Page 5 of Brutal Truths

He clicks his tongue, breaking the silence. “That’s because I was already tapped in. I needed footage of Marty to compare with his twin.”

“And what have you learned?”

“Well, unless Marty suddenly got a full-sleeve tat in the last few hours, the fucker at the hospital with Teddy isn’t him—which we already knew. He’s hiding it well, but you don’t conceal that much ink, even with long sleeves.”

A low whistle slips through. “And whoever’s posing as you needs a crash course in how to treat an elderly woman. When we find him, I’m volunteering for that lesson. Idiot.”

Keys click in the background. “He’s got a head start. Left the ward five past ten. Running facial ID now… and there it is. Hello Ebert Coffey. Not smart enough to avoid the cameras. That’s why you keep getting pinched.”

A beat passes before he continues. “He’s one of Trent’s. Low man. Twenty-five, but hell, he looks older. Prison will do that to you.”

“Tell me you have eyes on him leaving the hospital.” I need to catch a break here. “That you can track his car.”

“He’s not very smart. Parked right out front. Arsehole threw her in the backseat on the driver’s side, leaned in and did something I can’t see.” His tone turns cold. “I’m guessing he’s drugging her, but I can’t be sure.”

“Track that car. Don’t let it out of your fucking sight until it stops and they get out.”

I end the call and sweep my arm across the desk, sending shit flying. Not everything, just the items that aren’t critical to this damn case.

Just as I’m about to clean up my mess, my mobile rings again, and I answer it without checking to see who it is. “Don’t disappoint me; tell me something good.”

Silas’s voice crackles through the line, low and rough. “I’m outside. Let me in. I have our friend Cort with me, and he’s told me something truly interesting.”

Chapter 2

Aiden

A low growl rumbles from Bear the moment I open the door, the vibration carrying through the floor. It has both men standing stock-still, not daring to move.

I pat his head in appreciation. “Heel.”

He creeps backward but stays close.

“Is he going to bite me?” With an eye on Bear, Silas shoves Cort ahead of him, forcing the other man through the doorway.

“Not unless you give him a reason to.” I step back, tracking both men as they pass.

Cort looks worse for wear. I thought he looked like shit a few days ago and didn’t think it could get worse. I was wrong. The left side of his face is swollen. The mark of a powerful punch. Older than the fresh, bloody one on the right.

“Move your arse.” A forceful nudge from Silas causes Cort to stumble, landing him on all fours next to Bear’s menacing teeth.

Cort freezes. His gaze locks with my dog, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

“Don’t break eye contact,” I warn.

His voice falters, low and uneven, barely reaching me. “Why?”

“Show fear, and you’ll only encourage him. He’ll want to prove he’s in charge.” Leaning against the wall, I enjoy the show.

A tremor runs through Cort’s body, but he holds his position, refusing to break eye contact.

He loses.

Bear shifts forward—just enough to make his point—and Cort topples, curling into himself on the floor.

I bite back a laugh. If a dog could roll his eyes, Bear just did. He backs off, already bored with the man whimpering on the floor like a wuss.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Cort sobs into his hands. “He sent his men to my house and threatened my wife and daughter.”