Inner Reflections

When you first entered, it was like stepping into a dimmed room. You never quite knew what to expect. He should not be in here, Ian knew this, but with what the guy was thinking he was obligated to poke around a little bit more, wasn’t he? Someone’s life was in danger here; he had to do this even when he knew the risks.

You can’t go too far in. He held that thought as he went just a little deeper inside the mind where he was trespassing. Well, it was trespassing; there was no other way to describe what he could do. He could listen in without even trying or wander right in and poke around. This time he needed more information to save someone’s life, not just someone, but a cop. Ian was the last person to be a hero, in his line of work he preferred staying in the shadows and out of the spotlight, but this time his conscience wasn’t going to let him just know and not act.

Wow, was the next thought as he focused on the state of this mind. It was a mishmash of incomplete. Usually, there was some sort of consistency to the human mind; the more intelligent the subject the more uniform it was throughout—this one was a whole drawer full of mismatched socks.

Focus, Ian. In, get what you need and out like last year’s trends. All he had to do was find some images or memories that would lead him to the identity of the inebriated brain he invaded. As weak as this mind was the chances of being pulled in and trapped seemed highly unlikely, but that didn’t mean he was foolish enough to go behind one of the doors. Ian thought of the areas of the brain as sections with doors. There weren’t any real doors but there were thresholds, one you couldn’t see, he only sensed them and he’d learned early on in his life that crossing the wrong one was a remarkably good way to remain trapped inside the other head indefinitely.

Cautiously, he turned his attention to the surrounding thresholds, they were weak, but he wasn’t taking any chances and headed to the dullest-hued one first. Yes, he saw them in colors, mostly. Staying just outside it, he sought what was on the other side. Woe, a lot of dark in this person, not much of an IQ but a whole lot of death and pain in this soul’s world. The images held there were blurred, which wasn’t surprising as drunk as this fool was. On the good side of things, with the memories that he could make out, it was probably good they were blurry as they were pretty grim and bordering on gore.

Onto the next threshold, he still wasn’t able to see much more that would help point him toward an anonymous tip to leak to the police. Doesn’t this man have a home or favorite place? There had to be something here to help.

Ian continued until his watch vibrated on his wrist, signaling he’d been inside this other person’s cranium for the maximum fifteen minutes he could afford before he started to droop on the outside world. Feeling frustrated and annoyed, he left the mind and came back to his own reality.

Glancing around the bar, he checked to see if anyone noticed he’d been staring off into space for the last quarter of an hour. Grinning, he shook his head, no one in this joint would even notice. Why do you like to come to dives that are filled with lowlifes again? Oh right, because this is where the best thoughts are pilfered from brains. A guy has to practice and stay on top of his game, doesn’t he?

Lifting the near-empty glass to his lips, he downed the rest of the contents and looked around the room. There were too many sketchy-looking males to pinpoint who had thought it. Great. So was he supposed to watch the papers and see which cop bought a shortened life by doing their job? Ian wasn’t exactly a choir boy, but in his line of work, no one was hurt—physically. He knew he should just forget about it and go on home, but there was something nagging Ian that made him want to do something about it this time. Oh, yeah, that would be those morals you pretend aren’t there.

Signaling to the pretty little waitress for a refill, he leaned back and tried to remember why he should forget all about what he’d overheard. It wasn’t that long ago he’d been found out, more or less, and had to relocate and change his name in the business world. Not that he’d ever used his real name for his work. That would lead to a short existence and Ian was fond of breathing.

A deal hadn’t gone sour in the last few years though, not since he’d become more selective in the jobs he accepted. Although if he closed his eyes, he could still see the reddened face of the COE an inch from his own as he ended the first chapter of Ian’s profitable life. “You’ll never work in this city again. I’ll see to it. People that pry into other’s personal business end up living in a box in this world.”

Ian had never clarified whether he was referring to a cardboard box in an alley or a wooden one buried six feet in the earth. He’d only gone with instinct and been packed and driving before an hour had passed.

Pry into other’s personal business? That was a joke. There was no prying involved. If a person thought it, he heard it, inside his head, whether he wanted to or not. Over the years he’d learned how to block out most of it for the sake of his own sanity, but being as it was the only skill he actually had, why not use it to make a fairly comfortable life?

He tipped the waitress, generously, hoping she’d find a nicer place to work, and then downed the drink in one swallow and got up. Maybe if he slept on it, he wouldn’t feel he needed to be an upstanding citizen in the morning.

