Dirty Work, Part 2

by Erica Hilton

  “Believe me; I’m not playing games with you. I’m so serious. And don’t think because I’m in this wheelchair that you need to feel sorry for me. Believe me; I might surprise you with many things.”

  “Look, I have to go. It’s getting late, and I don’t want my parents to worry. I’ll call, or maybe I won’t.”

  She strutted off, and The Kid sat there and watched her fade away from his view once more. Damn, he wanted her in his life for some reason. Was it her skill at playing chess? Her beauty? Her elusiveness? Maybe it was all of those combined into one petite and cute young girl. Whatever it was, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  Finally, he wheeled himself in the opposite direction. He wondered if he liked her enough to one day reveal the truth about himself—that he was able to walk, and his other, darker secrets. Only time would tell.

  ***

  Jackie strutted toward the modest looking home on the tree-lined New Rochelle street. She quickly climbed the stairs, placed her key inside the lock, and entered the home. The crackling of police radios, surveillance equipment strewn in the living room, and the men moving around the home with holstered Glocks and “FBI” stenciled across their attire was a clear indication of her identity.

  “Why do you keep toying with him, Agent Moore?” one of the agents asked.

  “Because, I don’t want to spook him. He’s smart,” she said.

  “He’s a fuckin’ cripple.”

  “Yes, but I believe there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

  “It’s your case and your career if you’re wrong.”

  “I’m not wrong. He’s linked somehow. I just have to find a way inside.”

  The façade of a young teenager quickly evaporated, and her professionalism as an undercover FBI agent resurfaced. Her eyes became sharper and her speech a lot more adult. Agent Daphne Moore was twenty-nine years old with a young-looking, Barbie-doll face that made her stand out. But she had an old and serious soul to her. She was motivated and ambitious. She had graduated from John Jay College of Criminal Justice at the top of her class and soon joined the NYPD task force. After four years as a top cop, she became a federal agent.

  The Kid had made her radar via his brother Kip Kane. Kip’s meeting with Maserati Meek sparked interest from the feds. Who was Kip, and what made him important to the Egyptian drug lord? Meek was a dangerous man who had slowly but surely become a blip on the FBI’s radar. The feds acquired a few pictures of Kip, but so far, they had nothing on him.

  Agent Moore found it odd that a slew of men associated with Kip Kane were being viciously murdered. There was Uncle Junior and his crew viciously gunned down in Brooklyn—not too long after their confrontation with his little brother Kid. A man named Jay P, who was connected to Maserati Meek, had been slaughtered with his girlfriend in their bedroom, and there were others being hunted down like animals and murdered cruelly by someone. Agent Moore knew Kip to be a murderer, a hired killer for Meek—but these murders were different, she felt. Her gut instinct told her that these killings were personal for some reason, and they weren’t executed by Kip. Her instincts never lied. She convinced her superiors to open a case on what was left of Kip’s crew, including his younger brother—but so far, there wasn’t much. But she was determined to find something on everyone and make her case by any means necessary.

  She had his cell phone number, an address, and information that he might be leaving town. For what reasons, she still didn’t know.

  33

  The FBI surveillance team began to quietly disperse the modest New Rochelle home once Agent Moore debriefed everyone. Something Kid said about leaving town was bugging her. Where was he going and why? Of course she wanted to ask specific questions about his upcoming departure, but she didn’t want to seem too interested when her cover was to be elusive and blasé. Where would this take her investigation? And were Devon Francis and “Papa” John Jakes leaving too?

  What if Kid wasn’t connected? He could just be a man in a wheelchair who happened to have a dead brother that was in bed with a crazy Egyptian drug lord. She had so many questions that she wanted answered, quickly. Maybe playing coy wasn’t the best route when someone was blowing up New York. Innocent lives were taken, and she was no closer to solving the case. She had a lot riding on this case and was determined to prove her worth. Law enforcement is a man’s world—a competitive arena—and Daphne was never going to fuck her way to the top. She knew other agencies were vying to solve this case, and her supervisor assigned it to her.

