Dying for a Fix

by G. K. Parks

  “Steele just heard the news,” I said. “He dashed out of his apartment like a bat out of hell. Whatever Shakespeare is planning to do, it’s happening now.”

  “Great,” Derek growled, dialing a number. He returned to the bathroom, turning on the sink and shutting the door.

  Despite the fact my apartment wasn’t bugged, the walls inside this building were thin. And we couldn’t risk tipping anyone off. Bard owned this neighborhood and everyone in it. If someone discovered we were law enforcement, it would be a matter of minutes before that person gave us up.

  Peering out the window, Steele’s SUV was still parked outside. The streets were empty. Even the lookouts were gone. That seemed strange since Bard was under the impression the police department was keeping tabs on him. Why would he pull his spotters? Something didn’t sit right, and an unsettling twinge nagged at the corners of my mind.

  Heathcliff returned to the main room and joined me at the window after turning on the kitchen sink. “I’m to sit tight and see how this plays out. Once we know something for sure, I’ll call it in.”

  “We haven’t really talked since that morning Steele showed up,” I said quietly, my eyes never leaving Bard’s apartment building. “What happened after I was told to leave?”

  “Do we have to do this now?”

  “No, but if anything might be relevant, I’d like to know about it.”

  “Shakespeare and his guys got in an altercation with the Lords. You saw the aftermath.”

  “You stitched up that wounded KXD member.” My own voice sounded foreign in my ears, and I couldn’t be sure that the words didn’t come across like an accusation.

  “Just to get the bleeding under control until he could get actual help.” Derek continued to stare out the window, but he must have felt my eyes on him. “Don’t look at me like that. You wanted us to save him. He’s saved. Did he deserve it? Probably not.” A grimace ran across his face before he could stop it. “Which makes every life he takes from here on out my fault.”

  “It isn’t. And you know that.” Swallowing, I wasn’t used to Heathcliff wallowing. That was my schtick. “How…” I paused, unsure if I should push, and he glanced at me, waiting.

  “Go ahead. Rip off the band-aid.”

  “How did Bard know you could help?”

  “Because five years ago when I was originally assigned to infiltrate the KXDs, DeAngelo Bard was shot through the chest. And I saved his life.”

  “Derek.” I couldn’t get any other words out, even though I wanted to say something to remove the sour expression from his face.

  “Yeah, my career is that fucked up. So don’t think you’re the only one with a questionable history,” he spat, “because I’m certain I have you beat.” He shifted his focus out the window, and we remained silent for a few minutes. “After you were sent home, Bard spoke about paying back the Lords for the trouble they caused. He was tightening up the ranks and sending outsiders and wannabes packing. I offered to leave, but given our history, he told me to stick around. He never mentioned Joe or the strip joint. He talked about shutting down the Lords for good by ending their dealers, stealing their working girls, and taking over their neighborhoods. After I left, I phoned the precinct and was given orders to report to narcotics. By the time I made it back here, it was too late. I was on my way to your apartment when I heard those two knucklehead lookouts talking about Bard sending a message to some guy at the club. After I discovered it was Joe, I knew we had to move in.”

  “And I got in the way?” I challenged, arching an eyebrow. “Because the way I remember it, I was prepared to get him out.”

  “They would have killed you. The second you stepped foot inside that room, it would have been over. You’re the newest addition at the club and the weakest link. Nicholson’s a heroin addict. By design, they aren’t the most trustworthy or reliable people. Frankly, when I put you in that cab, I hoped you’d get home early enough that Bard and Steele wouldn’t suspect you. But for all I knew, you might have returned to find a firing squad waiting. It was a calculable risk, and I didn’t see another choice.” His eyes flicked from Bard’s apartment to me. “Do you think that’s why Bard called Steele over? Do you think you’ve been made? You were snooping around right before ESU intervened.”

