Retaliatory Justice (The Talionic Files #1)

by Tawa M. Witko

  Marshall glances at Phillipe and I start to worry that maybe I said too much. I’m trying hard to remember what Jackson said about being calm and what my father always told me about not being afraid because criminals can sense that in you and will take advantage of it. But, I know for a fact I am not calm.

  “Well, then I guess it’s settled,” Marshall says coolly but he looks anything but tranquil.

  He wraps his arm around Whitney and they turn, exiting the kitchen, giving each other a quick peck on the lips as they walk outside. Phillipe is leaning against the counter, looking down and tracing the outline of his tie clip. I remember how he teased me at the bar saying that it kept the bad guys away.

  “Maybe I need one of those,” I say, only half joking.

  His lip curls into a smirk and then he laughs heartily before glancing at me. “Perhaps you do.”

  He pushes off from the counter and heads out of the kitchen to catch up with the psycho and her mate. Phillipe, he’s not so bad and he seems to look out for me. I still believe there is something else going on here, something illegal but so far things have been running rather smoothly, at least up until this moment, especially since that Marshall and Whitney are gone several days a week. But, in spite of everything I am gaining at Le Creole, I need to leave. Marshall and Whitney are too much to handle. It’s beyond being paranoid, like Phillipe said. They are literally crazy. I have the feature coming out next month and that should help me gain another executive chef position somewhere else. I just need to hold on for that long. I can do that!

  July 26th

  I haven’t see Marshall or Whitney since the incident two days ago. Phillipe has been edgy and that has me nervous. The last time he was like that we had his special visitors here. Phillipe storms into the kitchen in almost a frenzy. He grabs my arm and looks around quickly before he yanks me out of the kitchen.

  “What’s going on?” I scream as I force him to a stop.

  “Come with me now!” He yells at me as we leave the kitchen.

  “But my line chefs will be here soon,” I try to reason but he is not listening as we exit the restaurant.

  He starts to go to a car and stares at it for a moment before jerking me away with him. He is walking so fast I am struggling to keep up with him. I finally yank my arm away from him and stop, out of breath. He is looking around in a panic and for the first time he seems really frightened.

  “Please, Phillipe, what’s happening?”

  “I’m not an honest man, Dominique,” he says, not looking at me but behind me. He places his hand on my lower back and continues to walk with me. “I have done a lot of things in my life that I am not proud of but…” he stops us as we get into a crowd of people and looks at me. “I’m sorry that you have been pulled into all of this. That was never my intention.”

  “What am I pulled into, Phillipe?”

  He looks around again and then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a necklace. “Will you please wear this for me?” he places it over my neck.

  I lift the pendant and realize it is the same as the tie clip he wears and I notice that he is no longer wearing it. I try to smile as I breathe in deeply. “So, I need protection against the bad guys?”

  I look up at him and he places both hands on my shoulders. “Yes, you do.”

  “Phillipe, what’s happening? Am I in danger?”

  “Whatever you do, don’t take this off,” he says, lifting my pendant. He looks around again; concern is rolling off of him in waves. “I am probably going to be gone soon but this will protect you, it will keep you safe,” he says, looking back at me.

  “You’re leaving?” I question in sort of a panic because he may be pushy and he very well may be a criminal but I feel safe with him around.

  “I’m sorry, Dominique. I never meant for any of this to happen and I certainly didn’t mean for...”

  He sighs and opens his mouth to say something else when suddenly there is a loud popping sound and he drops to the ground, mere inches in front of me.

  “Phillipe,” I cry as I kneel down, seeing a pool of blood forming underneath him.

  There is screaming all around me and the rapid footsteps of people scattering away from us. My heart feels as if it is going to beat out of my chest as I see blood everywhere. There are sirens in the background that seem to be growing louder and then there are the heavy footsteps of police, I presume, approaching.

  “Oh God! Dominique, are you all right?”

  I glance up from Phillipe’s dead body and see Jackson staring down at me, concerned. He is in uniform and standing with another officer who is taller and a bit chubbier than him. The one with Jackson is talking into his walkie-talkie, saying something about a man being down and to call an ambulance.

  “Dominique, are you okay? Are you injured?” Jackson asks again.

  I shake my head, numbly.

  “Ma’am, what happened?” the officer standing next to Jackson asks.

  I slowly turn to him and blink several times but I’m not able to focus. My eyes shift to the street and I see a beautiful bouquet of red and white roses strewn everywhere. When did those get there? I continue to stare and see someone appear in the distance. I can’t see their features but the figure is waving. My body sways as everything starts to fade out, a surreal moment where past and present combine to make a new reality. I think I hear Jackson say that I’m in shock and then I think another voice says that the ambulance is on the way. I might have even heard Santiago’s name mentioned but the voices sound so far away. My breathing slows down and I feel like I’m not present anymore. I’m somewhere else; somewhere I don’t want to be as I remember watching Jonathan die right in front of me.

  “Dominique!” Santiago says shaking me.

