Page 69 of Love Me Darkly
He jutted his chin out at the sight of them, then raised it a tick. His eyes flashed with amusement as he looked over Donovan first, then Mateo.
“What do we have here?” he crooned in a thick Louisiana accent. “Couple of DEI hires?”
Donovan wrinkled his brow, looking at Mateo as if confused. “DEI hires? Boss, you know anything about DEI?”
Mateo scratched his head, pretending to be as baffled as Donovan. “I don’t know man, I thought I got into the bureau because of my fourteen years of military service, experience in reconnaissance and tactical operations, and rigorous training at Quantico. You?”
“Oh, you know,” Donovan said with a shrug. “West Point. Military intelligence. No big.”
Caleb snorted and rolled his eyes. “Well, anyone can teach a dog to sit and stay and heel. Guess it don’t take much to train a spic and a spook.”
Donovan tensed, but Mateo remained unruffled. He’d been doing this job long enough that he had heard every insult in the book, including the most obscure slurs a person could level at someone of Mexican heritage. He supposed Donovan’s short career meant he wasn’t nearly as impervious.
Donovan paced away to gather himself while Mateo approached the table, flipping open the file they had on Caleb.
“I’d be less worried about the bureau’s hiring practices and more concerned with your own situation. We’ve been watching you, Caleb. You live an interesting life. No job, no real responsibilities. Yet, Vestra pays you a whopping forty-six hundred dollars a month to smoke meth, fuck skanks in alleys, get drunk at clubs, and generally do your part to add to the city’s vagrancy problem.”
“Damn,” Donovan muttered, circling the edge of the room until he stood behind Caleb. “What’s a guy gotta do to for such a sweet setup?”
Mateo looked at him over Caleb’s head and grinned. “Didn’t you know? Apparently, Mr. Vale pays well for the services of a man like our friend here. Remember Suede? That guy had it made. It pays to be in the inner circle.”
His comment had the desired effect. Caleb stiffened, offended.
“Suede? You think that mongrel shit stain is in anyone’s inner circle?” he laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “If you think that, then I know you got nothing. You won’t get shit out of me.”
“You know, you’re right,” Donovan replied. “We don’t know much. Only that Valemont and G. Vale are codenames pointing to the real organization responsible for the brutal murders of countless women and a slew of other crimes. The Veil. Yeah, that’s it. Your cute little white boys club.”
Caleb stared straight ahead, refusing to look at either of them. “I know my rights. I don’t have to tell you shit.”
Mateo leaned against the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s that pesky constitution again, making it difficult for me to do my job.” He sighed and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as if searching for answers. “But you know, another part of my job is ensuring that the media have all the information they need to inform the public of certain dangers. For instance, the dangers of a cult recruiter who goes out of his way to target young white males for induction into satanic rituals.”
Caleb shook his head. “You federal lapdogs are all the same, so convinced of what you think you know. I would never lower myself to worshipping the devil.”
“Oh, I doubt the public will care to make the distinction,” Mateo countered. “Anyway, I think they’d be interested in some of the information we could share. Such as your mugshot and your full legal name and your financial crimes—the doctored tax returns, the improperly reported income, the payments you receive under the table from G. Vale and Vestra.”
“Don’t forget about Valemont,” Donovan added. “I’d imagine a guy like Korenic would be insulted not to be mentioned in the news. It would injure his pride.”
“We could never be so rude,” Mateo said with a decisive nod. “Yeah, I think I’ll get that information out immediately. We have innocent people to protect.”
“I’ll make the call,” Donovan said, moving as if to leave the room.
“You wouldn’t,” Caleb growled, narrowing his eyes into blue slits.
Mateo raised an eyebrow. “We DEI hires can be very unpredictable.”
“I’m not just some low-level acolyte pussy,” Caleb spat. “You don’t know who or what you’re fucking with.”
Mateo widened his eyes and let his jaw drop open before he burst out laughing. Caleb eyed him warily as he bent at the waist, chuckling and slapping his thigh. He straightened, lips still quivering as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
“Oh, that’s cute. Donovan, isn’t he cute?”
“A regular cutie patootie, Boss.”
Caleb seethed. Mateo braced both hands on the table, leaning in.
“You think you’re important? They cut you a couple checks a month to bring in fresh meat, and you think that means something? You think being in a cult means you know anything about how one actually operates? Allow me to shed some light on the matter for you. You’re a puppet, a fall guy. Every breath you take is a gift, one they can and will snatch away from you the moment you stop being useful. And I’d say, the moment Korenic finds out you’ve been compromised, you’re going to face one of three options. One, you suffer the full brunt of the consequences coming for the rest of your friends, full stop. Two, we cut you a deal in exchange for information … provided that the information is useful. Third, Korenic and your buddies find out we have you, and you end up with your intestines strewn in a salt circle. And those are only the options if the buck stops with Korenic. Should it go straight to the man himself, your options narrow to one, and it ain’t the one you want. Now, what’s it going to be?”
Caleb glowered at him. “What kind of deal?”
