by Tigris Eden
Peretti had gotten to Tracey, and there was no telling who else was involved. For the most part, their little operation was off the books, only known to the people in the room, and one other person in Catch’s camp. His boss, Joshua Nicolleti. Nicolleti had been born into the intricacies of mafia life because his grandfather was the head of a prominent syndicate. Instead of going the family route, Josh had chosen the military and then law enforcement. Catch was positive Nicolleti could be trusted.
“I don’t want a bachelor party. My entire life before Anna was a goddamned bachelor party.”
“You said it,” Treat mumbled before walking over to the bar and talking to Lester. It was the truth. Before Anna, Jackson’s life was an endless party of women. Even after Vivian, he’d gone back to his man-whoring ways. It wasn’t until Anna that he finally understood what home and hearth meant. He wanted that life with her. Knew it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park, and far from a fairytale, but that’s what made life interesting. Anna would continue to surprise him at every turn, and give as good as she got. There would never be a dull moment with her. She’d keep him guessing and discovering for years to come.
“Oliver just pulled up with Morales, it’s go time,” Catch said as they all took their respective places. The music was already blaring, and the guys were all laughing as if everything was fine. He’d made a promise to Anna. He and everyone else was coming home in one piece.
Until Her: Chapter 22
Jackson sat in a corner and watched as Morales tossed back beer after beer. He acted as if everything was fine. Jackson had a couple of drinks with him, but for the most part, he’d watched. Talked with the guys there, and acted as if everything was cool.
“Where are the strippers!?” Morales yelled as he held his bottle of beer high above his head.
“They’re in the back, getting ready. You know me, I only provide the best of services for the best fucking man in our group,” Oliver said with a wide smile on his face.
Jackson had to admit, Oliver was more than convincing, and if Morales were paying attention, he would have noticed things that most everyone else saw. Smiles didn’t reach eyes, body language was tense even as they all appeared loose. Things that any other guy who actually paid attention to his surroundings would have picked up on. It just showed how out of touch with reality Morales was.
He thought he was untouchable.
Invincible.
That his shit didn’t stink.
“It’s a shame you’re getting married, you bastard, but your loss is my gain. I’m now going to be the new man about town. Soaking up all the pussy that’s open and available for the taking. Big time.”
“Yeah, well, have it at. I’m good with what I have,” Jackson said, looking over his shoulder.
“Man, your dumb ass couldn’t pull in pussy if your life depended on it,” Skrilla said, entering the conversation.
Morales looked over at the other male and sniffed arrogantly.
“Yeah, all right, man. If you say so.”
“Say so, dude, I know so.”
“How do you figure?” Morales asked, sitting up straighter.
What the hell was Skrilla doing?
“You look like the type of cat who has to pay for pussy. You’ve lived too long in Jackson’s shadow. Even his leftovers want nothing to do with you, so you have to pay.”
“Man, fuck you,” Morales tossed out, taking a pull on his beer.
“Sorry, swordplay is not welcomed here.”
Pookie and Trill both threw their hands up to get a double tap from their brother, Skrilla, as they congratulated him on his snappy comeback.
“This guy’s a poser.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Now Morales was pissed, and Jackson started to think that maybe things were not going to go the way he wanted. He didn’t want Anna’s cousin to start a fight. That was the last thing he needed. They were waiting on their informant. Catch walked over to their group. He placed both elbows on the edge of the bar and leaned back, watching the verbal confrontation with a smile on his face.
“Morales, you gonna let these chumps talk trash to you like that?”
Morales tossed his hand out in a shooing motion as if the brothers were of no consequence.
“They’re peons in the grand scheme of things. They’ve never seen death or combat like we have. Never walked in the trenches and pulled fellow soldiers out of a ditch just before it blew up. If anyone’s a poser, it’s them.” He grunted.
“You’re so far up your own ass, you don’t know we’re always at war in the hood. There is always something or someone trying to come and take what’s ours. I didn’t have to fight in some desert with a bunch of men who were led like lemmings to the slaughter. We were smarter than that. Gotta stay behind and see to it. Our people got things on lock. While you’re out playing who’s the best cop, we’re here, holding down the neighborhood, making it safe so the little ones can play outside.”
“Is that so?” Morales asked.
“It’s more real than the shit you got going on now.”
“You don’t know what I got going on. I could have you taken out just like that.” Morales snapped his fingers. Clearly, he was drunk, or at the very least too buzzed to hold his tongue. The brothers looked at each other, and that’s when Jackson knew…that was their plan all along, to get Morales talking.
“You can’t take anyone out, punk ass bitch.”
Morales stood up straighter, like he was going to fight, but it was Catch who calmed the situation down.
“Morales, man, you’ve had too much to drink.”
“No, fuck this shit, Catch, they don’t know. Hell, none of you do. It’s hard. So fucking hard, day in and day out, to do what I do. I got my own problems, man, my own issues. But it’s cool.” Morales stepped back, bumping into the edge of the bar. “Yeah, it’s cool,” he said again, this time much lower. “Everything will work itself out in the long run.”
