Chapter 19

“Heard Caleb spent the night in your room,” Wander said and lit his Cuban cigar with his engraved Zippo, a gift from Roman.

Roman sighed as he settled in the reading chair across from his brother. He lit his cigar and took a few puffs. “Not much escapes you, does it?”

“If it did, I should find a different profession.”

“Fair enough.”

Wander quirked an eyebrow. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“If you want me to answer that, you’ll have to be more specific because there’s a lot going on at the moment.”

“Caleb. Talk to me about Caleb.”

Roman hadn’t expected his brother to back off, but a man could dream. “I don’t know,” he said, and wasn’t that the truth?

He had no fucking clue what he was doing. For the first time in his life, he was flying blind, and what was even more astonishing was that he didn’t mind so much. While he’d always needed control in every area of his life, somehow, he was okay with letting things develop naturally with Caleb. No rules, no promises, no secrets. Just that inexplicable connection, that invisible thread that bound them together.

“I’m gonna need a little more than that.”

Roman threw up his hands. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m as surprised as you by our… Whatever it is we share. This connection, this bond.”

Wander blew out a big puff of smoke. “Having sex is one thing, but sleeping together, sharing a bed, that’s much more. That’s intimacy.”

“You’re telling me. I haven’t shared a bed with anyone since the day Yolanda moved out.”

“So why now? Why Caleb?”

Wander wouldn’t give up until Roman had at least made an honest attempt to answer his question. That much was becoming clear. “We had this connection from day one. Chemistry but more than sexual. He saw something in me I didn’t know was inside me, a layer of myself that had been hidden this whole time.”

“He saw the Dom.”

“Yes, and I still don’t understand how when I had no idea myself. All this time, I’ve known you were in this lifestyle, but not once did I develop an urge to experiment or to test if I had kinky tendencies. Not until Caleb.”

“So, where do you see this going? You’ve always been clear you can’t afford to come out as bi in your job, so training to become a Dom is out of the question.”

Roman’s phone buzzed, and he flinched. That damned ringtone—like an alarm bell to his fraying sanity. He checked the caller ID. It was Blake Monahan, the state attorney and, as such, his boss. Fuck. Heart hammering, he swiped the screen.

“Roman.”

“Roman, what the ever-loving fuck is going on with you?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“You haven’t been in the office for two weeks. Working remotely for such an extended period of time is not allowed without prior authorization, which I do not remember granting.”

Roman swallowed. “I’ve been dealing with some personal issues.”

“Yeah, well, my patience with that excuse is wearing thin. Either return to work or resign.” Monahan’s voice was as cold and emotionless as the blade of a guillotine poised above Roman’s neck.

Resign? His heart sank. “I’m the lead on the Whitman investigation, sir. Without me, that?—”

“You’ve become obsessed with that case to the point where I can’t help but question your objectivity.”

“You know about the threats against me, sir. I’ve reported each and every one.”

“I also know about the accusations your secretary made, your unsubstantiated claim someone reorganized your files, and about you causing an accident and not even remembering it, not to mention all the online rumors circulating about you. You can’t fault me for questioning your professionalism.”

No, he couldn’t. Which had been exactly what Whitman had intended to achieve. “I’ve never acted anything but professional, sir. My evidence in this case is above reproach.”

A long pause. “I don’t know about that, to be honest. I fear that with all this happening, Whitman’s lawyers would have a field day with you in court and would most likely manage to get some of your evidence thrown out.”

Roman sagged in his chair, his limbs feeling like lead. All this time, he’d worked his ass off in his job, and now that it came down to it, his boss questioned his professionalism? “I may be the lead, sir, but I’m far from the only one working on this case.”

“I know that.” Monahan cleared his throat. “But you can’t deny my concern is valid. Maybe stepping away wouldn’t be the worst thing, both for you and the case.”

Stepping away? Roman’s lungs seized so fiercely he struggled to draw a breath. He could only think of one reason why his boss, who had always supported him, would take this position. Whitman had gotten to him.

His mind raced, thoughts colliding. Should he walk away? He needed to keep chasing Whitman, but quitting meant losing resources and power. Returning to work was playing their game, wearing their noose around his neck. And it would only be a matter of time before it would tighten. He needed a strategic retreat. He looked up and met his brother’s eyes, heavy with unspoken words and shared resolve, and he nodded at Wander.

“Maybe you’re right,” Roman said, his voice cool but laced with an edge of defeat he hoped sounded genuine. “Lately, the investigation into Whitman has not been going well, and I’m hitting walls there. I’ve also been dealing with health issues.” Technically not a lie, considering the stress gnawing at his insides. “Maybe I need time to clear my head and get a fresh perspective.” Bile rose in his throat, but he forced the words out.

The silence on the other end spoke volumes. Roman’s pulse throbbed in his temples. He pictured Whitman, smug and untouchable, protected by the very laws Roman had sworn to uphold.

“How much time are we talking?” The state attorney’s tone was a blend of curiosity and skepticism.

“Four weeks should do it. I’ve got plenty of leave saved up.”

“Four weeks…” Another pause, a consideration Roman knew was more about optics than concern.

