He tried to quickly jump back to his feet, but he slipped and hit the ground again, this time landing on his shoulder. “Ooh!” he yelled out.
I walked over and held out my hand. He took hold, and I angled my body backward to counterbalance his weight. Just then, a door swung open about twenty feet down the alley. A man walked out carrying a small plastic bag, the bottom half of the translucent bag coated in red.
Our eyes met at the same time. It was Mario. My breath caught in my throat. I heard Archie grunt, and then I realized I’d let go of his hand.
“Give me your gun,” I said to Archie.
Mario ceased movement, other than to look at Archie and then at me. His eyes were the same as they were twenty years earlier. A few creases around his mouth, but he looked solid, like he could take someone down in a heartbeat.
“Holy shit, a rat!” Archie lunged away from me.
I kept my gaze on Mario, my voice urgent. “Stop screwing around, Archie. Give me your gun. Now.”
Mario brought a finger to his mouth. Was he trying to keep me quiet?
I heard him rustling across the ground. “Get this fucking rat away from me. He’s chasing me, dammit.”
Mario shook his head. What was he trying to tell me? Then he slowly took two steps toward me while holding up a hand, as if letting me know he wasn’t a danger to me. I glanced down at the alley floor, searching for Archie’s gun.
“Who is that?” Archie asked, finally paying attention but still scrambling along the filthy ground. “I can’t find my gun.”
I heard the crunching of pebbles underfoot, and I locked eyes with Mario again. “You need to stop where you are and get down on the ground.” My voice was firm, but he kept taking small steps forward.
“Archie, you got your cuffs on you?”
“They were just right here in my boot, hold on,” he said with a grunt, wiggling on the ground even more.
I didn’t see any noticeable weapons on Mario, but I knew that didn’t mean a damn thing. He could have a pistol tucked anywhere, or even a shank of some kind. Then my eyes were drawn to the bag. It was transparent. Blood-soaked gauze and a towel were inside the bag. I could feel my pulse leap into another stratosphere.
“What have you done?” I asked as oxygen flooded my brain.
Two more steps.
I held up a hand. “Stop where you are! Archie…?”
“Fuck. Shit,” was all he could say.
Mario looked over his shoulder toward the open door, then glanced back at me and held his finger up to his mouth again. Someone else was inside—someone Mario didn’t want to hear our conversation, as one-sided as it had been. He shifted his smoldering eyes toward the dumpster, then tossed the bag inside. A few flies buzzed around. He then started backing up to the door.
“Dammit, there it is. Here you go, Alex.”
Still scrambling to get to his feet, Archie placed the gun in the palm of my hand with Mario two steps away from the door. I brought the pistol up and aimed. “Stop, Mario. I’m not fucking around.”
He paused for a moment, perhaps wondering if I had the balls to shoot another human. Given what I had seen in that bag, I knew he had hurt someone. But had he killed a person?
I blinked and exhaled, steadying my nerves.
He swallowed once, then slowly brought his hand up to the side of his face with his thumb and pinkie extended. That was the sign that he would call me. I turned my head, somewhat confused by this signal and his lack of speaking, not to mention that there was no way he knew my number. Then he gave me a single nod, the look in his eyes serious, but…kind. I’d seen that look before. Was he trying to charm me like I was seventeen? Or was it a look inside the real Mario, and he wanted me to trust him?
“Shoot the fucker,” Archie said.
“Shut up, Archie.”
“Or not. Your choice.”
Mario dipped inside and slowly shut the door behind him. Archie pawed at me while trying to get to his feet.
“What’s going on, Alex?”
“It was Mario.”
“Your old high school flame? I guess we know who’s still dick-whipped,” he said.
I slowly turned my gaze to Archie. He held up both of his hands. Before I could say a word about the confusion I felt, my phone buzzed inside my pocket. I handed Archie the gun, pulled out my phone, and eyed the screen. It was Erin. Great timing. Was she calling to complain about her brother sticking his wet finger in her ear?
