by G. K. Parks
“Okay.” He paused, and a door slammed in the background. “If it’s life or death, get out of there. Call police dispatch or O’Connell or whoever. I don’t want a repeat of last night happening. Do you hear me, Alex?”
“I think Kendall might have something to say about that.”
“I don’t care. Your safety is the first priority.”
“That’s not exactly how this works.”
“It is now.”
Twenty-three
The next day, I woke around noon. It was the first time I’d ever managed to sleep in that apartment for more than a couple of hours. Obviously, after the ordeal Saturday night, I wasn’t at a hundred percent. My hip was sore, and I knew it was important to follow doctor’s orders. RICE - rest, ice, compress, and elevate. Too bad waitressing at a strip joint wasn’t conducive to medical advice.
The R aspect was rather touch and go since chairs and air mattresses didn’t really count as rest, but I’d been elevating and icing the injury as much as possible. Walking was slightly less painful today, but I shouldn’t stretch, run, or otherwise engage in physical activity until the strains and tears had a chance to repair themselves. Deciding to do my best to take it easy, I grabbed my gym bag, dropped the memory card from the night before into the bottom of my sneakers, made sure I had my outfit for the club, and slipped my nine millimeter into my purse. Without the bulky parka, I couldn’t conceal the handgun underneath my sweatshirt and risk Francisco discovering it again. After making sure everything damning was well-hidden, I slowly made it down the steps and out the front door. Francisco was waiting in the alley near the dumpster.
“Hey,” he bounded up, “where are you going?”
“The gym. Then work.”
“Did you forget what we talked about?”
“No, but I thought you were dropping the product off at the Black Cat like you did the other day.”
“It’s already there. Inside your locker. Additional instructions are written on a slip of paper.”
“Okay.” I shivered and hugged myself to keep warm.
“What happened to your coat?”
“The police took it as evidence.”
“And your leg is pretty banged up,” he commented, noticing the slight limp to my gait. “So why are you going to the gym?”
“I hate to break it to you, but I still have to keep the abs in shape. Clubs fire girls for flab. So I don’t have much of a choice.”
Continuing to the bus stop, I took a seat and tried to ignore his watchful stare. C’mon, Parker, focus, my mind ordered. Normally, I was better at reading people, but Francisco was far too contradictory in his actions to make his motives clear. He might suspect the untruthfulness of my statements, or he simply wanted to make his dominance apparent in every aspect of my life. Alexia Nicholson didn’t need to account for every minute of her day, but Francisco failed to agree.
When the bus arrived, I climbed on board and took a seat at the back. I didn’t recognize anyone, and after exiting at the proper stop for the gym, I checked again for signs of a tail. As soon as I was sure no one was following me, I ducked into the ladies’ locker room and deposited the intel inside the agreed upon locker. Then I went into one of the empty changing stalls, pulled the curtain, and waited a half hour before leaving. After making certain the coast was clear, I hailed a cab and went to the motel.
Agent Eddie Lucca was inside, sitting at the table with a few files in front of him. At the sound of the key in the door, his hand came to rest on the government-issued firearm that was strategically placed beside him.
“Always prepared?” I asked, locking the door and glancing out the drawn curtain.
“Did you encounter any problems on your way here, ma’am?” His lip twitched slightly.
“Nothing to report.” I bristled, knowing that I shouldn’t dish it out if I wasn’t willing to take it. “What are we doing?” I eased onto the closest bed and propped my legs up. “Steele expects me to start moving coke tonight. I don’t know what form it’s in or precisely what is already in play. He had a system set up for the E tabs, so he must have something established for the harder stuff.” I bit my lip. “The KXDs run the Black Cat. There’s no other explanation.”
“Are you sure you aren’t the analyst?”
“I wish. Investigations suck far less than undercover field assignments.” I smirked. “We could switch, and you can parade around in sequined underwear while I compile files and collect evidence.”
