Never Trust a Saint (LOS SANTOS Cartel story #1)

by Melissa Jane

  “I know,” I admitted feeling like yet another battle was due to start. I needed to pack some new supplies and get out without any fuss. Go wide, as Garcia would say, but on my own terms. From a distance, somewhere untraceable, I would rectify the damage done to my name. Before I did that, however, I had one last task to complete. One that couldn’t wait, no matter what got in the way. If that failed, my Plan B was to follow Garcia’s advice. Either way, I had to be prepared.

  “Please don’t tell them you saw me, Jerry. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important.”

  “I didn’t like their attitude much anyway. I won’t say a word.”

  ***

  My apartment was still in a state of disarray when I returned. I don’t know why I was surprised by this. In fact, I was almost certain, I had more visitors while I was gone. Things I hadn’t noticed before I left had been upturned, more scattered mess on the floor indicating they were still looking for something.

  But what?

  I thought I was the target, not anything tangible that I owned.

  Rummaging through the mess, I found some essential toiletries, clothes, and underwear. The hospital had given me some clean second-hand clothes that had been left behind by previous patients. The dress I had arrived in looked like something from a massacre. Satisfied with my collection, I studied my face in the mirror. All the surreptitious stares on the plane, all the curious looks from children made sense. I was a mess. A frightful one at that.

  Something crunched in the living room. A heavy foot on top of the broken glass scattered on the floor. They were walking slow, their aim to remain unheard. I froze, perfectly still. My chest hurt and I fought the urge to be sick. I couldn’t go through this again. Not yet. I needed some time. My body was not in fighting mode, and my head was still trying to fit some puzzle pieces together.

  Hooking the bag over my shoulder I tucked between the wall and the door, waited until whoever it was made an appearance. They didn’t leave me hanging. Between the slender gap he appeared, dressed in black and taking each step with premeditated care. His Glock was extended in front of him ready for the takedown.

  I couldn’t quite figure out which was worse. Not knowing who was after me, or the slap in the face when it was someone I knew. A colleague.

  Jarrett Lloyd, the jock Hunter had saved me from at the ball was inside my apartment. Why he was here snooping, I didn’t know. Why he was armed, left me confused.

  Just as I’d hoped, he walked inside to inspect the bathroom. It was now or never. Rounding the door, I hooked the crutch under my arm and awkwardly skipped through the debris. The noise beneath my feet was loud enough to wake the dead. It was clearly loud enough for Jarrett to hear. I didn’t see him but I could hear his heavy footsteps from behind. Gripping the hand strap on top of the bag, he yanked me backward. My feet left the ground and I fell hard on the wooden floor. Tiny sharp shards of glass stabbed into my exposed skin, the back of my thigh feeling like the stitches had reopened the bullet wound.

  I groaned, feeling the impact, his weight now straddling me. When he pressed his Glock to my cheek, I stopped the struggle.

  “What are you doing Jarrett?” I was still in shock that it was him. Hurt almost.

  “Collecting my bonus.”

  Bonus?

  “Please get off me.” I held my hands up in defeat and he flinched briefly before seeing I wasn’t dangerous. “I can explain everything.”

  He shook his head, lips pursed. “It’s too late. I’m here to collect you.”

  “Get off me, Jarrett!” I bucked underneath him but he didn’t budge, all it did was cause me further pain and I stopped, wincing as my wounds smarted.

  He pressed the barrel harder into my cheek. “Where have you been, Nina?” He wasn’t asking out of kindness. I had always thought of him as an idiot but never this much of an asshole.

  “The Chief told me to take leave, so I did.” Technically it wasn’t a lie.

  “You had no idea who he was did you?”

  “Who, Jarret? Who are you talking about?”

  “The Santos at the ball.” His brows creased together in annoyance like I deliberately playing dumb with him.

  “We had a dance, that’s it. Is this what it’s all about? The ball?”

  He scoffed. “Don’t fucking patronize me. You think I give a fuck who you fuck? Nah, all I care about is ensuring my future is protected.”

  “I have nothing to do with that.”

  “I fucking saw the footage of you and that Santos asshole at the convenience store. What the fuck are you doing, Nina? You work in fraud not as a mercenary.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. They didn’t show you everything. If you get off me, I can explain.”

  “I thought you were one of the good ones.”

  “I am!”

  He shook his head in denial and it was then it dawned on me. He wasn’t treating me like I was a target. He genuinely thought I was the bad guy in it all.

  “Please Jarrett, please just listen to me. The truth is I was with Hunter. But he’s not a Santos. We were trying to bring down the cartel. And he still is.” My eyes welled and the last thing I wanted to do was show emotion at this point. “Luis Santos I believe is still on the run. We were ambushed and couldn’t get away.”

  “But why were you there, Nina?”

  I realized it would be hard for him to see the big picture as I was missing a great deal of events.

  “Because Los Santos killed Garcia.”

  He looked at me like I was insane. “No, they didn’t, it was a home invasion.”

  “You’re wrong. The whole department is wrong. I don’t have time to tell you everything, Jarrett, but you must trust me.”

