TORN: Death Dealers MC

by Celia Loren

  He's just desperate at this point. I might have lost my best friend and partner to the Death Dealers, but the Captain lost his son. I know the pain runs deeper. He looks like he's aged ten years in the last one. His skin is dry and grey, and I saw a half-empty bottle of vodka in his desk drawer the other day. I wouldn't blame him for self-medicating, but I need him at top shape. There's only three of us on this assignment.

  Well, maybe two. Marie's compromised. I can't stop thinking about the way Ford had his hands on her. So comfortable, like he owned her.

  She was too young and green to be sent undercover. That's why she's developed real feelings for this Ford guy. I can't believe there's really something redeemable about him. She's there all by herself, and found someone who seems like he's protecting her. It's understandable, even if it does make my blood boil.

  A voice on the tape snaps me out of my reverie. That's Tank. I know his voice well by now. He's calling something out to another person in the office, then I hear him shut the door. There's a long pause.

  "I don't fucking care if it's not a good time," I hear him growl. "After all I've given you, and now the Mexicans are securing a route through my territory. Why are you not the ones giving me this information?"

  I've never heard Tank angry before. Usually he sounds relaxed and jovial. There's a minute of silence as I assume Tank listens to the person on the other end of the line. Ebert's watching me, having sensed a shift in my body language.

  "I've already given you dozens," I hear Tank hiss. "I took out Brick, for fuck's sake." I reach out and stop the recording, then pull off my headphones.

  "What?" Ebert says.

  "Tank just told someone on the phone that he took out Brick," I tell him.

  "Brick? The old president?"

  "I assume there isn't another one."

  "I thought he died in a deal gone wrong, and then Tank took over."

  "So did I. And so do most of the Death Dealers, from what I can tell."

  "Who's he talking to?"

  "Don't know yet." I pull out my headphones and press play on the recording. Tank's voice fills the office.

  "You just take and take, that's what you do," Tank says. "I'm not fucking saying I'm innocent. Put McGinty on, you Polish fuck." I pause the tape again and stare at the Captain.

  "McGinty? You know a McGinty?" I ask him.

  "McGinty…" he says, frowning. "There's a Peter McGinty at the Phoenix FBI field office. Hang on, let me check something." He turns to his computer and starts typing. "And McGinty's partner's name is Kowalski."

  "Sounds pretty Polish to me."

  "And they work in organized crime."

  I take a deep breath. "So, wait, hang on. Let's say Tank is talking to two FBI agents. That would mean…"

  "He's an informant," Ebert finishes for me. "So he has a deal with them. He becomes the President of the Death Dealers, and they allow him to grow his empire in peace as long as he turns over a regular stream of other criminals."

  "You really think the FBI would do something like that?"

  "Don't be naïve," Ebert grunts. "That's how Whitey Bulger and his gang stayed in power in Boston for decades."

  "He said he took out Brick. That would mean the deal where Brick died was a setup, and the FBI at least knew about it, and maybe even helped."

  "I wouldn't put it past them. Some agents will do anything to raise their profile, and Tank must be giving them some pretty impressive collars. Maybe they approached Brick first, but he refused."

  "And Tank was much more willing to sell out. So much for honor among thieves."

  "It would explain how they've stayed ahead of us. Maybe there wasn't a leak here at all."

  "That would be a relief. I've hated looking over my shoulder at my fellow cops. These two FBI agents could have been feeding Tank information all along to keep him in power."

  "And the consequences to the people here be damned," Ebert says, anger growing in his eyes. "I don’t care if Tank is turning over high-level criminals, the Death Dealers have to be taken down. The people in this town are getting slammed. It's just like the FBI to care more about the big names than taking down the menace that's actually affecting people's lives."

  I press play again on the computer. "Fine, I got something for you, but he's one of my best guys. You gotta have something big for me in return. Their next big run, I want to know about it first. Every little detail. When, where, how many guys, everything. Fine you got yourself a deal." There's a pause. "Okay, there's this club called the Spiders MC. Yeah, I know they're not functioning anymore, I'm the one who took them out, remember? So, while we were there doing our thing, we found a prospect hiding out, and one of mine beat him to death."