He ignored my generous offer. “We should get started. The sooner you get back to work, the faster we’ll nail these assholes.” He flipped open a file, folding the cover backward and handing it to me. “Let’s begin with the intel we gathered from the bug you planted inside the SUV yesterday.”
The words were a bit garbled and staticky, but I could make out Steele’s voice and Bard’s. The other three voices on the recording must have belonged to the three men I saw exiting the SUV. Inside the truck, they had spoken of restaking their territorial claims against the Lords. There was some mention of rats and sellouts, but their words were guarded, even within the privacy afforded by Steele’s SUV.
“After your call, we passed word along, and the PD scrambled a few patrol units to the Lords’ neighborhood. No shots were fired. But I don’t know what would have happened if there hadn’t been an obvious police presence,” Lucca concluded. “I’m guessing if it weren’t for us, the ME’s office would have been busy this morning. You did good.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“Moving on,” he wasn’t much for coddling, and that quality was one I could appreciate, “we’ve had more time to determine what went wrong with the raid. A couple of the passenger trains tested positive for drug residue. The drug dogs hit on it, and the evidence collection teams swabbed the area, discovering a mix of heroin, cocaine, and marijuana. Pills wouldn’t show up in our tests, so we still can’t be certain what other illegal substances the KXDs might be receiving from their international contacts.”
“What about the other angles? Firearms and human trafficking?”
“Have you ever met a dog trained to detect guns?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes. “We didn’t get a hit on any explosive residue, but that isn’t telling us much.”
“Well, at least they aren’t moving bombs or WMDs.” After skimming through the rest of the files, I didn’t learn anything that I didn’t already know about this assignment. “Okay, so what’s our play for tonight?”
“After your near-arrest, the PD’s been brought up to speed on the basics. Someone from narcotics division has an in with the KXDs. But the police brass isn’t sharing their intel with us.” Lucca rolled his eyes. “From what I have inferred, they might have a few ongoing operations that overlap with ours, but they haven’t been forthcoming, despite how hard we’ve been urging them to open up.” He flipped through some pages, coming up blank. “We’re hoping whoever you’re supposed to pass the product to will be an undercover cop.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“We’ve tapped into the surveillance system at the Black Cat. Agent Wolfe is on-site as a bouncer. We’ll follow the breadcrumbs wherever they might lead and coordinate arrests. With any luck, we’ll scoop up someone a bit higher in the food chain than your average addict and get them to name names.”
“And maybe afterward we can make friendship bracelets and hold hands,” I said, and he gave me a look. “Optimism really isn’t my thing.” Rubbing my eyes, I just wanted this to end. “Hey, what happened to Veronica? Jablonsky said he wanted to bring her in for a chat once she was released from the hospital.”
Lucca shrugged, standing and placing the files inside a briefcase. “He doesn’t pass much information my way. He considers things like that above my pay grade.” He glanced up from what he was doing and narrowed his eyes. “How come he lets you in on these little secrets?”
“Just lucky, I guess.” I wasn’t about to explain my history with Mark to the boy scout. Lucca nodded a
nd went to the connecting door. Apparently the OIO sprang for the adjoining room to lessen the chance of anyone realizing I was undercover. “Hey, what’s the word on using the motel phone?”
“It’s clean. You can call anyone. It’s not a risk since the KXDs have no way of accessing phone records, and it’s not a cell that they could accidentally stumble upon or take from you.” He paused at the door. “Is there someone at home that you need to contact?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, it’s secure, so feel free.” He unlocked the two sets of doors. “Good luck tonight.”
“Yeah. Let’s hope I don’t need it.”
Checking the time, I picked up the phone and dialed Martin. After a few rings, he answered, surprised and elated to hear my voice. “You actually kept your promise. Amazing. How are you feeling? I wanted to send flowers or chocolates or something, but you were pretty adamant that you were too busy working to even stop by your own apartment.”
“I’m feeling better. Just working a stakeout, so please delete this number from your call log when we hang up, okay?”
