Richard Castle - Naked heat

The Firewall nodded slightly to himself. "Interesting."

"Interesting?" she said. "That's all you've got to say about what you've done? 'Interesting'? Sooner or later it's going to come out that Toby had you guys kill the story by killing everyone who knew it, and all of you are going to take the weight."

The ballbuster in Jess Ripton kicked in. "You don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"I don't? I have his confession saying that he and Soleil Gray were there when Wakefield overdosed. Your client gave him the drugs. You snuck Toby out of there. And my take is that when the hush money wasn't enough to keep a lid on this, Toby Mills had you kill the concierge and the limo driver because they were tipping off Cassidy Towne. Who he also had you kill. Tracks for me."

"They'll never make a connection for one simple reason," said Ripton. "Toby Mills had nothing to do with those killings. He doesn't even know I'm involved in all that."

"Sounds like you're making a confession," said Heat.

He shrugged, and in it conveyed his certainty that whatever he said would never go beyond Rook's office. "Truly. Toby doesn't know. He still doesn't even know about Cassidy Towne's book. Or the leaks and the spying by that limo driver and the concierge. All Toby knows is he has a dirty little secret to keep about a party that got out of control."

"Come on, Ripton, I don't think this is the time to be doing your spin. Not after you've killed three people just to save your client's precious endorsement deals."

Wolf was getting anxious to go. "Jess? Ready?"

Rook blurted, "That's not why they killed them." He made a quick glance down at his foot and then looked up again at Nikki. "They didn't kill those people to protect Toby Mills's image. They killed them to cover up the fact that Reed Wakefield's death was not accidental-it was murder."

Heat was taken aback. She had no idea Rook could be so good with a bluff. But then she was floored again because his expression told Nikki he wasn't bluffing. She turned to assess the reactions of Jess Ripton and Rance Wolf. They weren't disagreeing with what he'd said.

"So you do have the last chapter," said Ripton. He took a step closer to the desk. "You wouldn't know about the murder unless you did."

Rook shrugged. "I've read it."

"Murder? How is it murder?" said Nikki. "In Toby's confession he said it was an accidental overdose."

"Because Toby still believes it was," answered Rook. "Because Toby and Soleil didn't know it, but Reed Wakefield was still alive when they left that hotel room." Rook punctuated the point by glaring at Ripton. "Right Jess? Then you and Tex here killed him."

"Where is it?" Ripton looked under the desk where Rook had been fidgeting, and when he didn't see the chapter, he said, "You're going to tell me where you hid that chapter."

"Let her go first," Rook said.

"I'm not leaving."

"Damn right." Ripton turned to scan the mess again.

"Nikki. Trying to help you here."

"Where is it, Rook? Last time."

"OK," said Rook. "It's in my pants!"

A brief quiet fell over the room. Rook gestured with his head to his lap and then nodded, affirming.

"Check it out," said Ripton.

The instant Wolf turned and took his gun off Nikki, Rook pressed the toe of his shoe on the radio controller sitting on the floor at his feet. Over on the windowsill behind the Texan, the orange CB180 helicopter whirred to life. As soon as the main rotor began to spin, its tip buzz-sawed against the windowpane, jarring the room with a grating vibration. Wolf twirled around and shot at the copter, shattering the glass. Jess Ripton, who was startled into a frozen state, brought his hands up defensively. Heat threw herself at him, slamming into his side. She grabbed Ripton's forearm and raised it up while, at the same time, sliding both her hands down past his wrist toward his gun.

The Texan spun back around to take aim at her, giving Nikki no time to pull the Glock away from the manager's grip. So Heat slapped both her hands around Ripton's, took her best aim, and using his finger, squeezed off a shot. It missed the mark, puncturing the sling. The Texan moaned and fired.

As Nikki began to fall backward, she gripped harder onto Jess Ripton's hand and squeezed off four more rounds into the left front pocket of Rance Eugene Wolf's Western shirt before she hit the floor.

Almost two hours later, sitting by himself at the counter that separated his kitchen from his great room, Jameson Rook stared at the two streams of bubbles rising in perfect parallel lines from the bottom of his pint glass of Fat Tire. It was his second beer, and he was headed for a third, figuring he wasn't going to get much writing done anyway. It was just past midnight and the OCME and CSU strobes were still flashing up the hall.

Across his loft in the reading den he had partitioned the year before, a cozy enclave with soft furniture and clubby lighting surrounded by shoulder-height bookcases, he could hear the steely voices of the Chief's shooting investigation team. Rook had spent a half hour with them earlier, giving his version of the gunfight; that when it was clear they were about to be assaulted, Rook created a diversion, allowing Detective Heat to seize control of Ripton's weapon and fire once at Wolf, and when the Texan fired the shot that missed her and killed Ripton, she was able to return fire and take him out. Rook made the mistake of thinking they would find it cool that he had created his diversion with a radio-controlled chopper, using his foot and a 2.4-gig transmitter. These were sober dudes doing serious work, and he would have to look elsewhere for his high fives.

Nikki was in with them for her second visit, and though he couldn't make out the words from where he sat, he could tell from the voice tones that the meeting was shifting into a wrap-up cadence.

When the squad finally left, Nikki passed on Rook's beer offer but sat with him. Raley and Ochoa came out from the office, peeling off evidence gloves, and asked her about the ruling. "No disposition yet, not tonight," she said. "Between the lines-as much as the 1PP guys give you-this looks like it will clear just fine. They just need to give it twenty-four because they have to show due diligence since it's my second incident of the day."

"They should give you a rewards card," said Rook, and before they could say anything, he backpedaled. "Jeez, that was insensitive, sorry, sorry. It's the beer talking."

"How do you explain the rest of your day?" said Raley.

But Rook wasn't listening. He was fixed on Nikki, searching her face, which told him she was off in her head somewhere else. "Nikki?" And when she came back, he said, "You did great in there."

"Yeah, well, considering the alternative results, I'm not unhappy."

Ochoa said, "Hey. You dealing OK with, you know…?"

Without having to say more, they all knew he was referring to her killing of Rance Wolf, who-criminal or not-would now lose his nickname and never be the Texan to her again. Unlike some Hollywood versions of the job, taking a life is profoundly affecting to a cop, even when it's the life of a cold, professional killer and the taking is completely justified. Nikki was strong, but she knew she would be coping for a while with the multiple losses of that day. Heat would take the counseling, not because she was weak but because she knew that it was effective. She also knew she'd be all right. Heat answered Ochoa's question with a single nod, and that's all anyone needed.

Raley said, "Hey, man, is it true? You stashed that chapter they wanted in your pants?"

Nodding proudly, Rook replied, "Indeed, I did."

"That answers one question," said Ochoa, dangling his latex gloves. "Why they made us wear these when we handled it."