  "Shit, he's turning over one of his own on a murder charge?" I whisper to Ebert. "That's cold."

  "Just find one of the old Spiders and ask 'em where the body is. They'll be more than happy to get their revenge. Oh, his name's Ford. Matt Ford."

  I reach out and stop the tape. The Lieutenant and I stare at each other.

  "We've got to get Marie out of there," he says.

  Chapter 26 – Marie

  "Don't go over there," Candice cautions me as she sees me heading for our apartment door.

  "I'm not, don't worry," I assure her. "Just going for a jog." The night that Ford offered me his patch, I came back here and Candice told me that he'd been seen hanging around The Spot. She had to physically block the door to stop me from heading down there and kicking someone's ass.

  "Everything will work out," she tells me with a hopeful smile. I nod back, much less hopefully, and shut the door behind me.

  I head for my car. I lied to Candice. I'm actually headed to meet up with Drew. I don't want to see him right now, but he said if I didn't show up he'd come down to the Keep again.

  I check my phone at every stoplight. I've called Ford a dozen times, but he hasn't answered. Candice says that if I go over to his place I'll only look desperate, but the truth is I am desperate. I feel like my body is aching for lack of his touch.

  I don't see a way out of this situation I've found myself in. I'm in love with Ford, but I'm investigating him and his club. And now he won't even talk to me because I said I wouldn't become his old lady. I just couldn't say yes. To accept his proposal while still lying to him would have been the biggest betrayal of all.

  Since I've been with him, I've allowed myself to imagine a future where we're together. Drew's right, I have lost my objectivity. When Ford asked me if I want kids someday, I couldn't tell him the truth: that I not only want kids, I want his kids, and I have their names already picked out.

  When I pull up at the trailhead, I see Drew's car already parked. To take out some of my frustration, I do actually jog my way to the fork. He looks serious as I run up to him. Maybe he's going to apologize for coming down to the Keep. I hope so, I don't have the energy for another argument with him.

  "You okay?" he asks me, examining my face.

  "I was going to ask you the same thing," I reply tightly.

  "Well, I'm not," he says. I don't respond, but wait for him to continue. "Okay, so you're pissed at me, but that bug did get us some information. We know how the Death Dealers have been staying ahead of us."

  That gets my attention. "How?" I ask.

  "Tank's an FBI informant."

  My jaw drops. "Are you fucking serious? He's always drilling them about loyalty, and he's a rat?"

  "Yep. He's been turning over other criminals in exchange for the FBI leaving him and the Death Dealers alone. In fact, he killed the old president for the opportunity."

  "Sonofabitch," I swear. "Well, at least it's not someone in your own department."

  "Our own department."

  "That's what I meant. I'm surprised you're even telling me this, considering you think I'm so 'compromised.'"

  "There's more," he tells me. "You're not going to like this part."

  "Okay…"

  "The FBI agents he's working with pressed Tan
k to turn over someone else, and he did. He gave them Ford."

  "For what? I'm sure he's just done the same as the rest of them."

  "Not exactly. Tank claims he beat a prospect from Spiders MC to death in front of a ton of witnesses."

  "No," I reply automatically. "Must've been self-defense or something."

  "Tank says Ford killed him because he didn't want to leave any witnesses. Says another brother wanted to shoot him, but Ford insisted on beating him with his bare hands."

  "I just… I don't believe he's capable of that," I whisper, feeling cold.

  "You've never thought he seemed dangerous? Or capable of violence?"

  "Of course he's capable of violence, he's a former SEAL," I snap.

  "So then is it so hard to believe this could be true?" I'm silent, mulling over his words. "I get that you have feelings for him, but you need to get out now."

  "What about being undercover? What about the mission?"