The door opened, and everyone’s head turned at the same moment Jackson recognized the man from the airport. Following closely behind him was a woman, who was younger than his Anna. She had golden skin, green eyes, and beautiful, chestnut brown hair she kept short. She was stuck to the informant like glue, looking everywhere but at them. She eyed the exits and the stage. She was assessing her situation, not sure if she could trust them.
“Who the fuck are they?” Morales asked. His words slightly slurred.
“Good question,” Catch said, taking a seat at the bar.
The informant was dressed in a leather jacket and jeans with riding boots. The girl was dressed to match, only her boots had heels.
“I’m Ignacio Bellini, and this is Alma.” The girl he called out barely lifted her head to look at the other occupants of the bar, but the moment she did, her eyes landed on Morales. He didn’t seem fazed at all. Either that, or he was too blitzed to care.
“You said we could trust them, Bel?”
“We can, baby. These men are going to help you.”
“How? That’s the bastard right there that took me to the docks.”
“Who? Which one?” he asked, looking at all of them in the room.
Jackson already knew it was Morales, but to have it confirmed, well, it hurt more than he suspected it would.
Ignacio took a step farther into the room, really eyeing Morales. He walked closer until he was right up on the other male and said, “You sure this is the guy, Alma?”
“I’m fucking positive. This guy had everyone calling him Mo, said it was short for Morales.”
“What the fuck is this bitch talking about? What’s going on here?”
Morales looked between the guys. He still didn’t understand what was happening, but that was okay. Jackson was all up for enlightening him.
“You tried to have me and Oliver killed.”
Confusion crossed Morales’s face, but along with the puzzlement was realization. He knew they were on to him and didn’t seem to care after a few
seconds of putting two and two together. He even had the gall to stand straighter, as if he were the one who’d solved the puzzle.
“You know, this is good. This is very good,” Morales said, taking another sip of his beer. “I’ve been racking my brain about this for months. Trying to figure out how to tell you all how you can go fuck yourselves.”
“You have a really fucked up way of saying ‘fuck you,’” Oliver noted.
“Yeah, well, not much can be said for my delivery, but still, I was lining all my ducks up, making sure things were gonna go well for me. But you fuckers couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
“You helped to sell national secrets to the enemy. That’s treason, Morales. Straight up, no way around that. You do not get to pass go, and you don’t get to collect two hundred dollars. You get a straight go to jail without a get out of jail free card,” Catch said nonchalantly.
“Peretti’s pockets go deeper than me. I’m not the only one.”
“Maybe, but you’re the one that’s going to help us put that son of a bitch behind bars.”
Morales laughed.
“That’s where you’re wrong. What I’m going to do is complete the job Tracey was too soft to finish.”
“You really think you’re going to be able to get away with this? You’re outnumbered,” Oliver said.
“I like these odds just fine,” Morales said before the front door was kicked in, and not one, but six guys walked in holding guns.
Fuck.
It was Lester who made the first move. He was behind the bar, and as if on cue from some dramatic scene, he had a shotgun in his hand and took out the guy closest to them. It was chaos after that, and Jackson wasn’t sure what happened next. They all had guns. He just wasn’t expecting Lester to go all vigilante.
“Get down!” someone yelled. He acted on instinct, dove behind one of the tables, and kicked out with his legs, tipping it over. But he knew it wasn’t going to protect him from whoever was trying to kill him. Glasses shattered. Someone was shooting at the bar where Lester had been. Fuck. Jackson could only assume Lester was out of the way. He looked to his side and noticed Trill was holding his arm, blood soaking through his shirt as he sat against a wall. A booth was blocking him, but other than that, he was out in the open.
Another bullet flew past and barely missed Jackson. He could still feel the wind of it as he tried to make his way over to Trill.
“Jackson, get your ass over to Trill. Catch has Skrilla and Pookie.” That was Oliver, who was returning fire at the men still left standing. Lester had only taken out one of the guys. That left them with six total, including Morales, but he couldn’t see Morales. There was too much going on, and the gunshots were deafening.
Jackson could see the ankles of one of the men as he walked across the bar spraying bullets. He took his sig and fired two shots, one to each of the man’s ankles, and when the guy hit the ground, he went for the headshot. His breath was coming fast, and he knew the adrenaline in his system was pumping hard enough to make his hands shake. He kept himself under control. Deep breath in, and get over to Trill.
That was two men down, five more to go, including Morales.
Someone had the shotgun, and as Jackson made his way carefully over to Trill, he noticed it was his informant; he’d taken the weapon from Lester, who was back behind the bar. The male stood tall and managed to get off three shots. Three. But there had been multiple shots in his direction. The informant had been hit while taking out three more gunmen. Two in the chest, and one in the side of the neck. It wasn’t a pretty sight. That left two—Morales and another shooter.
“Get the fucking girl.” Jackson heard Morales yell over the gunfire. There was a scream, and Jackson knew they couldn’t let them get away. Oliver, and his brother Dorian, returned fire while Catch took out the guy who was trying to get to the female, Alma. But Catch was quick. He took out his gun, aimed, and fired, not missing a beat as he pulled the woman out of harm’s way. She ducked into a booth. The female officers took up position on either side of her. There was only Morales left.
