by Nancy Mehl
“Who’s watching her now?”
“There’s an unmarked car across the street. But I have to be cautious. She’s smart; she’ll figure out something’s wrong if we’re not careful.”
“Tell me again what happened.”
Tally took a sip of his coffee. Ever since the call had come in, his nerves had been on edge. He hated leaving the cemetery before saying anything to Mercy, but he was told not to speak to her until he’d talked to the chief. “The gang unit in LA contacted Chief Kennedy. He said they’d uncovered a threat against Mercy. It has something to do with the Vargas cartel—and Darius Johnson. The chief called me since he knows I’m friends with her. I’ve reached out to one of my CIs. He says Darius Johnson is looking for something, and he thinks Mercy has it.”
“What does that have to do with Vargas?”
Tally shrugged. “I have no idea . . . yet. And I don’t know what Johnson is looking for. This is all the information we’ve gotten so far. We’ve got some CIs deeper inside the gangs. We’ll get with them as soon as we can, but we can’t just pull them in. If we move too quickly we might tip someone off. We need to keep these guys alive.”
“Can LA tell us more?”
Tally nodded. “They’ve got someone deep undercover in the cartel, except that’s even touchier. They have to wait until he contacts them. One wrong move . . .”
“I understand.”
“So what did you tell her?” Tally asked.
Before Mark could answer, the girl at the front counter called out his name. Mark got up to fetch his coffee.
Tally’s concern wasn’t just for Mercy. She lived in the other half of the duplex he owned. If she was in danger, his family could get caught in the line of fire. His chief had promised to talk to Richard Batterson, the man in charge of the U.S. Marshals’ office in St. Louis. Hopefully they would come up with a plan of action that would keep everyone safe.
Mark came back and sat down. “I just told her I was sorry about Nick. I’m hoping she’ll chalk my visit up to that.” He frowned at Tally. “She thinks someone broke into her place.”
Tally’s eyebrows shot up. “Is she right?”
Mark gave a little shrug. “It looked the same to me. Of course, I haven’t been there in a long time. But you know Mercy. She knows where everything goes. If something’s been moved half an inch, she can tell.”
Tally snorted. “I found that out the hard way.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes. He was exhausted. “If she’s right, Johnson’s already looking for whatever it is he wants so desperately. She could be in real trouble, Mark.”
“I know. I’m worried about you and your family too. Maybe you should get your wife and kids out of town for a while. Can you send them to visit her mom or something?”
“I’m one step ahead of you,” Tally said, nodding. “I plan to talk to Annie this evening when I get home.” He sighed deeply. “Here’s something else to add to the mix. Got a call before I left the station. Nick’s place was hit. Whoever broke in tore it up pretty good.”
“If someone really did break in to Mercy’s, it could be related.”
“It’s very possible. You know, Nick was working undercover with the gang unit.”
Mark blew out a quick breath of air. “I wasn’t aware of that. If that’s what got him killed . . .”
“Then Mercy’s in even more danger than we thought.” Tally stared down at the table for a moment. Then he looked up at Mark. “What’s Mercy doing about her break-in?”
“She said she was going to call you. Ask you to send someone from the crime-scene unit, have them look for prints.”
“She phoned earlier,” said Tally, “but I didn’t take it. I wanted to talk to you first. I can send the crime unit over there, but I bet they won’t find anything. Anyone who took the time to be that careful probably made sure not to leave evidence behind.” He shook his head. “When Mercy finds out about Nick’s apartment she’s going to get suspicious.”
“You know how thieves hit empty houses during funerals. Maybe she’ll think that’s all it was.”
Tally grunted. “She might have—if someone hadn’t broken into her place.”
Mark frowned. “You know Mercy better than anyone, don’t you?”
“I think so. Why?”
Mark ran a finger around the rim of his cup. “She’s supposed to be working with the shrink the department assigned to her, but I heard she’s not cooperating. I’ve never known anyone so closed off emotionally.” He looked carefully at Tally. “You know, we started to get close when we were together. I mean really close. Then the door slammed shut.” He shrugged. “She says it’s because I ‘got religious.’ But I think that was only part of it.”
