The McKays Box Set - To Kill For, Blood Sport, Hard Time & Gang Land

by A. J. Carella

  “Six months.”

  “Really?” Steve shook his head. “I can’t believe how fast time goes.”

  “I know. Before long, I’ll be beating the boys back from my front door.” Sam laughed as he led Steve to the living room. “So how’s undercover work been treating you? We haven’t really had a chance to catch up,” he asked as he sat on the couch and Steve took a seat in the chair opposite.

  “Well, I’m glad I did it but I’m not sure I want to do it again. Unless it’s something more glamourous next time. It must be much harder on the guys who have families, not being able to contact them and everything. At least no one missed me.” He chuckled.

  “Well, we did. I’ve missed our bowling sessions.”

  “Only because I’m the only person who’s worse than you are, so I’m the only person you can ever win against.” Steve grinned.

  “Well, it sure isn’t your personality I’ve missed.” Sam batted back, enjoying seeing his friend again. And it was true; he had missed him. Oh, he had other friends, but Steve was undoubtedly the one he was closest to.

  The door to the living room burst open then and the twins ran, in announcing that dinner was on the table.

  They spent a wonderful hour sitting around the table, laughing and joking, before Maria insisted it was time for the girls to get ready for bed.

  “Whiskey?”

  “Why not? We’re off the clock.”

  “So, have you heard from Cheryl at all?” Sam asked, pouring them both a generous finger from the drinks cabinet in the family room before handing one to Steve and settling into his favorite armchair.

  “Not a thing. She’s far too busy now with her new and improved step-father to be bothered with me.”

  Steve’s wife had walked out on him the year before after fifteen years of marriage. She’d had enough of being a poor cop’s wife and had found herself a rich orthodontist who would give her everything she felt she deserved. Sam had never particularly liked her anyway but he knew Steve was taking the loss of his daughter hard. “I’m sure that’s not true. You raised her from when she was barely a month old. You’re her dad. She’s probably just still a bit confused and angry about the break-up right now.”

  “Really?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “It was her birthday a little while back. Her sixteenth. I sent her a big check. More than I could afford, really, so that she could put it towards getting herself a car.” He looked down at the glass in his hand and swirled the whiskey around. “It came back about a week later with a note telling me that her new step-daddy had gotten her a brand spanking new BMW and that she didn’t need my money.”

  Oh, wow, that had to hurt. “I’m sorry. I’m sure she didn’t mean to be ungrateful. She’s obviously had her head turned a bit but I’m sure she’ll find her way back.” It sounded like an empty platitude even as he said, it but he didn’t know what else to say.

  “Whatever.” Steve downed the rest of his whiskey. “Okay, I’m going to head off. Tell Maria thanks again for the wonderful dinner and you give those gorgeous girls a hug from me, okay?”

  Sam saw him to the door and watched him leave. It had been great to catch up, even if it had ended on a bit of a sad note.

  “The girls are asking for you to read them a story.” He turned at Maria’s voice, closing the front door, and smiled.

  “I’ll go right up.” It had been a while since he’d been around to do it and he was looking forward to it. The perfect end to a great evening.

  Eighteen

  For the first time in a while, he’d arrived at work smiling. He’d had a great evening with Steve and the kids and, for a change, his phone hadn’t rung once. He’d taken over from Maria at breakfast and made the girls pancakes before he’d left, earning him lots of smiles and kisses and an approving nod from Maria.

  As soon as he reached his desk, he could see that the forensic results had arrived as there was a big, yellow envelope on top of the pile of papers he’d left there yesterday. He was just ripping open the envelope when Steve walked in.

  “Those the results?”

  “Yeah. Let’s see what we’ve got.” He pulled the papers out from the envelope and scanned them. “Well, apart from the victim’s there were two distinct sets of prints in the apartment.”

  “Anyone we know?”

  “Both came up with flags in the system. One set belongs to Drake Driscoll and the other to Angel Romero.” He read some more. “Both of which are in the criminal database.”

  “Angel Romero?”

  “Yeah. Do you know him?”

  “I came across him when I was undercover. He’s one of the lieutenants for the local chapter of MS-13, if I remember correctly.”

  “Do you know the other one?” Sam checked the name again. “Drake Driscoll?”

  “Yeah, he’s also MS-13, but very low key.”

  Sam checked the paperwork. “That would tie in with what’s in the system. Only some very minor stuff, a while ago now. Unusually clean file for someone in MS-13.”

  “From what I can remember, he’s tight with the boss, Juan Deluca”

  “Well, his prints were all over the apartment but the only set they found for this Romero guy were the ones on the bedside table, making him the obvious suspect. But we should bring them both in.”

  “There’s only the two of us, don’t forget, Sam. I think we should start with the most likely suspect first. Angel.”

  Sam thought this over. “Okay, that makes sense. Driscoll’s prints are everywhere, so he’s either incredibly stupid or he wasn’t trying to hide them, meaning he might have a legitimate reason or them being there. Also, from what’s on his record, this Angel guy is a nasty piece of work and all his convictions are for violent assaults.” Sam stood up. “Okay, let’s bring him in. Do you know where we can find him?”

