Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

eyes. "I picked it because this is the bar Gerald stumbled into, terrified out of his mind, looking for a pay phone to call you. And the men's room of this bar is where his cousin's thugs caught up with him, where they beat him and violated him and left him to die. I found him, I saved him; I'm the one who would rather buy him a fake ID, take him south of the border, and help him put all this behind him. So I'm the one you're going to have to convince if you ever want anywhere near him. Now," Sebastian hissed. "Answer my questions."
    It was a little difficult to tell in the dim lighting, but Agent Kim seemed to go a little pale. "I'm going to reach into my pocket and take out a phone. I just got it this afternoon. I'm here alone, and I'm not going to try to contact anyone. I'm just going to pull up a banking site." He slowly pulled out a phone.
    Sebastian doubted it was FBI issue. If it was, he had some questions about where his tax dollars were going. It was sleek and new, and it looked like you could probably land and control a Mars rover with the thing. He tapped at it for a minute, and then turned it so Sebastian could see. It was a sizable bank account balance.
    "That is my trust fund. If you've ever bought a piece of lead-paint-coated plastic crap from Southeast Asia, there are good odds my family had something to do with either its manufacture, its import, or its distribution. When I was Gerald's age, I was damn close to being him. Long, bleached hair and a grunge band." Sebastian tried not to laugh at the mental image. "It was the 90s, okay?" Agent Kim leaned closer. "The Delawares have been a fucking thorn in my family's side for years. When my grandparents were first starting imports and exports, the Delawares had an entire neighborhood rezoned just to make things harder for them. My older brother rebelled a bit and joined the NYPD. He busted the father of that sick-fuck Delaware's cousin for sexual assault on a minor. The charges were gone before they got to the station, and my brother spent the next three years on bike patrol. And believe me, he is not a man built for spandex. They keep my white-as-anything brother-in-law out of country clubs, and he was a pro golfer. I have had more cases short-stopped or burnt to the absolute ground by their lawyers and their leaks. I'd like to say it's a matter of family honor or upholding my oath, but truthfully, they've just been annoying the shit out of us for three generations. The day Gerald walked into my office, I got down on my knees and thanked a God I don't really believe in."
    Sebastian found himself actually believing Agent Kim. He knew it could be a giant setup, he knew Agent Kim could just be one hell of an actor, but it seemed like if it was a setup, Agent Kim would be faking righteous anger, as opposed to righteous irritation. Sebastian moved his hand, and Agent Kim picked up the letter. "For a spoiled brat, he's got the best handwriting."
    Sebastian had to agree. Daren's cursive was tidy, masculine, and readable. Not something you usually see in kids who obsessively text and skip school.
    Agent Kim shook his head as he read. "I can't do some of this."
    "This is not open for negotiation."
    "To get permission for some of this…"
    "Who said anything about permission? Your house has leaks. Lots of them. This is between you and us, off the books, off the record."
    "I give him a new ID off the books, and he vanishes. Then what? You can't put out a legal summons on someone who is dead and who you can't find."
    Sebastian pulled out the USB stick from his inner pocket. "A sample." Agent Kim took the stick, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small adapter, allowing him to quickly open the files on his phone. "Nice toy."
    "Christmas present." Agent Kim scrolled through the data. "And there's more of this?"
    "Yes."
    Agent Kim stared at it for a long time before grabbing his drink and finishing it with a swallow. "I want to see Gerald."
    "No."
    "For all I know, he wrote this letter days ago. Maybe you've even got someone who can forge his handwriting. I want to see him alive and in the flesh."
    "You don't trust me when I say he's alive."
    "I think right now I trust you as much as you trust me, but one of us needs to make the first step. Pat me down for wires. Blindfold me if you have to. I'm basically off-the-reservation here. My boss is demanding I tell him how I knew about the two agents who were on security. I should have gone to him the second your