undercovertrouble_341-1e1.htm

by Undercover Trouble (Wings) (lit)

  Doubt flared in the nearest aggressor’s eyes, hesitancy in the other’s. They backed off simultaneously.

  ~ * ~

  Bull said, "You know, Mitch, it’s really somethin’ that we can contact you so quick just by putting the word out on the street." Bull moved his chair nearer. "You sure you don’t have a permanent address?"

  "I told you before, I keep my flank covered." And he did, the best way he knew how. With all the support he could muster from the few in the police department who knew he was working undercover. Even then he came up short. He had to rely on his wits for survival. At times, he even doubted his own reasoning ability. Bull’s knowledge that there was another witness indicated there’d been a leak. It was only a question of time before the gang discovered he was the surprise witness. And it was time that he was playing for right now. Time for his appearance at the crucial point in the trial when some of the members of the local biker gang would be nailed by his evidence, sending them to prison. But Bull was the one he wanted and he had nothing on him that would stand up in court.

  "What did you want to see me about, Bull?"

  "We’ve got a contract for a hit."

  "You know I’m not the one they call on for that kind of stuff." Mitch shuffled his feet and stretched higher in his seat into a more authoritative position.

  "This one’s different."

  "How is it different, dammit? Killing is killing."

  "This is for one of our own." Bull leaned back, a smug look on his face.

  "Spell it out!"

  Bull pushed forward again, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. "There’s a chick working for one of the transition houses--an uppity social worker--who’s bitten off more than she can chew."

  "Make yourself clear. I don’t deal in riddles."

  "Don’t be impatient. Jeez, you’re a hard one to deal with, yourself. This gal shot Jake, one of my friends."

  "I heard about it," Mitch stated flatly. "He’s a crip ain’t he?"

  "Yeah, would have been better for her if she’d killed him. Jake thinks we gotta do somethin’ to help him. It don’t look good that she got away with it."

  Mitch shifted in his seat, struggling to keep his tightening ribcage from cutting off his breath. He had expected the gang would want him to prove himself, and he had, over and over, by encouraging those brave enough to rebel against the gang to see the error of their ways. So far it only meant a threatening stance, a show of muscle power. He hadn’t anticipated being put in this serious kind of a pinch so soon. He thought his participation in the trial would be over by now and he could fold his teepee and get back to a regular life. This sudden request to put someone away--a woman at that--barely allowed him to keep his eyes focused on Bull’s twisted smile.

  "Why me?"

  "In the time you’ve been with us, Mitch, you’ve built up a reputation for getting the job done. But you’ve only had to use muscle, and before you move up in the organization, we gotta have proof you’re committed to us. The cops don’t know you because you’ve managed to keep your nose clean, but we don’t know you, either. And that’s what it comes down to. Carry out this job and you can pretty much write your own ticket for anything you want."

  "Fair enough. How soon would it have to be done?"

  "The sooner the better. But we don’t know where she is. We’re looking into it. We’ve got a good source. We don’t know what she looks like, either. The picture in the paper wasn’t a good shot. You’ll do it?"

  "Can’t pass by an offer like that, Bull. It’ll cost you plenty."

  "Name your price."

  "Not dough. I want more responsibility. I want to do more than carry out errands and drive around scaring the hell out of wanna-be competitors. Goddammit, I want to be in on the planning of deals going down. I got lots of ideas."

  "You do this, Mitch, and I’ll guarantee ya more clout. Deal’s set then. As soon as we find where our target’s gone, I’ll let ya know." Bull straightened his back, brushing his cheek against the shivering bundle of curls. "This dog’s real cute. Think your girlfriend might let me have him?"

  "I don’t think so, Bull. You can ask when she comes back. I just noticed two of your women went into the washroom a few minutes ago. Don’t have a need for a cat fight tonight, so I’ll go check it out."

  "Take your time."

  Mitch pushed the Molls door wide, crashing it against the wall. He spread-eagled across the threshold, his eyes darting to each unknown woman, then to Jen. "You been in here long enough, babe. Our guest is mighty anxious to have you back at the table."