I spotted a sign above the back door. It read Aunt Kitty’s B&B. I pointed it out to Archie as I tapped the green button on my screen.
“Yes, dear. Tell me—”
“Help us, Mom. Help!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. She sounded completely out of control.
“Erin, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Ter—”
“What, Erin. Tell me!”
“Teresa. Someone just shot her in the head, and I have her blood all over me!”
With the phone at my ear, I ran like a woman possessed back to the car.
17
I watched Luke lean down and run his hand through the fountain water in the lobby of the Harlingen International Airport. Normally, I would have kindly asked him not to do that, which would have then initiated a cat-and-mouse game that would have gone on for ten or fifteen minutes.
But on a day where he witnessed a woman, my friend Teresa, being murdered just a few feet from where he’d been sitting, it mattered not one bit. Anything to divert his emotions and help him feel alive.
“Mom, he’ll be okay. We’re kids. We bounce back quicker than you think.” Wise words from young lady Erin, who peeked up from leaning her head against my shoulder and forced out a smile. I brushed my fingers along her cheek and moved a few strands of loose hair out of her beautiful face.
“Just know how sorry I am that I let this happen to you guys.” A tear bubbled in my eyes. The kids had lost their dad earlier in the year, and it wasn’t by natural causes. But to witness a murder that close up, and for Erin to have Teresa’s blood sprayed on her…it was all just so heinous. The violence, the half-truths and bold-faced lies, and even the posturing of certain people, had led to this. I ached from the inside out for Luke and Erin. And for Corey, who had cried on my shoulder when I told him the news.
For Teresa, I knew I wouldn’t sleep—couldn’t sleep—until we caught the assholes who were responsible. My gut told me she was somehow caught in the same bloody web of drugs, kidnappings, extortion, murder—she fit in there somewhere. How exactly, I had no clue.
I glanced at the people riding the down escalator, thinking I recognized a familiar face, but I was wrong. It was a young man followed by a little boy, perhaps his son. The day had been draining and dizzying at the same time. We all had grieved and drawn strength from each other, for our love of each other. Even Archie came over to offer support in his own way, which mainly consisted of catering to our every whim and need. Then we got down to business. I set up a call with my Boston team and made sure Raul was included as well. In fact, I wouldn’t let him leave Teresa’s home office until he shared everything he knew—DEA rules be damned. New intel was shared, we came up with a plan, and then we reached out to other parties to ensure they were on board. As if they had another choice.
“It’s Brad!” Luke yelled, and he took off for the escalator. I looked over and all I could see was Brad’s dimpled smile as he skipped down the steps. Luke met him at the bottom. A quick high-five, then a hug. Brad rustled Luke’s hair, then scanned the lobby. Erin and I walked in his direction.
We exchanged normal pleasantries, but I longed for him to hold me, to tell me everything was okay, even though I knew it wasn’t.
“Mom, can I throw my change in the fountain?” Luke asked.
“Sure. Go help him, Erin,” I said.
Stepping to the side for a brief moment, Brad palmed my upper arm, and I tingled inside. He looked into my eyes.
“Sorry Luke and Erin had to deal with
this shit, but I know that having you there made it bearable.”
“I don’t know. Not sure what the impact will be. Might need to put them in counseling.”
“Maybe, but for now they’ll be safe with me, and we’ll have some fun…get their minds off this crap.”
I leaned toward him, my breasts just brushing against his chest. I wanted to press him against my body. But now wasn’t the time for our inaugural public display of affection.
“Where’s my other half?” I asked, looking around for Nick.
“Had to take a leak. Should be coming down the escalator any second.”
Glancing around to ensure the kids were preoccupied by the fountain, I took the opportunity to take Brad’s hands in mine.
“I’d only trust a few people in this world with Luke and Erin.” I squeezed his hand and he reciprocated, his eyes boring holes into my soul…in a good way. “This isn’t part of your job description, so…thank you for doing this.” I thumbed a tear out of the corner of my eye.
