Callye's Justice

by Donica Covey

  Abrahms wasn’t resurfacing, and the frustration built and boiled over. Justice’s knee bounced and he rubbed the exposed skin beneath the cast on his arm. Damn, but it itched.

  How was he supposed to shoot with this cast? All the details had to be decided before he could act. He could shoot left-handed if he must, but his shots weren’t as clean, or as accurate.

  He gave a mental shrug. A bullet strategically placed could bring a man down and open his mouth.

  In a blaze of light, Abrahms exited the warehouse and went to his car.

  Justice readied to follow him. They both pulled onto the road, heading north. Abrahms obviously wasn’t going home. He followed as the car crossed Meramec Bridge, through downtown and over to the seedier side of St. Louis. Every corner had prostitutes or strip joints, and some had both.

  He knew this area well. When Abrahms stopped in front of the Purple Tiger, Justice knew he couldn’t follow the man in there. A few people inside knew his face, and if Abrahms spotted him, the man could find help in dodging away. That was something Justice couldn’t allow.

  He groaned. It wasn’t any easier on the outside. His cell vibrated against his hip. He’d forgotten to turn the ringer back on after scouting the warehouse. He pulled it out and saw Chase’s number again. Damn. Why didn’t the guy just lay off?

  Justice didn’t answer, just held the phone in his hand, turning it over and back again. In a matter of minutes it was ringing a second time. Chase again. After the third time, Justice picked up the line. “What is it?” he demanded in a growl.

  “Don’t use that tone on me. Where the hell are you?”

  “I went for a drive.”

  “Get your ass home.”

  “When did you become my warden?”

  “Since you decided to stop using your brain. You can’t stalk Abrahms.”

  “What makes you think I’m ‘stalking’ him?”

  “Because if I were you that’s what I’d be doing.”

  “Then get off my back.”

  “I’d be just as wrong. Besides, you don’t have to do this alone.”

  “Actually, I do. You can avoid the heat for any action I might take. Full deniability.”

  “I’m not interested in deniability, I’m interested in covering my partner’s back.”

  Justice growled low in his throat again. Chase made sense, unfortunately. “Where are you?”

  “Still at your place.”

  Justice nodded into the phone. “All right, be there in about thirty.”

  “Good.”

  He closed the phone and backed out of the parking spot. An extra set of hands could be useful, but if this blew up they’d both take a hard fall. He pounded his cast onto the steering wheel, sending a jolt of fresh pain up his arm. He was getting good at screwing up other people’s lives.

  Involving Chase could possibly end his friend’s career. Yet another battle began inside. Take a chance on destroying three lives, or go at this alone, getting his revenge and sparing Cas any further pain while protecting his partner’s job. Which was the right one? “Damn.”

  He arrived at home and parked next to Chase’s black Durango. Chase climbed out as Justice shut off his engine.

  Justice rounded the front end of Chase’s car. “I don’t have any beer.” He opened the front door of his duplex.

  “That’s okay. Neither of us need it right now.” Chase’s gaze traveled to the cast and the angry swollen fingers, then up to Justice’s face. “Well,” he simply said as he climbed the steps to the living room.

  “Yeah, well. I followed Abrahms from his place to a warehouse, Machine Masters, over on 12th. Then he went to the Purple Tiger. I was in the parking lot when you called.”

  “We know Tiger’s role, but Machine Masters? What connection do they have?”

  Justice shrugged and scraped his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. “That’s the sixty-four-thousand dollar question. If we could hit the financials, we could see exactly what investment, if any, Abrahms has in the warehouse. It might bring a few more players to the table.”

  “Oh yeah, but how do we manage that? No probable cause, and I think we’ve already had a nasty fallout with twisting the rules.”

  Justice closed his eyes. Lack of sleep, pain, fear and frustration were taking a toll on his body. He wasn’t sure how much further he could push before it gave out on him completely. “I can’t concentrate.”

  “It’s no wonder. When was the last time you really slept or ate?”

