Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 (25 page)

“Has the jury reached a decision?”

“Yes, your Honor.” The middle-aged man who had been making eyes at Claire stood, his hands folded at his waist.

“On Count one; attempted rape, how does the jury find?”

“Not guilty, your Honor.”

“And Count two; assault in the first degree?”

“We find the defendant, guilty.”

“But thirty days, Dad?” I stood abruptly, my level of aggravation skyrocketing. I wanted to kick something, preferably Anderson, and make him see the monsters he was creating. How could he stand to look at himself in the mirror every day, knowing the number of coldhearted criminals he helped stay on the streets?

“Jails are overcrowded. Even if Randolph gave him a year, he would be released in about the same time.” My dad reasoned. I knew he was correct. I saw the inside of our jails every single day, watched the revolving door of men and women who made their way through as if it was a normal errand during their day.

“Well, it still doesn’t make it right,” I countered.

“If you’re this passionate about it, maybe you should consider going back to school, major in Political Science. You could follow in Granddaddy’s footsteps and run for office.”

Granddaddy possessed a temperament, which I did not. I was too quick to speak my mind, not taking the time to consider my words and how they impacted the people around me. He had a way of listening to someone express their opinion, which might have been completely different from his, only handed out one of his analogies; his reasoning typically changed their arguments and beliefs. I’d rather toss your ass into a holding cell until you came to your senses.

“We both know that would end badly.” I quirked an eyebrow at him as I drained my glass in one gulp. Dad stood from his seat at the same time my cell phone started to ring. I glanced at the screen, Austin’s name above the caller ID.

“It’s Austin,” I said, my thumb hovering over the screen.

“Good, have a talk with your brother, get his opinion on what you should do.” Not waiting to send him off, I swiped the screen to answer the call.

“Hey, Austin, what’s up?” I sat back down in my desk chair, placing my heels on the edge of my desk.

“Hard dicks and hand grenades,” Chase answered, surprising me with his quick wit.

“Hey, Chase, what’s going on?” I swallowed down my frustration with my life. The verdict had been read and as much as I disagreed with it, nothing would happen today to change it.

“I’m here, too, dickweed.” Austin used the term of endearment he reserved for times when Momma couldn’t hear him. Nana Morgan would praise him on not being like the hellions in the street, using such grotesque and foul language. If only she knew he taught those hellions half the shit they spewed.

“Well, this shit can’t be good.”

Both my brothers laughed into my ear, the sound of it bringing on a smile I thought to be lost forever. Dad was right; I was taking too much internally, accepting issues of others as my own. I needed to hear my brothers’ opinions on how I should proceed.

“It’s all good, bro,” Austin assured. “I had some news and wanted to share, but y’all know how much I hate to repeat myself. So I sent a message to Chase, asked him to give me a call when he had a minute or two, and I would bring you into the conversation.”

Whatever he had to say was going to be big. Austin did hate to repeat himself, but he could have just sent an email with the details. This news he had was either really good or very bad.

“Motherfucker, you better not be getting fucking married or dying,” I shouted into the phone. Austin had a desk job, playing around with security shit. It was my or Chase’s job which I assumed would result in the call of one of us being dead. Austin got frustrated with most women he met, complained they had only two brain cells, neither of which were talking. He, like most men, liked a pretty face and a great rack. But, to him, having intelligence was number one on his list.

“If you two could shut the fuck up for a second,” Chase countered. “I only have a few minutes before I have to get off here. And I have my own news.”

Oh shit! This would be the “I’m getting married” part. Chase hadn’t even brought his girl around the family yet. If he’d asked for her hand, I wanted to be in another country when Momma found out.

“You done, dude?” Chase clarified.

“I’m all ears.” I reached over to refill my glass, fearing the news and yet sadistically wanting to hear something, which would take my mind off the shit storm I had brewing all around me.

“Chase, you go first, just in case you have to bounce.”

