Covert Lessons

by Mari Carr

  “He was in there,” Mac replied shortly. “We’ll have to make it enough.” Rodney had learned during his weeks infiltrating the gang that Juan Alvarado and another man, Leo Carlson, were the masterminds behind the criminal aspects of the Broadstreet Thugs. From the sounds of the meeting, Leo handled the importing of the goods—in this case, crack cocaine and heroin—while Juan recruited and trained the soldiers who would push the merchandise. Today was the first time Rodney had actually ever seen Leo or Juan, although Rodney said they were revered by the other younger members as “hardcore” or “veteranos”.

  “Shotsie’s shadowing Alvarado. Says he appears to be heading home. He’s just pulled into the trailer park,” Jeff added.

  “Well, at least we’ll know where to pick him—”

  “Wait a minute—Shotsie says there’s another car in front of the Alvarado place. Beat-up old station wagon.”

  Mac’s heart felt as if it had exploded and a pain he’d never known rumbled through his chest. “Station wagon?”

  “Yeah, white with wood paneling. Regular Wally World wagon,” Jeff joked, referring to the old National Lampoon movie.

  Mac couldn’t have laughed if there’d been a gun held to his head. “Christ.” Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out his cell phone, desperate to discover it wasn’t Kelly’s car parked outside the gates of hell. The second he turned the thing on he received the flashing mailbox, indicating that he had a message in his voicemail.

  “Hey,” Jeff protested. “We said no cell phones.”

  He held up his hand to cut off Jeff’s complaint as he listened to Kelly’s voice telling him where she was going and why.

  He let loose with a string of curses that had Jeff’s eyebrows hugging his receding hairline. “What the hell?”

  “That’s Kelly’s car at the Alvarado place!”

  “Jesus. Your English teacher? Are you sure?” Jeff whispered and Mac took no comfort as all the color leached out of his friend’s face.

  “I’m going over there.”

  “Wait!” Jeff, ever the voice of reason, grabbed his arm. “We gotta let the others know. We gotta change the game plan here, Mac. You can’t just run over there with guns blazing. It could be a trap. Juan could have soldiers stationed all around that place. They’d bust a cap in your ass and Kelly would still be in big trouble.”

  He nodded shortly at the wisdom of Jeff’s comments. Problem was, he was about twenty miles away from common sense and currently had a firm grip on the doorknob to complete and utter panic.

  “Make the plans, Jeff. Tell the others, but I’m leaving here in three minutes with or without orders.”

  Jeff nodded and he saw realization dawn on the man’s face. So much for keeping a lid on his true feelings for Ms. Kelly Finch.

  Jeff spoke rapid fire into the transmitter and he could picture the faces of the fellow team members as the news traveled to their well-concealed earpieces. The captain, who’d been stationed in a van outside the safe house where Jeff and Mac were hiding out, opened the back door and stormed in.

  “What in the flying-mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch is that woman doing in Alvarado’s house?” The captain was well known for his way of embellishing curse words in the heat of anger.

  “She left a message on my cell. José Alvarado, the little brother, convinced her to go with him to see his mother. Apparently she’s sick.” Mac was cracking his knuckles and eyeing the back door. He was going to start tearing this house down if he didn’t get out of here soon. Kelly had already been alone in the house with Juan for five minutes. It would take him another ten at least to get from here to there.

  “Cool down, Romeo,” his captain growled, and Mac knew he was in for the ass-chewing of a lifetime when the dust settled on this day. The captain took the transmitter from Jeff’s hand. “Jeff, you’ll stay here and continue recording that meeting. Jesse, Bob and Carlos, you will hold your positions until I give you the signal. Mac, you and Glen will go to Alvarado’s, hook up with Shotsie, arrest that BT prick and get your teacher the fuck outta there. Understood?”

  Mac nodded and hightailed it to the door. Oh, he understood. He was going to tear Juan—

  “Mac.” The captain halted him. “Let Glen handle the arresting part. We may need to keep your identity secure if none of this operation pans out the way we’ve planned. We can make it look like you received Kelly’s call and came to offer a hand. Got it?”

