Anna and Jackson

by Tigris Eden

  Things were royally fucked. So fucked in fact, that Jackson was positive someone was purposefully shafting him right up the ass, sans lube. He'd gone to Rikers in the hopes of getting intel on Fabiano, maybe even his location. When Jackson had arrived, he was told that Tonio had been released last night. Which made no sense. They always processed paperwork in the morning. It was like he was two steps behind. Either that, or the asshole at the airport had him going on a wild goose chase. The information he had seemed real, though. The boy could be fucking with me, trying to throw me off. It could be that he was being led around aimlessly on purpose. Jackson pulled his cell out and called Tracey.

  "What do you have for me at the docks?

  "Zilch."

  Shit. Something should have panned out there. How was it that she’d found nothing? ‘Cause it’s a joke.

  "What do you mean by zilch?''

  Now he was starting to get really pissed off.

  “I mean, there's nothing here but empty space."

  “Impossible. You sure you’re in the right place?"

  Tracey grunted and said nothing.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what? I said there’s nothing here; that means there’s nothing here. Do you speak English? Should I try Spanish? Italian maybe?” She was irritated, and he didn’t give one single fuck. She could be as bitchy as she wanted. Something wasn’t adding up.

  "I'm coming down there," Jackson said harshly.

  "Suit yourself."

  Tracey hung up before he could get in another word.

  He cursed loudly, scaring some tourists who happened to walk by. He needed to close this case so he could move on with Anna. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but she’d feel a hell of a lot better if her attacker were off the streets. Jackson would feel better if the other man were dead. He’d dance the Macarena if he could ensure her that everything was okay. Taking things too far. Okay, so he wouldn’t dance the Macarena, but it was all about what his mind perceived to be true. If he told himself he would, then he would. But if he doubted himself for one minute, the idea that he might fail would consume him. By the time he’d made it to the docks, Tracey was gone. Some partner. The guard at the gate waved him through. The yard was lined with container after container, stacked seven high in places. Multi-colored and vintage in their wear and tear. Jackson felt like he was in a 1980s television version of Scarecrow and Mrs. King, only he and Anna didn’t have a chance meeting, and there was no way in hell he was letting her help with this case. He would have laughed, but couldn’t find the humor in searching the crate with no backup. Jackson pulled his phone out and scrolled through his text messages until he found the text he’d sent to Tracey with the lot number. Each spot and its cargo were numbered. He'd have to ask one of the workers if they could get him a map of the yard. There was a young kid working one of the machines.

  “Hey.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I get some help locating a container?”

  “You got the container number?”

  “Yeah.”

  The kid stepped down from the forklift after turning it off. In the background was a large container crane, a man could be seen behind the dirty windshield, operating the beast of a machine as he stacked a pale blue container on top of a yellow one. The kid could be no more than his early twenties.

  "Let's see what you got.”

  Jackson showed the kid the container number on the screen of his phone.

  "It’s not here."

  "How do you know?"

  "We got the order to move it last night. I mean, the container’s here, but the contents have been removed and sent to the warehouse."

  "Can I get an address?"

  “Yeah, it’s over off Shore Parkway, you can’t miss it. Big ass building.”

  Tracey had said she couldn’t find the container, yet the boy told him that it was here but that the contents had been removed. Did she even ask?

  "Thanks."

  Jackson was walking away when the kid asked, "Container's pretty popular. Some agent came by this morning looking for it, too. Gave her the same info. Although I’ve seen her here before.”

  "Before?" Jackson turned and made his way back to the kid.

  "Yeah, her and some guy. He was a real asshole. Ordered the guys and me around like he owned the docks."

  Must have been someone from the office. She did say they’d checked the docks once before and had come up empty.

  “Most agents are douches, kid.”

  “You’re right about that. It’s why I didn’t tell her the correct building.” The kid laughed.

  It probably wasn’t a good idea to piss Tracey off, but she hadn’t been forthcoming with information either.

