“Had to ditch that phone, Ty.”

Jesus. Nothing had changed. Dewey changed phones like he changed underwear.

“Why?” Walker asked.

“They read it and hear it. I know it.”

Fuck. There it was. The reason why Dewey changed phones like underwear, paranoia. The brother thought cops had superhuman powers. This was because he got caught, sent down and he wasn’t smart enough to admit he got caught and sent down because he was a dumb f**k not because the cops had superhuman powers.

Dewey went on, “You know and I know that they know, you want somethin’, you’ll come to me and I’ll get it for you. They know we’re tight. They were all over me. I had to lay low.”

With waning patience, Walker reminded him, “Like I explained, Dew, you don’t do shit. You connect with brothers who will.”

“They see that shit too.”

“Bullshit,” Walker bit out. “You want it, you’re a f**kin’ shadow and none of your connections live in the light.”

Dewey pressed his lips together because Walker was not lying and he knew it.

Walker took a step toward him, not too far he couldn’t see the door but enough to make a point. “I need dirt,” he said low. “And there’s so much dirt on these guys, I should be up to my neck in it by now. This was not a hard assignment. This shoulda taken you a f**kin’ week, not six.”

“They aren’t exactly out in the open with their shit,” Dewey returned.

“And your connections aren’t gonna win citizen of the year either,” Walker shot back.

Dewey stared at him.

Then he said softly, “Ty, this really the way you wanna go? You push, they’ll push back.”

What the f**k?

“We’ve had this conversation, Dew.”

“But –”

“Don’t like repeatin’ myself.”

“Ty,” he took a step forward, “thinkin’ on this awhile, I don’t think it’s good, I didn’t then, I don’t now.”

“Right, then give me back my twenty-five K and I’ll find someone who doesn’t have a f**kin’ opinion.”

Dewey took two steps back and Walker stared him in the eyes.

Then he whispered, “Right.”

The f**kwad didn’t have the money. Six weeks, he’d pissed away twenty-five K. Walker half expected it, it was a risk he had to take because Dewey lived with his belly to the ground and he was connected to anyone from there to Denver who lived the same. Walker couldn’t shake his tail and make those connections; he needed a man to do it for him. That was Dewey. But his friend had f**ked him, not altogether a surprise but that didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed.

“You sat a game,” he guessed.

Dewey pressed his lips together again.

Walker shook his head then said, “You owe me twenty-five large, Dew. You jacked me around for six weeks; you got half of that to get it back. You don’t, I’ll find you.”

“Ty –”

“Make no mistake, I’ll find you.”

Dewey nodded and didn’t say a word. He knew Walker would find him. He knew, they were tight or not, what Walker would do when he did. He also knew to avoid that. So Dewey sometime in the next three weeks would f**k over another f**king idiot to get Walker’s payback. The vicious cycle of the life of a stupid man addicted to f**king cards.

“I didn’t come empty, Ty. I got somethin’ for you,” Dewey offered.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Your tail is gone. Bad boys of Carnal PD are convinced five years not breathin’ free, hot snatch you got at home, you’ll do noth –”

He didn’t finish because his found his body twisted, slammed against the lockers, his feet six inches off the ground and Ty Walker’s big hand wrapped tight around his throat, his face an inch away.

“You do not call my wife hot snatch,” he growled into his friend’s face and Dewey instantly nodded as best he could with Ty’s fingers curled around his throat, cutting off his breath.

Ty dropped him and stepped back.

Then, knowing his point was made in a way even Dewey understood it, he moved on. “Got eyes. I know I lost the tail.”

And he did. Three weeks ago. Just after Keaton saw top-to-toe the talent Walker had in his bed and the boys assigned to tail and do the drive-bys of the condo took in planters and deck furniture. They had eyes and ears everywhere. Walker and Lexie at The Rooster, the Italian place in town, the Toyota dealership. No doubt they looked into Lexie and no matter her relationship with Rodriguez, their lives had never mixed and they couldn’t do smack with speeding and parking tickets. She was clean.

Message received was that Ty Walker was cowed, moving on, keeping his head down and nose clean, not about to f**k his future, especially since that future included Lexie and he had no doubt they’d all had their look at Lexie.

It wasn’t a play, it was real. But seeing the results, it was a play he should have thought of though, if he did, he wouldn’t have gone for it thinking they wouldn’t be that dumb.

Then again, he forgot they were half-idiots.

And also, he had no idea he’d walk out to the miracle that was Lexie.

“What I’m sayin’ is,” Dewey kept talking, “word ‘round the Station, they’re convinced you’re movin’ on. They’re leavin’ you be.”

This news was good but Walker didn’t respond.

Dewey kept going. “Ty, they leave you be then you can just… be. Haven’t seen her, hear she’s somethin’. Got that, got a job, got your life back. There’s only one year left on your sentence, one year you gotta live on parole. More than a month a’ that is gone. Maybe signs are sayin’ you should just be.”

“You do time?” Walker asked a question the answer to which he knew.

“Yeah,” Dewey told him the answer he knew.

“Was it fun?” Walker asked.

“Ty –”

“You earned yours and it wasn’t fun, Dew. I did not earn mine. Do not f**kin’ stand there and counsel me about just being.”

His friend studied him then he repeated quietly, “Ty, you push, they’ll push back.”

“Can’t push back if they’re paralyzed.”

“You think a dozen men the last twenty years have not had your same idea, half of them brothers, you’re wrong. They all got smacked down.”