Alright, here's the promised chapter —actually two in one. And tomorrow, another one is coming.
I've been thinking about something, and I want to hear what you all think: I'm considering giving Ethan a serious relationship while he's in Chicago, at least for a while… maybe longer, who knows.
I'll leave the choice in the hands of my readers.
You can vote here in the comments by choosing one of the following:
A) Erin Lindsay
B) Fiona Gallagher
C) Kim Burgess
See you in the next chapter!
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East Side.
Several days had passed since the weapons-smuggling case. For the last few days, Ethan had been coming here after work, looking for one person in particular. He didn't think he'd been mistaken or hallucinating—he knew he'd seen her.
Juliet had once told Ethan that after leaving Banshee, she planned to look for her cousin who lived in Chicago, and stay with her until things settled down. Thanks to Juliet, they had been able to get to Proctor back then, when they were trying to arrest him.
If Juliet had ended up on the streets, working as a prostitute, he felt obligated to help her—after all, she had lost her home and her life because she tried to help him.
After several days wandering around, he had checked every corner of the East Side. It seemed like he wasn't going to see her again. Ethan shook his head, slowly turned the steering wheel, and drove to the next spot, where the hookers stood in line in the cold, waiting for customers.
The Challenger turned, and as it passed a small alley, he hit the brakes. Under the glow of the streetlights, a familiar figure appeared once again.
Ethan narrowed his eyes, relieved that his efforts hadn't been in vain. He pulled his cap down a bit to hide his face and honked.
A small, thin Black man jogged over and leaned into the window.
—Which one you want, man? I got all kinds of flavors. You want dark or blonde?
Ethan raised a hand and pointed at the Black woman with long hair, smoking on the corner.
—Good choice, hold on a sec —the man said with a grin. He turned and waved— Hey, Nancy, move that ass and get over here!
Hearing the call, Juliet —wearing heavy makeup— stumbled over and opened the car door.
Once inside, Ethan began driving slowly through the streets.
—Two hundred an hour… three hundred if you want a hotel —Nancy said tiredly, staring out at the slowly drifting night. She didn't even look at him. — You wanna stay in the car or hit a motel?
—Long time no see, Juliet… —Ethan said, taking off his cap and tossing it into the back seat.—
—You've got the wrong person. I don't know what you're talking about —the woman in the passenger seat said, looking at Ethan. Then she quickly looked away, her voice trembling— Could you stop the car, please? I need to get out.
—You're hungry… why don't you have dinner with me? —Ethan replied, turning the wheel toward a diner not far away.—
Nancy —or Juliet— stayed silent.
The car rolled to a stop in the family diner's parking lot.
—Come on, there's nothing to be ashamed of.
Juliet hesitated for a moment before grabbing her purse. When they walked inside, they unexpectedly ran into some familiar faces. Atwater and Burgess were sitting on high stools at the counter, grabbing a bite. Looked like they were on night shift— they must've really pissed Platt off.
But they were facing away from Ethan and didn't see him come in. Ethan didn't greet them; instead, he guided Juliet to a corner booth.
—What would you like to eat? —Ethan handed her the menu— Order whatever you want, it's on me.
She looked far more worn out than she had a few months ago.
Even though she had worked in a strip club, she had never looked like this. Not even the makeup could hide her dark circles. Her skin was rough, her eyes dim, and she looked much older.
—A sandwich and a coffee —Juliet finally said in a raspy voice.
The waitress came over right after they sat down, took the order, glanced at Juliet for a moment, and sighed for the poor girl. More like her showed up every night to warm up or grab a coffee.
—Just a coffee, please —Ethan handed the menu back, resting his arms on the table and staring at Juliet— I know you haven't forgotten me, right?
—Of course not, you're the only man who ever treated me well. —Juliet smiled with irony— I could never forget you, Ethan.
He smiled faintly, then asked seriously:
—Why did you pretend not to know me?
—Why do you think? Hell, even I know I shouldn't be here. I was embarrassed… I'm a prostitute. —Juliet gestured at herself, her eyes darting around— Why do you think I pretended?