  For once Jen appeared glad to see his bull-in-a-china-shop approach. The women squeezed past Mitch and disappeared into the noisy crowd.

  "They’re gone. You coming out now?" he snapped.

  "I had the situation under control, just in case you think you’re the Terminator coming to my rescue."

  "Sure you did. They were going to exchange recipes with you, no doubt. You were outclassed, face it."

  "If they’re your idea of class, then there’s no hope for you ever showing good taste. I want out of this bar and I want out of it now. I did my bit for your finagling."

  "We’ll leave when I say so."

  "Then you better say so soon or I’ll grab Spooky and blow your setup." Jen stalked past, shoving her way through the throng clustered near the door.

  Bull didn’t rise when she arrived back, but his ample front-tooth-missing smile showed he was pleased to see her. She slid unceremoniously into her seat. His beady eyes inspected every inch of her face and chest. Mitch couldn’t help but admire how Jen maintained her outward composure. Had she wanted to recoil the times he gazed at her earlier?

  "I’ll take Spooky now, thanks," she said.

  Before Mitch could prevent it, Bull handed her the pup.

  Dammit. He had lost his trump card. He had to take quick action to prevent her from spoiling his charade. "We’re heading out now, Bull. Let me know when I can proceed with our little business deal."

  "Will do. See ya around, babe. I’d like to have the pup there, but Mitch says you won’t part with him."

  "For once, Mitch is right."

  Bull roared and Mitch barely kept his expression civil.

  "Nice to have met you, Bull," Jen replied to the laughter. Without looking at Mitch she hurried to the door and didn’t stop until she reached her car. Sucking in the biggest lungful of fresh night air she could get, she waited impatiently for Mitch to catch up and unlock the car door.

  "You almost blew that!"

  "I held up my end of the bargain that you forced on me. I almost got creamed, because you needed to meet that ape."

  Mitch grunted an expletive and unlocked her door. If he’d had his druthers, he’d let her walk home. The long silence jarred his nerves as he drove the empty streets. Because of her he had a more serious problem than the upcoming trial. And the stakes were higher. He had a chance to penetrate the highest level of the gang--far above the entry level he had attained. He’d have access to all kinds of intelligence; knowledge unavailable to the police would be at his fingertips. But it required some woman’s death.

  Three

  "Slow down!" Jen yelped. "You’ll wreck my car and us with it!"

  The sharpness of her command seemed to roll off Mitch like water off a newly waxed car. He maintained the vehicle’s speed. Her fingers fidgeted with Spooky’s curls.

  Still no response from Mitch.

  "My car will never be the same. What are you going to do about your stupid bike?"

  "It’s a motorcycle, I keep telling you." He turned his head and glared. "I didn’t have time to look at the problem closely. It’s a new tire, and since I don’t have anything at the lake to patch it, I’ll have to take it to town for repair." He shrugged and switched his attention back to the road.

  If she hadn’t snarled her displeasure, her body language as she sat on the edge of her seat gripping the dash should make it clear she was furious. "I didn’t touch the tire
. You can take my car in the morning to get it fixed, but I’m not going with you."

  "I’ll do that. Thanks, Jen."

  With his harmonious response, Jen eased back and ran her fingers along Spooky’s back. His small body warmed her hand, calming her nerves but not her anger. The sluts in the ladies room had meant business. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been afraid. Tonight had put her current problem--Mitch--in focus. But she needed a major adjustment to her future. She couldn’t maintain her status quo. Her plan to remodel the cabin to keep her mind off her troubles wouldn’t work with situations continually cropping up that threw her for a loop. Mitch was a carbon copy of the trouble she’d fled. The volatile thugs who abused their partners usually had no idea where their women found refuge. The one who did force his way into the shelter had been more than she could handle.

