Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4)

by Matt Lincoln

  “Is that right?” she smiled as she took a sip of her drink.

  “It is.” I smiled at her. “It’s the reason every eye in the room is on you right now.”

  “I see,” she giggled as she tossed me a sideways glance. “So how do you know I’m not ‘rough around the edges,’ then? Appearances can be deceiving, you know.”

  “Not for me,” I replied confidently. “I’m good at reading people.”

  “Are you?” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Okay then. Tell me what you can read about me.”

  “I can tell you’re confident,” I replied. “You didn’t blush or fake modesty when I complimented you, and you even sounded kind of annoyed when I first approached you. It’s eight in the evening, and you’re at a dive bar in work clothes. That tells me that you take your job seriously. You probably worked later and came here right after. You know you’re gorgeous, but you’re not interested in keeping up fake appearances, or you would have gone to some ritzy, overpriced bar instead of slumming it here. How am I doing so far?”

  “Obnoxiously accurate.” She frowned in mock annoyance. “What are you, some kind of detective or something?”

  “Federal agent, actually,” I corrected.

  “Ooh, how exciting,” she purred. “I’m Ana.”

  We spent another hour or so talking and having drinks after that before I finally asked her back to my place.

  I motioned for the bartender and paid our tab before getting up to leave. We were both several drinks in by then, having lost track of time as we talked, and she leaned heavily against me as we stood up from the bar.

  “After you,” I smiled as I held the door open for her. I was just about to step out after her when I heard a commotion in the bar behind me.

  “What did you just say?” A young man in a bright red hoodie was looming over one of the other patrons. His face was red, and he was gritting his teeth angrily.

  “Bro, what are you talking about?” the other man replied. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You did!” Red Hoodie yelled as he jabbed his finger into the other man. “I heard you! Don’t lie to me!”

  “What the heck,” another man said as he tried to step between the two feuding men. “Calm down, dude.”

  Suddenly it was like a switch had flipped, and Red Hoodie shrank away from the other man in fear.

  “I’m sorry,” he whimpered as he glanced frantically around the room. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I was just kidding.” His eyes were wide, and he was stumbling around as if he saw things that weren’t there.

  “Yo, he’s so high,” the second man laughed as he watched his friend’s antics.

  I wondered if I should step in. The man wasn’t acting aggressively anymore, but there was no telling what he might do next if he really was under the influence. I wasn’t a cop, but I couldn’t just walk away from a potential crime in the making as a federal agent.

  “Charlie, you coming?” Ana suddenly called out. “Come on, it’s cold out here.”

  I glanced back toward the group. Red Hoodie was sitting in a booth with the other men, who were apparently poking fun at him. He still seemed dazed, but if he was with his friends, then he’d probably be okay.

  “I’m coming!” I called back before turning to leave the bar. I couldn’t completely shake the crazed young man’s expression from my mind, but I wasn’t about to turn away a beautiful woman over what was probably just a bunch of kids acting dumb. I pushed my worries away as I led Ana back to my apartment.

  3

  Charlie

  Ana was gone when I woke up the following day, which I was actually grateful for. It saved me the awkwardness of having to shoo her away before I headed to the office. Work started early for me, and I couldn’t really leave a strange woman alone in my home.

  I showered and got ready quickly. Now that I didn’t have the stress of the conduct hearing looming over my head, I felt much more eager to go to work.

  The drive over to the office was pleasant. Traffic was light, and despite the chill in the air, the sky was sunny and clear. It was October now, which meant it had been a full year since I’d started working for MBLIS. I smiled as I thought about that. It felt like it had flown by, but at the same time, so much had happened and changed.

  I pulled into the parking lot and parked in my usual space beneath the largest tree. It was far from the entrance, but it kept my car shaded and cool, which was necessary with the heat Las Vegas got even during the fall months.

  I made my way up the elevator and down the hall toward our office entrance, and then I punched my code automatically. Months of doing so had etched the motions into my muscle memory.

  “Hey, Charlie!” Miranda called as I stepped into the office. “I baked us some snacks to celebrate our freedom from the review board!”

  “They’re so good,” Fiona smiled, though she sounded like she was being held at gunpoint.

  Junior shook his head minutely.

  “I saw that,” Miranda snapped at him. “Don’t listen to him. They are good.”

  I leaned forward to look at the tray set on her desk. They were shaped like bats and pumpkins, but I couldn’t tell much beyond that.

  “What are they?” I asked.

  “Cookies,” she responded as if that much was obvious. “Halloween-themed since it’s almost the thirty-first. Fiona’s always baking stuff, so I thought I’d try it too.”

  “Fiona knows how to cook, though,” Junior mumbled. Miranda swatted his arm.

  “Shut up, Junior,” she groused. “Just try them, Charlie.”

  I lifted one of the cookies out of the tray and was unpleasantly surprised to discover that they were rock-hard.

  “Why does it feel like a brick?” I asked as I brought the snack up to my eye level. It was dark brown with bits of what was possibly supposed to be chocolate embedded throughout.