“I’ll step back from the Whitman case, regroup.” Roman tightened his hand around the phone, the four-leaf clover tattoo on his arm stretching with the strain. He needed this, not just for his job but to strategize to outmaneuver Whitman’s next play.

“Fine,” came the reluctant response. “Four weeks. But I’m not making promises about you returning as lead in the case, Roman. We’ll have to evaluate when you return.”

“Understood.” Roman ended the call abruptly, his breaths shallow. He’d bought himself time, but at what cost?

The silence in the room was deafening. Roman still gripped the phone tightly, knuckles white.

“Talk to me, Roman.”

His brother’s command shook him from his stupor. “Whitman isn’t a snake. He’s a hydra. Cut off one head, and two more grow back.”

“You’re officially off the case now?”

“At least for the next four weeks.”

“Smart move.”

“Feels like cowardice,” Roman spat out. God, he hated the taste of retreat.

“If Whitman thinks you’re off the job, he may leave you alone. That could give us some breathing room and time for Caleb to infiltrate Coldrick. We adapt for now and fight another day.”

Roman released a sigh that seemed to come from his soul. “I don’t know anymore. Whitman’s influence is so much deeper and more far-reaching than I had ever expected.”

He relit his cigar, which had gone out during the call, and inhaled deeply, the rich tobacco bitter on his tongue.

“You’re questioning whether you can win this fight?” Wander asked.

Roman blew out a circle of smoke. “It’s hard not to when he keeps outmaneuvering me at every turn. This call had his fingerprints all over it. If he’s gotten to the state attorney, what chance do I have?”

They sat quietly, smoking their cigars.

“It comes down to our previous question. Do we want to bring Whitman down by legal means, or do we want to destroy him by whatever means available?” Wander asked.

“If I fully embrace the latter, my career as a DA is over.” Roman had no doubts about that. Even if he operated behind the scenes, sooner or later, his true involvement would leak, and he’d be fired. “I can’t advocate for vigilante justice as a DA, not even under these circumstances.”

Wander slowly nodded. “I guess the question is if you believe Whitman can be brought to justice within the confines of the legal system, considering how many people he has in his pocket.”

As usual, Wander penetrated through the BS to the core of the problem. If Whitman had been able to infiltrate the FBI, like they suspected, and had Boston PD cops in his pocket and now the state attorney, what were the realistic odds this case would ever go to trial? Witnesses would keep changing their stories or disappear altogether. The investigation would be stonewalled, obstructed, and frustrated at every turn. Evidence would be tainted by his rumor campaigns, or it would vanish. To build the case would take months at the least, but most likely another year.

And Roman wouldn’t be allowed to. He’d be fired long before then, and his successor would be discouraged from picking up the case. It would fizzle out…and Whitman would get away with it, allowing him to continue building his dirty empire, now untouchable. And if he ran for president, he’d bring all that corruptive power into the White House. Roman shuddered to think of the consequences.

“I don’t think anyone will be able to stop him by legal means,” he said slowly. “Not anymore. He’s bought off too many people.”

“I’m inclined to agree, though you know much more about this than I ever will. But from what I’ve seen, this is impossible.”

“That leaves us with illegal as the only option.”

Wander shook his head. “Not necessarily illegal. I’m not willing to go to jail to bring this bastard down. But we can certainly use methods that would get us the evidence that would cause his fall from grace, even if it’s inadmissible in court. As long as the public knows the truth, he won’t be able to keep getting away with it.”

“You mean go public with what we have. Destroy his reputation.”

“Exactly. I’m confident Caleb will dig up something at Coldrick Law. And if we give Whitman’s wife a heads-up, she may rat him out and give us more ammunition to use against him. We’d be using his own methods, the same he employed to discredit you.”

Roman could appreciate the poetic justice of that. “I can live with that.”

Wander put a hand on his knee. “But can you live with losing your job? Because you’re not wrong there, Ro. If we go this way, it’s the end of your legal career.”

Roman leaned back in his seat. How would he feel if he never returned to the district attorney’s office? He let that thought sink in, but the expected despair and anger never came. Instead, there was…resignation, maybe even acceptance, and a deep sense that it would still be justice in his eyes if it brought Whitman down. The public might not know it, but Roman could look back and know he did the right thing, that he’d sacrificed his career for the greater good.

“I’d be surprisingly okay with that, and it’s certainly a price I’m willing to pay to bring Whitman down.”

“And not to be flippant about it, but it would also change your life in other ways, like being able to come out…and be a Dom.”

Roman sat up straight. His brother was right. Without his job, he’d have no reason not to be openly bi…and to be with Caleb. “But what would I do instead? It’s not like I have the financial means to retire this early.”

Wander shrugged. “Come work for me. I could use your legal brain.”

“You’re serious?”

“Would I ever joke about that? Of course I’m serious. You know what we do, and you’d fit right in. Having someone with your legal knowledge and experience on board would bring so much added value. We’d be able to do different kinds of jobs. It would widen our expertise considerably, so yeah, you can start tomorrow if you want.”

Roman’s head dazzled. Working for Wander. He’d never considered that, but now that he did, it sounded so much more than tempting. It sounded…perfect. But first, they had to defeat Whitman. The senator might have won this battle, but the war…the war was far from over.