by G. K. Parks
“Don’t lie to me, Alexia. Hotshot’s done enough lying for the both of you. You’re working with the police.”
“I’m not lying. You know me. How many times have you seen me use?” He wasn’t convinced, and given that he was inside my apartment, it made sense why he wouldn’t believe me. “What are you doing here? How did you find me? Did you come to take me home?”
“Shut your fucking mouth.” He slapped me, making my teeth rattle. “You can’t manipulate me anymore.”
He leaned down, his face inches from mine, and I jerked upward, head-butting him. The abruptness of my move sent him reeling backward, freeing my legs from beneath him. I wrapped them around his torso, hoping he’d rear back so I could get my pinned arm free and put him in a chokehold. Instead, he threw his body to the side, twisting us together. He was on his side with the bulk of his weight on top of my uninjured leg. He placed his instep against my calf and yanked himself off the ground, forcing my legs open in the process.
The scream erupted from my lungs, and tears from the sudden blast of pain blurred my vision. He clapped a hand over my mouth, not bothering to hold me down as I writhed ineffectually on the floor. Focus, Parker, the voice in my head yelled, but it took precious seconds before I could think of anything besides the searing pain and what must have been another tear to my tendon.
Although from this new position, I just needed to roll onto my side and kick him off of me. Roll and kick, then push the table away, grab the gun, and fire. It wasn’t that difficult, except my body seemed unable to function.
He removed his hand from my mouth and fumbled for the syringe. “The Alexia I know would be begging for a taste.”
“Not like this,” I gasped, struggling to free my arm from his grasp.
He pulled the cover off the needle and held my wrist in a death grip. “C’mon, you know you want it,” he insisted, trying to make out my veins in the darkness. “And in a couple of seconds you’ll be feeling really good. That bum leg of yours won’t hurt anymore. I’m gonna help you, chica.”
“Don’t.” My life, my career, and our investigation could all be over with one injection. Assuming the heroin inside the needle didn’t kill me, it would kill my career and make every single piece of evidence and every statement and report I made questionable. Steele wasn’t stupid. He knew this, and that’s why he was doing this instead of shooting me in the head. “Francisco, please.”
“That’s funny, chica. You should be begging for it.”
I felt the prick, but before Steele could press the plunger down, he careened sideways over the coffee table, knocking into the couch so hard that the furniture flipped over. Not wasting any time, I shoved the coffee table a few inches, carefully removed the needle from my arm, grabbed the gun, and got to my knees. It took another few seconds before I could stand and a good four steps before the pain in my hip became tolerable.
The sounds of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the apartment, and I trained my gun on the two men. In the dark, there wasn’t a clear shot, and I stumbled toward the kitchen, intent on adding some light to the situation. When the light came on, Martin’s eyes shot upward, and Steele knocked Martin backward. Spotting the gun aimed at him, Steele ran for the fire escape, evading the two shots I fired. One bullet shattered the glass, unintentionally aiding in his escape.
I ran after him, making it down three flights before giving up. He was too far ahead, already on the street. I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch him, and I clutched the railing in desperate need of air.
Martin came up behind me, announcing himself before I could turn the gun on him. He was on the phone with 911, and I hugged him, asking if he was okay while he waited for the operator to come on the line. The fact that he was in my apartment the entire time didn’t register until he threw Steele off of me. My mind had been singularly focused, but now it splintered in a million different directions.
“Alex,” he clutched my face, bending to press his forehead against mine, “I’ve never heard you scream like that. Are you okay? Who was that guy? What’s going on?”
“Not now.” I took the phone from his hand, limping up the rickety metal steps. Whatever damage Steele inflicted to my already injured hip wasn’t enough to prevent my mobility, and my first priority was his apprehension. How did he find me?
“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.