  Why hadn’t she summoned the police before she shot him? She couldn’t remember a thing from the time the assailant approached her desk to the time he lay bleeding at her feet. Had she gone mad? Her instinctive response had rattled her confidence and negated all of her training. She no longer trusted her own judgment. Why couldn’t she remember?

  Mitch cleared his throat. "Are you okay now?" His hoarse voice scratched through the tense silence.

  Jen jumped. "You care?"

  "Wouldn’t have asked... if I didn’t."

  The catch in his reply surprised her.

  "I’m okay," she muttered. She knew she wasn’t. She hadn’t been okay for some time and that scared her more than anything. Months before the shooting incident her lack of sleep had helped keep her away from strange haunting images. She’d been at a loss over what to do about her days muddled by sleep deprivation.

  Mitch slowed and drove onto the country road. The headlights transformed overhanging limbs into ghostly apparitions reaching out to grab her. She trembled again.

  "Want to talk about it?" The deep burn of Mitch’s stare stabbed through the darkness increasing the pressure in her head.

  "I don’t like being held h-hostage," she whispered; her voice broken.

  "You weren’t... Spooky was."

  "That was a m-mean thing to do, Mitch." Jen looked down at the pup peacefully napping. It would be wiser not to argue.

  "You forced my hand."

  "You don’t intend to clue me in why you needed me there?"

  "No. The less you know the better."

  The odor of cigarette smoke clinging to their clothes stunk up the car, roiling Jen’s stomach. She turned to the window, rolled it down and drew in the night air. The cool breeze cleared her head, helping her to accept his tight-lipped determination to tell nothing.

  "Look. If you didn’t spike my tire, then I’m sorry about tonight. I came on too strong. But it was urgent I meet with Bull."

  "Okay, but you threatened me. That wipes out any obligation I have to you for picking off the leeches." She added softly, "And I’d prefer not to have any more contact with you while I’m here."

  "Are you planning on going somewhere?" His tone sharpened. "I thought you were going to renovate your place?"

  "With a neighbor like you, I’m not sure I want to stay." She deliberately jutted her chin for effect. "I won’t let you rope me into another situation like tonight."

  "I can understand that."

  The fixed set of Mitch’s jaw returned with his concentration on the twisting road ahead. Jen breathed her relief when he turned into her driveway and stopped. Without uttering another word, she fled from the vehicle. Reaching the doorstep, she realized he hadn’t given back her keys. He’d started walking toward his own cottage.

  "Hey!"

  "What?"

  "I’d like my keys, please."

  He sauntered back. "Sorry, I put them in my pocket without thinking. My mind was on other things."

  "Right. You can pick them up when you want to go into town." Jen hurried to the cabin where Spooky patiently waited on the top step. After locking the door behind her, she turned and peeked out the window.

  "Thank you, God. He’s going home." She looked down at the pup. "We’ll leave tomorrow, and he won’t bother us again, Spooky." Exhausted, she threw off her clothes and slipped into a nightgown, then dove under the covers. Spooky curled beside her, his wet nose on her shoulder. She prayed sleep would be her escape.

  ~ * ~

  After a quick gulp of water, Mitch slumped into a chair and dialed the sergeant’s number. "Don, what’s the word on that license number?"

  "Mitch? I got some dope on that neighbor of yours. You struck gold."

  "What are you getting at?"

  "Let me fill you in. Jennifer Murray is a social worker and is, or was, the night supervisor at the women’s transition house that had trouble three weeks ago."

  "The one that the abusive husband broke into?"

  "The very same."

  "Damn it, Don! She shot the guy didn’t she?"

  "She did. Damn near killed him. He’ll be lucky if he ever walks again. She plugged him from the front and at such close range the shot went clean through, damaging his spine.

  "And she got away with it."

  "Yes. She’s been off on leave. No one’s been able to locate her since we decided not to press charges because of the self-defense element. It appears like she’s taken the vacation I suggested. We’d rather know where she is though.

  "She never summoned us with the emergency call button under her desk--not until the punk was flat out and bleeding all over the place. And there’s another sticky issue, too. Some powerful people with criminal ties are protesting a cover-up. The pressure is on the crown prosecutor to bring the mess into the open."