The rhetorical question left Ethan speechless. Just then, the waiter brought their food.
Ethan picked up his coffee.
—I'm sorry. I saw you a few days ago, but when I went back to find you, you were gone. I've actually been looking for you these past few days. Don't worry, I'll help you.
—Why? —A flicker of emotion crossed Juliet's eyes. She grabbed the sandwich and took a huge bite, speaking with her mouth half full— You don't owe me anything.
Ethan took a sip of coffee, setting the cup down.
—You did something for me. You were brave. I still haven't repaid that favor.
—Speaking of favors… —Juliet looked up, meeting his eyes— So tell me, Officer Morgan, did you keep your promise?
For a moment, Ethan felt stunned, like he'd been thrown back months earlier, to the highway exit in Banshee. Juliet waving her arms, yelling at him to promise he'd take Proctor down.
—Yes —Ethan nodded firmly—. I kept my promise. Proctor is dead.
—That's good… —Juliet's eyes grew red— It's the best news I've heard in a long time.
As she spoke, tears began streaming down her cheeks. She covered her mouth with her hand, shoulders shaking, until she finally broke down crying.
Her sobs caught the waiter's attention. He quickly approached Burgess and Atwater, who were in uniform, and whispered:
—Officer, something's happening over there. That woman's crying, I think something's wrong.
The two, mid-bite of their burgers, quickly turned their heads in alarm. But when they saw who was sitting in the corner, they exhaled in relief.
—It's fine —Burgess told the waiter—. He's a detective from our department.
—Oh, good. —The waiter patted his own chest and headed back to the kitchen.
—Damn, look at that—he's with a woman. Now that's new. —Atwater muttered when he recognized Ethan. He elbowed Burgess—
—Yeah, I see it. —Burgess's eyes lit up and she bit her lip, excited— You think that woman might be his girlfriend?
—Who knows. —Atwater gave her another elbow— Quiet, I think we can hear what they're saying.
Burgess nodded quickly and leaned in.
Hearing Juliet cry, Ethan didn't know what to say, so he simply stayed silent. After a while, she finally stopped sobbing.
Ethan pulled out some tissues and handed them to her.
—Here. I'm sorry… I didn't know Proctor had hurt you that much.
—Thank you. —Juliet's eye shadow had smudged, and the dark circles under her eyes looked even worse. She forced a smile— You don't have to apologize. Proctor already paid for everything he did, right?
—That's right. —Ethan gave her hand a small pat—
Juliet didn't show any joy. The light in her eyes dimmed even further.
—Can I… call you Ethan?
—Of course.
—Then Ethan, once you finish your coffee, please leave… just pretend you didn't see me. —Juliet forced a smile—
—No. —Ethan shook his head slowly, drumming his fingers on the table— I don't know what you've been through these last months. But now that I've found you, you can't just tell me to ignore you.
Strictly speaking, he and Juliet weren't friends.
When she fled Banshee, Ethan had Hood give her twenty thousand dollars—a pretty decent amount. But even that didn't justify sitting back while Juliet had been reduced to street prostitution.
—Even if I told you what happened… —Juliet wiped her tears and gave him a bitter smile— what could you do? This isn't Banshee. Knowing Proctor is dead is enough. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have had to run to Chicago… and end up like this.
After saying that, something seemed to come to mind, and new tears rolled uncontrollably down her cheeks.
Maybe it was because she'd run into someone familiar, but she couldn't hold her emotions back. She buried her face in her arms on the table, her shoulders trembling.
Ethan never knew how to handle a woman crying.
He let out a long sigh and walked toward the counter. Two patrol officers were sitting there, eating their night snacks.
—Enough. Stop pretending you didn't see me. —Ethan patted Burgess on the shoulder— You, come with me…
—Yes, detective. —Burgess jolted and quickly wiped her mouth.
—And you— —Ethan looked at Atwater— tell Platt that Burgess is helping me with a case for a couple of hours. I'm sure she won't mind you patrolling alone for a while.
Atwater shrugged and glanced at Burgess. Ethan reached into his pocket.