  Neither had he.

  “She’ll eventually find the spot.” The kid chuckled to himself again.

  “What did the guy look like that she was with?”

  “Tall, uptight. All uppity and shit. He wore shades so I couldn’t really see his face, but his clothes were definitely tailored. I’m no dude lover or anything, but I know a good suit when I see one. My pops is a tailor.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jackson left and put in a call to Tracey. If she was trying to prolong this case to keep him away from Anna, he was going to lose his shit. Women could be such spiteful bitches. He should have probably gone to the warehouse first, but Inara’s safe house was on this side of town, and he knew she’d talk. She was as much to blame as Fabiano was.

  The ride to the safe house wasn’t long. The two men out front tried to stop Jackson from entering the building, but he flashed his badge.

  “Agent Storme.”

  “This is a crime scene. Feds are involved.”

  Crime scene?

  “What the hell happened?”

  “The witness was murdered.”

  What. The. Fuck.

  Okay, well that wasn’t at all what he’d expected to hear. Maybe that she’d tried to escape and was now being transferred elsewhere, or even that she’d seduced the two Marshalls tasked with guarding her, but dead? That was the furthest thing from his mind.

  “Who’s in charge?” Jackson asked. Both men looked back just as a tall male walked through the archway and out onto the stoop.

  “Jackson Storme. Heard you’d been reactivated.”

  “Oliver, you smooth bastard. I thought you were stationed in Chicago?”

  “Was, but crime reaches far and wide these days. Your girl, Inara Peretti, bought it with six bullets to the head.

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, fuck is right. Closed casket for sure.”

  “This location is airtight.”

  How the hell had someone even found her?

  “Nope. I’d say the shit is wide open since gale winds came through and took out our star witness.”

  “No shit.”

  Oliver Twist Gaines was an FBI Agent. Everyone made fun of his name and his five asshole brothers. But Ryland Thatcher had gotten lucky. He was adopted. Their parents had a wicked sense of humor, as all the Gaines boys were named for what their parents called, “The Classics.” His older brother was Catcher Rye Gaines, then there were his three younger brothers, Dorian Gray, and the twins—Finn Huckleberry, and Tom Sawyer. The brothers were famous throughout the enforcement agencies. Except for the twins, all of them were involved with the law in one way or another.

  “I heard about your woman. Although hearing that super player Jackson Storme turned in his endless supply of condoms was a fucking shock to my system. Still, it’s fucked up what happened, man.”

  “Thanks. Anna’s definitely a keeper.”

  “Did I just hear Jackson Storme talk about keeping a woman?”

  Javier Morales stepped out of the building, pulling off white gloves and tossing them in a disposable bag.

  “Sure as hell did,” Oliver said.

  “Man, finally I’ll get laid. You had all the pussy sewed up so tight, I never got any when we hung out. I was sure your dick was made
of solid gold.”

  “It is, Morales.”

  “Somebody find me some pussy. I need to test this theory,” Morales yelled out to no one in particular.

  “Fuck off, Morales,” Jackson said.

  “Oh, I plan to. Repeatedly. My sexual pool has just widened significantly.”

  “Shit, don’t look now. Here comes your boss,” Oliver said.

  All three men watched as Tracey made her way over to their group.

  “Inara Peretti really dead?”

  “As dead as she’s gonna get, unless I’m Rick, he’s Daryl, and Jackson’s Glenn,” Morales joked.

  “What the fuck does that even mean, Morales?” Oliver asked.

  “Dude, TWD?”

  Oliver just shook his head.

  “You in charge, Oliver?” Tracey asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. Boys are almost finished inside.”

  “Mind if we have a look?”

  “Once my men are done, you’re welcome to it. But I doubt they leave anything worth looking into. It’s more cleanup than anything else.”

  “Where are the two Marshalls that were assigned to her?” Tracey questioned. She looked really interested in what Oliver had to say. Now she wanted to be serious? Better late than never, Jackson thought to himself.