“All right, to make a long story short, I received notice yesterday of a critical fill; which basically means there is a position open that needs a body in it. My name was brought up by my commanding officer and now I’m slotted to a new duty station. So, in just a few weeks, I’ll be in Cherry Point.”

I nearly choked on my drink as Austin congratulated him. This was incredible news; having Chase within driving distance would make our momma’s day. Not to mention, give me a needed distraction.

“Dylan, you gonna live? You ain’t gotta be all choked up on my account.” Chase, the comedian wannabe in the family.

“Nah, man. I’m having a shitty day, this is great news.”

Silence filled the once celebratory space. Leave it to me to ruin what was the best news in a while. None of us were thrilled with our little brother being so close to such turmoil. Momma avoided watching the news for fear of what she might hear and see.

“Austin, you gonna be able to top this with what you got?” I teased, trying to return back to the great news Chase had just shared.

“Maybe not top it, but pretty damn close.” His tone was confident and assured, which was how Austin was all the time. He possessed the best of both worlds—book and street smarts. He was able to carry on a conversation with a three-dollar hooker or the president of a corporation.

“You two remember the project I told you about? The one I said would be ready by the first of the year?”

I recalled the conversation where Chase teased him about curing a super virus and Austin explaining in as few words as possible, how this program would constantly change passwords for banks and the like.

“Well, my boss came in last week and sat my team down. He informed us they were pulling the plug on the project, our ideas obsolete, he said. I suspected something a bit deeper, so I did a little digging.” His tone had me sitting my drink back down. Austin was suspicious by nature, much like myself. Neither one of us took anything at face value. “What I found pissed me off.” He enunciated the last three words.

While Austin was smart and cynical, he was also very much a gentleman. Not as softhearted as Chase or anywhere near as callous as I was, but somewhere in between. His reaction was uncharacteristic of him. He never held grudges or let little shit like this get to him, something more was bothering him. More than having a project canceled.

“Our program isn’t obsolete—it’s one of a kind. Mid-Century Bank, the potential buyer, found out exactly what they were being sold. Instead of getting a program with tech support and constant monitoring, they were getting simple software. Like a goddamn download on the internet, open to hackers and the fuckin’ like.”

He had my attention; hackers were merely modern day pickpockets. Instead of walking the streets searching for potential victims, they hid in the shadows, invading bank accounts and personal information.

“Adams Lighthouse would keep the original ownership of the program and all the components of the system, including the rights to the passwords and firewalls. Basically selling them a system, which would give our company the keys to the front door.”

Adams Lighthouse was the company who snatched Austin up the second he graduated from MIT. They sold him on a corner office with a great view and an expense account. From the research I’d done on the company, and little doubt, the same research he did as well, the company checked out legit. Fifteen months ago, old man Lighthouse died of cancer and his wife, who was twenty-five years his junior, took control of the company. She had a new CEO and fuck buddy a week later. It was this new CEO who had begun to tarnish the good name Lighthouse had worked so hard to achieve.

“I can do a lot of things, y’all, but I can’t work for a thief.”

I could practically see the smile on our granddaddy’s face.
“Never trust a man who stays mad through Christmas week.”
He would be so proud of the man Austin had become.

“I gave them my notice the next morning. I’ve got enough money in savings to live on, if I sell my apartment and move back to Charleston.”

Did I hear him correctly? Were all three of the Morgan boys going to be within a three hundred mile radius?

“You tell Momma yet?” Chase questioned before I could.

“No, just Dad,” he admitted confidently. “I signed a ninety day, non-compete clause when I was originally hired. He is looking into the legality of it since the company changed ownership.”

Well…fuck me! Dad never said a word to me about this. Momma was gonna flip the fuck out. The news would be all over town by this time tomorrow.

“He’s renting me office space in his building. I’m going to work with a few security firms, do their intel. Do background checks on douche bag cheaters and scammers, while still creating programs to help companies reduce their security risks.” Hearing the pride in Austin’s voice was enough to quench any anger I might have felt toward Dad for not sharing with me.

