Ice settled in Ian’s veins.
Jake, of all people, shouldn’t be the one giving him advice.
What advice could he possibly have that would make any kind of difference?
Regardless of how helpful he was, Ian knew that Jake’s change of heart had nothing to do with a crisis of conscience and everything to do with wanting to save his own skin. It made Ian distrust him even more.
Not that Jake seemed to care.
“It doesn’t matter what kind of connections you have,” Jake continued after a brief pause. “Eric is a lot more powerful and connected than you think, and he’s got a lot of important people in his back pocket.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to tell me that going up against him is pointless.”
Jake blew out a huge puff of smoke. “No, it’s not pointless. You might be able to get a few solid punches in, but you’re a smart man, Officer Railings. I’m sure you can tell when it’s time to walk away.”
Ian stiffened. “This is my family’s safety you’re talking about.”
Jake’s eyes moved steadily over Ian’s face. “And you know you can’t win. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in here.”
Ian opened his mouth and slammed it shut.
As much as he hated to admit it, Jake was right. The other officers who’d questioned Jake hadn’t been able to get much outof him. Ian had no idea why he thought he’d be any different, but it was clear that Jake was kept on a need-to-know basis.
Eric obviously didn’t trust his henchman.
Jake let the cigarette fall to the floor, and he stubbed it out with the heel of his foot. “Next time, go easy on the mayo.”
Ian pushed himself off the wall. “What makes you think there will be a next time?”
Jake’s smile was a flash of white in the darkness. “Call it intuition. Leave the cigarette box and lighter with the guard.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” Ian told him stiffly.
He turned his back on Jake and hurried away before he could change his mind.
Outside the holding cells, he leaned against the wall and waited for his heart to stop hammering. After checking the clock, he went back to his desk and waited till the end of his shift.
Jake’s words reverberated inside his head the entire time.
By the end of his shift, Ian’s headache was back in full force, and his throat was dry. He messaged his cousin, Jeff, on his way out of the station and bundled into his coat. When he pulled up outside of O’Malley’s, there was a steady stream of people coming in and out of the pub, despite the time.
He squinted at the bright neon sign, with only a few working letters, and pushed his way in. The smell of sweat and alcohol hit him first, followed quickly by the sound of country music wafting through the speakers. Ian waited for his eyes to adjust before he glanced around, taking in the rows of tables set up on either side. Jeff was already seated at the bar, his bald head visible from where Ian stood.
Ian weaved in and out of the throngs of people till he reached the bar and leaned over the counter. The bartender, a tall and well-built man with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paused to wipe the counter and flash him a crooked smile. Ian hopped onto the stool and rolled his shoulders.
Jeff handed him a large glass mug of beer and clapped him on the back. “You look like you need this more than I do, Cous. Rough shift?”
Ian took a long sip of his drink, and his eyes watered. “You could say that. I’m surprised you’re awake.”
“You know I don’t keep regular hours. I go wherever they need me to.” Jeff signaled for another drink and twisted to face Ian. “I heard you’ve been giving Aunt Kelly’s case another go.”
Ian nodded. “Yeah, I am.”
Conversation rose and fell around him.
“You gotta go easy, Cous,” Jeff advised in between sips of his own drink. “You can’t run yourself into the ground.”
“You been talking to Marissa?”
