Dying for a Fix

by G. K. Parks

  “We are but not until we know what’s going on and who the players are.” Mark narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you remember how we do this job? Big fish, not guppies.”

  “Steele’s a big fish.”

  “Bard’s bigger,” Mark insisted. “Plus, this is about more than dismantling the KXDs. We need to find out what is being smuggled into the area, the types of drugs, and who the overseas connection is. From what you and Agent Wolfe have reported about the Black Cat, the KXDs are involved in drugs and prostitution. And from Cooper and Lucca’s threat assessments, DeAngelo Bard is probably trafficking in illegal firearms too.”

  “Assault weapons and automatic rapid-fire handguns,” I said, rubbing a hand down my face. “Bard had one in the apartment.”

  “Does he have more?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Alex, he has plenty of men. With enough weapons, he could build his own personal army to take out the competition and the police force. He’s already controlling that neighborhood. He could control half the city. That’s why we’ve been trying to get someone on the inside to find out what is going on, so we can stop it.”

  “Have you tried to flip Veronica?” I filled him in on the details surrounding Vee and the alleged mugging.

  “The police have questioned her. I spoke with Lt. Moretti in major crimes to find out what they’ve learned. But she won’t talk. And if we approach her at the hospital, someone might notice.”

  “Who cares? She knows a lot more than she’s letting on. Bard was worried about it because he wanted Steele to take care of it.”

  “I’m not jeopardizing a UC by talking to her in such a public place. We don’t need anyone to connect you with our investigation, and like you’ve said, she doesn’t like you. But once she’s released from the hospital, we’ll pick her up for a chat.”

  “She doesn’t know enough about me to assume I’m connected to the investigation. Plus, they’re convinced I’m a junkie. The government doesn’t employ heroin addicts.” I winked. “That’s why I keep getting to go through these fun drug screenings.”

  He sighed, slumping into a chair and leaning back. “Alex, what is your honest assessment of the situation. You’re the only one far enough inside to have perspective. So what call would you make?”

  “I don’t call the plays, Jablonsky. Shit happens when I do.”

  “You’re not in charge, Parker.” He slipped, using my last name despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be uttered outside the office walls. “I just want your opinion.”

  “As soon as we determine a location, we commence the raid, scoop up everyone we can, and work them over until we have enough evidence to arrest Bard.”

  “It won’t stop the influx of the contraband, and someone else will step up in the ranks, probably Steele.”

  “Then I have to get in deeper.” Swallowing, I already knew it.

  “Not tonight. Not while Steele’s gone,” Mark said. “Before you got here, there were fifteen different 911 calls to that neighborhood. The place is going crazy.”

  “Bard must be gone too. He’s in charge, and Steele’s his second. Without the two of them, the dogs are off the leash.” I met Mark’s eyes. “It’s not gonna be pretty.”

  “That’s for the PD to handle. We have our own problems. Now let’s finish this assessment so I can get you home. Marty’s been driving me crazy, asking if I have any idea where you are or when you’ll be back.”

  Fifteen

  We worked through the night. Jablonsky and I had spent years analyzing data, speculating, and developing pragmatic strategies, so this was nothing new for either of us. An hour before daybreak, we decided a relocation was in order. It involved a blonde wig, maid’s uniform, Mark’s sunglasses, and complicated maneuvering and doubling back before we arrived in the garage beneath the federal building.

  Normally, I despised being inside this building, but today, I welcomed it. Ditching the short blonde locks, I took a seat on the sofa in Mark’s office and continued dithering on about Joe, Sasha, and the other girls at the Black Cat. From the latest intel, it was obvious the women were working for the KXDs. Veronica had been running drugs, and my suspicions concerning the ecstasy and the cabbie’s words from the night before only furthered my theory.

  “Drugs and girls,” Jablonsky declared, swiveling in his chair as he typed something into the computer. “I’d blame you for making this more complicated than it needs to be, but for once, it’s not your fault.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I stifled a yawn. “So are they involved in human trafficking too?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised, but I really hope not.”

  “Me too.” We fell silent as Mark caught up on the morning’s memos, and I continued to postulate which of the three locations seemed the most likely. “Francisco said he would be out of town for three or four days, so I’m guessing the pick-up location isn’t local.”

  “The extended absence could be explained by cutting and processing the drugs before distribution,” Agent Cooper said from the opened office door. “Agent Parker,” he nodded, “nice to see you looking a bit more normal.”

  “Aren’t you a charmer?” I retorted, but he seemed confused by my wittiness. Maybe I was losing my touch. “So where do you think the pick-up location is?”

  Cooper shrugged, and Mark gestured him inside. “Close the door, Steve.” Once it was shut, Mark began again. “We’ve read through your initial investigation, our current theories and findings, and reviewed all known leads, so what are you talking about?”

  “Agent Lucca and I spent the morning with the DEA. Apparently shipments have been coming into the state via rail. Somehow, items are being smuggled across the border and then being loaded onto train cars. The government has tightened border controls, but contraband is still slipping in, and once it’s on a passenger car, it’s easily moved across the nation.”

  “They’re not using freight?” I asked.

