“Nobody’s ever going to view us as legitimate. We’re born Bratva, cuz.”
“That perception is why it’s so hard to prove that we’ve gone legit, which means we’ll have to be even more careful.”
Novak stopped the coin’s movement and looked at his boss. “What do you mean?”
“I mean some people have to be right; they will stop at nothing to prove their point—Agent Turner is one of those people.”
Agent Turner listened to the rhythmic breathing of his partner who was asleep in the bed beside him. He allowed himself to be lost in the comfort of consistency that it offered to his frayed nerves.
He’d managed to toe the line throughout a long career. Sure, he’d pushed the envelope right to the edge of breaking the law, but he’d never done so—until now.
It was new territory for him but not unfamiliar in nature. He’d seen plenty of agents cross that proverbial line; some had escaped the fallout, others not so much. It had been a gamble he’d never been willing to take; until now.
His reasoning for what he was going to do came from a good place; it was a means to an end. He hadn’t shared his intentions with his partner. He would cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now, he was biding his time to see if his instincts were leading him in the right direction.
This was the first time in his life when he understood clearly that things weren’t always black or white. There were different shades of grey. Shades that went from dark and obscure to such a light hue that they looked more like a seedy shade of white that had long ago lost any luster of brilliance. Something that once held promise and was now just another rag to be tossed into the category of average.
That was the problem. There was only one thing the agent feared: being average. Up until this point, he’d been exceptional… now he was faced with the question of just how far he’d go to prove a point.
Chapter Twenty Two
Glazov and Novak sat glued to the television. It had gone from late night ads of paid programming to comics with the latest jokes on the most recent infamous of the human population, and then to Breaking News.
The anchor with short, blonde bobbed hair and the look of serious professionalism that didn’t cross the line of being overdone filled them in on the latest news.
This is the second explosion in a three-month period; which has the authorities questioning if it isn’t a gang war. Drug wars have been at a heightened state with the influx of heroin and cocaine that are being brought into the area.
Because the crime involves explosives, the FBI has the capability of charging the unknown suspects with a terrorist act, which falls under the Patriot Act. This would give the government power to search homes and businesses without a search warrant. It remains to be seen if that’s how the authorities will deal with this matter. Authorities refused to comment, saying they weren’t permitted to answer media questions because this is an ongoing investigation.
Glazov cut his eyes at Novak. “Those crazy kids pulled it off. Sometimes they surprise me with their capabilities, and I’m Roksana’s father.”
“That’s because they were raised right.”
That got a rare laugh out of the Pakhan. “Only you would say teaching your children the ins and outs of organized crime was raising them right.”
“So, we go by a different morality measurement.”
“So, you can measure morality?” The smirk on Glazov’s face was evidence that he was entertained by his crazy cousin’s take on life. It was even more amusing to him when Novak answered seriously.
“Oh, hell yeah. You kill somebody in this business who had it coming, and you just tell yourself the bullet did that shit. You were nothing but the avenue of travel. But if you fuck around on your wife, that shit’s way off the moral chart, un-fuckin-forgivable.”
“Though I’m inclined to agree with you about not fucking around on your wife, you’re still crazy.”
Jericho reached over and kissed his wife where she was in the bed beside him watching the breaking news.
“I’m glad you woke me up, Jericho. What does this mean?”
“Well, I won’t deny that it is a double-edged sword. There’s no evidence, no flash drive floating around that can come back ten years from now—”
“But…” her tone was laced with skepticism.
“—and now Alexander Glazov owns us. The disk won’t come back and bite us in the ass, but when we’re least expecting it, the great Pakhan will call in on that favor.”
“Pakhan?”
“It’s what they call the boss in charge in the Bratva world.”
He softly laid her hand over his and sincerely added, “Babe, we can’t worry about ten years from now. This nightmare is over. Let’s appreciate the fact neither of us is going to jail or worse.” This nightmare is just beginning.
“You’re right, babe. I love you and I love my son. That’s enough. It’s all I need.”