Our entire lives, we had been encouraged to be men of honor and courage, to protect the people we loved, all the while respecting the strangers surrounding us. Austin was living the life, being the honest man we all knew how to be, while Chase and I risked our lives, serving those nameless faces of women and children they showed on the media. Was I really doing everything I could to continue to be honorable and just?

“Dylan, we’ve been brothers for years, shared more secrets than the Pentagon. I can tell by the sound of your voice something is very wrong.” Chase adding an agreeable “um-hum” in the mix.

Dad was right; if there was anyone who would have my back in this, help me to figure out what I wanted to do, what I needed to do, it was these two. So I shared everything, holding nothing back, including my trip to the doctor. How I felt as if I was at a crossroads in my career and in foreign territory when it came to Claire.

“So, Dylan, if you were to think about it, right this second, what made you the most happy growing up, what would your answer be?” Chase was the follower in our trio; he was also the critical thinker in the pack. Where Austin was rational and I was the hot head, Chase could figure out a strategy in the blink of an eye. Lucky for him, he had the muscles to back up his decisions.

“Chase, when I came back to my office after checking on Claire, I looked to the sky and thought to myself, this would be a hell of a night for a ride on the bike.” Someone snickered, but I wasn’t sure, and didn’t care, who.

“Every time I think back to the good times we had growing up, nine times out of ten my thoughts go back to Dad’s garage and building our bikes. All the conversations we had about life, love, and women. How Dad would ignore the fact we snuck a beer or two while we worked out there. How Granddaddy would sit in the corner, telling stories of when he was younger and the shit he pulled.”

All the memories came flowing back like a white-capped river, churning over all the bad shit the day had brought.

“So, you gonna build a new bike? Do less hours at work or somethin’?”

Thinking of my job, how much of a failure I was at it, brought the storm clouds back to my briefly lived clarity.

“You’ve got room in that house of yours, don’t cha?”

The questions were coming into my mind, yet I wasn’t processing them. Austin was sickened by the gross misconduct his employer partook in. He searched around and found something to keep him employed and yet eager to go to work every day. I didn’t hate being a Detective, I just didn’t feel the sense of pride and worth I once had. I no longer felt as if I were making any difference in the problems. Only shuffling around the issues, giving myself, and the people I swore to protect, a well-constructed lie.

“No, I’m quitting the force and opening a bike shop.” The words were out before my tongue could stop them.

“Wait!”

“What?” They shouted in unison.

“Dylan, you’ve worked hard to make Detective, don’t let one bad day in court make you toss it all away.” Austin tried to make me look beyond the shit show today turned out to be.

“You’re right, I did work hard. Every day I go out, collect evidence, and talk with witnesses. I spend hours digging through shit and grime to get that one sliver of hope for the victim. Yet, in the blink of an eye, with pretty words and a loop hole, the motherfucker who ruined the life of an innocent girl is out walking the streets, laughing his rotten ass off, thinking he’s above the goddamn law.” The rage from watching Lainie cry into Claire’s shoulder, as they escorted Greyson back to jail, knowing in a mere few weeks, he would once again be out there, looking for his next opportunity…his next victim.

“I stopped making a difference when I believed that every man out there was as good and honest as the men I grew up with.” I slammed my fist to the wood of my desk, releasing the pent up rage, which had been building for years. “When having the law on my side was an asset and not a goddamn hindrance.” My breathing was labored; sweat covered my face as if I had just run a marathon. But my mind was clear, my decision made. “I became a part of the problem when I failed to be the solution.” In one phrase, I had summed up everything I was feeling and my decision to walk away was solidified.

“A blind mule ain’t afraid of darkness, Dylan. Just because you close your eyes to the evil around you, doesn’t make it go away.” Granddaddy’s words flowed from Chase’s lips.

“You’re right, bro. Until I can figure out a way to stop these criminals permanently, I’m doing something to make my life better…” I glanced at the shelf of photos across the room; one in particular was of Austin and myself sitting outside a bar in Daytona, Florida.