  I am jolted from my memory and turn towards the voice, seeing Santiago in front of me. The tears come immediately as his arms wrap around me. He is rubbing my back soothingly as I start sobbing uncontrollably. Not for Phillipe. I am saddened by his death but I didn’t know him very well. No, my tears come for Jonathan and, if I am honest with myself, for Valentino as well. I hate this, I hate remembering all of this. But what I hate the most is that Valentino awakened something within me, something that hadn’t been present since Jonathan died nearly two years ago, something I didn’t think I would ever feel again… passion. I know that I don’t love him but I’m brutally aware that I could fall in love with him easily because when I was with him I wasn’t thinking about Jonathan at all. Valentino did that, he made me forget and now here I am again with memories flooding my brain like Katrina herself.

  “It’s okay, boo,” Santiago soothes.

  ~*~

  I’m not sure how I got here but I’m lying in a hospital bed. I can feel Santiago’s gentle touch on my back and hear his soft humming. I can also hear the distinct sound of static from a radio, the kind that police officers carry. I roll onto my back and look up at Santiago who does his best to smile and look cheerful but I can see the underlying fear in his eyes. He was there through it all with Jonathan. He held me all night and offered me the love and comfort only a best friend could.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  “We were talking one minute and then…” I take a sharp intake of breath and close my eyes.

  “Dominique, I need to get your statement,” Jackson says as he steps closer to the bed.

  “I don’t know what happened, Jackson. I…” I stop mid-sentence as I hear rapidly approaching footsteps and then raised voices.

  Three men step inside, all of them in suits and I can’t help but giggle because with their ear pieces in they look like Agent Smith and his two cronies from The Matrix. I glance at Jackson and he is shaking his head slightly trying to get me to stop laughing but I can’t because the alternative is screaming.

  “Did I miss something?” the man that reminds me of Agent Smith asks with a grin.

  I shake my head. “Sorry.” I blow out a breath trying to get myself under
control.

  “Ms. Walker, we would like to talk to you about the incident earlier today with Mr. De la Fosse,” he glances at Santiago and then Jackson, “preferably alone.”

  “We’ll be outside, Dominique,” Santiago says kissing my forehead.

  He glances at Jackson, who hesitantly starts to follow him out into the hall. Once the door closes, the man who spoke to me sits down in the chair Santiago had been occupying. He has this determined look about him, he must be in charge of something.

  “My name’s Garrett Adams. I’m an agent with the Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms Agency.”

  “Why is the ATF involved in this?” I ask fully alert now.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you. But I do need to know what you can tell me about Mr. De la Fosse.”

  I watch him for a moment and then glance at the two men behind him, men that aren’t saying anything at all. Now that I am really looking at them, I realize that they seem kind of buff for agents. They look more like bodyguards to me, but then again, what do I know about the ATF aside from what I see on the news.

  “I don’t really know anything,” I finally respond, looking at Agent Adams.

  He grins and leans in. “Oh, I’m sure you know something.”

  “I really don’t. He’s my boss,” I reply hesitantly.

  “Are you two dating?” he asks.

  “What! No, of course not,” I answer quickly.

  “Are you two lovers?” he inquires further.

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “One you haven’t answered.”

  My face morphs as my anger rises to the surface. “NO! We were not lovers.”

  “Very good, now see that wasn’t so difficult.”

  “Is that it?” I ask fuming.

  He laughs. “No, Ms. Walker. We are just beginning.”

  He spends the next hour basically grilling me. Asking me all sorts of personal questions but being careful not to reveal anything about what he’s investigating. Towards the end, I start fiddling with the pendant that Phillipe asked me to wear. I don’t know why. I guess I’m just nervous because Agent Adams is being an insensitive jerk. He notices immediately what I’m doing and the cocky and superior attitude he had shifts immediately.

  “That’s an interesting pendant,” he states casually as he leans back in the chair, eyeing me speculatively.

  I look down at it and mumble, “It keeps the bad guys away.”

  There is no movement or sound so I look up at him and he looks angry as do the men he is with. His lips are in a hard line and suddenly I am extremely scared. After a moment, his features relax and he leans forward again. He reaches out and takes the pendant out of my hand, rolling it in his fingers, making the chain twist against my neck.

  “I suppose you better keep that visible so the bad guys know you can’t be touched,” he gives me an evil grin before rising and motioning to the men he is with to follow him.

  I look down at it and bring it to my lips, kissing it lightly. “Thank you, Phillipe.”

  15 The Blue Sanctum

  Valentino Masterson

  July 28th

  Over the next few weeks, I continued to dream about Dominique, but I never did what Kailee suggested. I’m not meant to be with someone, and what point would it serve anyway, to contact someone I couldn’t actually be with? If anything, I think the situation just showed me that I need to keep my feelings in check. I find myself drifting off in the team room, listening to everyone talk. We have tried to find out information about the three players in New Orleans but there is no record and according to every system we have checked, all three of them technically are dead. I stretch and in the process knock my pen on the ground.

  “I got it,” Michelle says as it rolls towards her side of the table.

  She bends down to get it and when she comes up her eyes are wide. She brings her finger over her lips and we all quite down. She writes on a sheet of paper and then holds it up.