—Come on, it's on me.
He gestured impatiently at the waiter.
Atwater smirked and headed out of the diner.
—Tsk. —Ethan cracked open the bottle and pointed at Juliet— I remember you said you were good at crowd control and handling people. Help me with her.
Burgess nodded emphatically, straightened her uniform, took a couple of deep breaths, and walked briskly toward the corner booth. A few minutes later, it looked as if Burgess had cast some kind of spell—Juliet's emotions calmed almost immediately.
Ethan approached and sat down again.
—Juliet, I'm not in Chicago as a tourist. —He pulled out his badge, set it on the table, and said in a low, serious voice— I'm a detective here now. Whatever happens, you can trust me. I'll help you—just trust me like you did before.
Juliet looked at the badge on the table, then at Burgess.
—That's right —Burgess said with a nod— He's a detective in our district. He's not lying to you.
Burgess's uniform made Juliet believe Ethan on the spot.
—Please… —Juliet's eyes lit up and she quickly reached out and grabbed Ethan's hand— Help me rescue my son, Danny.
—Danny? Rescue him?
Ethan and Burgess exchanged a glance. Then Ethan gently patted Juliet's hand.
—Tell me what happened.
Through her story, Ethan finally understood what Juliet had been through in Chicago. When she arrived, she moved in with her cousin, who also worked at a strip club—and naturally, Juliet ended up doing the same.
Life should've gone on until she saved enough money or found a better job. But her cousin, a lonely girl, got involved with the wrong crowd. She started dating gang members and, in a reckless moment, stole a kilo of cocaine from them. When she returned home, she ran into a patrol officer and, panicking, threw it into the river. When the gang learned she had taken it, they hunted them down—but she disappeared.
So instead, they took Juliet to pay for what her cousin had stolen. She was forced to work the streets, while her son, Danny, was made to run drugs on the corners. To keep her under control, they also got her hooked on heroin.
Hearing this, Burgess's fingers tightened.
She took Juliet's hand and murmured softly:
—I'm sorry you went through that.
—Is that why you didn't dare tell me earlier? —Ethan lifted his cup and finished his coffee.—
—I know you're not scared. Back in Banshee, you all had a reputation. Most people prayed they'd never run into you while you were on duty. —Juliet said distantly— But I am scared. They have my Danny… If they hurt him, I'd never forgive myself. The last time one of us tried to escape, they beat her son to death in front of her. Just as a warning.
She shook her head.
—That's why you told me to leave earlier.
—Yes. —Juliet's eyes reddened as she spoke, her voice trembling— But now I know you're a detective here in Chicago. If you can do something… could you help me find Danny? As long as he's alive and safe, I don't care what happens. I'll do anything.
—I haven't seen him in a month. God, I don't even know how he is.
—Don't worry. —Ethan said firmly— I'll help you. I'll get you and Danny out of this. I promise.
He and Burgess shared a knowing look. Using kids to move drugs was common—they blended in easily, and even if caught, the penalties were minimal.
—Now tell me everything you know. —Ethan motioned for Burgess to hand him her notebook— If we're getting Danny and the other kids out, I need everything you can remember—names, locations, anything.
Juliet clenched her teeth.
—Do you promise Danny will be safe?
—I promise.
—Alright… —Juliet said, balling her fists as she told him everything she knew.
Ethan wrote down every clue, then added Juliet on social media to stay in touch. He also asked her to send an updated photo of Danny.
Seeing the smiling boy on her phone, Ethan frowned. He tore the note from the notebook and slipped it into his pocket. Then he took out three hundred dollars and handed it to Juliet.
—You have to go back and try not to draw attention. Leave the rest to me. I'll contact you as soon as I talk to my boss.
—Thank you —Juliet said, clutching the money, then hesitated— This money…
Watching her walk out of the diner, Ethan never would've imagined that months later she'd end up like this. She was paying for mistakes that weren't hers—trusting her cousin had cost her everything.
Ethan looked at Burgess.
—Need a ride?
Burgess nodded.
—Yeah, I'm supposed to meet my partner at the station.
