Dying for a Fix

by G. K. Parks

  “I couldn’t. I had my orders.”

  “Bullshit. This is us. We’re practically family.” He pointed an accusatory finger in my face. “How many times have I saved your ass?”

  “Too many to count.”

  “That’s right. And you’ve pulled my bacon out of the fire on numerous occasions too.” He rubbed a hand down his face, softening. “I need coffee. It’s too early in the day to be dealing with this.”

  “Help yourself.” I jerked my chin toward the kitchen.

  Checking the time, I wondered if Martin was awake yet or on another conference call. Hell, he might even be at the office by now. I considered getting off the couch and going upstairs to locate him, but stairs didn’t seem like a good idea. As if reading my mind, O’Connell returned from the kitchen with an icepack and then wrapped an afghan around me.

  “You should drink something warm. Jenny said you were borderline hypothermic when they brought you in.”

  “I’m also borderline crazy, but that doesn’t mean I need to be institutionalized.”

  “Wow, and delusional too.” He winked, returning to the kitchen and promising to make coffee for us both.

  At the sound of footfalls, I turned, catching a glimpse of Martin bounding down the stairs in running gear. Apparently he just woke up and was dressed for his early morning workout. He slowed his pace, eyeing me as he continued his descent.

  “What time did you get here?” He sounded annoyed and studied the blanket and my position on the couch. “I’m not surprised you chose the couch over my bed. It comes second, right? Our jobs first. The couch second. Am I even a distant third?” I didn’t say anything. I just stared at him. I forgot we were fighting. He threw his hands up, frustrated. “What is going on with you?”

  O’Connell emerged from the kitchen, holding a coffee mug. “James, you might want to back off. Alex has had quite the night.”

  Martin swallowed, realizing something was wrong. It was the only reason O’Connell would be inside his house this early in the morning. Martin’s eyes found mine. “Alex?” His mind was already working through the possible explanations, but I didn’t answer, unable to formulate another lie to add to the growing list.

  “Come on, we need to have a chat.” Nick grabbed Martin by the arm and led him out of the room.

  “Nick, don’t,” I warned.

  “It’ll be fine,” Nick reassured. I shut my eyes and tried to make out the muffled words. “Take it easy, man. She’s in pretty bad shape. And you’re making an ass out of yourself.”

  “What do you mean pretty bad shape? What happened?” Martin demanded.

  “It was a freak thing. Just a random assault. She’ll be okay, but we’re still trying to identify the guys,” Nick said, and I was thankful he had my back.

  A few seconds later, Martin returned to the living room. His hand brushed my hair away from my face. And he studied my appearance, frowning at the dark circles and runny makeup underneath my eyes.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, and I nodded. “I didn’t realize.” The blanket slipped, and he cocked his head at the scrubs. “You were in the hospital?”

  “Not really. Just a quick check-up. It’s police protocol.” My eyes searched for Nick, who was unobtrusively sipping his coffee in the far corner of the room. “I should shower and change, so Jen can have her clothes back.”

  “I’ll make a few calls while you do that,” Nick said.

  Carefully, I climbed off the couch, ignoring Martin’s questioning look at the icepack. I dropped it on the kitchen counter and continued down the hallway to the guest suite. After showering, I returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, maneuvering into a pair of jeans. The thought of having to go through this process more than once was my rationale for the clothing choice. In all honesty, I either needed a few strong cups of coffee and to focus on work, or I needed to sleep. And the way I figured it, I could wear jeans while doing either of those activities. As I reached for my top, Martin knocked on the door.

  He came inside, stopping midsentence, silenced by the cuts and scrapes. He brushed my hair over my shoulder, kissing the nape of my neck and the unmarred areas of my back with a feather-light touch. The bruise on my lower back was the most sensitive, and when he came close to it, I hissed.

  “What can I do?”

  “Hand me that shirt and bring those out to Nick,” I said, pointing at the pertinent items. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

  Pulling on the sweatshirt, I was glad to be warm and safe. The adrenaline surge and the freezing cold had sapped my energy, and the only thing I wanted to do was crawl into bed. But maybe Mark had other plans.

  When I went into the living room, O’Connell was lingering near the door. “I’ll sort things out at the precinct. Agent Jablonsky said he’d stop by to help us identify the assailants, so he’ll probably be calling you in a few hours with an update. If not, Heathcliff or I will. Okay?”

  “So I’m staying here until further notice?” I asked, wanting to make sure I understood.

  “Yeah. Do you think you can stay out of trouble that long?”

  “I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises.”

  Nick nodded to Martin, and the two shook hands before Nick returned to the garage and Martin deactivated the security system and opened the door for him. I sighed and collapsed on the couch. My hip ached, and my muscles were tired and strained to the point where they’d tremble and give out without my permission. At least I could get some sleep. As I was considering curling up right here to nap, Bruiser came up the stairs.

  “Good morning.” He narrowed his eyes, having received a call from Mark that probably hadn’t divulged anything. “I’m not used to hanging around when you’re here since you like to be the only guard on duty.” He was fishing for details, but I’d already spilled my guts far too many times today.

