Page 51 of Golden Touch
My heart stutters.
“Now…who did you say was having a problem with this guy?” Benito continues. “Because I gotta say, this garage is known to me and to the drug enforcement unit. They’re not good guys.”
I’m dying inside. And I’m going tomurderNash Giltmaker.
“It’s…an employee,” Nash says carefully. “This person does not want to involve the police. I think this person is afraid of one or more parties involved.”
Benito’s eyes travel from Nash to me. And they stay there.
I seethe.
“What should this employee do if the dude comes back?” Nash asks carefully.
“This employee should collect proof of harassment, especially if the employee is a woman.” Benito says, watching me. “If things areverybad, she should take any previously collected notes on the harassment and ask a judge for a restraining order.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” I shriek. “This employee probably knows that a restraining order is less useful than a piece of budget toilet paper. Nash, you hadno rightto invade this employee’s privacy!”
Nash flinches. “I was only trying to help. I thought calling the cops was y—” He stops himself. “—this employee’s favorite remedy. I just happened to see a cop I know today, when I was picking up his brother. Benito and I were in the same class in high school.”
I sink down into my chair and put my head in my hands. “Actually, this employee just wants you to mind your own beeswax.”
There’s an awkward silence in the kitchen, and then Benito sits down at the table with me. “Can I tell you about my job?”
“Do I have a choice?” I say to the table.
He chuckles softly. “Well, yes. I’ll leave if you want me to. But you might find it useful to hear what I do all day.”
I take a sip of my beer and look him dead in the eyes. “Go ahead. You came all this way.”
Nash opens another beer and passes it to Benito, who takes a sip. “I work for the Vermont State Police on the drug task force. That means I spend all my time trying to figure out who’s moving illegal drugs through Vermont, and how I can stop them.”
My stomach sinks a little further. Because I think I know where this is going.
“Now, we think those guys in Rutland are near the top of the food chain. So I’ve spent the last year—longer, actually—making small undercover buys from low-level scumbags to try to get them to roll over on bigger scumbags. It’s slow work, but I’m trying to build a case against the Valkyries Motorcycle Club.”
Just hearing the name of the club makes me shiver.
I’m sure Benito and Nash notice.
“So,” Benito continues, “if I happened to meet someone who understood how that club operates and who could ID all the members, that would be very exciting to me. And if that person was worried that they could somehow be implicated in any of the laws the club has broken, I could probably put that person’s mind at ease.”
I close my eyes and then force them open again. “That’s a really interesting job you have there, Benito. I think I’ll stick to bookkeeping.”
His eyes widen a fraction. “Did you say bookkeeping?”
Oh my God. “This conversation is over,” I whisper. “I’m not about to be your new little informant. I’d only wind up dead.”
Benito doesn’t get angry. He takes a sip of his beer and gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m going to leave my card in case anyone wants to call me. These guys aren’t invincible. Everybody makes mistakes. And when they finally do, I’ll be ready.”
I believe that. And I believe that Benito is a good man, with honorable intentions. Still—I’m not sticking my neck out for him.He’s going to have to catch them without my help. Razor already wants to kill me. I believe that in my soul. If I help the cops investigate him, he’ll make sure I pay.
Benito gets up from the table and makes small talk with Nash for another couple minutes. Then Nash walks him out to his car.
When he returns, I’m still seething. I give him a look so dirty that it might maim a lesser man.
“Aw, pussycat,” he says with a sigh.
“Don’t call me that.”