  “No. Steele trusts me, especially after I spent the night proving myself to him. In the last few hours, I’ve moved five grand of blow and let things get a little freaky upstairs.” Heathcliff met my eyes, and I sighed. “Don’t worry, I washed my hands.” I turned serious. “Actually, the call from Bard was kind of a godsend because I was prepared to inflict painful and possibly permanent physical damage to Francisco’s favorite body part.”

  “What are you going to do when he comes back? You know he wants some and doesn’t seem the type to just let it go.”

  “I have no idea. Maybe he won’t come back. Aren’t your people supposed to roll in and arrest everyone or something?”

  He smirked. “Sure, now you want our help. And what exactly is your team doing?”

  “We’re working the supply angles. Office of International Operations,” I winked at him, “the name says it all.”

  Remembering everything that happened in the last six hours, I stood and went to my phone. The OIO needed to know about the lab that Steele had taken me to and a few other precious tidbits. Deciding now was an okay time to send a few encrypted messages, I left Heathcliff to monitor the situation outside while I fiddled with the phone.

  The responses I received were brief, and I suspected Jablonsky must have called it a night after confiscating the bag of cocaine from the ladies’ room. Lucca or one of the techs was probably on early morning watch, and they tended to keep information close to the vest. It was protocol to minimize the use of unsecured communications, and despite the encryption program, a throwaway cell phone was hardly secure. After changing out of my stripper clothes and into a basic t-shirt and jeans, I returned to the window.

  “Did I miss anything exciting?” I asked, glancing at the water cascading from the faucet.

  “A pigeon crapped on Steele’s SUV,” Heathcliff deadpanned, not bothering to tear his eyes from the window.

  “Did anyone shoot it?”

  “No.”

  “Then I guess I didn’t miss anything exciting.” I unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a yawn.

  “Since there aren’t any new developments, why don’t you get some sleep?”

  Truthfully, I was exhausted, and it didn’t take much wheedling to convince me to climb onto the jumbo sized balloon that called itself a bed, pop a few ibuprofen to counteract the inevitable ache that would intensify after a few hours of sleep, and curl into a ball. When I opened my eyes again, it was noon.

  “They still haven’t come out,” Heathcliff said, immediately filling a mug with bottled water and popping it into the microwave. “Well, Bard and Steele haven’t. The rejects are taking up space on the street corners.”

  “Any idea what they might be planning?”

  I expected him to hand over the heated mug, but instead, he dumped a packet of instant coffee into it, stirred, and took a sip. Obviously, we weren’t trading shifts at the window, so I did a few careful stretches, working the kinks out of my back and neck, and hoped that loosening up my legs wouldn’t make my hip worse.

  “The last time Bard holed up this long, he planned a large-scale assault, complete with military-grade assault weapons.”

  “Would he be stupid enough to declare war on the police department?”

  “I don’t know.” Heathcliff sucked in a breath. “He’s more likely to seek revenge on a rival. He knows the rules. If you kill a cop, every police officer in the city will hunt you down.”

  “But he tortured Joe. He doesn’t care about that.”

  Frowning, Heathcliff considered my point. “He must have thought he’d get away with it without anyone discovering the connection.”

  That irritating gnawing at the recesses of my mind returned, bu
zzing a question through my brain. “What if he thought Joe was working for the Lords?”

  “Where would he get that idea?”

  “Steele’s made mention that the Lords were out to sabotage the clubs. Veronica was attacked by members of the Lords, at least one of whom came after me. What was Joe’s established background? Would it have made the KXDs suspicious?”

  A noise in the hallway startled me, and I clamped my mouth shut. We didn’t have the water running. Holy shit. I went to the door, but I didn’t see anyone.

  “We weren’t talking that loud. It’s fine,” Heathcliff assured, watching as I checked the clip in my gun, holstered the weapon, and nervously began pacing. But for my sanity, he flipped the handle on the faucet. “I don’t know much. No one read me in on our current UCs. But I’ve been doing this long enough that I know the men in the unit.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that I walked into the Black Cat, expecting to see one familiar face but instead that number turned out to be two.”