  Justice tried to think back, but he couldn’t find a reliable memory. “The other night.”

  “Passed out drunk doesn’t qualify as sleep.”

  “How can I think about getting rest now? It’s not over yet.”

  “No, but it’ll still be there tomorrow.”

  The pain in his hand had grown from a dull, throbbing ache to an excruciating fire licking its way up his arm. He moaned and tried to prop it on a throw pillow.

  Chase went to the kitchen. Soon he returned with a glass of water. “Take the pills I know the doctor sent you home with.”

  How could he do it? Cas had suffered much more than a simple broken hand. How could he allow it to bring him down? He pushed the glass away and rolled onto his side. “I have to get Abrahms.”

  “We will, but we’re going to do it right,” he heard Chase say as his body sank under the dark pull of exhaustion.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Justice woke with a start. It took a moment for his living room to register. He stood to stretch out the kinks of yet another night on the couch. In the kitchen, he found a note Chase had tacked to the fridge:

  Got tired of listening to you snore. Heading out for breakfast with a friend. Call you later.

  The beginning of the new day didn’t help clear his head any. He should be hunting and hurting Abrahms, but the pull to Cas’s side was overpowering. The coma, the possibility of Cas’s brain degenerating, caused his heart to plunge into his stomach.

  Chase had left him a pot of coffee. At least the guy was useful for something. Justice poured a large mug then got dressed and headed for the hospital.

  He was seated by Cas’s side before he could blink. With the index finger of his good hand, he carefully traced the lines of her lips. She always loved that. She’d kiss the tip of his finger and… He pulled his thoughts away from that direction.

  “I know who did this, baby, and believe me, he isn’t going to get away with it. Once he’s gone we can try to get our lives back. I can’t let you go, even if it would be the best thing for you. I just can’t let you go.

  “When you wake up and get out of this place, we’ll start the plans for our wedding. No one is ever going to get between us again.” He rose and kissed her forehead. “I’ve got to go for now, baby, but I’ll be back once this is done, I promise.”

  He wouldn’t bring Chase and the guys in on this last act. He’d take Abrahms out, alone.

  Justice’s voice was back. It seemed as if every time she’d been ready to reach out to the comfort of the pure white oblivion, something dragged her back. Pain pressed at the edges of her senses, but the ache in his voice was so strong. The words spun, hard to grasp. But one thing remained constant—he needed her, loved her, and promised he’d never let her go.

  Never let her go. His love permeated her body. There was something else. She’d been angry? She’d been hurt? Yes. It wasn’t just the physical pain, but it had broken her heart.

  The white mists. She could see them just beyond her outstretched arms. Every step closer only pulled the tether holding her tighter. It refused to release her. Forced to hover in this place, she tried to get her mind and body to relax. How long would she have to remain in this constant plane between heaven and hell?

  * * *

  Justice pointed his car towards Abrahms’ place. The man’s car wasn’t in the drive so he decided to head to the warehouse to see if there was anything to dig up.

  His cell phone echoed in the silen
t car. “Bernard.”

  “Hey, Jus, got a line. Remember the shipments from Oaxaca?”

  “Yeah?”

  Chase expelled a short breath. “Abrahms’ got major holding with Machine Masters under an assumed name—Charmel. It seems that the movement of his product coincides with the movement of the shipments from that warehouse. We’ve got what we need to get in there and comb through every inch of the place.”

  Interesting news. Now he had a why, but it still didn’t deter him from his course.

  “Jus, did you hear me? Now we’ve got more ammunition to bring Abrahms down.”

  “Yeah, I heard you. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Jus?”

  He broke the connection between them, turning his attention to scanning the lot for Abrahms’ car. Not here, either. Where could the weasel be hiding? He sat in the lot, watching for Abrahms to materialize, but after two hours he still hadn’t seen a trace of the man.

  Justice moved out, heading for Sandzis. Maybe the bastard was there.