Jericho’s look got serious. “No more killing. I don’t care what the circumstances are.”
She winked at him and made the scout’s honor sign.
“Yeah… right. You know when you contacted me I never would have thought you were an angel of death. You totally blindsided me. Never in a million years would I have guessed you were a killer. It’s the first time in my career that something hit me and I never saw it coming—you still baffle me. You, my lady, are the definition of— a contradiction in terms.”
Epilogue
Jericho looked over at his sleeping wife and moved the sheet. He wanted a visual, a touch, and a connection. He lightly placed the palm of his hand on her stomach, and a tiny flutter made him smile. He leaned over and whispered to her, the life in her womb, “You know I’m here, baby girl. You know my voice, you know my touch, and you already know I will do anything to make sure you’re safe.”
“Is she answering you?” Angel’s sleepy voice crept into their private conversation.
Jericho lifted his head from where he had it rested on her stomach. “As a matter of fact, she does; as soon as I put my hand on your stomach, I felt a flutter. So yes, she does speak to me in her own way.”
“She should. You’re her daddy.” Angel raised up enough to where she could see him better. “Are you happy it’s a girl?”
“I’m happy she’s a girl, I’m happy I’m married to my soulmate, and I’m happy all of the drama is behind us.”
“I am too, baby. Everything has to be okay, right? I mean, it’s been months. Surely something would have come up if anyone in the FBI knew what we did.”
“They don’t waste any time. If they even suspect anything they start calling people into meetings and interrogating them, and then the whole lie detector shit starts. We’re okay, baby. The last thing we want to do is start turning over rocks and looking for something that doesn’t exist.”
“That covers the FBI, but what about Alexander Glazov?”
“I told you, it could be today, tomorrow, or twenty years from now when he could call in on that favor—” he raised up on one elbow and finished his sentence “— and one thing I can tell you is: Alexander Glazov is a professional. When he does things, he does them in a manner that no one gets caught. It isn’t like we’re indebted to some half-cocked hothead that is going to do something stupid. He’s smart, he researches, and he has the right connections. Rumor has it that he has connections with Governor Anthony Johnson. We’ll be fine. Just don’t kill anybody else.”
She raised her right arm bent at the elbow and held up three fingers, cocked her head, and winked at him.
“Scouts honor my ass.”
Agent Turner looked at his partner sleeping as he twirled a flash drive through his fingers. It was the first time he had ever kept anything from her. It wasn’t a matter of hiding; it was a matter of biding… his time. Revenge was a dish best served cold. This wasn’t necessarily a case of revenge; more like insurance.
One thing was for certain in any life regardless of a person’s profession: ch
ange. A man like Agent Turner might need insurance one day. Time had a way of bringing things full circle. He never would have expected things to work out this way, and he had no intentions of hurting anyone, but he damn sure wasn’t going to allow anyone to hurt him or his woman.
He’d spent his life doing the right thing, and the agency would think nothing of using him as a scapegoat if the opportunity arose. It had taken him over twenty years of allegiance and loyalty to the FBI for him to realize many of the gangsters he’d put in prison had more loyalty to each other than the FBI agents did.
Jericho was young, but he was smart. After all these years David Turner had been an agent he realized now he wasn’t just an agent. He was a man—a man who would do anything to protect his woman.
The flash disk felt good between his fingers. It was the first time in all the years that he’d been working for the government that he felt like he had some control. In a cutthroat industry, it never hurts for a man to have insurance. Times were changing, and Louisville was changing. The lines between business and mafia were becoming blurred at best. He got up from where he was seated and walked into his office. He turned the combination on his safe and placed the flash drive in a small drawer.
Yes… it’s good for a man to have insurance.
The End… for now.
Look for the next edition of Angel of Death with your favorite characters from Louisville. Coming soon to Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Suzanne-Steele/e/B00C9L6YRQ
Contradiction in Terms (Angel of Death Book 2) Page 8