“You couldn’t stop me from helping. I just—”
He glanced away for a second, then cleared his throat. I squeezed his hand a little tighter.
“I just want you to be safe.”
“Always.”
He raised an eyebrow, a slight grin forming at the edge of his soft lips.
“Okay, I know I sometimes take a risk here or there,” I conceded.
He winked at me. “I don’t want to change you. It’s who you are. Just know that there are young people,” he nodded toward the kids, “and some older ones, too, who care about you.” He paused for a second. “People who would do anything for you.”
I swallowed back more emotion and squeezed his hands.
“Hey, are you two going to kiss or something?”
We both turned to see Nick waving at us as he walked off the escalator. I quickly let go of Brad and shoved my hands in my front pockets. Something about my partner looked different…very different, which seemed odd, considering I’d seen him no more than a week earlier. He came right up and gave me a bear hug.
“How are the kids?” he asked, cinching a small bag over his shoulder.
“Eh. As good as can be expected.”
“I’m sure they’ll be in good hands with Brad. He’s practically a kid himself,” Nick joked, nudging Brad’s shoulder.
Brad flashed a smile and gave a thumbs-up. “You know it,” he said. I wondered if he ever got tired of being teased about his youthful looks and demeanor.
“I know you’ll fill me in on the details of the exchange in the car,” Nick said.
“Were you able to secure the necessary logistical support?”
He grinned and patted his bag. “It was a frickin’ miracle. I’ve never seen the FBI move so fast. Never. Probably had something to do with Jerry throwing his weight around.”
Our affable boss, the supervisory special agent of the Violent Crimes Squad, carried considerable girth. I looked at Nick again.
“You lose weight? You’re thinner through the face and you seem to be moving a lot better.”
“Been working out for a good couple of months, but I guess you never noticed. Once this is over, we’ll have to do a workout together. Maybe I’ll school you.”
“A challenge I’ll gladly accept once we’re on the other side and I’m reunited with the kids back home.” I turned to see Erin and Luke approaching our group.
“Give me hugs.” I took them both in my arms and kissed their heads and then their cheeks. Luke wiped his off. “Mom, I don’t want to get on a plane with lipstick on my face. Gross.”
“Off you go. I’ll call you as soon as I book my flight.” I stuck out my hand, and Brad grabbed my fingers until our arms were fully extended. Then he winked and guided the kids up the escalator.
Nick and I walked through the electric doors at the front of the airport and into the thick nighttime air. I looked up and saw nothing but stars.
“We better find a way to resolve this before I have to spend any amount of time in the Texas sun. With my red hair and pale skin, I’ll burn in ten minutes. And I forgot to bring sunblock.”
I paused before getting into my Camry. “It should all be over by morning, one way or the other.”
I drove to the parking lot gate, rolled down the window, and handed four bucks to the pimple-faced kid in the attendant’s booth. At the same time, Nick handed over my holster and my Glock 23. I locked in a round of ammunition, appreciating the weight of the pistol that felt like an extension of my hand. The kid’s eyes went wide. Our timing couldn’t have been worse. I turned to the kid and said, “We’re FBI.”
“Uh, okay,” he said, his mouth still hanging open.
“What’s your name?” I asked as Nick held up two sets of credentials, then placed a set in my hand.
“Danny.”
“Satisfied, Danny?”
“Sure. I’ll do whatever you want. If you’re going to hold me hostage or something, I just need to be home by eight in the morning.”
“We’re with the FBI, Danny. We’re not going to hold you hostage.”
He nodded and gave me fifty cents in change.
Nick leaned across the seat. “Why do you need to be home by eight?”
“Thousands will be online to watch the battle of the century. It’s League of Legends.”
“Epic,” Nick said as I punched the gas, and we zipped out of the parking lot, heading east.
18
Removing the Snickers bar from its wrapper, I took a bite and exercised my jaw on the chewable candy bar.
