and make my way to the office. Emma must still be in bed as her door is closed tight. I consider checking in on her but decide against it. We slept separately for the first time in months last night. The last thing I had wanted to do on my return was discuss any of the evening’s events. So, I hid like a pathetic cretin in my bedroom, and she didn’t emerge from hers. Our relationship, which had been moving forward, was slammed into reverse. One look at her told me she was devastated by what I’d said—my focus on Connie had hurt her badly. The sad reality of loving two women means at times you betray them both.

On arriving at the police station, I find Commissioner White behind his desk with a hot mug of coffee in his hand. “Good morning, Chief Constable McKinney,” he says in a professional tone. “Take a seat.” He gestures to the chair opposite him.

“Good morning, sir,” I reply as I sit.

“Roger Brenton was found dead on the rooftop of his new restaurant in the early hours of this morning. Do you have any information on this incident?” he asks, bluntly.

“No, sir. Nothing beyond that I shot three men, including Brenton, in the thigh who were showing intent to kill. It was a decision in the interest of public safety.”

“Do you have witnesses to prove these men were a danger?”

“My partner, Emma, they shot at her. So, I disabled them to ensure they were unable to evade police capture.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” he warns, leaning forward and slamming a fist on his desk. “Brenton was found stabbed through the throat. He was lying in a pool of his own blood next to one of his security team holding the knife who had died of suspected asphyxiation.”

“Do you have a suspect in mind for his murder?” I ask, attempting to be interested but clueless. “He was alive when I left him.”

“I don’t know,” he replies. “Maybe you should tell me. You were up there. Were any of your associates?”

As I look at him, I consider my options. He may have footage of us making our way to the roof, so lying is a dangerous decision. After a moment’s contemplation, I answer. “My partner and I went up to the roof to have a conversation. We had a small disagreement, and she left after the attack took place. I’ve not seen her since. In all honesty, I’m not sure what I am going home to.”

“The girl you were with?” he questions with an eyebrow. “Emma Becker, also known as Kathryn Haining and a person of interest in this case, never mind part of the witness protection program?” He gives me a knowing look. “You’re not the only one with contacts, McKinney.”

“Yes, sir. Emma was my wife’s surrogate.”

“I am aware of that. Why exactly did you leave the scene after shooting three men? You know that is not protocol. I could fire your ass for it.”

“I was worried about Emma, I went to find her,” I explain, it is not a lie, but also not the truth. “Harrison Waite had heard gunshots and appeared on the roof. He assured me he would stay with the suspects until the police arrived to allow me to leave.”

“But you were unsuccessful in finding her?” prods.

“No, she was at home in her room. But we haven’t spoken, things are…tense.”

“What is your relationship to Hunter Devane?” he asks, changing the direction of our conversation.

“I teach MMA at his gym.”

“Oh yes, the melting pot where he finds young men with talent to manipulate them into the world of darkness he lives in. And my Chief Constable is part of that? You’re a fucking disgrace.” His voice rises. “Devane was there last night. Were you in his company?”

“We spoke.” I keep my voice even and answers short. It is clear he knows more than he is letting on.

“What about?”

“Whiskey mainly. He probably drank too much of the stuff,” I say casually.

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