Tally was quiet for a moment, trying to decide what he could tell Mark without revealing something Mercy wouldn’t want him to.
“I’m not asking you to betray your friendship,” Mark said as if he’d just read Tally’s mind. “You and I don’t know each other all that well, but I still really care about her. If I’m not the guy for her, fine. But the way things ended . . . well, as soon as I told her I loved her, she began to change. Pull away from me. I don’t know what to make of it.”
Tally took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Mercy and I have been best friends since grade school,” he said finally. “I was a poor black kid from north St. Louis. Smart, skinny, and constantly bullied. I did everything I could to stay away from the gangs that cost my older brother his life, and I’ve worked hard to become a police lieutenant. I’ve got a wonderful wife and two children. The truth is, I owe a lot of my success to Mercy.” He paused, took a sip of his coffee. “She was bullied too. That’s why we bonded. After her father deserted his family, her mother started drinking and abusing prescription drugs. She’d show up at school, out of her head, and cause a scene in front of the other kids and the teachers. They had to ban her from the school. The school’s principal called social services several times. Somehow Mercy’s mom always managed to keep her kids. But just barely. Mercy had to build emotional walls to protect herself. Over the years they’ve only gotten stronger.”
Tally shook his head. “She stopped crying, a fact some of the kids in school picked up on. They called her ‘the girl who never cries.’ And believe me, they tried everything they could to change that, but no one ever did. Through all the drama, Mercy and I gave each other strength. Encouraged each other. Her loyalty and friendship helped me to be brave. I knew she was on my side. So long as I had her in my life, I never worried about being alone. If she could believe in me, I could believe in me too. When Mercy found out I wanted to be a police officer, she wouldn’t let it go. Wouldn’t let me back off from my dream.” Tally chuckled. “Funny thing is, I pulled her along with me. She finally decided to join the force when I did.”
“Then she transferred to the Marshals after her father moved here from Virginia two years ago. Didn’t want to work with him, right?” Mark asked.
Tally nodded. “That’s true, but to be honest, she loves the Marshals. I really don’t think she’d go back to the force.”
Mark was quiet for a moment. “So you’re telling me that her father up and left her family, and then her mother deserted her by diving into booze and drugs. Now she protects herself from everyone so she won’t get hurt again?”
“Yeah. I might be the only person in the world she trusts. If she started to care too much for you—if you two got too close—she must have felt the need to shut down the relationship. I suspect that’s what happened, although she won’t talk to me about it . . . about you. Mark, she’s the toughest person I’ve ever known—on the outside. On the inside, though, she’s bruised. Tender.”
“I wish she’d open up to Dr. Abbot. She’s a good therapist. I’ve talked with her.”
Tally shook his head. “She won’t. Trust me, something will have to happen to Mercy to make her finally deal with her pain. Something major.” He drained the last of his coffee. “You said you go to church?”
>
Mark nodded.
“Then pray for her. I worry she’ll keep pushing her pain into that deep, dark vault she’s created until it finally spills out on its own and buries her. If that happens, I don’t know if anyone can save her.”
“Thanks,” Mark said. “I know you didn’t have to share any of that. I’ll never let her know.”
“Well, if we don’t find a way to keep her alive, nothing I told you will matter.” He pushed his coffee cup away and stared at Mark. “So, how do we protect her?”
“We wait to see what your boss and mine come up with. Then we pray it works.”
Darius walked into the house with two of his boys close behind him. ManMan and Pretty Boy were enforcers. No one messed with D-Money when they had his back. Meeting with Crazy Tony from the Rollin’ 60s was something he’d never do without firepower in evidence. Crazy Tony ran his Bloods gang with fear and intimidation, but today Darius was “the man.” His partnership with the Vargas cartel made him invincible. No gang leader in St. Louis would take a chance on crossing him. Though Darius wasn’t certain why Crazy Tony requested a meeting, he assumed he wanted to form an alliance. Darius and Angel Vargas had talked about the possibility several times.
