Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4) by Matt Lincoln (short books for teens .TXT) 📕

“Because I understand what it’s like to have an addiction,” Wallace replied. “I understand how it feels to throw your career away and ruin all your friendships because of a vice. Agent Howard has made some grave mistakes, but what he needs now is for his teammates to stand behind him, not turn their backs on him.”

I regarded the side of his face quietly as he spoke. His profile seemed older suddenly, more tired and worn out and painfully human. I felt as though I’d been betrayed. I’d always respected and admired Wallace, and, okay, maybe I’d put him up on a pedestal just a little. Now it felt like I was really seeing the flawed human he was for the first time, and the realization hurt.

“I don’t owe him anything,” I retorted viciously, and I could see the shock and hurt flash across Director Wallace’s face. “His ‘mistakes’ hurt my friend. Actions have consequences, and now he’s facing them.”

I turned away from him and glared through the front windshield of the car. I wondered for a second if I’d gone too far, been too brutal in my dismissal, but I tampered those feelings down. Fiona was a good, sweet, selfless person. Did Director Wallace seriously expect me to feel sympathy for Howard after what he’d done? Hundreds, no, thousands of people managed to go their entire lives without taking drugs or attacking their coworkers. If Howard was too weak to overcome his own issues, then maybe he wasn’t fit to be a federal agent.

The drive back to the office was tense and uncomfortably quiet. The moment we arrived back, I got out without saying a word or waiting for Wallace to get out as well. I hurried into the building and down the hall to the elevators by myself. I was angry, and I really felt like punching something, but maybe speaking with Naomi and Fiona would help me calm down.

“Oh, back so soon?” Naomi asked as I pushed open the office door and stepped into the bullpen. “I just finished up the paperwork from our last outing. Do you want to go out and grab some lunch? I’ve had the most intense craving for something spicy all day.”

“Sure,” I replied curtly. “Anything to get out of this office.”

“What’s got you all riled up?” Naomi asked as she looked up at me. “You look like you’re rearing for a fight.”

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Wallace finally entered the office. I waited until he was inside his own office before answering her.

“Just had a little disagreement with the boss,” I shrugged. “So, you want to go get lunch or what?”

“Sure,” Naomi sighed. I could tell she wasn’t satisfied with my answer, but she knew me well enough to know not to push the issue. “We should ask Fiona too.”

“Ask me what?” Fiona chirped as she walked up to us.

“Perfect timing,” Naomi smiled. “I was just asking this one if she’d be up for an early lunch. What do you say? I’m thinking either Mexican or Thai. The spicier, the better.”

“I would love to,” Fiona replied. “But I’m afraid it might have to wait. I think I have a new lead.”

“Really?” I asked, a little disappointed that we wouldn’t be able to go out but relieved for the distraction of a potential new lead.

“Yeah,” Fiona said as she pulled Charlie’s chair away from his desk and dragged it over to where our desks were. “So, I discovered that the first rash of incidents was almost certainly not some kind of trial run.”

“Why do you say that?” Naomi asked.

“Well, rush is all over the United States,” she replied. “Or it was, anyway. It’s pretty impossible to get ahold of now, which is also pretty weird. So, three months ago, a new designer drug is introduced to all major metropolitan cities across the US. New York, Chicago, Vegas, all that. People start going crazy when they take too much, and it’s suddenly pulled off the market.”

“That makes sense,” Naomi nodded. “I can’t imagine it’s good for business to have all your buyers turn into wild beasts after taking your drug.”

“Right,” Fiona agreed. “Then, a month later, a highly concentrated version of the drug appears in one specific store in Las Vegas just a few blocks away from our office.”

“We already suspected that the perp was baiting us,” I replied. “No offense, Fi, but that’s not much of a lead.”

“That’s not the lead,” she shushed me. “I found out that there was an issue with some of the cases not being properly reported. The police never made the connection, but I have a hunch they’re related.”

“What do you mean?” Naomi prompted.

“About two months ago, there were a series of attacks all in the same neighborhood,” Fiona explained. “Two of them even occurred in the same bar. They matched the description of the other cases to a T. The assailants in each case suddenly attacked people without warning, but these cases weren’t included in the reports we received from the police because they were stricken from the official record.”

“Stricken?” I repeated. “As in covered up?” I frowned as I recalled the story Wallace had told me in the car.

“Yeah,” Fiona nodded. “And I don’t just mean from the public. Even the official police records didn’t have any information about these cases. It’s like they never happened.”

“Wait,” Naomi interrupted. “If there’s no official police record, how did you find out about them.”

Fiona smirked mischievously.

“Once something’s on the internet,” she explained, “it’s never really gone. Someone went through and deleted the reports, but the artifacts were still there, and I was able to recover them.”

“Very clever.” Naomi smiled approvingly. “So we have a series of cases all occurring in the same area that were mysteriously covered up by someone in connection with the police. Why?”

“We’re about to find out,” I declared. “Fi, what was the name of the bar?”

“The Silver Horseshoe,” Fiona answered after looking it up on her tablet. “It’s in