  “But you’re so good at bodyguarding. Plus, I went through an ordeal, and the nerves are a bit frayed. Just make sure the perimeter remains clear, okay?”

  Martin returned from the first floor. “Do what she says, Jones.” Then he came over to me. “You’re not sleeping on the couch. So it’s my room or the guestroom?”

  “I’ll just crash in the guestroom. The stairs aren’t ideal right now.”

  Wincing as I pulled myself off the couch, he scooped me into his arms and carried me down the hall, laying me on the bed. “I’ll keep you company as soon as I take care of a few things. Do you need anything in the meantime?”

  “Just let me know if Mark or someone from the precinct calls.”

  He nodded, turning off the lights. “Alex, about last night…”

  “Please, not now. Later, okay?” He moved toward the door, but I remembered something. “Did you get things sorted out with Francesca?”

  “In a way. Hover Designs is suing. She announced it twenty minutes after you left. Legal will start on the paperwork Monday.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, but he waved the sentiment away with a flick of his wrist, running his hand through his dark brown hair.

  “That doesn’t matter right now.” He seemed tormented and distant. But what did I know? Maybe that’s always how he sounded, and I was just projecting.

  After a few fitful hours of twisting and turning, never managing to fall too far into the unconscious realm, Martin quietly returned. I had been reliving the firefight, the close calls, and my encounter with Francisco. My mind was processing the events, trying to make sense out of the appearance of the four gangbangers and the SUV. Also, I couldn’t help but think of the punk that I probably killed.

  Years ago, Mark had said never to assume someone was dead because of my actions, but I shot that guy at close range. He didn’t give me a choice, and the other one that I had grabbed might have been killed simply because I tried to use him as a means for my escape. Granted, I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but the events still weighed heavily on my conscience.

  “Hey,” Martin said quietly, carrying another icepack an
d the bottle of ibuprofen into the room, “Jen called and said you need to get the swelling down.”

  “What else did she say?” I shivered when the ice came into contact with my leg. Hopefully, she didn’t say anything that would compromise my covert activities.

  “That was pretty much it.” He went to the linen closet to get another blanket. “No one else has called.” I nodded, closing my eyes and rolling over on my side. The mattress dipped down, but he kept his distance, remembering how I had reacted to his touch the day before. The near-miss several hours ago resulted in my personality displacing any remnants of my cover identity. Parker was back in control. She had to be because Nicholson was not equipped to handle these situations, and the only thing I wanted at the moment was comfort and safety. Curling against Martin, I was happy for the added warmth and the hard planes of his body. “This is my fault,” he whispered, placing his palm over the icepack to keep it in place as I shifted closer to him.

  “How is this your fault?”

  “You were attacked.”

  “So?” Finally finding a comfortable position, I buried my face in the crook of his neck, ready to sleep.

  His sharp laugh was full of loathing and disdain. “I practically forced that rock around your neck. I might as well have hired the muggers myself.”

  “Martin, the necklace is at the bottom of the garment bag with the dress. I left them in your car. This has nothing to do with you. Everything that’s happened is because of my job. I’m sorry. I wish I could explain.”

  “It’s okay.” He eased an arm around me, and the white noise led to unconsciousness.

  The shrill sound of the telephone made me jump, and Martin reached for the phone. He glanced at the caller ID before handing over the offending object. It was Mark.

  “What’s the verdict?” I asked. Putting a hand over the mouthpiece, I asked Martin to make some coffee since I couldn’t talk freely in his presence.

  “It wasn’t due to any breach, but I had no choice but to fill in Lt. Moretti since two of his detectives had to confiscate the evidence from last night’s multiple homicides and release the only surviving witness and potential suspect. Director Kendall is going to have our asses for this. Shit, Parker, your casings and slugs covered that street. Yours. Not the unregistered weapon we gave you. We’re bringing you in for a debrief.”

  “Is it scrapped?”

  “No. Agents Cooper and Lucca are monitoring communications within the KXDs’ network, but it doesn’t sound like they know anything went wrong. The PD identified the four bodies. They were members of the Lords, a rival gang.” He paused. “Like I said, we need to talk. I’ll pick you up in thirty, and we’ll take it from there. Did you tell Marty?”

  “No. He’s under the impression it was a random attack.”

  “Gotcha. Have your gear ready in case we’re sending you back in tonight.” I hesitated, so Mark asked, “Are you able to go back in?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

  When we disconnected, I freshened up and went into the kitchen. Martin was at the table, checking his e-mail on his phone. He offered a smile and pointed to the steaming mug.

  “Mark’s on his way. The police need some statements and information, and he’s helping out. Look, I meant what I said before that this has nothing to do with you. I’m not very good at the juggling act, but I’ve warned you about this.”

  He looked up. “It’s fine.” But it wasn’t, and we both knew it. “You do realize how screwed up it is that we can’t even have an argument without something horrific happening. It’s not fair. I shouldn’t have to worry about things like this. It’s not normal.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. But it’s always been my normal, hasn’t it?”

  “God,” he smirked, “I’m beginning to think you aren’t the only one who needs to consider going to therapy.”