“This is federal agent Alexis Parker, ID number,” I rattled off my credentials, catching the shocked, betrayed look on Martin’s face. “Scramble units to begin a search. The suspect, Francisco Steele, was last seen heading south on foot. Consider him armed and dangerous. He’s wearing a charcoal grey hoodie and jeans, approximately six four, and two hundred pounds. A BOLO’s already been issued on him. Send additional units to my place.” Something about Steele’s words brought my anxiety to an all-time high. “And I need a location for Detective Derek Heathcliff.”
There was a long pause while she keyed in some details. I used those brief seconds to check the rest of my apartment for any other KXD presence, put on my shoes and jacket, grab my cuffs and credentials, and slip into my shoulder holster with my back-up nine millimeter.
“Ma’am, I can’t seem to get a location on Detective Heathcliff.”
“Send units to his place now.” I disconnected, dialing Det. O’Connell.
“Alex?” Martin looked lost, and I noticed blood on his knuckles.
“Wash your hands and then stay in the bedroom.” He nodded. I’d forgotten how great he was during crisis situations. “Nick,” I said as soon as he answered, “do you have any idea where Heathcliff might be?”
“No. What’s wrong?”
“Steele just stopped by to say hi. And since I’m blown, Derek probably is.”
“I’ll call for units to his place.”
“I already did. Do you have his address?”
“I’m texting you now.”
“Okay.”
I disconnected, dialing Mark’s home phone, anxious to move on Heathcliff’s place. If anything happened to Derek, it was my fault. He stepped in to save me.
Pushing those thoughts away, I circled through the KXD arrests. Steele shouldn’t have been able to connect the dots, so what was he doing at my place?
Martin came back into the room, and I assessed him while I waited for Jablonsky to answer. “Alex,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on the rest of his clothes, “what’s going on?”
“Apparently work came home with me. It’s too much to talk about right now. And the last thing I want is for you to be a witness or get dragged into this, but I don’t know how to avoid that. The police are on the way. They’ll have questions, so just tell them whatever you know. Once they get here, I have to go.” Hanging up, I tried Mark’s cell. Martin’s knuckles were torn up, and his brow and lip were split. But the fight with Steele didn’t cause any permanent damage.
“What about you?” He focused on my stance, watching how I favored one leg, but I shook my head.
“I’m okay, Martin.” I held up a finger to silence him when Mark answered. “Steele just dropped by. Units are searching for him. Talk to Martin,” I said to a very confused Mark. Then I handed back the phone.
Sirens grew louder, and knocking sounded at the door. I opened it, flashing my credentials at the responding officers and giving them a brief update before brushing past them. Someone had to find Derek.
Forty
When I pulled up to Heathcliff’s address, two patrol cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance were on scene. What the hell happened? I raced inside and up the steps. The uniformed officer at the door blocked my path, and I shoved my badge in his face, never breaking stride. Blood spatter streaked the wall, still so fresh that a few drops continued to drip downward. A black tarp covered whoever painted the wall, and my knees threatened to buckle.
“Derek?” Two officers spun at my outburst. “Derek?” I called again, much more frantic this time. One of the officers shifted his gaze from t
he notepad to me. “Is that…” I choked, swallowing the thought along with the bile. “Where’s Detective Heathcliff?”
One of them nodded to a doorway, and I moved deeper inside Derek’s apartment. In the next room, I spotted him sitting on the edge of the couch while a paramedic monitored his vitals. He looked up, pushing the guy away and getting to his feet.
“Parker,” he teetered but remained upright, “Steele knows the truth. I didn’t tell them. Nothing in this world would get me to talk, but they took my phone. God, I’m so sorry. I should have password protected my address book.”
“Sit down, Detective,” the paramedic ordered, and I moved closer, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of Heathcliff. “You took a nasty hit to the head. Stay put.” Derek’s hair was matted with blood, and welts covered what I could see of his torso.
“Who were they? What did they want?” I asked.
“Three guys. One was a KXD lookout, and I’m not sure who the other two were. They got the jump on me. When I came to,” he blinked, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, trying to focus his vision which I suspected was blurry, “I heard one of them on the phone. He was reading off your address. Apparently Steele’s calling the shots now.”