  “You coming, Agent Moore?” one agent asked.

  “Not yet. I want to go over a few things.”

  “You work too hard. There’s always tomorrow.”

  Agent Lanier was the last to exit the home, leaving Agent Moore to her work. She had already grabbed a beer from the fridge and was nibbling on a slice of leftover pizza they had ordered hours earlier.

  Daphne stared at the pyramid wall of suspects. Akar Mudada, AKA Maserati Meek, was at the top, and Kip Kane was there with a large X across his face along with several other dead goons. On another line was Devon and Papa John, who was also wanted for the attempted murder of his father, a NYPD detective. Last on the list was Kid Kane, chess champion. Why did she have a strong feeling that he should be moved up the ladder? Well, that’s what her gut told her. But her heart, it said that he should be excluded altogether.

  Daphne decided that she had done enough for the day. In order to move forward in this investigation she had to definitively include or exclude Kid Kane. To do that, she had to see him again and quickly, as he was leaving town.

  ***

  The Kid sat perched in his wheelchair across the street from Jackie’s home. He had followed her, keeping a safe distance back. Kid didn’t think he would follow her. In fact, he had begun wheeling himself home but felt a strong urge not to. He felt connected to Jackie, and for some reason he couldn’t get her out of this mind. He was familiar with wanting what he couldn’t have. How could he ever forget Jessica? But Jackie was different. She was smart, sassy, and a challenge. Most importantly, she was an excellent chess player. He’d only just met her, and already Kid wanted to marry her. He just couldn’t get her out of his head.

  The whole time Jackie walked briskly home she was talking on a cell phone that she said she didn’t own and never turned around. As Kid wheeled himself behind her, he felt a like a stalker. But following her was satisfying. He would get to know one more thing about her that he hadn’t, that she wouldn’t dare disclose.

  As Kid’s strong arms pushed him toward his destination he thought about rescuing her from strict parents and whisking her off into the sunset. They’d get married and before long he would experience a “medical miracle” and walk again. She would love him and have his babies, and he would always protect her. The Kid pictured them both playing professional chess tournaments and living a life of leisure. Eshon was in his daydream too. She would find a new love and come around to be an aunt to Kid and Jackie’s children.

  Initially Kid had the intention of knocking on her door, meeting her parents, and asking her once again on a date. Now, seeing the cell phone, Kid felt that she was hiding something, and he was determined to find out what that something might be.

  As Jackie crossed the wide street and entered a small, modest house with a picket fence, the unmistakable array of unmarked black Fords with official license plates caught his attention. Was this a law enforcement neighborhood?

  Kid didn’t have any plans on loitering, but he couldn’t pull himself away. With a blank stare he looked at the home. His hunch was realized when less than thirty minutes later the boys in blue with alphabets scribbled across their windbreakers emerged. Everyone looked fatigued—rubbing their eyes, yawning, and staggering to their vehicles. Ever since the explosions most agents were pulling doubles and triples.

  The Kid was confused. Why were a half-dozen FBI ag
ents coming out of Jackie’s home? She was an eighteen-year-old girl that he had just met. Could one of them be her father and that’s why she was always rushing home? The question was answered when his beautiful crush came out of the home in full government regalia. Jackie was putting on her windbreaker and he could clearly see a holstered gun. Kid was flabbergasted. He had been played, just like Jessica had played him.

  ***

  Kid could not sleep that night. How did he keep finding himself in these situations with women? They were so cunning. He wished Eshon was there so he could tell her what had happened. Obviously, Jackie was connected to the federal investigators that had knocked on Brandy’s door and also the local cop, Officer Spielberg.

  Kid couldn’t figure out how they had gotten on to them. What had they done wrong? Truthfully, the only person to blame would be him because he was the one moving the pieces on the chessboard.