  At Sandzis, he once again searched the parking lot. There was no sign of Abrahms’ cars. “Come out, come out wherever you are,” Justice muttered in a singsong whisper.

  When the silver Chrysler Three Hundred finally showed up, Abrahms wasn’t alone. His attorney and two other men climbed out and they all walked in together. Justice studied each face, but the only familiar ones were those of Abrahms and Staunton.

  Justice froze with apprehension when a car pulled up behind him. It took less than a minute for the vehicle to register. Mickey and Bobby. Damn. What are they doing here?

  They climbed out of their car and crossed over to his sedan. Mickey opened the passenger door while Bobby slid into the backseat.

  Justice studied both faces before turning to watch the front door of the restaurant. “Well?”

  “Well, what? We just thought we’d see what kind of progress you were making.” Bobby’s reflection in the rearview showed his grim face.

  Justice raised his eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean. I just was trying to decide if I wanted cheese garlic bread with my lasagna or not.”

  Mickey shook his head. “Like we believe that. We were tailing Abrahms. What else would bring us here?”

  Justice shrugged. “Frequent flier meals?” he asked, repeating Chase’s earlier joke.

  “You can’t win this one on your own, Justice.”

  “What makes you think I’m out for anything? It’s over.” The lie stuck in his throat.

  “You can’t just let it go and let someone else take over, I know that much,” Mickey argued.

  Justice looked in the rearview again, watching Bobby’s face. “You’ve been quiet; what’s brewing in your mind?”

  Bobby shrugged. “Trying to imagine you and Abrahms alone. Your mitt in a cast will seriously get in the way of anything stupid you may have spinning in your brain.”

  “If, and I say if, there was anything, I could deal with it. Right now I’ve got more important things on my mind than some drug dealer.”

  From his peripheral vision, he saw Mickey shoot a worried look at Bobby. Justice looked up in the rearview to try and catch Bobby’s expression. “Look, you got a job to do, get the hell out of my car and do it,” Justice roared in anger.

  Mickey lifted his hands in surrender. “Just keep in mind that we’re keeping an eye on Abrahms and his friends. You step out of line and there’ll be more eyes on you than the Superbowl.”

  Justice gave a belligerent sniff while he turned to face Mickey. “Do I look worried?”

  The back door opened and Bobby slid out. Justice glanced over at Mickey. “What?”

  Mickey didn’t speak at first. “Don’t be stupid. No matter how much it hurts. How angry you get. You can’t keep doing this. You’re going to lose more than Callye if you aren’t careful.”

  “Without Cas, nothing else matters.” Cas may never forgive him. No one would blame her if she didn’t. He’d promised no one would ever come between them. He couldn’t keep that promise if she decided to walk away for good.

  Justice watched them walk back to their car. So much for deniability. If they were tracking Abrahms like a bad habit, then Justice would be screwed. One small squirm out of place and his friends would get in his way.

  Justice sat thoughtfully for a bit, then grinned and picked up his phone.

  “Sandzis,” a young female voice answered.

  “Hello, I’d like to speak to Mr. Abrahms, please,” he asked in a stiffly polite tone.

  “One moment.”

  Background noise of kitchen prep came flittering through the line.

  “Abrahms,” the man finally answered.

  “It’s Bernard.”

  The man choked and coughed, then recovered. “What the hell do you want?”

  “I think we should have a face-to-face sit-down. You want me, you got me.”

  “Why would I want you?”

  “Because I’m the one who cut your connection—but you already knew that. I know a lot about you, Abrahms. I’m going to give you my head on a silver platter. All you have to do is agree to meet me, anywhere, your choice.”

  “Say I was interested, how do I know I’m not being set up?”

  “I guess you’d just have to trust me.”

  “Like hell I will.”

  “You want me off your back. You want to pay me back for your beat down in your home, right?”

  Abrahms huffed. “That’s one thing you got right.”

  “Then meet me. Anywhere you say. I can guarantee you I’ll come alone.”

  “What about those friends of yours?”

  “What friends?”