  "Why not do it and clear the air?"

  "There’s just one problem with that."

  "What?"

  "The creep she shot has let it be known, he’ll see she gets his kind of justice. She ought to know. I think she visited him, but I don’t know what transpired there."

  "But you said he can’t walk."

  "He’s a biker from out of town, and he’s got friends here. He’ll be facing charges of attempted assault and whatever else we can think of. You know him, Mitch?"

  "Never had the pleasure. But have I got news for you."

  "What news?"

  "I just had a meeting with Bull and he wants me to kill her. Seems the guy she shot was a friend of his. Oh, oh, shit!"

  "What now?"

  "I drove her car to the meeting with Bull and introduced her as my woman. At least I didn’t use her real name." Mitch tugged at the phone cord to lengthen it. "Probably I should’ve used an alias myself when I started this job, but coming from the other side of the country, no one around here but you and a few on the force knew I was a cop. Remember, this was just going to be a simple, short-time project."

  "Well, it’s become a hell of a lot bigger now. They could find out who she is if somebody traces her license number and through that figure out you might be on the case."

  "Hmm. I know. I saw Spike leave the bar on a nod from Bull."

  "Let’s hope neither of them were that suspicious or smart. She could be in a pack of trouble. So could you, Mitch. I want you to look out for her."

  "Thanks. That’s all I need." Mitch exhaled a disgruntled blast of air. "Okay. I’ll keep an eye open around here. I learned something else tonight that will force a change in plans."

  "Yeah? Like what? It better be good. My wife will chew me out now that you woke us."

  "In exchange for the hit, they’re going to give me a free rein in the gang."

  "The hell you say!"

  Mitch slung his leg over the armrest. "It’s true. Her killing is to be my ticket into the core of their Halifax operations."

  "That means you can’t blow your cover by being a witness at the trial."

  "Don, it means a lot more than that. We could get the whole damn bunch of them instead of the small fry, and it means we gotta figure out what to do about my neighbor."

  "Well, of course you can’t knock
her off, but we’ll have to find some way of making them think you did."

  "So far, they don’t know where she is. That’ll buy us time and keep them in touch with me. There’s one more piece of news."

  "What?" Don sighed.

  "Bull knew there was a witness being withheld. Once they find out who, they’ll get rid of him. There’s a leak in the department. Who else knows about my situation?"

  A long pause followed his question, and he wondered what was taking the sergeant so long to reply. He was to the point of asking if Don had heard him when he finally answered. "Jeez, Mitch. I’ll have to check that out. The chief knows, probably his deputy, too. Get some sleep; we’ll talk again soon."

  Mitch hesitated, something didn’t ring true; Don sounded tense. Maybe he felt it was a slap in the face that someone close might be working against them, maybe he was short from being awakened. That must be it. "Like I’m gonna rest knowing they’re breathing down my neck. Okay, go back to sleep. Tell Marion I’m sorry for waking her."

  Too tired to undress, Mitch flopped down on the bed. The night’s events had taken their toll. The last six hours seemed like a hundred. Each hour forced him to make more quick decisions than he’d needed to make the whole time he’d been here. Rather than turn off his bedside light, he buckled his arms beneath his head and stared at the ceiling. Instead of seeing the slats of grooved pine boards, he saw Jen’s face--not how she looked in the bar, but as she’d dashed toward him, her eyes pleading for his help when the leeches had nailed her. Something about her vulnerability sparked a twinge deep inside of him, a place where nothing much sparked anymore.

  His years of playing the field with a smattering of women, ones who had never touched his emotions, left him convinced he would travel his life’s path alone. So far that lifestyle suited him. At least he thought it did before he’d met up with Jen. His lack of personal ties had enabled him to accomplish what most on the force could not: complete concentration and the ability to grind the crime organization into the dust. He had successfully infiltrated the fringe of the group, but now he’d been presented with an opportunity to put the club out of business.