  “Too much scrutiny. Weight and contents are checked, but with passenger transportation, no one gives it much thought. Rail isn’t particularly popular, and the companies are happy to get whatever customers they can,” Cooper said.

  “So what does this mean for our investigation?” Jablonsky asked, fearing the DEA would take charge.

  “It means we’re now assisting on determining the international source, but our main focus has shifted to infiltrating the KXDs, stopping their illegal sales, and getting DeAngelo Bard to oust his connection,” Cooper said.

  “In that case, monitor Steele’s and Bard’s financials and phones. Maybe we’ll get lucky and discover that they’ve been on a train recently,” Mark said.

  “It’s already being done. So far, we haven’t gotten any hits, but only one of our suspected locations is a railway depot. And since the DEA is determined to move in, we’re piggybacking on their team. Lucca is updating Director Kendall before briefing the response unit,” Cooper said. “It looks like we’ll be moving in tonight.”

  “Count me in,” I said.

  “No,” Jablonsky declared. “You will not be anywhere near this mess. When this shit backfires and blows up in our faces, your cover needs to remain intact. Do you hear me, Parker?”

  “Yes, sir.” That’s why I planned to wear full tactical gear, including gloves and a ski mask to obscure my identity. However, I knew that tone, and there was no reason to argue since his mind was made up. “So what am I doing in the meantime?”

  “You’re taking the day off.” Jablonsky rubbed his face and looked at the time. “Cooper, phone me two hours before we’re set to move,” he ordered, shutting down the computer and putting on his jacket. “And get me a set of keys to one of the witness vehicles.” When Agent Cooper returned a few minutes later, Mark thanked him and dragged me out of the room and back to the garage, ignoring my protests.

  “Where the hell are you taking me?” I asked, hoping he didn’t decide I needed to be in witness protection for the duration of the DEA’s raid.

/>   “You wanted a break, and you said you can’t go home. So I’ll do you one better.” He smiled. “Plus, you promised Marty a plus one for the evening.”

  “Crap, that’s tonight?” I let out a sigh and dropped my head against the back of the seat. “You mean to tell me I’ve been undercover for a month and we still don’t know jack? And now the DEA is suddenly calling the shots after you spent the night telling me we couldn’t execute a raid?”

  “Say thank you and be quiet. I’ve been up the entire night dealing with a particularly difficult situation and a pain in the ass undercover agent. I think I’ve been through enough.”

  Mark took a careful route, doubling back numerous times to ensure we weren’t followed before he finally arrived at Martin’s. Only after the garage door was closed and the security system was reactivated did he let me exit the vehicle. And he thought I was paranoid.

  “The techs cloned your phone the other day. So in the event the KXDs are smart enough to hack into it, they’ll think you’re still at the motel. I’ve covered all the bases. You should be safe. Marty’s circles don’t overlap with anyone or any location that might be under suspicion. But be careful. Bruiser doesn’t know the situation, but he knows that he should be on alert.”

  “What do I tell Martin?” I asked, suddenly apprehensive to see him.

  “Stick to the same story you already gave him. You’re working at a home security firm. Maybe you’ve been conducting surveillance to thwart burglars. Be vague. Make it sound boring.”

  “I don’t know that I can do this. Can’t I hide out at your place instead?”

  “Alex, the longer you have to be Nicholson, the harder it will be for you to return to your life when this is finally over. Take this opportunity to prepare him for the possibility that this could drag on for a few more months. And just try to be you.”

  “Who else would I be?” I asked, feeling uncertain of the answer.

  “I’ll call when it’s time to go back. Until then, limit your public appearances, and if Steele contacts you, let me know.”

  Nodding, I went up the steps to the main level. By the time I emerged on the second floor, the garage door lowered and the security system reengaged. Now what was I supposed to do? Was it possible I’d forgotten how to be me?

  Taking a deep breath, I scanned the area for signs of Martin, but he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was out, and I could avoid the situation a little longer. Just as I started to relax, his voice traveled from one of the floors above, and given the way it sounded, he was annoyed about something. Bracing myself for whatever was to come, I went to the downstairs home office, found an envelope, slipped my federal agent credentials inside, and hid the sealed item in the guestroom that served as my home away from home. With the damning evidence concealed, I squared my shoulders and headed up the steps.

  Martin was in his personal workspace on the fourth floor. From the illuminated button, I could only assume he was on speaker with someone from Martin Technologies. The paperwork that accompanied the laptop and tablet added to my suspicions, and when he started speaking again, it was obvious that it wasn’t to me. Waiting patiently for a pause in the conversation, I knocked gently against the doorframe once the opportunity presented itself.

  He spun, surprised by the intrusion. “Hang on while I grab those projections,” he said, hitting mute on the phone. “Alex,” his voice came out breathy, and he crossed the room to me, “what are you doing here?”

  “You should really consider changing your security codes,” I replied, turning my head to avoid a kiss and feeling myself go rigid in his arms. Putting my arms around him in a perfunctory manner, I hoped he wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

  He buried his face in my hair and then kissed from my jaw to my lips, giving me no choice but to reciprocate. He stepped back, holding me at arms’ length before running his thumb across my cheek.

