Convicted (Consequences)

don’t know where she is”—Brent continued his stare—“We know where she isn’t.”
    “I’m going to assume that offer to fire you is still on the table.”
    Scanning the mini bar, Brent chose a bottle of whiskey, unscrewed the small lid and drank from the spout. Shaking his head, he laughed. “Sure, why not? I’m considering an early retirement anyway.”
    Even with his back toward Tony, Brent could sense the darkening of Tony’s eyes and imagine his expression as Tony repeated, “Don’t say anything to Courtney.”
    Brent turned back around. He was done being bullied. “Tony, I’m not promising that. I don’t keep secrets from my wife.”
    “This isn’t debatable.” Tony grabbed a similar bottle from the bar. As he unscrewed the lid, Brent saw his shoulders slump. His tone was no longer full of domination; Brent heard something new as Tony said, “I care what Courtney thinks”—he kept his gaze away, as if looking out the large window and the lights of Boston—“And you.”
    Brent reeled. All the accusations and declarations he’d practiced in his head were suddenly gone. Brotherly love wasn’t a comfortable gesture between the two of them. Clearing his throat, Brent managed, “You and Claire made it through this. Do you swear you never treated her like her testimony states, since her release from prison?”
    Tony nodded. “I swear.”
    “Courtney is pretty perceptive; I don’t think she’d be too surprised.” When Tony didn’t answer, Brent continued, “Do you want to call for a jet to come and get us in the morning, or should I?”
    “I already have. It’ll be waiting by 10:00 AM.” Throwing back the rest of the small bottle, Tony said, “She can be as perceptive as she wants. I don’t want you confirming anything. Confidentiality—hell, I pay you enough to at least expect that.”
    Brent’s shoulders fell—so much for brotherly love . “Yeah, Tony, you pay me. Without a doubt, within the last twelve hours—hell, twenty years, I’ve fuck’n earned it!”
    Tony threw the empty bottle on the bar. “I’m going to try to get some sleep.”
    “Wait!”—Brent faced his best friend’s dark eyes—it was now or never—“That early retirement—firing—whatever you want to call it—it’s still on the table, and you should know, I’m seriously considering it. I know too much shit to keep saving your ass.”
    “You know too much shit to ever consider walking away. It’s not an option.” Tony turned toward one of the bedrooms. Before he shut the door he added, “I’m not accepting your offer. Good night.”
     
     
    It was after midnight when the knock came to the door. It took multiple raps before anyone from within the suite budged. Brent was the first to make it to the door. He’d spent most of the day with federal officers. It didn’t take a genius to figure that the two men in dark suits were among those ranks.
    “We’re looking for Anthony Rawlings.”
    Before Brent could answer, Tony came up behind him. “I’m Anthony Rawlings. What the hell do you want at this time of night?”
    The two officers displayed their badges and credentials. “Mr. Rawlings, may we enter?”
    The last thing Tony wanted was a discussion with the FBI held in the hotel’s hallway. He and Brent took a step back allowing the agents to enter the suite.
    Tony’s anger temporarily faded into concern. “Is this regarding Claire? Do you have new information?”
    “There’s more information.” The men in dark suits went on to explain the threats upon Tony’s life have been verified and confirmed. The information Ms. Nichols disclosed was only the beginning. The Bureau believes it’s in everyone’s best interest to get Tony home, safe and sound, where his security team can keep him from harm.
    They also explained that Tony’s activity could be currently monitored by the perpetrator and insisted Brent remain in Boston. They emphasized that in the morning Brent needed to go to the FBI office and complete legal documents regarding this transfer. Of course, then Brent and Tony would be able to meet up in Iowa tomorrow after Brent finished all the legalities.
    Tony considered their concerns. Looking toward Brent, he shrugged. Honestly, he wanted to be home. It made more sense than sleeping in a hotel room. “Give me a minute to gather my things.”
    As he left with the agents, Tony told Brent, “I’ll talk with you more when you get back to Iowa. Come straight to the house