  "We know Tank's working for the Feds now, and soon we'll get something on him that we can use in court. The Lieutenant and I both agree that you can't stay undercover anymore. Not with someone like Ford."

  "He's not even… We're not…" I feel a ball of pain rise in my throat as I struggle to explain that I'm not sure Ford even wants anything to do with me anyway.

  "Take a couple days and tie things up. Don't leave too suspiciously, just in case. Maybe say you need to go back to Seattle for a family emergency or something."

  "Yeah," I reply.

  "Marie, you did good," Drew says, laying his hand on my shoulder. "Now you can go back to a normal life. Back to being a cop."

  "Right," I reply. "I know."

  "Just let me know when you're ready to come back."

  "Sure, got it," I reply, turning away and heading down the trail. I know where I have to go. I can't leave without seeing him again.

  The information Drew told me runs through my mind on a never-ending loop as I speed over to Ford's. I never even told Drew about how Ford kidnapped me… but it made sense to me at the time. He had to protect his MC and make sure I wasn't a threat. But now, I can't stop questioning what I know about him.

  I pull into Ford's driveway, and see his bike and his truck parked there. He has to be home. I steel myself as I walk up to the door and take out my keys. I never gave them back to him, and I'm worried that if I knock, he won't open the door.

  I quietly unlock the door and step inside. I can hear him moving around in the kitchen. I shut the door, and the noise stops.

  "It's me," I call out. I walk a few steps forward, and he turns the corner from the kitchen into the front hallway.

  I soften the instant I see him. I know this man, I'm sure of it. His posture is tense, but I can see that the overwhelming feeling in his eyes is pain, not anger.

  "What do you want?"

  "I need to ask you… First, I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

  "You don't have to apologize."

  "I think I do…"

  "If you don't want to be with me, you don't want to be with me," he says with a shrug and heads back into the kitchen. "Nothing to apologize for." I follow him.

  "I heard you were at The Spot the other night."

  "So? Is that what you wanted to ask me about?"

  "No. But were you?"

  "Yep. I'm a free man, far as I can tell." I wait, watching him. "I didn't do anything. Not that I didn't have the opportunity," he finally tells me. "I'm surprised you'd even care."

  "Of course I…" I stop myself. I can't be with him, and I can't explain why, so I shouldn't even get into it. "I need to ask you about something else." He looks up at me expectantly. "I heard that you…"

  "What?" he asks, his expression now closed-off and distant.

  "I heard that there was a prospect from another club, and you…you killed him. You beat him to death in cold blood."

  "You heard that, huh?" he asks, his eyes narrowing. "From who?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "Yes, it fucking does," he replies.

  "From what I hear, there were plenty of witnesses," I counter.

  "Well, then it must be true," he says, and turns to get a beer out of the fridge.

  "I don't believe it."

  "Sure you do. You must believe it a little, or you wouldn't be here."

  "You kidnapped me! I know there's something inside you that—"

  "And there's something inside you, too," he points out. "I thought we saw each other clearly, but I guess not."

  "So you didn't do it."

  "It doesn't matter. You think I did."

  "I don't know! I'm here asking you if—"

  "No! No, I didn't kill him!" he bursts out. "I disobeyed a direct order from Tank. I knew that Taz would shoot him in the head if I didn't do something."

  "But people saw you beat him…"

  "Yeah, they saw me beat him, but I didn't kill him. I've been in war. I know how to kill a man if I want to. I bloodied him up enough that they all thought he was dead, and then used his phone to call 911 right after so that the ambulance would find him in time."

  "I, fuck, I…"

  "Oh, and that time I saw you in the basement of the clubhouse? I was there to release Uncle. I thought no one would notice in the middle of the party. But then you ruined that plan, so I had to come back later, at a much riskier time. Happy? Am I a good enough man for you now?"

  "Ford, I, I don't know what to say…" I stumble.

  "I never judged you. Never," he reminds me.

  "You're right. You're right, I'm so sorry, I—"

  "I think you should go. And I don't think you should come back."