“Sure,” he replied, and we made small talk for a few minutes before I had to go.
At least I had some connection to the outside world, even if it would only make staying in character that much more difficult. Once we disconnected, I dressed for work, put a layer of clothing over the Black Cat’s uniform, and took a cab to the strip club. Now that Alexis Parker’s business was handled for the day, it was time to deal with Alexia Nicholson’s issues.
Inside my employee locker was a brick of cocaine. Scribbled in barely legible writing were instructions to pass this off to a specific dealer after a complicated conversation that utilized key phrases occurred. Obviously, Steele must have thought he was an international spy with all this code word nonsense, but I was just the middleman. However, it would be difficult to move such a large quantity out of my locker and into a single person’s possession without drawing undue attention from my co-workers, specifically Joe the suspicious bartender.
On the bright side, at least I wouldn’t be hocking illegal substances to a bunch of different people; however, I was supposed to pass it off to one individual who would likely do just that. At least from a tactical standpoint, making arrests would be easier. And the dealer could theoretically provide enough intel to trace back to the supplier or supply chain. It was progress, just like being taken to the location of the KXDs’ stash house and processing center. Too bad Steele’s instructions didn’t fit into the OIO’s plans.
Sliding the kilo of blow into my duffel bag to prevent premature detection, I slipped out of my street clothes and put on the stiletto heels, wincing at the added pressure and strain the shoes caused my sore tendons and ligaments. Hell, if I were really Alexia, I would have taken a bump of coke to dull the pain. Oh well, c’est la vie.
When I went to the bar to pick up an empty tray and order pad, Joe raised a questioning eyebrow. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Nothing.”
He sighed dramatically and dragged me behind the bar. There was a makeup bag for emergency touch-ups tucked between the freezer and cabinets, and he removed the bag and sifted through the items. After pulling out a tube of foundation, he grabbed a piece of paper towel.
“Did you even bother to look in the mirror before walking out here? God, it’s even worse in the back. Sit down and stop fidgeting. I’m supposed to be tending bar, not doing your makeup.”
“My makeup’s fine.”
“I’m not talking about your face.” He squeezed some of the beige liquid onto his fingertips and caked it on my back. “Is this why you weren’t here the other night?”
“I wasn’t scheduled to work.”
“Right, because you were moonlighting as someone’s punching bag.” And with that comment, I realized I was still covered in defensive wounds and bruises. Looking down, I saw the scratches on my forearm and remembered Martin’s lips on my back. I’d been too preoccupied to take notice. “It’s not the best. Cosmetology wasn’t my major,” he said, sounding more flamboyant than I’d ever heard. “But at least you look less like a brawler.” He handed the tube of makeup to me. “Maybe you should try to look less like an addict too.” The bite was back in his words, and he wiped the makeup off his hands and threw out the paper towel.
After covering up the scratches, I grabbed a pen and began making the rounds. An hour into my shift, the limp was much more pronounced as I hobbled from table to table. Given my last encounter with Joe, I found it strange that he was keeping tabs on me. And I wondered if he was working for the KXDs. Maybe he was their inside man. He knew about the coaster trick and confronted me about dealing. Mentally moving his name higher on my list of potential leads, I returned to the bar and lifted myself onto the back counter. I needed a break, and this was a good excuse to wheedle information out of Joe.
“Anyone ask for me?” I queried when he finished pouring a shot of bourbon.
“Like who?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”
The buyer had yet to show, and I didn’t spot any familiar faces from either the PD or the KXDs. The club was fairly empty. A few men were seated at the side booths, enjoying lap dances or other forms of entertainment. And the stool at the far corner of the bar was filled, but the man was turned completely around. The only thing I could make out was a tattered leather jacket and about three days worth of beard growth. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was the buyer, but he needed to interact with the waitresses if he wanted his product. And so far, he hadn’t said a word to anyone except Joe.