  “I’ve missed you. Where have you been? We haven’t spoken in two weeks.”

  “Well, you skipped out on poker night,” I replied, feeling defensive toward his interrogation. “I told you I had to work. Out of town conferences and conducting surveillance can be a hassle, and I haven’t had much downtime to make phone calls or exchange e-mails.”

  “But you had enough time to talk to Mark?” he said, indicating that he had been in contact with Mark about my absence. That was the problem with having mutual friends.

  “He has access to government resources. It was a work call. Speaking of,” I jerked my chin toward the speakerphone, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Trying to smooth the waters and appear less frazzled and neurotic than I felt, I offered a congenial smile. “But I couldn’t just leave you hanging when you had some fancy party to go to and were in dire need of a plus one. So I dropped everything and rushed over. Surprise.” He looked skeptical, so I continued. “However, in the name of full disclosure, I could be called back to work tonight.”

  Those green orbs stared at me, scrutinizing ever mannerism and fidget. Finally, he cracked a smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” His gaze shifted back to the phone. “I’m sorry, but I…”

  “No problem. I could really use a minute alone.” It was the truth, but the words must have stung from the pained look that passed over his handsome features.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been up all night. I’m just tired.”

  “Get some sleep. We aren’t expected until eight.”

  Tossing a glance at his bedroom, I decided it was still too close for comfort and returned to the second floor. The guestroom was a place of solace. The closet and drawers were full of my clothing and other necessities. Opening the nightstand drawer, I removed my back-up nine millimeter, which had been there for the past month, field stripped it, cleaned it, and reassembled it. The muscle memory of such action and the familiarity of the cold steel were comforting and helped pave the way back to Alexis Parker.

  Disassembling and reassembling the handgun two more times eased the anxiety that began to build since entering Martin’s house. It was stupid to be nervous in such a familiar setting and with the one person that meant the world to me, but for the last month, I had been constantly on edge. Time and distance had a strange effect, and it was an affliction many UCs dealt with. Up until this point, I’d never had anyone back home, so nothing in my past prepared me for this.

  Fake it until you make it, I suppose. So I changed out of my work clothes and into one of Martin’s shirts. Pulling down the covers, I crawled into bed and instantly felt like I was in heaven. The mattress was just the right level of firm. The sheets had a thread count with at least three zeros, and the blankets were plush and clean. That air mattress in the apartment was my own personal hell, and the motel bed was barely a step up with its scratchy sheets and stained blankets. This was what I’d been missing: Martin, a real bed, and a modicum of security.

  Drifting off to sleep, I was barely aware of my body contorting into a tight, protective ball. It was how I slept on those rare occasions that I managed to sleep inside the apartment. Always curled tightly and always at the edge of the bed to be closer to the knife and unregistered gun that were resting two feet away.

  My dreams were a mix of faces and movement, and as I stared at Francisco, watching his mouth move but unable to determine why his voice wasn’t his own, something touched my back. Acting reflexively, I rolled away, landing hard on the floor.

  “Alex?” Martin peered down at me from the bed above.

  Groggily, I sat up, tangled in the bedclothes. “Didn’t the bed used to be bigger?” I asked. He broke into a fit of laughter that he’d been trying to hold back since my swan dive off the edge, and I glared, tearing free from the bedding and throwing the balled up blanket at him. “Don’t laugh. This is your fault for startling me.”

  “I said your name a few times, and you mumbled something. I thought you were awake.” He helped me up and pulled me toward him, hoping to demonstrate a proper apology but remembered the time.
“It’s after six.”

  “Can’t we stay here instead?” I asked, attempting to manipulate the situation. “I thought you missed me?”

  His eyes smoldered, but when his hand moved to my side, I couldn’t shake the image of Francisco from my head or those sleazebags from the strip joint. A shudder traveled through my body, and Martin let go, confused and worried.

  “Are we okay? I’ve barely seen you, and you flinch every time I touch you.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not okay, are you? You look,” he struggled for a word, “different.”

  “We’re fine. I’ve just been busy. It seems you’ve been busy too. Conference calls on a Saturday. Social gatherings that are really informal business meetings in disguise.” I went to the closet and flipped through the hangers. “And the different is called long hours of boredom, but I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” He came up behind me and pulled a black cocktail dress from the corner.

  “I’m sure.” I took the item from him and examined it, glad to distract him with the less serious topic of fashion. “This isn’t mine.” I smirked. “And it looks too small to be yours.”

  “I’ll admit I’ve missed you but not enough to wear your clothes. I sent Marcal to do some shopping. If you don’t like it, you can always wear this.” He pulled out a designer purple dress, also from one of Marcal’s trips to the store. “But it’s a bit formal for tonight’s function.”

  “I do have my own dresses.”

  “Yes, but they’re at your place. Now if you made this house your place, then they’d be here too. And I wouldn’t have to send my valet to shop for you.”

  Despite the topic, this felt like the first normal conversation we had. Smiling, I wrapped my arms around him, dropping the dress to the floor and kissing him. He returned the kiss, and for the first time since stepping foot inside the house, I felt like me again.