  He fought to restrain a growl. They had more than enough to bust this gang apart and the captain knew it. Apparently his boss saw the murder written in his eyes.

  “Tell me you’ve got it, Mac, or your ass is staying here. There’s no room for your fucking hard-on right now.”

  Mac clenched his fist and considered driving it through the captain’s face for his insult. Jeff rose quickly and the movement brought him to his senses. The officer was positioning himself to prevent the violence he must have seen radiating from Mac’s body.

  The captain must have noticed it too and he sighed heavily. “Shit, Mac. You picked a hell of a time to fall in love. Go get the girl. Just don’t kill anybody unless you have to, and I mean that in a legal sense.”

  Mac nodded shortly and ran out the back door and to the car they’d hidden safely away. Mercifully, Glen was there ahead of him, in the passenger seat and ready to roll.

  “Figured you’d wanna drive,” Glen said when he hopped in and turned the key in the ignition.

  Not drive, he thought, fly. He wanted to fly to Kelly’s side. God, let him get there in time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Kelly opened her eyes, she was surprised to find herself slumped on the floor. Lying inert and motionless near her was José, blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

  She attempted to crawl toward the boy, anxious to help him, but was halted by a strong hand gripping her hair and pulling her up harshly. She cried out at the pain of having her hair tugged so ferociously and she reached back, trying to disengage Juan’s hand.

  Using just one hand in her hair, Juan dragged her to her feet and shook her like a rag doll as her teeth rattled uncontrollably.

  “Let go of me!” she yelled.

  “You need to be taught a lesson, bitch. It’s not nice to interfere in other people’s business.”

  “I was just trying to help,” she said, still fighting to remove Juan’s hand from her already aching head. Spots were forming before her eyes and she was very afraid she was about to lose consciousness again.

  “What did you do to José?” she asked, cognizant that she needed to stay awake if she was going to have any hope of helping her student and his mother. If only she could reason with his older brother. Glancing into Juan’s face, she feared her words would never succeed. The man was clearly under the influence of some narcotic—his wild, glassy eyes were reminiscent of Mitchell’s from the day before.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, the front door slammed open and Mitchell entered, followed closely by Chad. Her heart sank at the thought of Chad’s participation in the gang. Like Mac, she’d truly believed the boy was merely a wannabe, a lonely kid trying to find acceptance somewhere. She’d hoped by not pressing assault charges, Chad would take the opportunity she’d given him and find another, safer, legal path in life.

  Mitchell laughed when he saw her caught in Juan’s vicious grasp.

  “Warned you, whore,” he taunted. “Told you not to mess with the brotherhood.” Mitchell turned and slapped Chad on the back in a friendly gesture. “Good job, man. Way to come through for us.”

  Mitchell looked at Juan. “Chad’s been working her over for a few days now. Calling her place and scaring her good. And it was old Chaddy-boy here who spotted the bitch’s car. He called me and I knew you’d wanna know.”

  Juan nodded approvingly. “You did good,” he affirmed.

  So Chad was her prank caller. Apparently, the others thought he’d been threatening her on the phone. Coward hadn’t been able to do more than han
g up at the sound of her voice. She expected to see Chad gloat at Juan’s and Mitchell’s praise—and was instead surprised to find Chad’s expression worried and his face extremely pale. Perhaps Chad wasn’t so keen now that he’d been brought face-to-face with the reality of the gang. For a brief moment, she felt a glimmer of hope.

  “Grab that chair over there, Chad,” Juan commanded. “Then go out to the back shed and get the rope that’s hanging on the wall.”

  Her optimism wavered then crashed as Chad moved to obey.

  “Chad, you don’t have to do this!” she cried, praying she could reason with the only young man who seemed the least bit reasonable.

  Juan reacted to her words with another blow, this time to her stomach, and she felt her knees give way beneath her. She curled into a protective ball on the floor, gasping for breath and foolishly thinking how grateful she was that Juan had released his excruciating hold on her hair. She struggled for several seconds to regain regular control of her breathing before Mitchell’s boots came into view. Twice he kicked her—hard—and a searing pain tore through her side.

