I.N.E.T 2

by Brenda Cothern

  “Now get in the car and we’ll take you home.”

  “No.” Marcelo pulled Sophie behind him and defied an adult for the first time in his life. Not only an adult, but a family member.

  “No?” Uncle Antonio chuckled. “Marcelo, you’re finally growing some Italiano balls. Good, very good.”

  Marcelo had no idea why his uncle thought him growing a set of balls was a good thing. What he did know was that they weren’t going to get in their uncle’s car. Something wasn’t right. He just knew it. He could feel it in his gut and he forced Sophie behind him further.

  “Marci, what’s wrong?”

  His sister’s worried voice caused him to turn his gaze away from Uncle Antonio and over his shoulder to look at Sophie. That was his mistake.

  Uncle Antonio reached out and grabbed his arm at the same time one of his uncle’s friends reached around him and grab Sophia. She screamed in fear as Marcelo tried to break free from their uncle.

  “Let me go!” Marcelo tugged and yanked to try and break free of his uncle’s grasp. “Get your hands off her!” He yelled as he watched his sister kick and struggle in the arms of one of his uncle’s friends.

  “Marci!” Sophie screeched before she was wrestled into the car.

  “Let me go, uncle!” Marcelo struggled and beat helplessly against one of his favorite uncles. “Stop hurting her. Let us go!” Marcelo cried out at the same time he heard a yell directed at them.

  “Don’t move!”

  Marcelo turned his head to see four men running toward them, two from each direction down the sidewalk. He had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that Sophie was screaming from the back of the car for him to help her.

  Uncle Antonio pulled him close and whispered harshly. “Remember that we tried to save you, boy. What happens to your sister now is on your head!”

  Uncle Antonio shoved him away so harshly that he landed on the ground hard enough that the wind was knocked clear out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, but he could still see. Uncle Antonio practically dived into the backseat of the car only moments before the tires squealed and burned rubber down the road.

  Marcelo cried. Not because his uncle threw him to the ground and he was hurt. No, he cried because he hadn’t been able to protect his sister. Protect his sister which was the only job, the only responsibility, his father had given him. He failed and somehow instinctively knew he’d never see her again. Just as he knew he’d never stop hearing Sophie’s screams calling to him for help; they would never stop ringing in his ears.

  What followed was a blur for several days until Marcelo forced himself to remember. It was his anger over Uncle Antonio stealing Sophie away from him that focused his mind. It was also that anger that brought Marcelo to the realization that he could recall everything that had happened as if he were watching a video replay in his mind.

  The FBI had taken him into protective custody. They told him he was safe now, but Marcelo didn’t care about his safety. He was too worried about his sister and even more pissed off about his uncle taking her to worry about his own safety.

  Still, his worry and anger didn’t stop him from listening to what the federal agents told him about the family he had known all his life. The more they told him about his father and uncles, the more he got pissed off and blamed them all for Sophie being taken away from him.

  The agents requested his help and promised to find his sister in return. That promise, that hope that he would see Sophie again, was what caused him to take the stand and tell a room full of strangers everything he knew about his father, uncles, and the rest of the family’s activities. He didn’t know much, but what he did know was enough to support some of the evidence the Feds had gathered.

  It wasn’t until after the biggest trial in history against the Chicago mob, he was placed into the witness protection program, and it was months later that Marcelo realized the Feds couldn’t keep their promise. Still, that trial changed his life.

  Marcelo Michael Cerone became Michael Knight. Michael Knight who had a vengeance against those who profited and got fucking rich off the pouring of poison into the streets just like his father had.

  “Hey.”

  The soft voice behind him shattered the visions of the past that were assaulting Knight. He kept those memories locked away in his mind so tightly that he shivered at the sudden potency of their resurfacing. Hunt’s voice was like a lifeline and Knight knew the guy didn’t even realize how he had just saved Knight from becoming lost in his memories of the past.

