“I work in the cyber department,” I rush on, “I was sent to investigate CrowdedNest as part of a larger investigation into Dante’s Nine and the Devil’s Wraiths. I was never supposed to even meet any of the actual members, but then—”
“You’ve been investigating me?” Brooks asks, his voice pulsing with rage.
“No!” I exclaim, “You were never my target. This thing with you...it just happened, and I wanted it so badly—”
“Why are you telling me all this?” he says, pacing around the living room like a caged lion. “Why not deny it?”
“Because I have reason to believe that the other agent working the case is trying to set you guys up,” I say quickly. “He’s trying to take down the MC’s on contrived evidence. He’s the one who’s after me. That’s what I wanted to tell you earlier tonight, before we got...distracted. I’m shifting my investigation on to him to try and stop whatever he’s cooking up. I don’t think the FBI has it right. I guess I’ve...gone rogue. Or something.”
Brooks stares at me from across the room, his sharp jaw hanging open. After a moment, he snaps it back into place, takes a breath, and strides into my kitchen. He swings open my fridge and grabs a couple of beers.
“Here,” he says gruffly, tossing me a bottle, “we’re going to need these.”
“What?” I sputter, “Why—”
“Just drink your damn beer and tell me everything,” he says, leaning heavily against the kitchen doorframe. “Start at the beginning.”
And because I have no choice, and because I’ve secretly been dying to come clean to Brooks all along...I do.
“To begin with,” I say softly, “My name is Quinn Collins. I’m from Allentown, Pennsylvania. And I’m a special agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
By the time I’ve walked Brooks through the entire sprawling saga of my involvement with this case, the sun is beginning to brighten the sky beyond the apartment’s windows. Brooks doesn’t say much, save to ask for clarification when I resort to FBI jargon. It’s impossible to read his mood, his response to all of this. Throughout my story, his expression is like a slab of blank stone. When I spit out the last few words of my truth, a long moment of silence stretches between us, heavy and moving.
Brooks takes a sip of beer—his third since we’ve started this marathon of divulgence. He paces slowly around the apartment, his eyes alighting on my things—clues about who I really am. My heart catches as he stops in front of my dresser and picks up the framed photo of my brother, Brandon.
“I already met one ex tonight,” Brooks says gruffly, “Is this the current Mr. Quinn Collins, or—?”
“That’s a Collins, all right,” I smile weakly, “But not like you’re thinking. That’s my little brother, Brandon.”
“Does your brother know about this double life thing?” Brooks asks. “Does anyone in your family know that you’re here?”
“I don’t really speak to my parents. And Bran certainly doesn’t know,” I say, averting my eyes. “He was killed, a few years back.”
I hear Brooks suck in a pained breath. “Shit,” he mutters, setting down the frame, “I’m sorry Keir—Quinn.”
“It’s OK,” I shrug. “I mean...it’s not OK, obviously. I live with it every day. For a while, I used his death as a means of pushing myself. You know, to distract from the pain. I joined the FBI because of him. Thought that if I made something of my life, contributed something to society, I could somehow justify what happened to him.”
“What did happen to him?” Brooks asks softly.
“Got caught in the crossfire between some cops and gang members back in Philly,” I reply. “When it happened, I immediately blamed the gang. Assumed that the cops were just doing their jobs, trying to make the city safer. But after everything that’s happened with this case...I don’t know anymore. The whole law and order thing seems a bit shakier than it used to, that’s for sure.”
“That’s why you were so cold at first, isn’t it?” Brooks asks, joining me on the couch. “You thought that Dante’s Nine was just another gang? That we were just like the thugs that were involved with your brother’s death?”
“Exactly,” I whisper. “But Brooks...you have to believe me when I tell you that I know better, now. I know that you guys have more honor, more loyalty, than any fed I’ve ever met. I’m so fucking confused about this whole thing. I’m just—I hope you can forgive me. For not telling you the truth sooner.”
Brooks swings his green eyes my way. He studies me, the cogs of his mind turning. My breath is caught in my throat as I wait for him to speak. If I lose my faith in justice as I’ve always known it and Brooks all at once...I don’t know what I’m going to do.
Finally, Brooks glances down at my hand, resting on the couch. He lowers his own hand to mine, lacing our fingers together. The simple gesture nearly starts me sobbing. I’m so relieved. He looks at me with knowing sadness brimming in his gorgeous eyes.
“It makes so much sense now,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Why we understand each other so well, I mean.”
“What, you’re secretly undercover, too?” I laugh hollowly.
“No,” he chuckles sadly, shaking his head, “but I’ve lost people, just like you.”
I gently squeeze his fingers, waiting for him to go on. Brooks isn’t exactly accustomed to talking about himself, his past. Certainly not his emotions. He’s got to go at his own pace. Finally, with a deep breath, his turns to me and continues.
“You know I was in the Navy with Declan,” he starts. “Well, I didn’t end up there by chance. My dad did the same thing, when he was a young guy. Growing up, I always knew he served as an aviation mechanic. It sounded so cool to me, as a little kid. So I begged him to groom me for the job. He taught me everything he knew, set me up for life. I think it was a relief for him, having something so solid he could do for me. Something so direct. It was just the two of us, me and Dad. If we hadn’t had the mechanic thing in common...It would have been tough.”
“Where was your mom?” I ask softly.
“Fuck if I know,” Brooks scoffs. “She was a junkie. In and out of rehab the whole time I knew her, which wasn’t long. Dad would never talk about it, but I think she ran off with some other guy. I was only ten years old when she left. After everything my dad did for her...Let’s just say I had a bit of trouble trusting women after that.”