  He knew what he had to do, but somehow couldn’t come to terms with it. How could he kill Jackie? The intelligent, chess playing, snarky, devious, duplicitous, FBI agent Jackie?

  34

  The next morning Eshon was back and had breakfast made. Usually Kid ate a healthy portion of pork bacon, eggs, and grits, but he had no appetite today. He felt sick to his stomach.

  He wrestled with whether the short time he and Jackie had spent together was real. How much of Jackie was really her and how much was just her cover? It can’t all be fake, he thought. You can’t pretend to love chess—not at the level she played. How could the FBI handpick someone that would be perfect for him?

  He hated to admit it, but he had been outsmarted. Kid thought about snatching up his crew and leaving town, but with what money? He had a plan and he had already pressed play, so could he hit pause? The reasonable side of him said that if they had something tangible then Jackie wouldn’t be meeting him at the Y. And she hadn’t even begun digging into his personal life with questions, which was indicative that they were at the beginning stages. He still had time to finish his Maserati Meek business and avenge his brother’s murder.

  ***

  To any other man it would have come as a great shock that Jackie showed up at the Y, but Kid knew she would come back so quickly because he had told her he was leaving town. A good agent would need questions answered. As soon as she walked in, Kid’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

  “Ready to lose again, loser?” she asked him.

  He grinned, and it was genuine. “Not today.”

  “That’s what they all say. Good luck.”

  “I don’t need luck when I got skills.”

  “Skills, huh?”

  “In many things,” Kid flirted. “But you wouldn’t know that because you won’t give me a chance.”

  “I’ll tell you what, if you win today then I might let you take me out.” Jackie had done a 180. She could no longer play hard to get.

  “Might? I’ll take it. Start thinking about where you want to go, because I’m winning.”

  The chess match was awkward at best, bizarre at worst. Both Jackie and Kid were trying to lose. Jackie wanted alone time with him. She knew he was sweet on her and wanted his guard down. Meanwhile, Kid didn’t trust himself around her. He didn’t know if he wanted to kiss her or kill her. It turned out that Jackie was the better loser.

  She stood up from the table. “I hope you have more than five dollars in your pockets because I’m hungry.”

  “Don’t worry about my finances, gorgeous. Where we’re going you’ll be well fed.” Kid grinned cockily. “Your chariot awaits. Hop on!” He gestured to his chair like Vanna White.

  Jackie was confused. Did he want her to sit on his lap? Kid extended his hand and she took it. He pulled Jackie close and she sat squarely on his lap.

  “Hold on tight,” he whispered. “It might get a little rough.” Their eyes met and Jackie had to look away first. Why was she feeling all warm and tingly with this guy? It was unprofessional and she knew she needed to maintain her boundaries.

  As Kid rolled his wheelchair down tree lined blocks and uneven pavements, Jackie marveled at his strength. It was one thing to get around on his own, a whole other level to do it with additional weight. All sorts of thoughts swirled around her head, like how did he look naked? Did his dick function? And if they fucked would he want her to sit on his face? She blushed.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Excuse me?” she said, embarrassed as if he had read her mind.

  “You . . . you were in deep thought and then your face lit up like something good crossed your mind. What was it? Share it with me.”

  Jackie bit her lip. “I was reliving all the times I outmaneuvered you in chess.”

  “You lie like a rug.”

  “I swear!” she said and giggled.

  “I don’t believe you. I think you were thinking about me—us—making sweet love.”

  Jackie’s face turned beet red. She placed both hands over her face and shook her head vigorously. “That’s not true!”

  Kid stopped his wheelchair and removed her hands from her face. “It’s what I think about . . .”

  Jackie leaned in and she kissed his soft lips. He slid his tongue into her mouth and they deeply connected. He wanted her, and she could feel how much as she sat on his lap. Kid pulled back first; he had to control his emotions. She was the enemy.

  The next couple blocks they were silent. Kid noticed at least two unmarked cars continuously passing them, which irked him.

  “We’re here,” he announced proudly.