  “Both have been sent to headquarters for questioning.”

  “Do we get a crack at them?”

  “Soon as we’re done, yeah. Or I can send you the tapes,” Oliver answered.

  “I’d really like to be there when you question them.”

  Oliver smirked, and Jackson knew what the other man was thinking but couldn’t say. Even Morales knew. Oliver had been jonesing for Tracey for years. But saying something crass, given their current situation, was out of protocol and totally unwarranted.

  “Sorry, Tracey, no can do.”

  “Aw, come on, Gaines. I’ll be your best friend.”

  “Got plenty of those, don’t need any more.”

  “Fine, but as soon as they’re done, send them to my office.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Tracey smiled up at Jackson, and he really didn’t want his business with her all out in the street.

  “You coming? We can have lunch,” she purred, grabbing his arm.

  Morales looked skyward.

  Oliver was visibly not happy.

  “No, Tracey. Gonna stick around with the guys, see what I can find out.” He gently stepped out of her hold before turning his attention back to his friends.

  “Before I forget, Anna and I are getting married in Jamaica.”

  That was said more for Tracey’s benefit than his friends’.

  “No shit,” Oliver said, smiling wide.

  “Yeah, y’all are invited, bring dates. Gaines, let the family know. It’s family and close friends only.”

  “Right. Sure thing, Jackson,” Oliver said skeptically.

  “I’m gonna get so lucky,” Morales said with glee.

  “Damn right,” Oliver said, looking a little more relaxed.

  “Annabelle Macon-soon-to-be-Storme, is the woman for me. You bachelors had better hope and pray you find a woman like her.” Shit. Did he really just go all preachy on his friends? Bad move, Jackson. Well fuck, he was telling the truth. Nothing wrong with that.

  “My dick is an equal opportunity employer, and I always have positions to fill, so um, I’ll pass,” Morales said.

  “You’re sick, Morales.”

  “Hey”—he shrugged with a playful smile— “I love the ladies.”

  Tracey sneered and walked away from their group.

  “You fucking her as your last hurrah?” Oliver asked.

  “No. Say some foul shit like that again, we got problems. Your invite to my wedding will be revoked, and I’ll see to it personally that your life sucks.”

  “Sorry, my bad.”

  “Yeah. Your bad.”

  Jackson looked over at Morales and asked for a pair of gloves. He wanted to get inside when Oliver’s guys were done so he could take a look for himself. He wasn’t in any way qualified, but he was hoping something would make sense. Tonio had been released last night. The container’s contents were moved to the warehouse, and now Inara was dead. None of this was coincidence. It never was.

  Morales handed him gloves and led him inside after they were given the all clear. Oliver’s men were finishing up just as he stepped under the yellow caution tape in front of the door. There was blood splattered in one corner of the room, and where her body had been found, blood was soaked into the carpet, creating a dark brown Rorschach.

  “What do you hope to find?” Morales asked.

  “Not sure, but something,” Jackson answered as he made his way through the room. He checked the restroom, the closets, drawers, even the trashcan. It was a one-bedroom studio on the third floor of a brownstone. How the hell had the person gotten in and past the two Marshalls?

  “This scene smell like shit to you?” Jackson asked Morales, bending low and checking beneath the bed.

  “It does, and it’s one of the reasons Gaines is hard up about giving out information.”

  Jackson didn’t blame Gaines. He’d have done the same thing. He pulled the bedspread off the mattress. Nothing there. The Feds had thoroughly gone through the entire loft.

  “There’s nothing here.”

  “Could have told you that,” Morales deadpanned.

  Jackson walked out of the building and made his way over to Gaines.

  "Find anything?" Oliver asked.

  "Nope."

  "Didn’t think you would. I'll call you later when I'm done.”

  “Sounds good."

  "I'll be at your wedding, man. Just point me to the island."

