The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(7)
It certainly wasn’t just to smile at the ruins of the Aguiler Manor. “You have to understand, Hank,” Simmons rounded his desk to tap his laptop into activity, “Considering your history, I’m conflicted about putting you on this assignment.”
Hank said nothing, merely waiting for the meat of the matter. If this was some kind of declaration, he knew it wasn’t for him. Putting Hank onto anything having to do with the Aguilers was the equivalent of setting a particularly crafty but aggressive dog loose into a den of foxes to watch the outcome. But, of course, Simmons had to say he was reluctant to let Hank do his job. In theory, no one working for the US government actually liked the violence they inflicted.
In theory.
“But we’ve stumbled upon a previously unexplored resource that might be able to yield results for us.” Simmons took a moment to click through several files on his computer before he sat down to face Hank. “The activity was dying down by the time police got there, but several people were hospitalized and, among them, we found her.”
He turned his laptop around so that Hank could see the image on the screen. Despite the common conception that he was made of stone, the state of the woman in the image made him wince slightly.
She was pretty beat up - to say the least - but at least she was alive. “Who is she?” He grunted, shoving the computer back in Simmons’ direction.
“Name is Juliet Brown. She’s an up and coming singer, twenty-seven years old, and she’s been living in the Aguiler compound for the past five years.”
Hank arched a brow. “What, she’s a maid?”
For the first time since he’d entered the office, Simmons offered him a genuine smile. “She’s Solomon Aguiler’s kept woman.”
Hank laughed. He couldn’t help it - the very idea that Solomon Aguiler could be monogamous was absolute horse shit. The man had been photographed hip-deep in whores on several occasions. “Solomon Aguiler has hundreds of women. What’s so special about this one?”
“That’s what we thought.” Simmons replied, before heading to a file cabinet in the corner of the office to extract a thick manila folder. “But then we went back through several public sightings of the Aguilers in the past decade. Almost ten years ago, this girl started showing up.”
And she was, indeed, a girl. As Hank leafed through these newest photos, he was surprised to see a mere slip of a teenager frequenting Aguiler clubs. She looked completely out of place in most images, and Hank had to wonder what that hell she had to have been thinking.
And then he saw a few images of her on stage. “What the fuck?”
“She’s apparently quite the talent - and one Solomon kept all to himself. The only pictures we have of her are these few - and a glimpse here and there. But we have reason to believe that she was privy to some of the most private inner workings of their organization.”
“And she’s agreed to be our informant?” Hank assumed somewhat wryly. Quite an interesting turn of events. The woman went from being Solomon Aguiler’s bed warmer for a decade to turning stool pigeon? He didn’t buy it.
“She isn’t awake yet, so there’s been no formal agreement made.” Simmons replied honestly. “When the authorities found her, she’d sustained two life-threatening gunshot wounds. She nearly bled out on the front lawn. Looked like she was trying to get away.”
So she had abandoned her lover in his time of need. Smart, if disloyal, choice - she sounded just as slippery as the Aguilers. “So what’s the plan then? She wakes up and you offer her a lighter sentence if she sings like a bird?”
Simmons arched a brow. “Sentence? We haven’t decided to charge her with anything yet.”
Hank was immediately on his feet, incensed. “What the hell do you mean you haven’t decided to charge her with anything!? If she has been with the Aguilers for ten years, that means she stood by and let murder and kidnapping happen right under her fucking nose. She’s a goddamned accomplice!”
“Calm down, Hank.” Simmons’ voice was calm, but firm. “I know how you feel about the Aguilers, but that’s no reason to jump to conclusions. We don’t know anything about this girl or the life she led.”
“By Solomon Aguiler’s side,” Hank emphasized, seething, “In the midst of one of the bloodiest and meanest fucking drug families in the entire country. I think it’s safe to say she wasn’t throwing bake sales and donating to fucking charities.”
“We won’t know until we question her.” Simmons repeated, looking him in the eye. “Regardless of what she says, she might be our only way in. The Aguilers have gone completely underground. No movement since the assault - but their trades are alive and well.”
“They’re holed up like rats somewhere.” The words escaped Hank on a low growl. “They’ll pop up eventually.” And when they did, he would be there to wring their necks.
“We’ll find them quicker with her help,” Simmons replied brusquely, “And finding them quicker means their drugs get into fewer hands. I think that’s worth aligning ourselves with this woman, no matter what her motivation. Don’t you?”
Hank merely glared at him. He didn’t like this - he had never been one for thinking tactically. He had a hot temper that came from a rough upbringing, and he didn’t belong here - hobnobbing with people and their fancy fucking degrees. He tended to act on impulse, and that had never served him very well.