  Hunt had stood several feet behind Knight for almost five minutes before he spoke. He had purposely made noise by shuffling his feet on the ground to let the man know he was approaching. The last thing he wanted to do was startle Knight and end up having to defend himself against the man. Hunt was trained just as well as the rest of the team, but he would prefer to avoid the bruises if possible. It seemed he was concerned for nothing because Knight didn’t even realize he was approaching and that caused Hunt to be concerned. Lack of awareness of their surroundings at any time could get them killed.

  “You’ve been out here for a while,” Hunt continued, but didn’t move closer. “I’m still hungry and Zep is bitching about wanting a beer.”

  Hunt kept his tone light. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with Knight, but something definitely was going on with the man. He didn’t sense Knight was still pissed off, but he didn’t get the sense Knight was thinking about anything that Zep shared about his history with Slade, either. No, whatever was wrong with Knight, his current behavior, didn’t seem to have anything to do with what had gone down in the last few hours.

  Knight finally turned to look at Hunter. He forced a smile onto his face and knew he was a good enough undercover cop to pass off the emotion he was nowhere near feeling.

  “A beer sounds good.”

  Hunter watched Knight’s body language change before the man graced him with a lazy smile. A few years of working for INET undercover, even if he mostly stayed behind the scenes taking care of the surveillance, didn’t stop Hunt from recognizing the act for what it was. Still, he wasn’t going to prod.

  “Then you guys should hit the store.” Hunt gave Knight a grin. They returned to the house and found Zep waiting for them. It was obvious that the agent was ready to leave.

  “Take the rental,” Hunt suggested and tossed the keys to Zep.

  “Let’s go then.” Zep turned toward the front door without looking at Knight. He knew the man was going to go with him, so he didn’t need to watch Knight follow him out the door.

  “What kind of beer do you drink?” Knight asked once they were in the car and headed toward the store.

  Zep chuckled. “Bud Light.”

  “Guess that something else we have in common.”

  Zep wasn’t sure what to make of Knight’s seemingly offhanded reply. He glanced at his teammate and the weak grin that was shot in his direction was just as confusing.

  ***

  As Payne had predicted, Trigger showed up before they had finished their second round of drinks. The Satan’s Blades lieutenant didn’t look pissed. He didn’t look happy either, but not pissed was a good thing.

  “Payne.” Trigger nodded by way of a greeting when he stepped in front of Payne who spun his stool at the man’s approach.

  “Trig,” Payne greeted back. “Let me introduce you to my brothers.” Payne did just that and Trigger shook the hands of his fellow agents. Another good sign.

  “Why didn’t you mention you had family coming in? Especially Knights?” Trigger addressed Payne, but Slade answered.

  “Our brother changed his fucking number,” Slade mocked glared. “Bastard.” Trigger raised his brow questioningly and Slade continued. “We knew he moved to Florida, but weren’t sure where or which MC he joined.” Slade smirked finally at Payne. “Had to follow the trail to track him down, but we’re sure it’ll be worth it.”

  “Really?” Tigger looked at Payne curiously.

  �
�Yeah.” Slade took a relaxed sip from his beer. “He’s got skills we’ve missed.” Slade shot Payne a wink. “But I’m sure he’s been putting them to good use with you guys.”

  Slade turned a knowing glance at Trigger even though he knew the man had no idea what he was referring to. Payne hadn’t been with the Blades long enough to be ranked high enough in the club to use any skills that Slade was implying he had and used while with the Knights.

  Payne knew this and knew Slade did as well. That wasn’t what concerned Payne, though. He had no idea what skills Slade was going to claim he had that made him what appeared to be a valuable member of the Knights. He knew he could roll with anything Slade put into play. Payne trusted Slade enough that he wasn’t worried that his teammate would put him into a position to play an undercover role that he couldn’t.

  The Satan’s Blades lieutenant responded just as Slade expected he would. He acted like he knew what the hell Slade was talking about.

  “Payne’s been one of the best runners we’ve had in years.”