“How did they find you?”
“I don’t know.” He took an unsteady breath. “I didn’t get a chance to ask them any questions.”
“What happened?”
“They must have figured that the three of them could handle me. But while they were knocking me around, I grabbed my Glock and put two of them down. I winged the third, but he escaped.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the medical examiner arrive. Then I heard a few familiar voices. Agent Jablonsky, Lieutenant Moretti, and Detective O’Connell were vying for answers from anyone they could find. Heathcliff met my eyes, slumping backward into the cushions, too defeated to care. “Nail that bastard, Parker.”
“Absolutely, just as soon as I know you’re okay,” I promised, eyeing the paramedic for reassurance.
“He’ll have to go to the hospital for some x-rays and a head CT, but his chances are a million times better than the guys in the body bags.”
“I’ll be fine,” Heathcliff insisted.
“You better be.” I stepped away to find Mark as Lt. Moretti entered the room. O’Connell caught my eye and nodded. I mouthed ‘thanks’ and found Mark standing outside the front door, giving orders to the uniformed officers. “Shouldn’t you be at my place with Martin?”
“He said you were on your way here.” Mark studied me for a moment. “You really were desperate to work the weekend. C’mon, let’s go. The police can handle things here.”
“We need to find Steele, but first, I need to know that Martin’s safe.”
“He’s fine. Confused as fuck, but otherwise, perfectly healthy.”
Nodding, I studied the interior of Derek’s apartment. The blood spatter and bullet holes riddled most of the living room. Heathcliff said he winged one of them, and it was possible Steele might have gotten cut when he bolted from my place. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was our only lead.
The paramedics moved Derek to a stretcher and were rolling him out while O’Connell followed close behind. “Hang on, I have one last question,” I said, halting their procession. “Where does Bard send his bangers to get stitched up?”
“A vet’s office, Dr. Ovalon, over on Twelfth,” Derek replied, and I nodded. “Do you think that’s where Steele is?”
“Maybe or someone there might know where he is.” I shrugged, and they hauled him away. “Meet you there?” I asked Mark, holding up my keys.
“Absolutely, but go quietly so they won’t hear us coming.”
I arrived first, parking at a hydrant half a block from the veterinarian office. Before getting out of the car, I checked the clip in my gun, tucked it into my shoulder holster, made sure my jacket was unzipped, and my credentials were secure in my pocket. Then I scanned the neighborhood for signs of activity. Steele was nowhere to be seen. I got out of the car, pushing the door closed as silently as possible before making my way to the address.
The front door was unlocked, and I cautiously stepped inside. The bell above the door clanged. Shit. I held my breath, but the sounds of barking from within might have been enough to camouflage my entrance. After checking the waiting room and the area behind the front counter, I made my way to the exam rooms. They were empty, so I continued to the back where the sounds of barking and the smell of cat urine and wet dog grew stronger.
A few animals were caged, whimpering, meowing, and barking. Continuing down the corridor, I noticed blood on the beige tile floor. One doorway was slightly open, and I pulled my gun, sidling up to it and reading the word “office” etched in the frosted glass. Pressing my back to the wall, I peered inside. A man had his shirt off, and someone in a lab coat was making quick work with the sutures.
“Federal agent,” I announced, holding my credentials in one hand and my gun in the other, “put your hands where I can see them.” The doctor immediately threw his hands up, and I spotted a handgun on the table near the wounded man. “Don’t do it.” His eyes flicked from me to the discarded weapon, and he seemed to be calculating his chances. “Don’t you already have enough holes in your body?” I quipped, easing into the room and edging toward the gun. “Let me see those hands.” He lifted one, but the other clutched his stomach, just below his ribs where blood was seeping through his fingers. “Good boy.”
I snatched the gun off the counter, cuffed the vet to the pipes, and stared at the KXD member. He sneered. “You’re that stripper bitch.”