Atwater was probably already on patrol; getting a ride was better than calling a cab.
—Let's go then.
Thud!
Burgess saw Ethan's car parked outside; she never would've imagined she'd ever sit inside it. The door shut behind her with a loud slam, and she glanced nervously around the interior, expecting it to be junk with a pretty exterior. But everything had been renovated; it wasn't nearly as outdated as she thought. And the leather seats were way more comfortable than the beat-up patrol cars Platt assigned them just to mess with them.
—Where am I taking you?
Not hearing Burgess's answer, Ethan glanced at her.
—Ah… —Burgess muttered nervously, fidgeting with her fingers—. Just take me back to the precinct.
—Alright. —Ethan nodded and started the car.
The night breeze rushed in, carrying away the lingering hint of perfume. Ethan snapped his fingers and the cigarette butt fell to the ground, swept by the wind into the gutter.
The precinct was still twenty minutes away. Burgess looked over at Ethan, focused on the road, and cleared her throat, trying to make conversation. She hated long silences.
—Where you met Juliet.
—When I was a deputy in Banshee —Ethan began, running a hand over his face as if he could still feel the exhaustion from those days— we were trying to take down… let's say the criminal kingpin of my town, a guy named Kai Proctor.
Burgess looked up, attentive.
—He ran the drug trade, prostitution… practically anything you can imagine —Ethan continued—. But he was clever and well-connected, so we could never catch him.
Burgess let out an incredulous huff.
—Sounds like he put you through hell…
—He did. He was one of the toughest guys I've ever met. —Ethan admitted with a faint smile—. It was thanks to Juliet that we managed to arrest him, even if it was only for illegal possession of firearms. Not drugs, but it was something.
Burgess blinked, surprised.
—Juliet? She ratted him out?
Ethan nodded, serious.
—Yeah. And when he found out it was her… —he paused, jaw tightening— Juliet had to run from Banshee. She came here to get away from him.
Burgess lowered her gaze for a moment, taking it in, then nodded slowly.
—Wow… you really are a good guy.
—I just do what I think is right, Burgess —Ethan said, turning the car radio down as some classic rock began to play.
He shot her a sideways glance.
—Relax, Detective… I'm not gonna ruin your tough-guy image. Your secret's safe with me…
—Do you always try to help people when they're in trouble? —Burgess smiled—. You're not as much of a jerk as you look.
—We're on a first-name-basis already, Officer Burgess? —Ethan's face hardened, his voice dropping into a grave tone—
—I'm sorry! —Burgess waved her hand quickly—. That's not what I meant, Detective.
She was seconds away from throwing herself out of the moving car out of embarrassment, when she noticed Ethan's lips curl into a mocking smile.
She ground her teeth in annoyance and said:
—Ugh! You are a total jerk. —Burgess snapped, though the traitorous smile tugging at her mouth said otherwise.
Ethan grinned and turned to look at her.
—About tonight…
—Don't worry, I know how to keep a secret. —Burgess huffed—. Besides, your image is already pretty damaged. And your car isn't helping.
—What's wrong with my car? —Ethan protested, only half-offended.
—It looks like you're overcompensating for something —Burgess said, raising a teasing eyebrow.
—Screw you, Burgess —Ethan muttered, nudging her lightly with his elbow as he shook his head.
With one hand resting easily on the wheel, Ethan said, as if it were obvious:
—…It's Radiohead. "Creep."
Burgess blinked twice.
—Radio… what?
Ethan let out a long, theatrical sigh, as if he'd just heard the worst news of the day.
—Oh my God… Burgess, please tell me you're joking.
She glanced at him sideways, fighting back a smile.
—Don't get dramatic. I didn't grow up listening to rock from the last century.
—You have zero culture… allow me to enlighten you, heathen woman.
Burgess instantly regretted teasing him. What she had meant as a joke quickly turned into a full, painfully boring lecture about rock, bands, and endless anecdotes. She only nodded along, trapped in her seat, wondering what she had gotten herself into.