It had seemed like a good idea when he left the bar the night before, but now as he sat in his car outside the police station it was not really a brilliant idea. How was he supposed to do this exactly? Just go in and ask for this Detective and tell them he’d overheard a plot to kill them—inside his head? Yeah, that would work out well. If they didn’t send him to the nearest mental facility, it would at the very slightest begin the ruin of his reputation in the business world, not that he could discuss his work. Well, the real work at least.

He could always go talk to Brent and see if he could find out more about this information he’d pilfered from an intoxicated brain, if he knew which drunken body he had tapped into it would be easier, he could just describe the person and that would be the end of it. This was so far out of his comfort zone that he didn’t know where to begin.

Ian didn’t play cops and robbers, and law enforcers were probably the last people he should talk to. He was a specialist in the research field, at least that’s what his ID said. The reality of it was he helped himself to large corporation secrets and sold them to the highest bidder. He hadn’t talked to Brent in months though, not since his brother’s anniversary party for Brent’s sister. Did he even want to attempt to explain this to the family? Not likely the best plan.

“Start the car, Ian, and just drive away. You know nothing,” he muttered to the steering wheel. Flexing his hands, he grasped the padded wheel and let out a slow breath. “Fuck!” He was going to walk in there and do it despite the warning thought that he should run in the other direction.

Angrily, he strode into the building, stopping short when he spotted the old cop sitting behind the reception desk. He looked weathered, bitter, past retirement odds were if Ian attempted to explain what he came here for he’d be tossed out into the street. The balding man gave him a look that said ‘What the hell do you want?’ and he thought it at the exact moment his eyes made contact with Ian. Straightening to his full six-foot-five height, Ian offered his most sincere smile. “Could you point me to Detective Brent Jordan, please?”

Without offering a word, the scowling man pointed to a door. “Thanks.” Ian made quick steps to get to the door and away from the old cop. It was people like that he tried not to get too close to, their thoughts were never cheery or bright.

Closing the door, he paused and looked around. Now what? He could not believe he was going to tell Brent. The next family gathering wouldn’t be a good one, not after this. None of the people he could see were Brent or that large partner of his, so he headed toward the nearest desk. When he reached it, the man stopped and gave him an exasperated stare. “Hi.” He tried the smile again. “Can you tell me where I could find Detective Jordan?”

“Bottom of the stairs.” The man pointed. Ian tried not to listen, but it was so loud in his head—the man was distracted by his wife’s comment this morning.

“What did she mean by that? She can’t possibly understand...”

He didn’t linger long enough to find out the rest. “Thank you.” Nodding to others as he went past, he turned and headed down the stairs, focusing hard so he wouldn’t pick up any more stray thoughts. There was only one door at the bottom, which pleased him because so far the people he’d encountered weren’t exactly enthusiastic to speak to him.

Stopping at the bottom, he paused and took a steadying breath. Keep the facts as basic as possible and maybe you can get out of this unscathed. Not that he believed his own thought, but he knocked on the door anyway.

Ian opened it when he heard the muffled response. Almost sighing when the first person he saw was Brent. “Hey.” He liked Brent, the man kept his thoughts locked inside his head where he couldn’t listen in on them.

Brent stood up, eyebrows raised. “Ian?” He smiled and stepped around the desk extending his hand. “What brings you here?”

Ian shook his hand. “I’d like to say I was in the neighborhood, but the truth is I overheard something and thought I should report it.”

A serious look came over Brent’s face. He tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned back against his desk. “What kind of something?”

“I was out and about last night and …” Ian paused when the door flew open and a man larger than himself stomped through it.

“Assholes!” the giant snarled.

Brent cleared his throat and smirked at Ian. “Ian, this is my partner, Detective Reid Merritt.” He rubbed his jaw and turned towards him. “Reid, this is my brothers-in-law’s little brother.”

Detective Merritt stepped over and looked Ian up and down, appraising him no doubt; there was only a few inches of height between them. “Little? I think he may have outgrown that term.” He held out his hand.

Ian shook the hand as briefly as possible. “Yeah I love being the little brother,” he added sarcastically. Yep, he liked the big man too, his mind was strong and that was probably a good thing because his expressions said more than enough about his thoughts on things.

Brent snorted and motioned to the chair behind him. “Take a seat and tell me about this something.”

His partner didn’t say a word, just turned and leaned against the desk. Suddenly he regretted coming as the two large men hovered over him. “Okay. I went to that bar over on tenth street, the Lucky Tavern last night and overheard what I’m pretty sure is some serious shit. It involves one of the detectives that work here.”

“What did you hear?” Brent picked up a notebook and pen.