  “Enough!” Juan yelled. “I want her awake for her lesson.” The man reached down to grip her upper arm and he pulled her to a sitting position. “Nobody sleeps in my class, bitch,” Juan snarled, his face inches from hers, and she turned her head in an attempt to escape the smell of his heated, rancid breath.

  The front door banged shut once again and she peered over Juan’s shoulder to see Chad standing in the entryway with a rope in his hands and an anguished look on his face.

  She hadn’t even heard the boy leave and now he was back with the material that would render her completely helpless. For a moment, Mac’s face danced before her as she closed her eyes and she silently begged the image to come help her. Juan wiped the reflection of salvation away with yet another slap to her face.

  “Oh no, Ms. Finch,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “You’ll have all the time in the world to sleep in a minute. In fact, soon you’ll be feeling no pain at all. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  She wondered at his words. God, was he going to kill her? If so, she almost hoped it would be quick and relatively painless. She didn’t think she could endure too much more of the abuse Juan and Mitchell were issuing. Every part of her body was screaming in agony and death would, in some ways, be a welcome relief when she considered what other torments these young men could offer.

  Rape, burning, cutting, more beatings. All these horrible images crossed her mind and she swallowed back the wave of nausea that gathered at the back of her throat.

  Mitchell and Juan didn’t give her any more time to consider her fate as they roughly grabbed her up from the floor and dragged her to the kitchen chair. Her wrists and ankles were tightly bound to the arms and legs of the chair before she had time to clear her pain-fogged brain enough to even consider putting up a fight. Quite frankly, she was barely maintaining consciousness and the prospect of defending herself seemed an impossibility.

  “Go get the box,” she heard Juan order Mitchell. She flinched at the nasty grin that filled her tormentor’s face.

  “Oh yeah,” Mitchell nodded with approval and he quickly disappeared from her view.

  “Chad,” Juan said and she saw the boy jump nervously. No doubt he’d hoped to be excluded from whatever punishment they intended for her. “What is it they always tell you in school about drugs?”

  Chad seemed confused by the question. “Huh?”

  “Teachers! Don’t they always preach to you about drugs? What do they say?”

  She could sense Juan’s impatience at having to ask his question twice and she figured if Chad ever did achieve his misguided dream of joining the gang, he’d find no joy in it. He didn’t possess the mindset for true cruelty. He was a schoolyard bully at best—and he wasn’t even very good at that.

  “D-don’t do d-drugs,” Chad stammered—and Juan’s temper exploded.

  “Of course they tell you not to do drugs! But what do they tell you to say to the drug pushers?”

  Understanding seemed to come to Chad as he quickly replied, “Just say no.”

  As quickly as Juan’s anger came, it left, and he broke into a big, toothy grin. For a moment, she was struck by the resemblance between the Alvarado brothers. The difference was that while Juan’s face was harsh, rough, his eyes hard, José’s face was softer, more peaceful, and his eyes, all-too-often sad, spoke of innate kindness and gentleness.

  “Just say no,” Juan repeated and she heard Mitchell’s laughter as he reentered the room.

  Juan pulled a dirty handkerchief from his back pocket and when he approached her with it, she put up a fruitless fight. Strange how the idea of being tied up didn’t repulse her as much as having that filthy square of cloth shoved in her mouth. Her struggles were somewhat successful until Mitchell stepped in from behind to grip her head and hold it still for Juan. Her refusal to open her mouth only lasted until she had no choice but to gasp for the breath Juan had cut off by holding her nose closed.

  He roughly pushed the handkerchief in until she gagged, the movement triggering the piercing pain in her side again. Her head began to fall back as she welcomed the idea of passing out…

  Cold water hit her face, going up her nose, and she choked around the cloth. The water stung her nostrils and she shook her head to relieve the pain. When would this torture end?

  Mac, she silently screamed in her head. I need you!