  “Chipotle?”

  “My favorite spot. And don’t worry, you can order from the left side of the menu.”

  Jackie hopped off and helped wheel Kid into the restaurant. They ordered and sat down to eat. Occasionally Kid would see her make eye contact with an unidentified white male.

  “Tell me about yourself,” she finally asked.

  “Me? Not much to tell.”

  “Well, you can either tell me something or we’ll eat in silence. Not much of a date, right?”

  He smiled.

  “Did I say something funny?”

  “You said date as if you were looking forward to it.”

  “Maybe I was, but right now I’m bored.”

  “Ouch. Ok, well, don’t forget that you asked.”

  Jackie adjusted her posture to signal that he had her full attention. Kid told her everything he was sure she knew about him, leaving out any details that could land him in jail. He went into detail about being adopted, his bike accident with Kip, therapy, his brother getting murdered, and then his Nana passing away shortly thereafter.

  “I thought that I wouldn’t have anyone after Kip and Nana died, but his friends stepped in and helped me get through the loss.” Kid readjusted his wire-rimmed glasses.

  “That must have been tough. So, who murdered him?”

  Kid played along. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “A secret? Who would I tell? My parents? Please. I hate them.”

  Kid looked around as if he was afraid of someone overhearing. He could tell he had on her the edge of her chair. “My brother was overprotective of me since the accident, so he never confided in me what he did for a living, but I knew it wasn’t legit. While I was hustling, he was too.”

  “You hustle drugs?” she asked, wide-eyed and innocent.

  He chuckled and looked down at his legs. “I’m flattered, but no. Chess. I made money playing for money. One day my brother confided in me that a very dangerous person wanted him to do something major—like real big—something that could hurt a lot of people. When he refused, that person threatened my life. I was terrified . . .” Kid put his head down.

  “Go on,” she coaxed.

  “I’m a little embarrassed to tell you this.”

  Jackie touched his hands. “Yo
u can tell me anything.”

  Kid exhaled. “I was really scared to be alone or go outside. Kip didn’t want me to get hurt, but he just couldn’t do what the madman wanted him to do.”

  “And what was that?”

  Kid shook his head. “You won’t believe me if I told you, so let’s just let it go.”

  Jackie didn’t have time to wait for him to fully trust her or warm up to her. She needed to know now. “You just don’t get me, do you? I don’t let anyone in. I have no one . . . nothing but chess, and . . . now you. I feel connected to you in a way that I’ve never felt with anyone. Ever. So please, don’t shut me out when I’m ready to let you in.”

  “Have you ever heard of homegrown terrorism?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, this guy wanted my brother to find willing participants from low income neighborhoods like where we lived to strap a bomb to themselves and blow up buildings and landmarks or something around New York. Each sacrificial lamb’s family would receive a large sum of money, but my brother refused.”

  “Did your brother convert? Why was he chosen?”

  “Kip?” The Kid smirked. “He wasn’t converting or pleading allegiance to Jihad, Allah, ISIS or any other faction. He was targeted because he would be least suspected, he had the heart of a lion, and he had a vulnerable brother in a wheelchair to threaten.”

  Jackie thought for a moment. Was this really adding up?

  Kid continued. “Before he was killed, Kip tried reasoning with this guy, but he couldn’t. I had gotten into a scuffle at the park over a chess game, and to show Kip that he was a team player, the guy went and murdered everyone involved. That spooked Kip, and he made arrangements for us to move down south.”

  “If it was the way you say, why didn’t your brother go to the police?”

  “Oh, he was. The moment he found out about Uncle Junior and his relatives getting murdered he planned on going to the police until the detectives picked him up for a crime that he didn’t commit. Kip felt surely if he told them what this madman wanted him to do that they would laugh in his face and pin the murders on him.” Kid shook his head as if he were reliving his brother’s plight. “We were leaving, and this man knew it. He gunned my brother down in cold blood and left me in this big, cruel world without him.”