  Steve held up his hands. “Whoa, sit yourself back down.” He waited until Sam did as he said. “What do you know about MS-13?”

  “Just the usual, why?”

  “Okay, what you’ve got to understand is that these are very dangerous people. We can’t just go waltzing in there.”

  “Of course we can, we’re only going to talk to him.”

  Steve sighed. “I’m not saying we can’t, I’m just saying we can’t go charging in there, just the two of us. It’s too dangerous. We need to get a team together and handle it carefully. I’ve learned a lot about these gangs while I’ve been undercover and you can’t underestimate them Sam.”

  “All right. We’ll get a small team together and then go. Happy?”

  Steve smiled. “Very. But you’ll have to do it without me. If anyone recognizes me from being undercover, I may as well just put a price on my head.”

  “Ducking out of the hard work again?”

  He laughed. “Actually, there’s nothing I’d like more than to join you, but it really would be suicide. My information has led to a lot of these guys ending up behind bars and I’m sure they’d like nothing more than to settle the score.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” Sam grinned. “You can stay here and get on with some of the paperwork.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “No problem,” Sam threw over his shoulder as he walked off. There was no time to lose. He needed to get some bodies together and go and pick this animal up. The sooner he was off the street, the safer everyone would be.

  Nineteen

  “Where is he?” Sam repeated. “You can’t protect him. We’ll find him.”

  They were standing just inside the front door of the house as the uniformed officers he’d brought with him carried out a search.

  “I’ve already told you, I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Juan looked at him blankly. “Angel who?”

  “Do you want to know what kind of guy it is that you’re protecting?” Sam hissed through clenched teeth, getting right up in Juan’s face. “This guy goes around mutilating, raping and murdering young girls.”

  If he was shocked he didn’t show
it. “Well, in that case, I hope you get the guy, Detective. Sounds like he needs to be taken off the street.”

  “He’s not here, boss.”

  They both looked up at the officer coming down the stairs. “We’ve checked the whole house. Nothing.”

  Juan looked at the Sam and smiled. “I told you, I don’t know this Angel you’re talking about. I only wish I could help.”

  Sam glared at him. “Okay, this is how it’s going to work. I want this guy, and I’ll get him. Until I do, every time you so much as go outside, I’ll have officers watching you. If you or any of your homies jaywalk, I’ll be there.” Sam bluffed, knowing full well they didn’t have the staff to carry out the threat.

  “I think you’ll find that’s harassment, Detective.”

  “And I think you’ll find that harboring a suspect is a criminal offense,” Sam replied.

  “Who’s harboring a suspect, Officer?”

  They both turned at the sound of the voice, neither having heard him walk through the open front door.

  “Are you Angel Romero?” Sam asked, even though he recognized him from his mug shots.

  “I am. Can I help you with something?”

  “Angel Romero, I need you to come with me.”

  “What for?”

  “We’d like to talk to you about a recent murder we think you might be able to help us with.” If this was the right guy, he was acting very cool. He didn’t even seem a little bit ruffled.

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “Not yet, no. At this point we just want to talk to you.”

  Angel smiled. “Okay, lead the way.”

  Twenty

  Sam didn’t speak, he just sat quietly, making a show of opening and closing the files in front of him. It was a calculated move, designed to make Angel feel compelled to break the silence and start talking. He could feel him watching him, and knew he was getting agitated from the way he was shifting around in his chair.

  “So, what’s this all about?”

  Sam allowed himself a small smile before looking up. “Oh, I think you know.”

  “No. I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

  Sam opened one of the files in front of him and took out the crime scene photos. One by one, he laid them out side by side facing Angel so that he could see them. He watched Angel’s face carefully as he looked at them, trying to see some kind of recognition on his face.

  “Are these supposed to mean something to me?” Angel looked up and pushed the photos back across the table.

  “What about this one?” Sam took a photo of Shelby’s crime scene and placed it down in front of him. “Does this mean anything to you? Look closely.”

  There was an unmistakable flicker this time. Very small, not much more than a widening of his eyes, but Sam had been doing this for years and knew a tell when he saw one. Bingo.

  Angel shook his head, again pushing the photo away. “Nope, sorry.” He smirked. “I mean, it’s terrible and everything, and I wish I could help, but I can’t.”

  “Well, you see, that’s where I have a bit of a problem, Angel. You mind if I call you Angel?” Sam opened another file and made a show of reading what was inside. “According to our crime scene guys, they recovered your fingerprints in the apartment. Now, I’d love to believe you, but you can see that makes things a bit complicated for you, can’t you?”

  Angel frowned and reached for the photo, pulling it towards him once more. “Actually, I think I might know this girl.” He made a show of looking thoughtful before smiling widely. “I’ve got it. We had a date a few days ago. Now I remember.” Leaning back in his chair, he put his arms behind his head. “She invited me up for a drink and I obliged, but then left. Not my type.”

  Sam decided to try a different tack.

  “My colleagues tell me you’re number three in the chapter. You must have really proved yourself to get that far.”

  Angel sat forward again, looking angry. “I’m number two, second only to Juan himself.”