As they approached the precinct, Burgess already had her back stiff and her hands ready for escape. Ethan parked at the entrance; she didn't waste a second. She opened the door so fast she almost got tangled in the seatbelt, muttering under her breath:
—Goodbye, Detective… —Burgess blurted as she hurried toward the station doors.
Ethan didn't reply; he just let a crooked smile form on his face before starting the car and heading home, still amused at how much he'd managed to annoy her.
The next morning, upon arriving at work, Ethan went straight to Intelligence. As he did every day, he left a cup of coffee and a butter cookie on Platt's desk, then headed up to the Intelligence office. He was one of the first to arrive and went directly to Hank's office, who usually came in an hour early.
He knocked softly, and the door cracked open a few inches.
—Can we talk…?
—Yeah, sure. Come in —the voice answered—. And close the door.
After closing it, Ethan sat down and lit a cigarette.
—There's a guy called Silencer… you know anything about him?
A moment later, Hank raised an eyebrow, surprised.
—Silencer? Where'd you hear that name?
—You know him?
—Of course. —Hank dropped the file onto the desk with a dull thud—. Silencer's been on Chicago PD's most wanted list for years. Extortion, armed robberies, organized trafficking, smuggling.
Hank handed him the file.
—How do you know about him?
Ethan began explaining how he had found Juliet a few days earlier on his way home. How she had helped him take down Proctor by acting as an informant for the sheriff's office, and how he'd gone looking for her after sensing she might be in trouble. Then he explained that Juliet had confessed that Silencer was holding her son —and the sons of many other girls— to force them to work, using the kids as runners.
—How reliable is she? —Hank asked cautiously. Many girls working the streets used drugs like they breathed; you couldn't always trust what they said.
Ethan narrowed his eyes and tapped the ash off his cigarette.
—Her intel is solid. She has no reason to lie. With her kid in danger, the last thing she'd do is play games with us.
Hank slammed the table, looking for a direct answer.
—So… you vouch for her?
Ethan gave a calm smile.
—Yeah. And if anything goes wrong, I'll take full responsibility.
—Good. Ask Olinsky to help you register her as your informant. And do the paperwork and file the report. There's a photo of Silencer in the database. Have Jin pull it, organize it, and call the team in.
—No problem —Ethan said enthusiastically, handing the folder back—
An hour later, the whole team was gathered, watching Ethan standing in front of the whiteboard they used for casework. He pinned a printed photo to it. It showed a small, adorable boy.
—This is Danny, ten years old. According to my informant, a local gang is using him and other kids to sell drugs on the East Side.
Then he pinned up a photo of a Black man with an expressionless face.
—Marcus Delroy, a.k.a. "Silencer"… extortion, robberies, trafficking, prostitution, smuggling— the whole package.
—Shit —Antonio cursed, catching everyone's attention— I know who that is. I almost caught him five years ago when I was in Gang Investigations.
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a coin-sized scar on his side.
—This is a little souvenir one of his guys left me.
Everyone in the room recognized that kind of mark. Only a gunshot could leave a scar like that.
Ethan nodded and continued:
—According to my informant, there are at least five or six kids, maybe more. The operation is simple: he forces their mothers into prostitution by keeping the kids as hostages and using them as runners. Those women are terrified he'll hurt their children, so they don't say anything.
Erin stared at the board with a grave expression.
—Where do we start?
—My informant doesn't have direct contact with Silencer; she only knows he's the mastermind. —Ethan pinned the last photo he had. It was another Black man, shaved head, scar near his eye—. This man is Snyder, Silencer's second-in-command. He handles the girls on the street and organizes monthly meetings with their kids.
—He visits a club called Colorful Bats almost every night.
—We need to go to that club to gather intel. —Hank said, tapping the board—. I want to see who this guy talks to, who he sleeps with… I want to find where they're hiding those kids as soon as possible.
—We need volunteers now. —Ethan spread his hands—. I'm heading to the club tonight. Who's coming with me to keep an eye on Snyder?
Except for Hank and Alvin, every hand went up at the same time. It was a free night, and a nightclub beat sitting cramped in a surveillance van.