  He bit his lip in both annoyance and consideration. “They’ve done a full audit on everyone, Nina. We’ve all been treated with suspicion of helping you, especially those the Chief believes is close.”

  Jarrett and I had never been close. In fact, I’d done everything within my power to avoid him. He now looked at me with slightly reddened cheeks and it dawned that his crush on me had been common knowledge. Therefore, he was made into a potential suspect.

  “Tell me something,” I started.

  “What?” He had calmed down a little and I could only hope my words were being seen as truth. Perhaps he had his own suspicions that things weren’t all as they seemed.

  “Is Alex okay?”

  He shook his head. I could feel my face pale, guilt attacking me from all angles.

  “Jarrett? What happened to Alex?”

  He hung his head, removing his weight from me and sat leaning against the sofa. “He’s being held in custody on suspicion of conspiracy.”

  “Conspiring against what?” I struggled to sit, my body begging for more pain relief. Jarrett, despite him practically attacking me earlier, saw the hurt on my face and helped pull me into position.

  “The government. Sabotaging counterintelligence.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “They haven’t given him access to a lawyer. I’m certain they’re only one step away from sending him to Guantanamo.”

  My head dropped into my hands, disbelief rendering me speechless.

  “You look like shit.”

  Glancing up, I met his crooked smile.

  “Jarrett, you need to be careful. If they even get the slightest whiff that you’ve seen me, you will be sharing a cell with Alex.”

  His brows went crooked and he now wore a defeated smile. “What makes you think I’m letting you go?”

  “Because deep down you know something sinister is occurring in our own backyard.”

  ***

  Jarrett left my apartment, first ensuring he would take the rest of the agents waiting outside with him. Thankfully he had done a complete turnaround and admitted that something was occurring outside of his control. After apologizing for his aggressive behavior, he embraced me in a collegial hug as opposed to the flirtatious ones that were sy
nonymous with his name.

  He asked me where I was going, and when I refrained from answering, he understood why.

  What I was about to do next would either set me free, put me behind bars or bury me six feet under.

  Chapter 23

  I wasn’t sure why I ended up where I did. It almost felt like a gravitational pull.

  Police tape was hung in an X like fashion across Garcia’s apartment door. Pulling it to the side being careful not to break it, I entered. The landlord knew me well. I was Tomas’s best friend, and a familiar face, so handing me the key hadn’t been an issue. If anything he looked grateful that there was still interest in the case, and I could see by the look in his eyes that he knew something I didn’t.

  Everything was left exactly the way it was. His apartment resembled mine. An absolute mess of mass proportions. The only difference was the murder scene. Fortunately, the bedroom that was a perfect picture of a massacre had a plastic sheet covering the open doorway preventing access and visibility.

  I wasn’t planning on staying long. It served a purpose that I hoped would draw a conclusion before the day was out.

  Picking up a torn chair cushion I placed it back in its rightful spot and sat down. Tapping the phone on my knee, I battled it out with the barrage of fears and doubts over what I was about to do.

  Say it didn’t go well and my story wasn’t believed.

  Say I ended up in prison on charges for a crime I didn’t commit.

  This was my last obstacle, one that would present me with nothing but brick walls if it all went wrong.

  Dialing the Chief’s number, I waited for seven rings convinced he wasn’t planning on answering. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I went to hang up until I heard his voice.

  “Yes?” he barked at the unknown number.

  “Chief?” Sitting up straight, I resisted the urge to hang up, my hand trembling.

  There was a pause. One that gave me no comfort.

  “Cross… is that you?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Another pause. This time, I knew he was plotting my arrest.

  “We need to talk,” I suggested in a no mess around tone.

  “Why don’t you come into the agency and we can have this talk?”

  No! That was never going to happen. “Let’s meet.”

  Another pause. Most likely concerned for his safety meeting with someone wanted for questioning over a murder.

  “Okay. Where?” he conceded.

  “Garcia’s.”

  This time, there was a long silence and I wondered if he’d hung up on me.

  “Chief?”

  “What time?” he finally responded.

  “I’m already here.”

  “I’m leaving now.” Before I could hang up, he quickly continued, “Cross, does anyone else know you’ve contacted me?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “Good. Keep it that way.”

  ***

  When forty minutes passed I was almost certain the Chief had changed his mind. It only took fifteen to get across town to Garcia’s. I paced, watching the street below from the long window for any sign the Chief had called in for back up. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had.

  A knock came at the door startling me as I hadn’t seen anyone enter the apartment block.

  “Ms. Cross, it’s me, Samuel Barrington.” Garcia’s landlord. This was not ideal. I didn’t want him anywhere near us while the Chief was here. Looking through the spy hole I could see he was alone so I opened the door

  “Hi Sam, what is it?” He could see the impatience in my eyes and looked around nervously as the words stumbled out.

  “There’s something you should see.”

  “Can it wait?”

  “I think I’ve waited long enough. I wanted to show you earlier, but you haven’t been around.”

  No, that would be because I was trapped in Mexico with psychotic drug dealers.

  “Okay. What is it?”