“Once they know we’re in town—and what we’re offering—they’ll jump on board,” Vargas had told him in the beginning. “We can take over St. Louis when we’re united. The cops won’t stand a chance.”
Darius believed he was watching the fulfillment of Vargas’s prediction. The Crips and Bloods aligning. If he wasn’t seeing it unfold before his eyes, he never would have believed it. This wouldn’t be a slam dunk, however. There was a lot of bad blood between the groups, and Darius wasn’t sure his boys would accept the new alliance. Of course, when it came down to it, you could go along—or you could die. The choice wasn’t that hard.
Crazy Tony stood when Darius entered the room. “D-Money,” Tony said with a smile. His grin reminded Darius of the look he’d seen on his father’s face when he was eight. Right before he beat him or his mom senseless. The worst beatings came when he tried to protect his mother. One time his father broke Darius’s jaw and pulled his shoulder out of joint. When that man was shot dead in front of him, it was one of the best moments of Darius’s life. The police never caught the guy who did it. Too bad, because hardly a day went by when Darius didn’t quietly thank him.
Darius grabbed Tony’s outstretched hand, and they shook like old men, neither one willing to give into the other’s gang handshake. That would never happen, no matter what kind of threat the cartel posed.
Darius noticed that Tony had brought his own protection. Four big men stood silently along the wall. They looked relaxed, but Darius knew their guns were close by. Probably stuck in the waistbands of their jeans. Most gang members kept their pistols in their pants, hidden under a long shirt so that the cops wouldn’t see them.
On a nearby table, an AK-47 was within arm’s reach. Obviously there as a threat. Again, Darius wasn’t worried. His crew was armed and ready. They’d die before they allowed anyone to hurt him. They were his boys. His family.
Darius sat down at the table with Tony. “You called this meetin’,” Darius said. “Whatcha want, Tony?”
“We know you been workin’ with the Mexicans,” Tony said, referring to the Vargas cartel. “They been bringin’ in money to the hood. Lots of money. We want in.”
Darius nodded slowly. “We might be able to make somethin’ happen, but you gotta call off any wars. Any retribution. We gotta work together. I ain’t sure you can do that.”
Tony narrowed his eyes. “Ain’t no big thing. You already done some of the work.”
“Wasn’t nuthin’. Just brought in the Bishops, the Brims, and the 92nd Street Devils.” He rested his elbows on the table and leaned in. “You need to listen to me, Tony. When Vargas says somethin’, I’ll pass it along. But you gotta do it.” He lightly slapped his chest. “It ain’t me tellin’ you, I’m just the messenger. Can you deal with that?”
Tony smiled again, and Darius started to feel a little nervous. This was too easy. It wasn’t that long ago that Tony declared death to the Black Mafia, Darius’s gang. Must be the money. Tony knew a good deal when he saw it, and this was an awesome opportunity. Before long, St. Louis would be drowning in heroin, and D-Money would be king of all the gangs. No one would be able to stop him. The entire town would bow at his feet.
“So you speak for Angel Vargas?” Tony said in a low voice. “You think you’re his right-hand man, huh?”
His greasy grin spread even wider, and a warning bell went off in Darius’s head. “I don’t think it, I know it,” he said, turning to catch ManMan’s eye. He nodded, warning him to be ready for any confrontation that might break out. But ManMan just smiled at him.
“I bet you don’t know I’m sendin’ some of my crew after the deputy Marshal, who has somethin’ you lost,” Tony said. “We gonna kill her dead and get back the item Vargas wants.”
Darius’s brain locked up. What was Tony saying? How could he know about the Marshal? The muscles in his right hand tensed as he thought about grabbing the gun he had in his own waistband.
“Problem is,” Tony continued, “Mr. Vargas is done with you, Dumbo. You messed up big-time. He found out what you did. He don’t let anyone betray him and walk away alive.”