Ethan rolled his eyes at the eager group.
—Ruzek… how well do you handle alcohol? —Ethan pointed at him—
They had to blend in; they couldn't just stroll around a nightclub nursing a single beer.
—Don't worry —Ruzek grinned, thumping his chest—. I'm good.
—Then you're in.
He had just graduated from the academy, didn't look like a typical cop, and was close to Ethan's age—perfect for places like that.
—Antonio and Erin will back up Ethan and Ruzek from outside in case things go south. —Hank added, stepping forward.—
That night, Ethan's car pulled up on the side of the street.
—How's the signal?
—Good. Video's clear too. —Antonio's voice replied through the earpiece—.
—Alright. —Ethan pulled the handbrake and looked to the side.
—Let's go —Ethan said.
—Okay. —Ruzek fixed his hair in the mirror and quickly stepped out of the car.
He opened the door and walked toward the nightclub at the corner.
A whistle sounded in his ear, followed by Halstead's mocking voice:
—Hey, Ruzek… —he raised his voice so everyone on comms could hear— my grandpa wants his suit back.
A ripple of quiet laughter followed.
Ethan wore a relaxed black suit that surprisingly fit him well. Ruzek, on the other hand, looked like a retired insurance salesman.
—It's for work! Besides, Ethan said I should look like I have money. This is the only suit I own—bought it for my cousin's wedding.
A short distance away, a white van sat parked. Its tinted windows hid the team inside.
The tiny camera clipped to Ruzek's chest felt awkward; he straightened his clothes and walked with steady steps. Outside the club, a long line had formed.
Dozens of women in increasingly provocative outfits waited as the line inched forward. Above them, a billboard made of colored glass fragments formed a giant bat, glowing under bright neon lights.
—Ethan —Ruzek caught up to him— where are you going? The line is back there.
—Line? —Ethan smirked—. I don't like waiting…
Ruzek was confused, but he had no choice but to follow him.
As they walked, Ethan drew several flirtatious glances before heading straight to the front, where everyone else waited impatiently to get in.
Fire code technically required strict access control. But rules were one thing… reality another entirely. As usual, flexibility depended on the discretion —and mood— of the security staff.
—Hey, Joe —Ethan greeted, pulling his hand from his pocket and lifting it toward the bulky guard behind the velvet rope—. Long time no see! How've you been?
The guard instinctively returned the handshake. His gesture was natural… his voice wasn't. Ethan recognized the forced tone instantly; his peripheral vision caught the exact moment the handshake concealed a bill with a president's face on it.
The guard's smile widened immediately.
—Thanks for asking. I'm doing great.
Without hesitation, he lifted the rope and let them through.
—Hey! We've been waiting half an hour! —someone complained from the line.
Several voices joined in, but Joe raised one muscular arm and gave them a cold stare that shut everyone up instantly. Silence fell over the group.
Ethan simply lifted a polite hand as he walked inside.
—Is he your friend? —Ruzek asked, curious, following him in.
—No, not at all. But we have a mutual friend… Ben Franklin. —Ethan said with a crooked grin.
Ruzek suddenly understood. If only he could say the same. He patted his empty pockets and managed only a resigned gesture.
At that moment, Erin's voice came through the comm, sharp:
—Ethan, reminder: you and Ruzek only have three hundred for tonight, and you just burned a hundred. After buying the tickets, you'll have barely over a hundred left. You're not planning to stand there all night with a single beer, right?
Their surveillance mission required photographing anyone who approached Snyder. Meaning they had to stay until he left.
—Don't worry, I know what I'm doing —Ethan said calmly as he paid his entrance.
Passing through the two soundproof doors, Ethan felt a tingling on his skin and his hair shift lightly. The pounding electronic music hit them like waves. Both of their hearts sped up.
Looking around, the nightclub had two floors and a massive dance floor in front of the DJ booth, where men and women jumped wildly, releasing all their frustration.
—There —Ruzek shouted into Ethan's ear, quickly spotting their target.