  Sam acted surprised and made a show of checking some papers. “Oh. It says here you’re number three. Juan Deluca, then Drake Driscoll, then you.”

  Angel slammed his fist down on the table, making a file go crashing to the floor and its contents scatter. “Drake? Drake’s not number two. He’s nothing, a worthless hanger on.”

  He’d exposed a nerve—now to poke it. “Well, I hate to say that’s not what our intelligence suggests. It’s quite clear that you are only considered number three and that Drake is Juan’s favorite.”

  “Well, your intelligence is wrong.” Angel leaned back and crossed his arms, trying to look relaxed.

  “So what has this Drake guy got that you haven’t?”

  “I told you, I’m number two. Drake does as he’s told.”

  “So, the only person you answer to is Juan, is that right?”

  Angel nodded.

  “So, did Juan tell you to kill these girls?”

  “I told you, I don’t know anything about it. You’ve got the wrong man.”

  Sam nodded slowly. “I’m starting to think you might be right. These murders are the work of a very clever man, and I don’t think that’s you.” Sam saw Angel tense up again. “You see, it takes cunning and smarts to pull off something like this and I just don’t think you have what it takes.”

  Angel opened his mouth to speak and Sam held his breath, hoping he’d pushed hard enough, but he just smiled and closed it again. “If you say so, Detective. Now,” he checked his watch. “Unless you’re going to arrest me, I must be on my way.”

  Sam refused to let his frustration show. Unless he arrested him, there was nothing he could do to stop him from walking out of the station and the truth was, he just didn’t have enough evidence against him at that point. “Of course. Thank you for coming down and talking to us.” He forced himself to remain polite. “Though we may want to talk to you again.”

  “You know where to find me.” Angel smirked before standing up and leaving the room leaving Sam standing there, unable to stop him.

  Twenty-One

  Angel sat in his car across from the police station and waited. Who did that punk detective think he was? As soon as he’d been released, he’d gone straight back to the house, only to find Juan freaking out because he couldn’t find his precious Drake and he wasn’t answering his phone. What the fuck did Drake ever do for the gang? He did everything. He took care of business—got his hands dirty, everything that was asked of him—and still it wasn’t enough for Juan.

  He hoped Drake had gone for good now that his little girlfriend was gone. He knew he shouldn’t have let his emotions get the better of him, but when he’d seen them so happy together like that, it had lit a fuse. Drake had everything and didn’t deserve it, and because of him, he was now in the frame for multiple murders.

  He’d walked out of the house, sick of hearing about Drake, and had driven around for a while before ending up here. The detective’s words kept going around and around in his head, mocking him. As he replayed the interview in his mind, he could feel himself tense up, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as his jaw clenched. Did he not know who he was dealing with? He obviously didn’t, or he wouldn’t have dared talk to him the way he had.

  By the time the detective walked out of the police station, he’d wound himself like a tightly coiled spring, making him the focus of all the bitterness he had welling up inside him. He watched as he crossed the dark parking lot to his car, got in and drove off.

  He had no idea what he was going to do but he needed to make him pay for humiliating him like that. He would prove to Juan that he was someone that should be taken seriously.

  He paid no attention to the bright lights of LA as he followed him across town, focused on his target. When the detective’s car started to slow and he indicated a turn, he pulled over across the street. So, this is where you live. He sat down low in the driver’s seat as he watched him let himself into the house.

  Sm
iling to himself, he drove off. No one talks to him like that. No one.

  Twenty-Two

  He could hear his phone ringing but he couldn’t find it under all the paperwork on his desk. Pushing a pile of papers aside, he finally spied it and, checking the number, realized it was home. Immediately concerned, he picked up.

  “Hi, Maria, everything okay?” he asked, frowning. It was very unusual for her to call him when he was at work.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Eva? Baby? Where’s Maria?” He knew something was wrong before she even answered the question and all thoughts of work dissipated.

  “She’s sleeping daddy. We’re hungry and she won’t wake up.”

  Gesturing frantically to get Steve’s attention, he tried to keep a calm voice. “You’re hungry? Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Steve was looking at him, an unspoken question on his face. “Something’s wrong at home, we gotta go,” he whispered loudly before taking his hand away. “I’ll tell you what, baby, how about Uncle Steve and I come and make you something to eat?”

  Steve had grabbed the car keys and was already up and standing at the door waiting for him, a worried look on his face.

  Keeping Eva talking on the phone, they ran down the stairs to the ground floor and jumped in the car. Sam held on tightly as Steve spun out of the parking lot, leaving half his tyres on the concrete.

  He kept her on the phone until they pulled up outside his house and Sam was out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop. His heart sank when he saw that the front door to his house was ajar. He was just about to run inside when he felt a hand on his arm, stopping him in this tracks. Silently, Steve gestured to the front porch. Bloody footprints were clearly visible on the steps leading up to the house. Immediately, they both drew their weapons before approaching the front door.

  All Sam wanted to do was call out to his babies, but he knew that he couldn’t. If there was still an intruder in the house, he could be putting their lives in danger. Going in first, he held his weapon out in front of him as Steve followed close behind.