  "Will do. I'll add you and the Gaines troops to the list."

  "Appreciate it."

  Jackson made his way back into the city and to the office. Tracey was there, on the phone. He didn’t bother to ask who was on the other end. He knew it was Gaines.

  ''How long you plan on keeping them?" Tracey asked Oliver. "Yeah, well, this is still something Jackson and I are a part of. What do you mean?" Jackson took his gun out of his holster and tossed it in his drawer. That’s when it hit him. Tracey was at Treat’s old desk.

  He waited until she’d ended the call with Gaines, or more aptly did a frustrated grunt and hung up on the man before Jackson broached the subject.

  ''Why aren’t you in your office?"

  She either acted like she didn’t hear him, or she was too far in her head, and she really hadn’t heard him.

  “Tracey.”

  "What?"

  “Why aren’t you in your office?" Her eyes were large with confusion before she answered.

  "Decker demoted me as soon as he got the Chair.”

  “Demoted you? Why?"

  She shrugged before standing to walk over to where Jackson sat behind his desk. There was a picture of him and Vivian on it at some function she’d dragged him to. Jackson winced, plucked the frame from his desk, and tossed it in the wire wastebasket next to the water cooler.

  “Three points for the win,” Tracey commented. He knew she was avoiding the question. He wasn’t about to let her. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed, frustrated with the entire situation.

  “Tracey, answer the question.”

  She clicked her tongue, walked over to the other side of the desk, and plopped into her chair.

  “Decker’s a dick.”

  “He’s also solid. He wouldn’t demote you without a reason.”

  “It was office politics, Jackson. Let it go. You don’t see me complaining. I got you out of the deal.”

  Wrong thing to say.

  Jackson sat forward and placed both his arms on the desk. Tracey watched him with a smile on her face. The woman couldn’t possibly be this stupid. She’d graduated top of her class. Was as qualified as any other member of the staff, if not more. She’d never shown interest before. Why now? And he knew it had nothing to do with Ann
a.

  This was something more.

  “You look like you’re settling in for a serious conversation, Jackson. What’s up?”

  He didn’t want to tip her off, let her know he thought something was wrong, but he also didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. People did crazy things all the time. What Jackson couldn’t figure out about Tracey was what her brand of crazy was.

  “Nah, I’m just thinking.”

  And he was. He just wasn’t going to give away his thoughts. He was having one of his gut feelings. Things weren’t settling the way they should. The case itself was sketchy. Inara was dead. Tonio was out on the streets when he should have been serving a ten-year term—he’d only been in two years. The guy at the airport had given him the information, had laid it out for him… It was all there, and Inara would have been the glue holding it together. Now she was gone. There was still the warehouse, and he needed to look into that and quick. There was also the address he’d yet to go and inspect. Then again, all of it could be bullshit. It was obvious someone with close ties to their department was involved.

  Jumbled and confused. That about summed it up.

  But it was his job to figure shit out. The selling of drugs and people weren’t necessarily what he went for. Gaines was right; the Feds should control the case. But Inara had had inside information, and Jackson knew Peretti was getting reports from a source on the latest terrorist groups overseas. The young girls he was sending over there, and the secret information he was selling, was putting their country at risk. Jackson still hadn’t figured it all out, but he would. It was all code talk and nonsense to him at this point. He’d yet to find the deciphering code or key. The military intel Peretti was selling was causing more of a problem than anyone thought. They’d even tried feeding him incorrect data, and still, it backfired. Someone on the inside. Jackson just didn’t know whom. Only a handful of people had top security clearance to those kinds of secrets.

  “You gonna share?” Tracey asked hopefully.

  “Just shit going down at home is all,” Jackson lied. “Ava wants a puppy.”

  Tracey laughed.

  “That all? Tell her puppies piss and shit everywhere and she’d have to clean it up. Bet she won’t want one then.”

  “You’re probably right.”