  The PD didn’t tell Heathcliff they were working this either. Not only did law enforcement agencies refuse to share intel with others, but they couldn’t even share intel within the same command structure. No wonder we couldn’t stop this. The gangs and cartels were more organized than we were.

  “Heads up,” Heathcliff put the mug down and sat up straight, “Steele’s coming this way.”

  “Great.”

  My stomach clenched tightly, and my mind raced through possible ways to thwart his advances. Using Heathcliff’s undercover persona as a permanent love interest was probably my best bet, but it could endanger our covers and our lives. Mark’s words echoed through my ears. Do what you have to in order to survive. But there were some lines I’d never cross because they’d jeopardize my morality and the investigation. Therefore, I’d just have to play this another way.

  Steele pounded against the door, and I blew out a steadying breath, tossed a final glance to Heathcliff who didn’t move an inch from the chair, and opened the door. Francisco didn’t look particularly apologetic for running out on me, and he barged into the apartment without so much as a hello. Frankly, he didn’t even seem surprised to find Heathcliff inside.

  “Those bastards fucked with the wrong people,” Steele bellowed, crossing the room and sifting through my club wear. “They’re like a cancer that we’re gonna cut out.” He ran his fingers over the black sequins of each of my tops but didn’t find whatever he was looking for. He was on a rampage, so I stepped back and let him do what he wanted. Seconds later, he fished his cell from his pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and held it up to his ear. “Nothing. Like I said, it’s not her.” He paused, his back to us, but I didn’t risk taking my eyes off of him. “Okay. Sure. I’ll bring her too.” He stuck the phone in his pocket and spun.

  “What’s up?” I asked, attempting to appear slightly cross.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Fire burned behind his eyes. “But Shakespeare wants us.” His eyes rested on Heathcliff for a split second. “Is this your new home? I guess since Alexia’s around pussy all day, she’s decided to take in a stray.”

  Derek produced a cruel, sadistic smile. “That’s only because you aren’t man enough to close the deal.”

  My eyes went wide with momentary shock. What the hell did Derek think he was doing? Shaking it off, Francisco’s gaze was still trained on his competition, and he didn’t notice my slip. The two remained locked in a staring contest for a solid minute, and then Steele narrowed his eyes and stepped toward Derek.

  “Do you want to say that again?” Steele asked.

  “You heard me the first time, Francisco.” Heathcliff stood, moving to within an inch of Steele. “She’s mine now. You’ve blown your chance. And if you try to lay claim again, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

  Steele laughed, an ugly sound that rumbled through his chest. “Shakespeare won’t protect you forever. He’ll get tired of your attitude soon enough, and when he does,” he lifted the gun from his waistband and pressed the muzzle against Derek’s temple, “you’ll regret this conversation.”

  Thirty-three

  Following the altercation in my apartment, Steele dragged me across the street to Bard’s, ordering Heathcliff to stay away. My mind was reeling from that disgusting show of male dominance. My feminist attitude was offended by the entire situation, but I had to bite my tongue. For once, that mindset wasn’t important. What was important was the fact that Derek just painted himself as Steele’s nemesis. And I wouldn’t put it past the KXD lieutenant to blow a hole or two through his competition. But luckily, Bard ran the show, and Derek’s heroics from five years ago had earned him a favored position with the head of the gang. It would be enough to keep him protected for now.

  “Any particular reason you ran out on me? Or maybe you’d like to share why you were copping a feel of my work uniform,” I said as we went down the icy steps to Bard’s apartment.

  “The Black Cat had a rat,” Steele said, and I wondered if he was hoping to sound clever. “We were handling the problem, but someone must have heard the ruckus and tipped off the cops. The fuzz is turning up the heat, and the Lords think that they’re just gonna sit back and laugh their asses off while we scramble.” He stopped. “That ain’t happenin’.”