“Get back to work, Alexia,” Joe ordered after my ten minute break was over. He was back to being an asshole, and I couldn’t determine the reason for his mood swings. Maybe he was PMSing. I went around the bar, hissing with each step. “Don’t forget your tray.” I leaned across to grab it, and the man at the corner stool pulled me onto his lap.
“Touching is off limits,” I snapped, struggling against him.
He held on tight, chuckling. “You really need to stop ordering my girl around, Joe,” the man said. Then he whispered in my ear, “Relax, Alex, it’s me.”
Twenty-four
Pulling back, I looked into his eyes. The voice was the same, as were most of his features, but Detective Derek Heathcliff was the most convincing UC I’d ever seen. And I’d seen a lot. Even on the few rare occasions that I’d needed him to play a badass, he never looked quite as threatening and disheveled as he did now. At work, he was spit-shined and clean-cut. His clothing was impeccable, and everything from his belt to his shoes to his badge gleamed. But here, he was dressed in ragged leather and chains. His premature beard made him look like a madman, and the way he carried himself read trouble in big, bold letters.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, realizing a second later that he must have been the UC narcotics sent to assist, except he didn’t work in narcotics anymore. He was in major crimes and had been for the last five years. “I don’t have time to talk. I have work to do.”
“Yeah, I know. So figure out which of the private VIP rooms is empty because that sweet ass is about to dance for me,” he growled possessively, sounding very un-Heathcliff like.
“Joe?” I asked.
“Take four,” Joe said, and I caught a brief exchange between him and Heathcliff. “It hasn’t been used all night.”
I took Heathcliff’s hand and dragged him through the club toward the curtained cubicle in the corner. He stepped closer. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Neither should you,” I replied just as quietly. If the KXDs spotted me with a cop, I’d be done. And if I missed my window of opportunity to pass the coke off to the buyer because of Heathcliff’s appearance, I’d be just as screwed. We made it to the room, and I pushed him into the chair, just like I’d done with Francisco. “Can I get you anything, babe?”
“I’d kill for iced lemonade with oranges.”
I gaped at his words. Yes, they were ridic
ulously stupid. But no one would ever deem to speak like that in the real world, and the letters spelled K-I-L-O, making it the perfect key phrase. Derek was the buyer.
“I’m not sure exactly how to serve that particular item.”
“Well, close the curtain, and we can figure the rest out together.” After doing what he said, I moved toward him, barely able to stand, let alone dance. He pulled me forward, so I was straddling his lap. “Let me apologize now for anything that might accidentally happen,” he muttered in my ear, holding me close so we could talk privately. “Mark called Sunday and said you were in a jam, and since I still have quite a few narco connections, this made sense.”
“Now’s not the time. But you’re really the buyer Francisco told me about?”
“Yep. Where is it?”
“Down the hall, inside my duffel bag.”
“Okay. Here’s the plan. We’ll stay in here for the next twenty minutes and convince that camera that we’re doing more than talking. Then you’ll go back to the bar and tell Joe you aren’t feeling well. He’ll let you leave early. And I’ll meet you outside, near the side entrance. I’ll offer to carry your duffel, and we’ll part ways when the cab comes to pick you up.”
“Fine.”
Speaking about anything other than the trade wasn’t wise. Sure, the OIO hacked the feed, but since the club was KXD property, Bard or someone else could eventually watch the security footage. Hopefully, our close proximity and hushed voices wouldn’t be caught on tape.
The next twenty minutes were awkward, but we survived. My dignity was practically gone, and Heathcliff had his own reasons to be embarrassed. On my third step out of the room, I stumbled, landing in a clumsy heap on the floor. Derek’s eyes met mine only briefly before he went out the front door. It was part of our ploy, even if my trip wasn’t.
“Joe, I can’t keep this up. Get one of the girls to cover my section. I need to go home,” I said.
“I don’t even want to know what the two of you just did.” His eyes jetted to the VIP area. “Get out of here. You’re no good to me when you’re that wasted.”