“It’s over, Morales. You got nowhere else to go,” Catch said, pointing his gun at their longtime friend’s chest.
“There are plenty of places to go, Catch.”
“You can only go one place, and that’s jail. Cut a deal, and maybe they will cut your sentence short. Or at least not give you the death penalty.”
“You think?” Morales said sarcastically. “What, you think they’ll shave off like oh, I don’t know, eighty years? Because that’s just charges on one count.”
“You never know. Everyone can get a second chance,” Catch said calmly.
“Bullshit. You act like I haven’t been where you’re standing, telling some bastard the same damn thing you’re telling me. Difference is, Catch, I know it’s all bullshit. I go to jail, I won’t survive.”
“Frankly, I don’t give a shit. It’s not our problem. You made your decision. Your choice. Man up to the fucking game and do your time.”
Morales laughed.
“I’d rather go to hell.”
“Send that motherfucker to hell, I don’t give a fuck,” Trill said, wincing as he tried to sit forward. Jackson tried to assist him. “Let that motherfucker die, then. I don’t care. He tried to kill your girl. Our cousin. Hell, you don’t want to end this fool, I’ll do it for you. Orange isn’t the new black for me, motherfucker. I’ll gladly throw on the beige.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” Oliver asked, throwing everyone off.
“Who cares,” Catch said, getting everyone back on track. “There’s nowhere you can go, Morales. You have a better chance at survival inside a cell than you do outside. Peretti finds out what happened here, and you’re as good as dead. Do you really want to die a bloody death?”
“Fuck you, Catch. You always were a do-gooder.”
Dorian took a step forward in Morales’s direction, who took a step back towards the door. Jackson wasn’t about to let the other man leave. He couldn’t. Fabiano was still out there, and they needed information. Fabiano wouldn’t quit until his job was complete. That he was in their town meant he’d come to finish what he started.
No one was paying attention to Alma.
No one.
When the shot rang out, everyone ducked, not sure where the bullet had come from. Everyone ducked accept Morales. He stood motionless as blood bloomed on his shirt, decorating his chest. The gun slipped from his hand, making a loud clanging sound as it hit the wooden floor. His eyes went wide in confusion as he looked down at his chest and then back up towards the group.
“You said you wanted to go to hell,” Skrilla said as Morales’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground where he continued to lose blood as his body shut down. His eyes remained open even after his last breath.
“Everybody okay?” Dorian asked, doing a self-assessment of his body. They’d all worn body vests beneath their clothes, but Trill wasn’t so lucky. He’d taken a bullet in the shoulder.
“I’m good,” Oliver said.
“Good,” Skrilla said as he walked over to Pookie, who was also good. Both the female officers were unscathed. Lester and Harry were both fine, as well.
“Jackson, where is Bear?” Skrilla asked.
Jackson looked around, his heart pounding hard. He called out,” Bear, man, you okay?”
Nothing.
Skrilla called out to Bear a few more times, and still, there was no answer.
“Fuck!” Pookie yelled. “If my man is dead, Lola is going to fucking kill us, you hear me. You think this shit right here was bad? This was nothing.”
Jackson barely heard the groaning coming from the far end of the room. He helped Trill to his feet and into a chair and immediately went in search of the sound. Bear was lying flat on his back, and there was blood seeping out of the side of his leg.
“Fuck, Bear, why didn’t you answer me?”
Bear looked up at him like he was stupid.
“On the phone, texting Lo, telling her what happened. It’s what I do when shit goes south. Lola doesn’t like surprises. I owe it to her to give her a heads up.”
“Fair enough, but next time, speak the fuck up when we do a call out.”
“Fuck you.”
Catch was in the corner with Alma, trying to console her as she sobbed silently in his arms. Oliver was on the phone with his commanding officer, and Lester and Harry were mumbling about the damages to the bar.
“Who’s replacing all this fucking liquor?” Harry asked.
“Bureau will reimburse you,” Oliver said. “Got an ambulance on the way and an escort. We’re going to take Alma back with us.”
“I’ve got Alma,” Catch said, his voice terse as he looked over at his brother.
“This is something the Feds can handle, brother.”
“I don’t want to go to the Feds.”
“Shhh, honey, no one is taking you to the Feds.” Catch stood and walked over to his younger brother, a determined look in his eye. “She’s coming with me, Oliver, and that’s the end of it. Your department isn’t fit to handle this kind of case. Morales is dead. Fabiano is still out there. And we don’t know who else Peretti has on his payroll within your or Jackson’s departments. Ghost can’t be infiltrated. She stays with my men and me.”
“This is some bullshit, Catch. We called you in as backup.”
“And this is me backing you up, little bro.”
Catch walked over to Alma and asked one of the female officers to go with her to the restroom.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Jackson asked. The brothers were known for their anger issues, Catch especially.
“Jackson, we need to get shit done, and we need the shit done like two days ago. Peretti is still out there, Fabiano is in the neighborhood, and hell, he could be outside right now, watching, waiting to see what kind of shit just went down in here. I don’t have time to go back and forth with my baby brother because he wants to shine bright in his department. Fuck that shit.”