  “I had to change the recipe a little,” Miranda explained. “I didn’t have any eggs, and I only had one stick of butter, so I used coconut oil as a substitute. Then it was really runny, so I added more flour. And I didn’t want it to taste chalky with all that flour in it, so I added some more sugar and vanilla.”

  Fiona’s expression became more strained as she listened to Miranda’s explanation, and I could see Junior stifling a snicker. I shrugged and took a bite of the cookie. I wasn’t all that picky when it came to food. Years of scrounging for what I could and stealing just to fill my stomach had made me appreciate even the most unusual of foods. I had to bite down pretty hard just to break through the cookie’s charred exterior, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever tasted.

  “It’s pretty good,” I responded. I probably wouldn’t be having any more, but I didn’t want to hurt Miranda’s feelings, either.

  “Ha!” she exclaimed as she rounded on Junior and Fiona. “I told you they were good. You two just don’t have any taste.”

  “I think you should leave the baking to Fiona,” Naomi interjected as she approached us in the bullpen. “Though I commend your efforts. Anyway, Charlie and Junior, Wallace wants to see you in his office. He has a case, I think.”

  “Thanks for letting us know,” Junior replied as he stood up. I nodded at her before following Junior over to Wallace’s office.

  “Agent Hills and Agent Chapman,” Wallace addressed us as we entered his office. He had a serious look on his face, and even his voice sounded somehow more stern than usual. It made me nervous about what kind of case he might have in store for us. “Please take a seat.”

  There was a strange feeling in the air as I sat down in one of the chairs across from him.

  “We have a new case?” Junior asked.

  “Possibly,” Wallace replied cautiously. “It’s a little early to tell since the circumstances of this particular case are a little peculiar. Nevertheless, MBLIS is being called in to assist since the epicenter appears to be located right here in Las Vegas. Over the past month, a series of seemingly unrelated attacks have broken out ac
ross the city. The only thing connecting them is the extreme violence and aggression displayed by the perpetrators, and the lack of a motive in each crime.”

  “Wait,” Junior frowned, “so people are just suddenly attacking others for no reason?”

  “It would appear that way,” Wallace sighed. “The police aren’t sure when this started or exactly how many cases they’re dealing with since the crimes are all seemingly unconnected to one another. However, two nights ago, they began linking the cases together when a man viciously assaulted a young woman immediately after defending her from another would-be assailant.”

  “So he saved her just to turn around and attack her?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Wallace nodded. “The man was shot dead at the scene by a responding police officer when he suddenly tried to attack the officer as well. According to eyewitness testimony, the man refused to go down even after being shot in the shoulder and chest.”

  “That sounds like the effect of a drug,” Junior muttered. “Cocaine, maybe. It’s not uncommon for people under the influence to ignore their injuries, even after being shot at by police. The drug gives them a rush of adrenaline and numbs their pain receptors.”

  “Correct,” Wallace agreed. “The police thought so as well, which is why they performed an autopsy on the body. The toxicology report just came in this morning, positive for extremely high levels of amphetamines, opioids, and a host of other drugs. I’m having agent Howard analyze the lab report now, but it’s clear that drugs played some part in the attack. The police are currently working under the assumption that we’re dealing with a new designer drug being shipped from overseas since opioids were found in his system, though nothing is certain right now.”

  “So we’re being asked to help figure out where it’s coming from?” Junior asked.

  “Exactly,” Wallace nodded. “I’d like you to start by speaking with an eyewitness of the most recent case. Her name is Clara Montgomery. She was one of the girls involved in the attack two nights ago. Her friend Melanie Schaffer was killed by the attacker.”

  “What info do we have on the attacker?” I asked.

  “His name was Dominick Evans,” Wallace responded. “He was an attorney living here in Las Vegas with his wife. Police attempted to notify her of his death but were unable to reach her. She didn’t appear to be home, either. I believe they’re working on getting a warrant to search the home now.”

  “We’ll stop by after we speak to Clara, then,” I said as I moved to stand up.

  “Good,” Wallace replied. “I’ll forward all the information directly to you. I’ll have Castillo and Patel look into the other cases while you two speak with the victim. Could you ask them to come in here?”

  “No problem,” Junior replied as we left the office. I waited by the entrance while Junior relayed Wallace’s message. Shivers went down my spine as I mulled over what Wallace had said. A drug that could cause people to attack others without warning sounded terrifying. We needed to get this under control fast.

  4

  Miranda

  I headed over to Agent Howard’s office as soon as Wallace finished giving Naomi and me our instructions. The door to his office wasn’t completely closed, so I didn’t bother knocking as I stepped inside.

  “Hey, Wilson,” I called as I walked over to him, careful not to bump into any of his delicate equipment. “You have the results of the blood toxicology report yet?” The lights were off, and he’d even thrown a thick set of blackout curtains over the only window in the office. He’d kept his office dark in our previous building as well, and I wondered vaguely if it had something to do with the chemicals or analyzing systems he used.