  "There's so much I want to be able to tell you," I whisper.

  "But you won't."

  "I can't." More than anything, what I want to do is warn him. Tank's selling him out, and he has no idea. But there's no way for me to do it without blowing my cover.

  He shakes his head at me. "Your keys," he says, reaching his hand out. I hold them out to him, and our fingers brush against each other's. I see the anger in his eyes falter for a moment, but then it's back.

  I turn for the door, as a wave of pain unlike anything I've ever experienced hits me. I stop. "I do love you," I say. I wait, but he doesn't reply.

  Somehow, I make my legs move and manage to walk out the door. I shut it behind me, and head for my car, knowing that's the last time I'll ever see Ford, unless I'm seeing him behind bars.

  Chapter 27 – Drew

  Marie stands with the Lieutenant just outside his office. He has his hand raised with a drink in it, as the rest of the detectives and I do. Marie's smiling, but I can tell it looks hollow.

  "I want to thank Officer McHenry for the fantastic work she did. We gave her an impossible task that somehow she managed to execute. To McHenry!" He raises his glass, and we all take a sip of the cheap champagne he bought. It's not like we have much of a budget. "I also want to apologize for all the secrecy lately. I should have known that no one in this department would have ever been leaking information, but maybe I let my personal…" he trails off as he thinks of his son, and his eyes mist over. "Well, point is, it's going to be over soon. Now that we know the FBI is involved, we know how to work around them. It's only a matter of time before we have the opportunity to take down these bastards."

  "I'll cheers to that!" someone else yells out, and everyone laughs in agreement.

  "Alright, enjoy the cake, and then get back to work!" Ebert adds. I haven't seen him this lighthearted in a while. It makes for a nice change.

  Marie finishes her champagne in one gulp, and tosses the red solo cup. I head over to her warily. It's been a little tense between us.

  "Feels strange to see you in the uniform," I comment.

  "Feels strange to wear it," she replies. A button pops open on the front of her shirt, and she curses under her breath as she refastens it. "Thanks for the groceries. I assume that was you."

  "Didn't want you to come back to an empty refrigerator."
/>
  "How'd you get in?"

  "I told the super you were a person of interest in an investigation and he let me in."

  She laughs. "That explains the suspicious look he gave me."

  "Are you glad to be back? Even a little?"

  "Of course. Though it does feel weird to have everyone calling me Marie, or McHenry, again."

  "Well, you did great work. You're a real hero around here." She smiles weakly. "Even if you don't feel like one," I add.

  "Do you know if Ford's been arrested yet?"

  "No, they must still be trying to gather evidence. They must want to corroborate Tank's claim."

  "He is an untrustworthy rat, so that makes sense," Marie replies bitterly.

  "You have to put it all behind you," I tell her.

  "It's only been a few days."

  "I know, but…"

  "I don't think you do know, Drew. Or I guess I should start calling you Stewart again."

  "You don't have to."

  "Everyone around here calls you by your last name."

  "You're not everyone," I tell her.

  "You shouldn't say that."

  "I'm sorry I had to push you the way I did. I was just worried that you were getting too close, and when you got out and had a little distance, you'd see things more clearly."

  "I know," Marie says with a little shrug.

  "So, was I right? Do you see things more clearly?"

  "I guess so," Marie tells me. "But…what if he didn't do it?"

  "Who?"

  "Ford. What if he didn't murder that guy?"

  "How would you know?" I ask her, feeling concerned.

  "I asked him," she whispers.

  "Marie! What were you thinking!" I hiss. "That was classified information!"

  "He doesn't know how I got it, okay? He probably thinks I heard it from one of the other sweet butts."

  "And let me guess, he denied it."

  "Well, yes, but it wasn't like that. He says he staged the whole thing. He was actually trying to save the guy's life."

  "He beat him to death to save his life?"

  "Not to death! That's the—would you please take me seriously?"

  "It's hard to when you're emotionally compromised."