  Slade reacted with an expression that was mock shock, horror, and surprise. He made sure Trigger got a good look at his face before he turned to look at Payne.

  “Brother, I know you said you didn’t want to be in charge a shit, but your just running?” Slade let a note of disappointment enter his tone before he shook his head in disbelief. Both Payne and Slade caught Trigger’s glance between them with a look of curiosity, but the lieutenant remained silent.

  “Didn’t want to step on any toes.” Payne grinned at Slade. “I’m the new guy and you know how the Knights deal with ladder climbers who push.” Payne resisted the urge to glance at Keg.

  Slade laughed. “Yeah. The same way the Blades do apparently.” Slade referenced the want to be hot shot that was likely still writhing in pain from three bullet wounds.

  “There some shit you should’ve shared, Payne?” Trigger said with an attempt of anger, but it came across more like a curious inquiry.

  “Trig,” Payne shrugged as if he had been caught withholding information. “I told you I worked in the Knights. You asked if I held rank and vetted me.” Payne shrugged again. He was totally winging it because he still had no idea what skills Slade was claiming he had that benefited the Knights.

  “Who’d you guys talk to for vetting?” Slade rescued Payne from the question he couldn’t answer.

  “Undertaker,” Trigger replied and turned his attention back to Slade.

  “Ah, my predecessor.” Slade laughed.

  Undertaker was still the Sergeant of Arms for the Knights, but if any inquiries were made, those who inquired would be told he lost the position to Eliminator almost a year ago.

  “That bastard is more tightlipped than trying to get a blow job from a nun unless he’s got something bad to say about someone.”

  “Been a hell of an improvement since you’ve taken the position,” Lita commented casually.

  “No shit,” Spider added.

  “So, what should we have been told?” Trigger did not look happy about the Blades not getting all the details on Payne when they vetted him.

  Slade glanced at Payne. He noticed the Blades member, Keg, tense again as the silence stretched between them.

  “Payne’s too modest for his own fucking good.” Slade chuckled. “That’s why he declined starting a chapter of KoV in Florida when he decided he was over the cold weather.”

  “Hey!” Payne shoved Slade playfully.

  “It’s true,” Slade countered with a grin. “If you hadn’t left, you’d be VP right now and you know it. And if you would’ve started a chapter down here in Florida, President and our profits could’ve stayed within KoV.” Slade finished seriously.

  Fuck! Payne looked away from Slade and purposely didn’t look at Trigger. He knew the lieutenant of the Blades understood what was involved to reach the level of VP in a club. He also knew that Trigger now would realize that Payne was a more skilled and useful commodity to the Blades than he had been five minutes ago.

  “I think we need to talk to Cutter, Payne.”

  Trigger dropped a heavy hand on Payne shoulder. Payne didn’t tense. Trigger’s touch wasn’t anything, but friendly. However, Payne only had an idea of where to take the new cover Slade just dropped in his lap.

  “I don’t think we need to do that.” Payne put just enough self-consciousness in his tone to appear as if he didn’t want to brag about what his role with the Knights had been.

  “There’s that modesty again.” Slade chuckled and leaned toward where Trigger stood between them. “He never did want to admit how good he was at moving merchandise.” Slade didn’t pull back before he continued to ‘confide’ in Trigger. “He’s the only man I know that can move anything, anywhere. How he does it, I’ve no idea, but the shit he’s moved for us...” Slade let the comment hang while he shook his head and sat back.

  Payne was grateful Slade hadn’t lowered his voice too much. He was sure that was intentional on his teammate’s part because if Slade had kept his voice only low enough for Trigger to hear, he would never know what ploy he was supposed to implement to get in tighter with the Blades.

  He had heard the whispers around the club about them getting into bigger shit than moving weed which was why he called in back up. Now, Slade gave him the perfect opening for the Blades to invite him to be involved in the rumors of guns and people that were being trafficked.