  Agent Howard snapped around to glare at me. His fists were clenched, and his jaw was set tightly as if he was angry. I halted my steps, suddenly feeling guilty about barging in like that. Maybe I’d interrupted something important, or perhaps he didn’t appreciate me using his first name like that. We weren’t exactly friends, after all.

  “Agent Castillo,” he mumbled as he visibly relaxed. “You surprised me. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Sorry,” I smiled sheepishly. “I guess I’m just so used to walking into Fiona’s office without knocking. I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous. I’ll be more careful next time.”

  “It’s fine,” he amended quickly, clearing his throat and blinking hard as if his eyes were strained.

  “Maybe you should open the curtains,” I suggested. “Doesn’t it hurt your eyes to work in the dark?”

  “It’s easier for me to concentrate,” he responded as he rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed a little twitchier than usual, but I couldn’t be sure. Unlike the rest of the agents, he didn’t socialize much, so this might have just been how he usually was.

  “Oh,” I responded. “Well, whatever works for you.”

  Several beats of silence passed before Howard turned to look at me again.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “Did you need something?”

  “The toxicology report?” I blinked in surprise. I was sure I’d mentioned that already. Did he forget?

  “Oh, of course,” he responded. “Sorry, I’m just a little distracted this morning. I’m just about finished with it.”

  He beckoned me forward to look at the computer monitor he was working on.

  “Dang,” I gasped as I looked over the list of drugs. “Methamphetamine, fentanyl, mephedrone… that last one is ‘bath salts,’ right?”

  “Yes,” Howard nodded gravely. “It’s an insane combination. Pretty much all uppers with a dose of hallucinogens thrown in. I’m not surprised the guy went crazy. It’s weird, though.”

  “What’s weird?” I turned to look at Howard. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his eyes themselves were bloodshot. I wondered if he was getting enough sleep.

  “I had a look at the autopsy report,” he said as he opened a different file on the computer. “According to this, the body didn’t have any needle marks or abrasions within his nose or respiratory tract. Basically, there were no signs that this guy was a junkie. Aside from the monstrous amount of drugs in his system, he seemed healthy.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” I remarked as I knit my brows together in thought. Drug addicts always had some kind of physical marker. Bruising, hair loss, malnutrition, discoloration of the skin or nails, there was always something. “You think he was drugged?”

  “Maybe,” Howard muttered, but he didn’t sound convinced. “These aren’t the kinds of substances you’d find in a victim who’s been drugged, though. Usually, people would use Rohypnol or ketamine, date-rape drugs that make the victim compliant and reduce their chances of remembering their assault. People don’t usually drug others with substances that are meant to get you high, and definitely not to the point of overdosing. It would be a waste.”

  “What do you mean a waste?” I asked.

  “Drugs are expensive,” Howard answered. “Especially uppers like cocaine and speed. Why would someone pump someone full of expensive drugs if their goal was just to kill them?”

  “That’s an excellent point,” I agreed. “And then there’s the fact that Evans wasn’t the only perp. It’s doubtful that someone is going around drugging all these people, which means they’re most likely taking it themselves.”

  “That would be my guess,” Howard replied.

  “Thanks for all the info,” I told him as I turned to leave his office. “I'm gonna go talk to the police about the other cases. Maybe we can find a connection that’ll explain where this super drug is coming from.”

  Howard didn’t respond and instead just turned back to his machines. I felt a little bad as I left and wondered if I should make more effort to include him in stuff with the other agents. He was clearly working hard if the bags under his eyes were any indication, and he was an essential part of our team. I decided to bring it up to Naomi on the car ride over to the police station.

  5

  Junior

  Clara Mont
gomery lived in an apartment in Northern Las Vegas. The area seemed nice, and I could see Halloween decorations adorning the windows and balconies of most of the apartments in the complex. As we pulled up to her building, I felt a pang of sympathy for what she’d gone through. According to the information Wallace had sent us, Clara was only twenty-two. It would have been horrible for anyone to see their friend be brutally murdered in front of them, but I imagined it must have been especially jarring for a young woman who was just trying to have fun with her friends.

  Charlie and I got out of the car and took the stairs up to her third-floor apartment. Her unit was the first on the left, and I knocked after double-checking that it was the correct one. The door opened just a crack a moment later.

  “Hello?” a young woman with short brown hair called nervously through the crack in the door.

  “Hi,” I smiled warmly. “I’m Agent Chapman, and this is Agent Hills. We’re with the Military Border Liaison Investigative Services. I was wondering if we could speak with you about what happened last Saturday night.”

  “I already told the police what happened,” she replied hastily.

  “We’re not the police,” I responded quickly before she could shut the door on us. “We’re part of a federal agency that specializes in crimes that cross international borders. It’s possible the man that attacked your friend wasn’t the only perpetrator. We were hoping you’d help us figure out what’s going on so we can prevent this from happening to anyone else.”

  I could only see one of her eyes through the small gap, but I could tell she was thinking about what I’d said. A moment later, she shut the door, and I felt an immense sense of disappointment until I heard the security chain being unlatched. I breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled the door open fully before stepping aside to let us in.