  B U G

  “Hey, Jeff, lets hit up that Thai place down the street,” Clayton suggests casually.

  “Yeah, that sounds good. I’m starving,” Jeff replies. “How about an early lunch, boss?”

  I nod and point my finger towards the door. “Sure, that sounds good. Let’s all go, we can work from there.” Once outside the room I look at Zach. “Could they have accessed our computers?”

  “I doubt it, only people in the agency have access to our system.”

  I slam my hand against the wall. “Adams is interfering. That’s why we aren’t getting anywhere on this case. I knew he was lying.”

  “Hold on, Masterson,” Clayton responds quietly. “That’s a serious accusation. Adams is a decorated agent, you can’t go around accusing him of being a traitor,” Clayton says, looking around as we are drawing attention to ourselves.

  “Even if he is one,” Zach adds, “we can’t prove it.”

  “So what do we do now?” Michelle asks.

  I run my fingers along my eyes, trying to think. “I have a place we can use,” I say assuredly.

  “Then let’s go, it looks suspicious, all of us standing around in the hallway,” Jeff replies, looking around.

  “Come on!”

  Thirty minutes later we are pulling into the driveway and by the time we are turning off the engine of our vehicle, Joseph is walking out the front door, jerking his thumb towards the side entrance. We exit our vehicles and Clayton and Jeff grab the two boxes we had loaded from our team room. I can imagine that Clayton is probably wondering why I’m bringing everyone to his future father-in-law’s home but I don’t have time to explain. We follow him down the concrete steps as Joseph unlocks the door. We all gather around him as he steps inside.

  “Holy shit!” Jeff says, whistling appreciatively at the set up.

  “How come I’ve never been down here?” Clayton pouts as he plops down on the large sofa in the sitting room where the flat screen is.

  I roll my eyes and see Joseph go to him and rest his hand on Clayton’s shoulder. “We were planning on bringing you down here before the wedding.”

  “Really?” he questions and nods with that big cheesy grin on his face.

  “Zach, connect one of the computers to the big screen, scramble the signal and log in using a back door,” I order.

  “You got it,” he says as he gets to work.

  “Help yourself to anything you want, call me if you need me,” Joseph says as he walks to the door.

  I turn to him. “Thank you, Joseph.”

  He looks around at all the activity and gets an almost sad smile on his face before he nods and steps out the door. I pause for a moment and then turn to everyone, placing my hands on my hips.

  “We need to focus on the three in New Orleans. Agent Adams is lying about them and I want to know why.”

  “Someone lives down here,” Michelle states casually as she walks towards us.

  “How do you know?” Jeff inquires.

  “Because I checked out the whole room and not just the cool boy toys like you,” she replies as Jeff rolls his eyes. “There’s a bed against the back wall that looks slept in,” she continues.

  “It’s mine,” I interject and see them all stare at me. “I’m staying here for now, since my place isn’t safe anymore. Jeff, Michelle, and Clayton start setting up the wall in the back with the info we had on the board in our room.”

  “We’re on it,” Clayton answers, picking up the box and walking towards the back wall.

  We all work diligently for the next hour setting the room up. The Blue Sanctum once again being used to solve crimes. Somehow, I think that my dad is smiling down on us right now. I turn to Zach as several screens start popping up on the large television. Articles he is pulling up that are cross referenced with Le Creole Restaurant, Marshall Beauchamp, Whitney Badour or Phillipe De la Fosse. He will sift through them once they are all up.

  “STOP!” I yell. “Go back one.”

&nb
sp; Zach nods and clicks on the previous article and enlarges it so it fills the entire screen. Soon everyone has gathered behind me, reading it, everyone but me because I can’t seem to get passed the headline or the picture that goes along with it.

  Owner of Le Creole Restaurant Shot In Front Of Employee

  “Dominique,” I mutter, feeling as if my heart is about to jump out of my chest.

  I am staring at a picture of Dominique being cradled by someone. Dominique is sobbing; her whole body is slouched as if she wants to turn inside of herself completely. Next to her on the ground is Phillipe, single gunshot through the chest. My God! She witnessed that. My head is spinning seeing her so distraught and when I look around I notice that my team is watching me. I wash my hand over my face and try to get my act together.

  “All right, let’s problem solve this.”

  “According to the article, he was killed Wednesday afternoon,” Zach says.

  “Do they know what kind of weapon was used?” Clayton asks.

  Zach plays around with the computer and enlarges the article even further. Clayton walks up to the screen, his arms crossed as he scans the article looking for keywords that would draw his eyes to the possible murder weapon.

  “There’s no reference in here,” he states annoyed.

  “Pull up a satellite image of the location,” I say, walking up to the screen next to Clayton.

  A few moments later, the picture of Dominique is replaced with a large interactive map of the area. The location is huge with buildings, stores, and apartments on top of restaurants; there are actually a lot of people at the scene milling about who probably have no idea that a murder took place there two days ago.

  “Tighten it,” I say and he enhances the neighborhood further. “There!” I point to a building across the street. “Right there,” I say tapping the screen. “That’s the only angle that could have hit him in the chest without hitting Dominique as well.”