“I haven’t eaten processed sugar for the last seven weeks,” Nick said into my ear.
I stopped my chewing for a brief second. “It’s the first thing I’ve had to eat all day.” I resumed chewing and then bit off another piece.
“I’m not giving you shit, just proud of what I’ve accomplished. I found willpower that I didn’t know I had…well, not since I turned forty anyway.”
Not a topic I wanted to discuss. I walked to the corner of the conference room, which made up about a third of the vacant office space. Raul had told me this was where he and his DEA team would occasionally perform surveillance, conduct off-site interviews, or even just gather to mentally prep before a potentially dangerous operation.
Angling my vision out one of the corner windows, I could see all the way to the edge of the bay water just next to the bridge. But my focus was on the lighthouse. “According to Dad, we should see something, or not, in three minutes.”
Raul nodded and brought a pair of small binoculars to his face.
“Did you decide to put any of your team members around the lighthouse?”
“I could only use the personnel I absolutely trusted. And with the intel your buddy Archie gave us about the rave going on at the party house, I had to deploy three men as part of the catering company. Don’t have enough good men and women to go around. Besides, the person in the lighthouse is probably a lackey. If we try to arrest him there, it might just expose us. I’m guessing he doesn’t know much. Let’s follow the game plan, at least for now.”
Nick joined us in the corner as I continued munching on my candy bar.
“I heard you mention Archie,” Nick said to Raul. “I thought he was supposed to meet us here.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows?”
I checked my phone for any missed calls or text messages as Nick leaned over my shoulder.
“Nothing.”
“It’s a minute after,” Nick said, shifting his eyes to me.
“Dad said ten…or so.”
Nick gave me one of those looks. I knew what he was thinking. How could we trust the man who had lied to me repeatedly, committed federal felonies, and put his family at risk? Well, after essentially catching Dad in the act earlier—when he was transporting plastic-covered bricks of cocaine from his boat to a waiting van—he had finally come clean about everything. I called Raul to meet me at Dad’s house, and we questioned my father for tw
o solid hours, during which Carly had three emotional outbursts. Damn, that woman was a drama queen.
Without specifically calling out his girlfriend, Dad had been sucked into this drug-smuggling vortex because of her and her addiction—although it wasn’t her addiction to cocaine this time. Instead, it was money and all the related trappings. Initially, she’d found herself in debt, and who was there to help her out? Ricardo Bolivar, a.k.a. Powder Man, who befriended her during their court-mandated visits to their addiction support group. Initially, she ran drugs for Bolivar. But apparently that wasn’t good enough, for him or for her. Their partnership went deeper, and she was asked to cross the border and transport the drugs back into the US, usually by hiding them within secret compartments in the car he loaned her, and on at least one occasion, inside her person.
Apparently, that had been about the time she and Dad had started dating. And it didn’t take long for her to get her hooks into him. At least that was how I viewed it. He was vulnerable, lost, battling his own demons, so what better way to give him a purpose in life than to save the damsel in distress?
As Dad sat on the edge of the couch and told the story, with Carly sticking to him like Velcro, it had been difficult not to roll my eyes.
Dad had jumped in and tried to bail her out of debt, since she had gone on a spending spree that would put Imelda Marcos to shame. Bolivar, though, wasn’t stupid, so he’d made a proposal to Dad and Carly: help him move the drugs into the States using Dad’s fishing boat, and not only would he take care of all her debt, he would pay them ten thousand dollars for every successful delivery.
And that was when Carly the Spending Queen lost all semblance of self-control. They became stuck in a never-ending cycle of spending and then relying on their drug money to cover their debts. The shootings, my Dad believed, were related to a rival cartel challenging the one Bolivar was involved with, and they must have identified Carly when she went across the border. To end our discussion, he had said, “I know we were in denial, afraid to admit there was no way out. Russian roulette, that’s what it was. I’m so sorry, Alex.” The bags under his eyes sagged more than I’d ever seen.
The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 4-6 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set Book 2) Page 22