“Wow, you recognized me with my clothes on.” I approached him cautiously, pulling a plastic zip tie from my inner jacket pocket. “I guess that means you deserve a treat.” I yanked his arms backward and hooked his wrists to a metal loop used to secure a dog’s leash. “Where’s Steele?”
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb.” I glanced at the suture kit and picked up a wad of gauze. “You should really apply more pressure.” I shoved the cotton into the bullet wound, and he shrieked. “That’s better. Should we try this again?” The vet voiced a protest, but I ignored it. “Or maybe you’d prefer if I stitch you up.”
“She’ll do it,” Mark said, entering the room.
“You can’t do this,” the vet protested again. “You’re federal agents. We have rights.”
“You have the right to remain silent, so shut the hell up,” Mark bellowed. He unhooked the restraints, grabbing the vet and dragging him out of the room. Mark returned a second later without my cuffs, so the doc must have been detained in one of the exam rooms.
“Where’s Francisco Steele?” I asked again.
“I dunno.”
“You must know how to contact him,” Mark said, taking over. This wasn’t exactly good cop, bad cop. It was more psycho bitch cop, and I don’t give a shit cop, but it worked for us. “Why don’t you give him a call to meet you here?” It wasn’t a suggestion.
Mark patted him down, finding a switchblade and a cell phone in the man’s pocket. He skimmed through the list of contacts, stopping on Steele’s name and holding it up to the KXD member.
“Dude, I can’t. Do you know what he’ll do to me?”
“You almost killed a man earlier tonight. Do you know what I’ll do to you if you don’t call him?” I asked, jabbing the gauze in deeper. He howled again, gasping. “And so help you god if you tip him off.”
“Don’t try anything cute,” Jablonsky warned, pressing speaker and hitting the dial button.
“Is it done?” Steele’s voice asked.
“Naw, man, he got the jump on us. I’m at Ovalon’s. You need to get your ass over here.”
“Fucking idiots,” Steele griped, letting out a few exasperated huffs. “I’m on my way. Be ready to go when I get there. The freaking pigs are turning up the heat.” Before the KXD member could say anything else, Mark disconnected the call.
“Now we wait,” Jablonsky said, using
his own phone to send a text. “The doc’s out of the way. A team is on standby to move in once they spot Steele. We’ll just have to hope he doesn’t notice anything’s amiss before we can grab him.” He assessed the condition of our captive. “Eh, you’ll be fine.”
We took up strategic positions, waiting for Steele to arrive. When the bell above the door chimed, and the barking grew exponentially louder, I pressed my back against the wall, keeping my gun at my thigh. Mark donned a spare lab coat and turned his back to the door. When Steele stepped into the office, he didn’t notice me until Mark turned around, aiming his gun
“Hey, chico,” I snarled, shoving him against the wall and patting him down while Mark kept his gun trained on him, “you left so abruptly that I forgot to tell you something.” I removed Steele’s gun, jerking his arm behind his back so tightly that if he struggled, I’d break the bone or dislocate his shoulder. The standby team entered the room, providing support and dragging our other two detainees away. Steele didn’t seem that tough in a room full of federal agents. “You’re under arrest.” A fellow agent handed me a pair of cuffs, and I clicked them in place, tightening them as much as possible before passing Steele off to someone else. “Maybe you and Bard can be cellmates.”
“This is entrapment,” Steele growled, and I laughed. He fought against the two agents that dragged him out of the building, but he didn’t have a chance in hell of escaping.
“Good job, Agent Parker,” Jablonsky said, leading us from the building. “So are you planning to get started on the paperwork now?”
“We might as well.”
“How did I get roped into this mess when you were the one that wanted to work the weekend?” he teased, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “By the way, you need to expound on what happened at your apartment earlier.”
“Yeah, we’ll get to that too.”
Forty-one
With the apprehension of Francisco Steele, the KXDs disappeared into the abyss. The remaining gangbangers would either be assimilated or picked off by their rivals. Optimistically, maybe they would get out of the life and become productive members of society. At least, that was what I hoped. Who knew my glasses were rose colored?