Following his gaze, several Black men wearing thick gold chains sat clustered in a VIP booth near the dance floor, one on each side, swaying to the music. The man in the center had a scar near his eye. No question—it was Snyder.
Neon lights flashed, and Antonio tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He rubbed his chin and shook his head.
—We've got a problem.
—Why? —Erin asked, pulling off her headphones; the noise was too much.
—Snyder's table is right next to the inner zone —Antonio said, exasperated—. It's so far from the bar that we can't record anything useful. Ethan and Ruzek can't dance in front of his booth all night.
—Exactly —Jin added, trying to adjust the camera angles, though it was pointless—. Now they'll have to improvise.
Inside the nightclub, Ethan noticed the problem too. But for him, it was easy to solve: all it took was money.
Ethan wrapped an arm around Rusek and walked forward with a casual air.
—What are they trying to do? —Erin asked, confused, as the camera zoomed in on Snyder—. Oh, come on!
—Ethan, you're not serious, right? —Antonio grabbed the mic in a rush— This isn't cheap; the department won't reimburse you.
Hearing the voice in his hidden earpiece, Rusek hesitated. He understood Ethan's intentions too. But Ethan ignored him and pushed him toward a large table in a prime spot, right in front of Snyder and his crew.
Seeing Ethan sit down so calmly, Rusek had no choice but to swallow hard and sit as well. Worst case, he'd lose this month's paycheck.
—Relax, enjoy it. Tonight's on me… —Ethan said, pulling him close and giving his shoulders a brief massage—
At that moment, a uniformed waiter hurried over, placed his hands behind his back, and announced loudly with a smile:
—Sir, this table has a minimum spend.
—Will this do? —Ethan asked, raising a brow as he lifted his coat and showed a stack of bills held by a money clip.
—Damn show-off… —several people muttered when the thick wad of cash showed up on Rusek's camera feed.
The waiter's eyes lit up and his smile widened. He quickly pulled the drink menu from behind his back and offered it to Ethan with respect.
—Sir, is it just the two of you? Would you like company?
The "company" he meant wasn't any kind of host service. Just like Ethan, they were there to have fun: young, pretty girls with little money who loved partying and joining the atmosphere.
They could get free drinks, have fun, and maybe even find a one-night fling.
Ethan pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to the waiter.
—Sure… I like blondes.
—Seriously, Ethan? —Erin scoffed into the earpiece, clearly irritated— Idiot —she muttered through clenched teeth, loud enough from the surveillance van.
Jin and Halstead watched with envy.
—Yeah, he's a real jerk.
The waiter took the money and nodded quickly. Ethan grabbed him by the collar, leaned in, and whispered in his ear.
—Got it, sir.
Once he confirmed the waiter understood, Ethan grabbed the drink menu and ordered cocktails, champagne and, of course, whiskey. He hadn't been out in a long time; tonight was the perfect chance to unwind.
Watching his fingers type rapidly, the waiter took note of the order.
—Alright, that's all. —Ethan slid his finger down the menu, covered it, and handed it back.
—Yes, sir —the waiter took it with both hands—. One moment, please; they'll bring it right out.
—Actually, I think I should head in as backup… —Halstead said a few minutes later, staring enviously at the drinks arriving at the table through the screen— I think three people can keep a closer eye on things.
—Really? —Erin shot him a look of pure disdain—. Why don't you call Hank and tell him that?
Just hearing Hank's name made Halstead shrink back.
Inside the club, Ethan grabbed a cocktail and toasted with Rusek.
—Come on, a toast to our friend.
—Of course.
They exchanged a smile and drank.
In the van, Erin shook her head helplessly and grabbed the mic.
—Don't forget you're working. Keep your eyes on the target.
—Of course.
Ethan set his glass down, straightened up, and headed toward Snyder's table.
The team focused on their task, comparing and reviewing the screenshots they had gathered. After a couple of drinks, the waiter returned with four or five young women wearing tight skirts and tiny dresses that left little to the imagination.
In the surveillance van, the screen was suddenly full of women, and Jin and Halstead looked stunned. Antonio, aware of his wedding ring, allowed himself only a couple of quick glances before pretending not to see anything.