  Slapping his arm, I made a face and took a seat at the table to drink my coffee and give my leg a rest. I’d be back at work soon enough, and last night was a major game-changer.

  Twenty-one

  After performing a threat assessment, the OIO determined the events that took place in the tiny side street were not the result of a security breach. The gangbangers didn’t know who I was. They had no intention of tangling with law enforcement. The only thing they wanted was a brick of cocaine.

  The more relevant question was why did Francisco take me to the KXDs’ processing facility. From the few comments the Lords’ ringleader made, it was obvious this rival gang had a beef with Francisco and the KXDs. Unfortunately, I didn’t know enough about who they were or how long they’d been keeping tabs on their rival. Closing my eyes, I put my feet up on the adjacent office chair and replayed the conversation and accusations that led to the firefight.

  “Parker,” Director Kendall said my name, and I moved to shove my feet off the chair and sit up straight, wincing at the sudden shift, “as you were.” I relaxed back in the seat, waiting for whatever was to come. “You’re not going back without support. Frankly, if we hadn’t invested so much into this, I’d turn it over to the DEA. But that’s not something I want to do. They’re dealing with identifying the international connection, so we’re handling things stateside.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You will rendezvous with Agent Lucca every afternoon at the motel before reporting to the Black Cat. Agent Wolfe is already stationed as a bouncer there, and once things die down, we will find a way to introduce a back-up into the apartment building and neighborhood,” Kendall said, skimming through the files and reports. “However, we have more pressing matters to discuss.” He jerked his chin, dismissing Lucca and Cooper. Mark made a move to leave, but Kendall put his hand out, indicating that Mark should stay. “Jablonsky, you trained Agent Parker. You’ve also kept in contact with her during her work hiatus, so I think you should be here for this.” Kendall exhaled and turned to me, placing his palms on the table. “You broke protocol. You failed to communicate the change of plans. You ditched your phone. Shit, why did you even have any personal effects with you?”

  “Sir,” Mark interjected, “I told Agent Parker to take the night off. The raid was commencing, and she didn’t need to get roped into that.”

  “Still,” Kendall glared at me, “you’ve done this long enough to know better.” He pushed away from the table, almost making his chair collide with the wall. “And don’t get me started on the evidence against you at that crime scene. Furthermore, you broke cover to members of the police department. You jeopardized your own safety and the safety of every single agent tasked to assist and investigate.”

  “Director,” I began, but his icy gaze forced my mouth closed.

  “I’m not finished.” He snorted, rolling his shoulders and sitting back down. “And despite all of that, the best part is I have no choice but to send you back. Francisco Steele trusts you, which makes you a shoo-in with DeAngelo Bard. Hell, they even took you to a location we have spent seven months trying to find.” He put a hand over his mouth, completely speechless. After a minute, he moved his hand. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “But this better be the last time you act recklessly. If I hear anything else, I will pull the plug. And so help me god if that happens.” He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  “Wow, it’s been awhile since I’ve had my ass handed to me. I forgot what that was like,” I said.

  “I’d give you my own version, but you practically ripped your own leg joint out of socket. So you’ve been through enough already today,” Mark replied, collecting a few of the files and going to find Lucca and Cooper. We still had a lot of information to get through.

  Our first order of business was determining how much of last night to divulge to Francisco. My cell phone had been retrieved from the bathroom trashcan, and based on the level of garbage on top of it, it didn’t seem likely the KXDs had discovered it. They trusted me, or at least Francisco did, which meant I should return the favor.

  Once
our bases were covered, Lucca was dismissed. He’d been on duty for over twenty-four hours, and it was starting to show in the dark circles and accumulated scruff. Our boy scout was beginning to look just as rough as the street punks.

  Cooper exhaled, reviewing the few items that had been discovered at the train depot. “It should have been there. Our intel said the shipment was coming in last night. The DEA said the same thing. Everything points to the railway. So why wasn’t it there?”

  Regardless of the fact that he was speaking to himself, I offered my opinion. “It arrived earlier. We have to assume the brick that Steele picked up was processed and cut from that shipment. And work like that takes time. It must have come in Thursday night. That’s probably why Steele said he’d be gone for a few days.”

  “So why’s our intel lagging?” Mark asked.

  “The possibilities aren’t good,” Cooper said, mulling over a few disconcerting thoughts.

  “You’ve been listening to chatter. Whose?” I asked.

  “OCU and the gang task force have been hearing whispers about a shipment arriving. A bug’s been put in our ear from confidential informants and other undercovers,” Cooper said. “The DEA hasn’t shared their sources, but I’m assuming they have a similar intelligence network. Hell, they might have some dealers wiretapped too. I know we do,” he added, not bothering to glance up from the photo array and evidence notations. “Nothing was conclusive. The levels of residue and particulates weren’t enough to definitively say drugs had been shipped through the area.”

  “Did you check the passenger trains that stopped here in the last forty-eight hours?” Mark asked, gnawing on a thumbnail. “We might have better luck searching the trains than the station and temporary cargo holds.”

  “I’ll make some calls. With any luck, some lines have been taken out of commission, and if not, I’ll notify the pertinent field offices to do a check whenever they make their next stops.”