  “I’m sure Cutter will want to welcome you, as well,” Trigger said as if Slade hadn’t just dropped a gold mine that was Payne’s supposed skills in his lap.

  “Sounds good.” Slade grinned. “We’re going to grab a room in town.”

  “Come back tomorrow around six.”

  “Alright.”

  Slade stood from his stool and Trigger stepped back to give him room. Lita and Spider stood as well, along with Payne. It wasn’t until Slade grasped Payne’s arm and pulled him into a brotherly hug that he noticed Payne’s SB member associate, Keg, was standing behind his teammate.

  “See you tomorrow, bro.” Slade patted Payne’s back before he stepped away.

  He gave a nod to Trigger before he turned and walked toward the door of the bar. There was no need to look over his shoulder to ensure Lita and Spider were behind him. They would be and were.

  The three men straddled their Harleys and didn’t say a word before they fired up the beasts and pulled out of Hell’s Minions parking lot in search of a hotel.

  ##~~##

  Nine

  Knight and Zep left the house to go grocery shopping. They didn’t speak except for Zep to inquire if Knight was allergic to anything. Knight wasn’t. They pulled into the parking lot of Winn-Dixie and entered the store still without saying a word.

  “I’ll get the beer,” Knight offered when Zep grabbed the cart.

  Zep nodded at Knight to let the man know he heard him. He had no idea what to say or how to act around his new teammate. It’s not like this was the first time he struggled with uncomfortableness after sharing his story about how he had met Slade and been recruited to INET. Still, it wasn’t any easier this time than it had been with Lita, Hunt, or Payne.

  The fact that he never shared with any of them Spider’s role in the events that unfolded was neither here nor there. Not sharing Spider’s presence when the shit went down didn’t mean the memories of the man being there for that part of his past, didn’t make it untrue. Zep pushed the cart through the produce section and fought off the memories while he began to grab the fresh veggies he wanted. The fight was futile.

  The bullying started when they were in middle school. It continued when they entered junior high. His year between sixth and seventh grade was probably the best year of his school career. Of course, the moment he entered seventh grade, the asshole reappeared and made his life a nightmare.

  Spider bullied him from seventh grade through his sophomore year of high school. The asshole never got physical even though he frequently towered over him and made Zep think he was go
ing to hurt him. In all actuality, Spider kept the other meatheads from touching him, but every time the guy got in his space, Zep became so scared he almost pissed himself.

  If Spider would’ve just been a bully who beat the shit out of him, Zep thought he could’ve processed fear where the guy was concerned and moved passed it. That wasn’t the case, though. Spider never laid a hand on him over all the years the guy tormented him.

  In fact, Spider bullying him in an alley close to the cartel’s condo was the only thing that prevented Zep from being present when INET stormed the place. However, Zep couldn’t be grateful to the guy for way laying him so he wouldn’t be traumatized by the shit that went down at the condo. And a lot of shit went down by the sight of the several dead bodies that were still on the floor and the INET agents that were crawling all over the place by the time he got home.

  Zep fondled a head of lettuce to check its freshness and forced all thoughts of Spider from his mind. Unlike the last two ops where he had barely had to interact with the asshole, he wouldn’t have to interact with him at all on this one.

  He added several vegetables to the cart and steered toward the deli to get lunch meat and cheese for sandwiches. Knight wasn’t back by the time the deli filled his order, but Zep gave no thought to where his teammate was or what he was doing.

  Zep made his way along the meat cooler and loaded his cart with what he planned to cook. Unlike most of the team, Zep could cook. The others might be content with take out, but Zep would rather cook. His teammates would rather he cook too, even if they would never admit it.

  His selection of meat finished, Zep turned down the aisle that had pasta and rice. He didn’t do the bagged shit when it came to sides. He learned long ago that he could make almost the same junk that only required he ‘add water’ as long as he knew the basic ingredients. Those were simple. Usually, pasta or rice, some sort of veggie and a cream of something soup. He was just grabbing another box of pasta when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Zep looked down the aisle and froze.