Darius went cold inside. How did Angel find out about the video? It had to be Jacob, that dirty thief. He’d make sure Jacob paid dearly for his disloyalty.
Darius jumped to his feet and pulled out his weapon while he swung his head around to signal his crew, expecting them to grab their guns and take down Tony and his men. Their guns were drawn all right, but they were aimed at him.
Seconds before he took his very last breath, Darius realized he’d been played. And with his final words on this earth, Darius Johnson called out for his mother.
Chapter
Seven
Mark St. Laurent sat across from the Chief Deputy of the Eastern Division of Missouri’s U.S. Marshals Service. Both men were silent as they contemplated what they were about to do.
“I don’t think it’s fair to her,” Mark said quietly. “She’s a deputy U.S. Marshal. She’s earned her place here, and I think we need to show her more respect. We need to tell her the truth.”
“I’m not saying I don’t respect her,” Richard Batterson said sharply. “I’m trying to protect her. Right now only you and I, Lieutenant Williams, and the chief of police know what’s going on. We have a mole, and I can’t take a chance this operation will fail.”
“It’s not her.”
“Based on what?” Batterson scowled at Mark. “The fact that you dated her for a year? That hardly qualifies you to—”
“It qualifies me enough to tell you she would never betray us. Never. Besides, if the cartel is after her, why would she pass along information? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I know that. But maybe she hasn’t worked with them directly. Maybe she was working with Darius Johnson. A lot of money flowed through his hands. It wouldn’t be the first time a law-enforcement officer was recruited by a gang, nor would it be the first time a cartel targeted someone working for them.” He paused and let out a sigh. “Look, my gut tells me she’s not the mole, but I can’t go by my gut this time. For now, I have to assume she might be dirty, and you know why. So until we can figure out who’s been selling us out, I don’t want anyone beyond the three of us in on this deal.” He leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on his desk. “Someone tipped Darius Johnson off the night we raided that beehive. And there’s been other things. Johnson was getting information from someone.”
“Well, he’s not getting anything from anyone anymore.”
Johnson’s body had been found in the middle of a vacant lot the night before. Shot in the head and abandoned like so much trash. While no one in law enforcement mourned him, it would have been better if they’d brought him in to face justice for shooting Mike, along with a long list
of other crimes. But at least he was finally off the streets.
“We know now that the cartel is after Brennan,” Batterson said. “It’s been two weeks since Nick’s funeral. We’ve done everything we can to protect her, but it’s not enough. We’ve got to get her to safety, and we can’t do it here. According to the gang unit in LA, Brennan is in extreme danger.”
“Do you think the cartel has enlisted someone else? Another gang leader?”
Batterson nodded. “I do. Their plan is to use the gangs to do their dirty work. I don’t know who they’ve recruited now that Johnson is out of the picture, but I do know they’re ready and willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want. Being in bed with a huge cartel is like Christmas to these gangs.”
Mark considered his boss’s words. Batterson was right. After finding out that Mercy was in Darius’s sights, their confidential informant was found dead. Shot while sitting in his car—a bullet through the back of his head. Then the car was set on fire. The gang’s way of getting rid of evidence and sending a message. Now Darius was dead as well. They’d suspected the cartel was involved somehow, and the gang unit with the LAPD had confirmed it. The Vargas cartel was planning a big push into cities across the country. If St. Louis couldn’t shut this down now, more people would die, and heroin would crash into the U.S. like a tsunami. Mark was determined that wouldn’t happen.
“Vargas is pulling them in one by one,” Batterson continued, “promising them some of the take from the drugs he’s bringing in from Mexico.”
“I’ve never seen this many gangs working together,” Mark said. “He’s building an empire—and God help anyone who gets in his way.”
“According to an undercover cop on the task force, he’s got the Nine Deuce Bishops now, as well as the Sixty-Two Brims.”
Mark felt a chill run down his spine. Ephraim Vargas, head of the vast Vargas cartel, was building an army fueled by violent crime and hatred for the police. The fallout would be devastating. The cartel’s plan would bring even more havoc and destruction to St. Louis.