  * * * * *

  Mac took most of the turns between the warehouse and the Alvarado house on two wheels and was only vaguely aware of Glen’s constant plea that he “slow the fuck down!”

  Mac hit the brakes as he entered the trailer park and he quickly spotted Shotsie’s car behind an abandoned house. He drove over, rolling down the window.

  “Alvarado’s been inside about twenty minutes,” Shotsie reported, his words cooling Mac’s boiling blood to ice in an instant. He didn’t want to think what the violent man could do to Kelly in that amount of time.

  “Two other young guys went in a few minutes after Alvarado showed up. One of them was that Mitchell bastard. Didn’t recognize the other one—chubby, young blond boy. He looked too upscale to fit with the BTs.”

  Chad’s face flashed in his mind. How could he have been so wrong about the boy’s involvement in the gang?

  “The chubby boy came out a few minutes after going in. He went around the trailer then came back with rope.”

  Mac nodded, his mind flashing on how best to enter the house.

  “What about the younger brother and the mother?” Glen asked.

  “No sign of either of them, or Kelly Finch, for that matter. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of any of them.”

  “Maybe Kelly called an ambulance and they aren’t even in there. Maybe they got out before Juan got home,” Glen suggested, his tone giving away the fact that he didn’t believe his words any more than Shotsie or Mac.

  Mac shook his head. “Then why the rope? No, they’re all in there.”

  “Do you think the brother was in on it? Lured Kelly into a trap with the sick mother routine?”

  Mac shrugged. His cop training told him that was a very good possibility, but Kelly’s unwavering belief in the boy seemed to overrule his years of experience. “No, I don’t think so. I think we need to go in there with the idea that there are at least three hostages in danger.” He turned to Shotsie. “So to the best of your knowledge, there are only three gang members in there?”

  “That’s all I’ve seen go in,” Shotsie clarified. “Who the hell knows who was in there before I got here?”

  Mac wasn’t consoled by Shotsie’s words. There was only one entrance to the old trailer. Earlier reconnaissance had proven that the windows were either painted shut or broken so that they wouldn’t open. The front steps were falling down and the idea of three big men climbing them silently and together would never work.

  “We’re going to have to go in single file and hope we catch t
hem unaware.” Mac knew before he uttered the words how his fellow cops would reply.

  “That’s suicide. How the hell do we know they don’t have a lookout stationed at the window? They could all be facing the door with guns cocked and ready.” Glen’s words made sense, but Mac couldn’t see another option.

  “So make a better fucking suggestion, Glen, but make it now. Kelly’s been in there too damn long as it is! I’m not about to hover out here hoping they’ll break early for dinner and leave.”

  Glen looked to Shotsie, no doubt for support.

  “Mac’s right, Glen,” Shotsie said at last. “We’ve got three people in there and God only knows what’s happening to them. We gotta move in.”

  Glen sighed heavily.

  “I’m going first,” Mac added quickly.

  “No you’re not,” Shotsie said. “Captain said you were supposed to keep your undercover identity safe. Glen and I are going in first and you can pull up the rear. We’ll take out the key figures and you can move in to intercept the hostages.”

  “Fuck that!” he replied heatedly. “You know as well as I do this case is over!”

  “You wanna argue about it for a while, Mac? ’Cause I can tell you right now, I’m not changing my mind. I’ve got seniority amongst the three of us, in case you forgot, so it’s my call.”

  “Pulling rank, Shotsie?” he spat out. The gang task force was a team and it was very rare that one member pulled out status levels.

  “Goddamn right I am. Besides, Glen and I are wearing vests and you’re not. Now shut the hell up and let’s go get your girlfriend outta there.”

  * * * * *

  Kelly’s eyes went wide went she saw Juan take a small box from Mitchell’s hands and open it. While she’d expected a weapon of some sort, she was shocked when Juan pulled out a syringe and a small vial filled with a colorless liquid.

  “Ah,” Juan said with a grin. “You’re going to like this lesson, Ms. Finch. You hurt, don’t you?” Juan’s voice had taken on an eerily compassionate tone and her eyes never left his hands as he expertly filled the syringe with liquid.