The other detective crossed his arms without a word. Cursing inside his head, Ian continued. “They mentioned having the whole family behind them and from the way it sounded I don’t think it’s a normal Mom and Dad kind of family.” Brent nodded and wrote something down. “They were pissed that this detective put two of their brothers away and then they skimmed over their plan to take this detective out, but I didn’t get the details on that part.”

“Did you get a good look at who this came from?” Brent asked without looking at him.

“No.” He didn’t offer any more than that, hoping they wouldn’t ask more.

“Did they use the detective’s name?”

Ian almost sighed that they’d skipped past his last answer. “A Detective McGowan, I believe was the name.”

Brent’s partner made a strangled noise that sounded like a laugh. “Shit. This is going to go over well.”

Brent nodded and reached around behind him for the phone.

Ian sat there looking from one to the other trying to figure out why they both looked amused that one of their own was in danger. “Did I miss something?”

Still grinning, Brent hung the phone up and shook his head. “No. Inside joke.”

“Get comfortable little brother, you may be grilled,” Detective Merritt drawled as he went around and sat behind his desk, kicking his feet up onto the desk and clasping his hands behind his head.

He decided to stand, feeling he needed to be on guard suddenly. Grilled? Was this Detective McGowan some hard-ass or what? Ian turned towards the door as it flew open and a tall blonde woman walked through it. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail that she flung over her shoulder as she spun to close the door. When she turned back, her incredible green eyes met his for a flash of a second and his heart stuttered inside his chest. Jesus! He didn’t know who she was, but before he was finished here, he planned to find out. Keeping his eyes on her, he tried to listen in on the sexy woman’s mind, it was cheating of course but it saved a lot of fumbling when it came to the ladies.

“This better be good. I was just on my way to interrogation and now squeaky is going to go screw up all my hard work.” She glanced from one to the other.

Brent shook his head and grinned. “Does Bill know you call him that, Alec?”

She ‘pffted’ him and shrugged. “Like I care. Why can’t the man wear damn boots instead of those loafer things? You try going anywhere with him squeaking along beside you.”

Ian glanced down at his own feet and was thankful he had worn his boots this morning. Frowning at the floor, he realized he wasn’t getting a thing from her mind, just like the men. That was disappointing.

Crossing his arms, Brent nodded toward him. “Alec, this is Ian my...”

“Our siblings are married,” Ian offered quickly and extended his hand. Her green eyes moved over him like he was some kind of insect briefly before she took his hand.

“Detective Alec McGowan.”

He dropped her hand like it burned him and spun his head towards Brent. He nodded back to his silent question. “Shit,” he uttered under his breath.

“Ian overheard someone that is a little pissed with you.” The lounging man offered from behind the desk.

Her eyebrows shot up and she looked from Brent to his partner. “Shouldn’t be too hard to narrow down, huh? How many idiots out there are pissed with me?” She laughed and then turned back to Ian. “Where did you hear this?”

“The Lucky Tavern.” He tried not to focus on her smile, on her lips most particularly because his own itched when he did.

“Shithole place, but good enough tunes.” She tucked her hands into the back pockets of her nicely fitting jeans. “Do you know who?”

He shook his head and forced his eyes off her long legs and back to her face.

“So what did you hear?”

Brent flipped the notebook open again. “They’re planning to take you out for putting two of their brothers away.” He flipped it shut and tossed it on the desk. “Ian’s fairly certain they weren’t actual family.”

“Organized...” She paced over toward the computer across the room. “That could be a long list of criminals I’ve put away from several different types of organized families.”

“Yep.” Brent went around his desk and sat down. “How do you want to handle this?”

Rolling her shoulders, she reached up and tightened the ponytail. “You didn’t see who this came from, just overheard it?” Her green eyes hardened as she studied Ian, waiting for his answer.

“I didn’t see.” Which was an entirely true statement and should end his involvement in all of this, Ian thought.

“Would you recognize the voice if you heard it again?”

He nodded and then realized this might be heading into a corner he didn’t want to be in.

Detective Alec smiled and he forgot everything as the brilliance of her eyes flashed at him. “Then I guess you and me have a date at The Lucky Tavern tonight.”

Detective Merritt chuckled. “Oh, I can’t miss this.”

She sent him a scowl. “I get to crack the heads, but you’re welcome to come as backup.”

“We’ll be there,” Brent added and picked up the phone.

Ian stood there and looked at the woman grinning like she’d just won the lottery. Alarms went off inside his head; there was no way he should even consider messing with this woman or agreeing to be involved in any of this. When she stepped only a few inches away from him and looked up the short distance into his eyes, her breath against his chin, his blood started pounding and he could only smile back at her. “Am I picking you up or meeting you there?”