Rusek, fresh out of the academy with little experience beyond college parties, was practically frozen. He didn't know whether to breathe, stare, or pretend to be professional.
In contrast to his poorly hidden shock, Ethan looked perfectly calm, as if the whole scene was just another part of the job. Erin watched him through Rusek's camera.
—Ethan… why do you look so comfortable in there? —Erin asked as she opened a bag of chips and bit one far too aggressively—. Don't tell me this isn't your first time doing stuff like this in clubs.
On the screen, Ethan didn't reply.
He only smiled.
Four hours later, Antonio stretched tiredly.
—How many people have we recorded so far?
—More than twenty —Erin answered, chewing on the pen cap and tapping it lightly against her notebook—. Most just stopped by to say hi and left.
—Only six had deeper conversations with Snyder.
—Mmm… —Antonio nodded, rubbing his dry eyes as he kept watching the screen.
Halstead scrolled through the footage from Ethan's camera and shook his head.
—Rusek's down.
Despite trying to hold himself together, he was flushed from drinking to blend in.
—Now I see why Ethan asked about his alcohol tolerance —Antonio said, clicking his tongue—
Inside the nightclub, Ethan's face felt warm. The girls invited him to leave with them, but he had to decline. Still, more than one slipped him her number. Then he turned to see Rusek's empty expression.
The good news was that the men at the table across from them were swaying. A few minutes later, Snyder's two guys helped him stand and escorted him out of the club.
The surveillance mission was done for the night.
Most of the bottles on their table had been cleared away. Ethan grabbed his glass and finished the whiskey in one gulp.
—I'm out.
After paying the bill, he helped the drunk Rusek to his feet, and the group headed out of the club.
The early-morning air was especially cold. The night breeze churned Rusek's stomach, and he ran to a corner to vomit loudly in the alley.
The operation had ended smoothly… at least, nothing case-related went wrong. Rusek, however, was slumped against the alley wall, tie crooked and eyes unfocused.
—Alright, champ, up you go —Halstead said as he and Antonio lifted him by the arms.
—I'm not drunk… I'm just… processing information —Rusek mumbled.
—Sure, and I'm an astronaut —Jin muttered, opening the van door to load him inside.
The three of them settled him into the back seat. The moment he leaned back, he let out a long sigh and half-passed out with his mouth open.
Erin shut the door and clicked her tongue.
—He's never drinking on an op again —she declared.
Halstead laughed.
—Not even if they pay us.
Ethan arrived just then, loosening his collar, still carrying that bar-glow and a hint of alcohol in his eyes. Just a hint. Just enough to make him looser than usual.
Erin crossed her arms, giving him a full up-and-down.
—Give me your keys —she ordered.
—You're stealing my car? —he joked.
—No. I'm driving you home. You can't drive like that.
Ethan handed her the keys without resistance. Erin took them and headed toward the car, Ethan following a few steps behind.
Once inside, Erin started the engine and glanced at him sideways, one eyebrow raised.
—Tell me something, Ethan… —she asked in a tone far too casual to be truly casual— Do you like college girls? Or is it just blondes?
Ethan leaned his head back, letting out a slow, lazy smile—the kind he only gave when he was a little buzzed.
—College girls? —he repeated, dragging the word with amusement— Nah…
Erin tried not to look at him directly, but she couldn't stop a smile from slipping out.
—Uh-huh. Sure.
Ethan leaned just slightly toward her, enough to lower his voice, make it softer, more intimate.
—Especially one with a very sexy mole —he whispered—. Right… here… —he brushed her cheek lightly— somewhere around this spot.
Erin pressed her lips together, fighting a laugh, a blush, and the urge to shove him for saying that now of all times.
—Put your seatbelt on, idiot —she said, but her voice came out warm. Definitely warm.
Ethan buckled up obediently, resting his head against the window with a satisfied smile.
—I mean it… —he added.
Erin stared at him a second longer than she should have.
—I know —she whispered, barely audible—
And she drove away from the club, while in the back of the van, Rusek snored like the world didn't exist.