  He held up his smartphone and his troubled gaze met mine. “Last month a few residents here were complaining about kids riding by throwing rocks at their windows. When I told them there was nothing I could do about it they threatened to leave. I can’t afford to lose the tenants I have because they pay good money, you know?”

  “Okay,” I agreed, not knowing what point he was trying to make.

  “So after the third threat came in, I decided to install cameras along the outside. The small, non-intrusive type so the kids couldn’t damage them, too. The hope was to capture their faces and have the police give them a good talking to.” His face grew sad. “And then Tomas was killed and they pinned it on a home invasion. The fact is, at night when he was killed, the doors are secured with a security code that only the residents know. So I checked the cameras and it shows Tomas being dropped off by the cab driver just after ten. And then two in the morning, three men are on the doorstep downstairs buzzing on the intercom. The door opens and they go in. Tomas let them in, so he knew them.”

  This wasn’t making any sense. Gabriel Santos had told me his men had killed Garcia because he refused to participate in transferring the funds. So why would Tomas just let me in at an obscure time of night?

  “Let me look.”

  Sam gave the phone to me, his CCTV footage ready to go. I watched and the scene unfolded just like he had explained. My body tensed when the three men appeared, the visuals grainy and not allowing a super clear ID. They did, however, look familiar, but I couldn’t place them. It wasn’t until they started to move through the door that the street light picked up on something on the belt on one of the men. A badge.

  They were agents.

  At least one of them was.

  Staring ahead, I contemplated what I’d just seen. Was the Chief covering for one of his own?

  “Thank You, Sam. I think it’s best if you steer clear from this floor for a while.”

  He looked troubled, concerned. “Is something happening?”

  “I’m not really sure yet, but just to be safe.”

  “Should I call someone if things don’t go well?”

  I considered his question for a moment. I had no one to call. I was on my own and I had to play my cards right.

  “No, that’s okay. I’m hoping this shouldn’t take long.”

  ***

  No sooner had Sam disappeared did I see the Chief pull up outside the apartment block. I was visibly shaking. An undesirable state to be in for this situation. From the living room window, I looked up and down the street for any followers, but it appeared quiet on the home front. Being early in the day still, the door was unlocked and he walked straight through.

  A knock sounded but I’d left the door slightly ajar. The Chief took two steps in, caution printed over his face.

  “Cross,” he greeted void of all emotion.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  I was seated on the sofa when he walked in and I didn’t rise to greet him. “Please,” I said gesturing to the sofa opposite.

  Before moving another inch, he glanced around the room ensuring we were alone. Satisfied, he sat facing me. We locked gazes, each trying to figure the other out. It was he who first spoke.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Because my apartment seemed too welcoming to uninvited guests.”

  “Where have you been, Nina?”

  I felt answering that would lead to divulging too much information out of order. “I’ll get to that in due course.”

  He slowly nodded, unsure of my angle.

  “So…” I continued, “…you decided it wasn’t a home invasion after all?”

  After a pause, he answered. “Further evidence had us questioning some loose ends.”

  “And what were they exactly?”

  “Motives. Connections.”

  “Could you be more specific?”

  “I don’t think that’s wise.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because Cross, you are wanted for further questionin
g over a number of incidences. Divulging confidential information to you at this point would jeopardize the whole investigation.”

  “You think I killed Garcia?”

  “This is how it stands, Cross.” He straightened, preparing for battle. “Garcia, in the past has had connections to cartel circles. He is brutally murdered and his work partner, no more than a week later, is captured on surveillance in a shootout with Los Santos members, the rivals of the Baja cartel, Garcia’s former partner had connections with.” He studied me hard, his next statement designed to hurt. “It seems corruption can tarnish even the most innocent of agents.”

  “Chief, you are so far wrong on everything.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, that is so! I had nothing to do with Garcia’s murder and I sure as hell knew nothing of anyone’s affiliations to the rival cartels until after the fact.”

  This had him thinking. “Then how did you find out about them?”

  “I’m not revealing that information.” I had to protect Alex, who was already being held because of me.

  “Then how am I expected to believe you?”

  “Because I have no reason to lie. Garcia was my partner and best friend. I found out information about his former partner, Evan Jacobs, and contacted him. You know this already because you warned me not to.”

  “And you should have listened.”

  “Well, I didn’t and I’m glad I followed my gut instinct. The agency put a target on my head as soon as they saw me enter his apartment and for what? I’d done nothing wrong except try to find out who killed Tomas.”

  “You were associating with a known suspect whose case is still under investigation.”

  “I realized that, but everything he told me would happen did happen. He put me on a plane with the assurance one of his men would protect me until the storm blew over. But that wasn’t the case. I was already being chased, harassed at every point by Los Santos cartel. Who, for some reason, saw value in me. I didn’t know what it was at the time. They were harassing me at every stop. The convenience store…” I paused trying to not let the nightmarish memory affect me. The Chief was hanging onto every word, his jaw clenched to the point I thought his teeth would snap. “They just snuck up on me. They killed the store owner, and at that point in time, I had no idea what they were going to do to me.”