  “The ones who’ve been following me for the past day or so. I know they’ve got something to do with you.”

  “If you’re an innocent man, then they won’t be able to find anything that merits a tail, right?”

  The line went quiet except for the din of the kitchen in the background. Justice worried for a minute that he’d just misplayed his hand.

  “All right. You call off your dogs and I’ll meet you.”

  “When? Where?”

  “Not so fast. You get rid of my tail first and then we’ll talk.”

  “Here’s my cell number…ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nine eight one fifty-two twenty-one.”

  “All right. Once I know that my tail has faded, I’ll call you back.”

  “Then I should hear from you soon.” Justice flipped the phone shut. Now how to get rid of his team for a while? He opened the phone back up and dialed Chase’s number.

  “Willett.”

  “Hey, Chase, were you able to get a warrant to search the machine shop?”

  “Working on it. Why?”

  “Curious to know when you’re taking the slimebag down.”

  Papers rustled and then Chase came back. “We got it. Just delivered hot and fresh.”

  “Great. You calling Mickey and Bobby to help with the sweep?”

  “Definitely. You coming along?”

  “No. I need to get back to Cas.”

  “All right. Give her my love.”

  “I will.”

  In a few minutes, he watched Mickey pick up his phone. Mickey was shaking his head. He was probably telling Chase all about the little stakeout.

  Justice started his car and pulled off. If they thought he was going to the hospital, they’d follow for a few miles and then branch off.

  He kept an eye on the rearview as his mind wandered. How long until Abrahms took the bait? It would take about thirty minutes before the guys hit the warehouse. So, in about forty minutes, Abrahms should get a bug in his pants and rush out.

  As planned, Mickey’s car pulled back and turned around. Good. Justice drove back to the restaurant, one eye trained on the road, one on the clock.

  Justice watched the minutes tick off. Missed it by five, he thought when Abrahms barged through the front door. Even from this distance Justice could see th
e angry glare on the fat face. Abrahms and his entourage climbed into the sedan and sped off. They were heading for the warehouse.

  Backed into a corner was a dangerous place to put any animal, human or not. This might be the button that put Abrahms over the edge. Soon Justice would get what he was after—the pleasure of watching Abrahms drop to his knees and beg for mercy—just like they made Cas.

  The car sped from the Landing and over the Eads Bridge into Illinois, flying through the many small streets and off-branches. Then it came to a stop before a large, red brick building.

  Hmm. Not the machine shop. What was going on?

  Justice couldn’t make out the words spewing from Abrahms’ mouth, but the red tint to his face, the rigid posture, the way he jerked his arms out and stabbed his fingers into the air, all told him that Abrahms was pissed.

  Any other time Justice would be antsy from not being on the front lines, from making the bust. Not this time. This time he was exactly where he should be.

  * * *

  Abrahms jumped out of the car, slammed the door shut and hurried to the privacy of his building. “Damn.” He threaded his fingers through his hair. “All right, even if they bust down the machine shop, it’s still okay. They don’t have anything that directly links me to that warehouse.” He paced back and forth.

  “How hard do you think it will be for them to find someone to roll on you?”

  Abrahms’ anger rocketed through him and he turned on Staunton. “They wouldn’t dare.”

  Staunton shrugged. “You never know what kind of deal they can work out. As your friend, I’m advising you to use your brain here.”

  “Right. They don’t have anything to connect me to the machine shop. All they have is the equipment and merchandise. No one knows me as Abrahms there.” He tried to relax his breathing.

  “They know your face,” one of his men spoke up.

  He turned and looked at Miguel. “They wouldn’t dare,” he growled again.

  Staunton cleared his throat roughly and stepped up to him. “I don’t know, Jarold. A deal for reduced time could make one of them sing like a canary.”

  Jarold dropped onto the nearby chair. “So I lay low while you three snoop around and see what you can dig up. I doubt anyone will be able to name me in connection. If one of them seems like they’re going to spill on me, I want them taken care of.” He looked at Miguel and got a nod in return.