  “What does this have to do with me?” I wondered if I should have asked about the identity of the rat instead.

  “Shakespeare and I spent the last few hours with the Black Cat’s security footage, and now he wants to talk to you.”

  Shit. Forcing my breathing to remain steady, I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

  He sighed, a growl emanating from his chest. “Stop asking so many questions.” He keyed in the security code and opened the door to Bard’s apartment. “Because I could ask you a few of my own, like how you could betray me again.”

  “I’m not your property. I can screw whoever I want, whenever I want.”

  “Spoken like a true whore,” Bard said from within the recesses of the living room. He flicked on a light, adding to the dramatic effect, and gestured to a chair that was in the center of the room. “Take a seat.” I hesitated, so he added, “I wasn’t asking.”

  After answering his questions about the club, my interactions with the girls and Joe, and what exactly I’d been up to the rest of the night, Bard grabbed my wrist, manipulating my arm around and studying the most recent punctures and phony track marks. He must have realized they might be fake, and I didn’t know if they’d hold up to his scrutiny. But at least a few of the needle marks were real. He pinched the sensitive flesh on the inside of my elbow, and when one of the scabbed spots seeped blood, he was pleased.

  “Congratulations, you’ve redeemed yourself,” Bard declared, taking a step back and picking up a pipe from the mantel. After holding a lighter over the bowl and taking a few puffs of what I could only imagine must be crack, his upper lip curved into a smile. “And I thought you’d be the first person I’d kill.” He snickered. “Funny how things change. Francisco says you know your way around a gun.”

  “I do.”

  “Good. You’re gonna show me.”

  He barked out half a dozen names, and Steele grabbed my upper arm, hoisting me out of the chair. It was time to go. Francisco led our motley crew to his SUV. Three KXD members climbed in the back, and I feared what was about to happen. Another three joined Bard inside his SUV, and the two vehicles darted into afternoon traffic.

  “They’ll never expect this,” one of the guys in back said. “I can’t wait to see their faces right before we blow them off.”

  “Easy, Petey,” Steele chided, “we’re not blowing them off. We’re leaving that up to the professional.” He gave me a look from the corner of his eye, making sure the whore reference didn’t go by unnoticed, but I remained silent. “Shakespeare wants to test out the fresh meat.”

  “I thought we were sending a message,” another voice said. “Aren’t we hitting thos
e douchebag Lords where it’ll hurt them the most?” He chuckled. “We should light up their stash house.”

  “We’re gonna empty their stash house while Alexia distracts them.” Steele actually met my eyes this time. “You’ll want to keep them interested just long enough to shoot them.” His eyes darkened, and his voice grew hard. “If you were smart, you would have used Hotshot as practice.”

  “Francisco,” I hissed, realizing the backseat had grown uncomfortably quiet, “it just happened.” Heathcliff’s story and appearance ruined my declaration to show some affection and gratitude to the KXD lieutenant and any chance of finding my way back into Steele’s good graces. “He was there. You weren’t.”

  “Ooh, burn.” Petey laughed.

  “Slut,” Steele muttered, but the rest of the ride continued in silence.

  By the time we reached our destination, the sun was barely above the horizon. It’d be dark within the hour. Bard pulled to a stop diagonally behind Steele’s SUV. The punks from the backseat emptied out of the car, and Steele barely cast a look in my direction before exiting. Just as I reached for the handle, one of the KXDs from the back opened my car door.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, holding out a snub-nosed twenty-two. “Shakespeare wants me to point out the Lords you’re supposed to target.” I hesitated to touch the weapon, wondering what other evidence might be on it that would prove useful, but the man pressed it into my palm. “You’ll lure them away from the door, maybe around the corner so no one will see, and then pop ‘em.” He pointed to three men huddled around the side entrance to a pizza joint. “Just be quiet about it.”