In Walked Trouble (Under Covers)

by Christina Elle

  Luke couldn’t breathe. He tried, Jesus Christ, he tried. But it was like someone had submerged his head into a subzero lake. His lungs crystallized and nearly burst.

  Serrano couldn’t touch Cass. He wouldn’t. Luke had to stop him. Had to save her from this.

  “She didn’t know what she was doing,” Luke stumbled through his words. He’d put her in danger. Jesus. She didn’t even know it. He’d done this to her. Whether Serrano connected the dots from Luke to Cass because of her news report or not, she was still in danger.

  His vision went fuzzy; the only thing he saw was her face. Her beautiful smile. Then terror. The thought that Serrano could take Cass away, that he could hurt her sent Luke’s emotions into a nosedive. By being with her, Luke made her a target. “She couldn’t have known. I never told her.”

  He never told her who he was or what danger she could’ve been in because of him. He should have. From the start.

  He needed to do that now. He owed it to her. She’d leave him—that was certain. And no matter how bad it would kill him when she walked away, losing her to Serrano would be worse.

  It was better this way. Then once Serrano found Luke, he’d already be hollow inside and wouldn’t feel anything when Serrano killed him.

  …

  This probably wasn’t the best idea. Cass sat in her parked car in front of a community filled with decrepit apartment buildings with windows knocked out, furniture on the lawn, and trash littering the walkways. This was the other side of Baltimore she’d always heard about, but had never seen firsthand.

  The school day after Eduardo’s passing had been filled with mourning and comforting one another. The police had cleaned up the scene quickly, but they insisted the area remain quarantined from the rest of the school. No one was allowed down that hallway until further investigations could be done.

  The only reason she’d gone to school was to see Miguel. But he hadn’t shown, which worried her. If he was going to earn that scholarship and get off the streets, he needed to finish out his senior year. She waited all day, searching the halls. But he never came. Her mind conjured up horrible guesses to his whereabouts. She pictured Eduardo, and then thought about Miguel following his same fate.

  She had to see him. Make sure he was okay.

  According to his school records, Miguel lived in the middle building on the third floor.

  It was dusk, so there was a lot of action in the area. People carried babies, bags of groceries, and liquor bottles. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she got out of the car, but she didn’t anticipate a warm greeting.

  Inhaling a fortifying breath, she pulled the handle on her sedan, and got out. A few heads turned in her direction, shooting curious glances and gestures at one another. A trio of dark-skinned boys sat on the top of a sofa, their tan boots planted on the seating area, and pointed in her direction, mumbling.

  She kept her attention on her intended location, and hustled—but trying not to look like she was hustling—toward it. Most of the snow had been cleared from the walkways, but because of the chilly temperatures, a lot of what had melted was starting to freeze over. She widened her strides to miss the patches of slippery ice.

  Pushing the heavy metal door to Miguel’s building open, it creaked on rusty hinges and banged on the wall inside. The scent of mold and mildew hit her immediately as she stepped inside. Floors were concrete and covered in dirt. Random shards of paper lay haphazardly on the ground as if they’d blown in from outside. And a set of gray mailboxes hung on the wall, individual doors opened and the insides vacant.

  Holding her handbag against herself for balance, she made her way up to the first landing. An older Latino woman came out of the second-floor door and stopped when she spotted Cass. Her gaze traveled down Cass, and when she came back up she gave a You lost? look. Cass said a quick hello and continued on her journey up to the third floor.

  Once in the hall, she searched each door for the letter B and found that she had exited at the end of the alphabet. After a minute of walking, she passed doors E, D, C, and then stopped at B.

  Smoothing the front of her shirt and pushing her shoulders back, she knocked on the door. She waited a few seconds and there was no response. So she knocked again. This time motion sounded on the other side of the door and footsteps approached.

  The door opened to reveal Miguel.

  Thank goodness.

  At the sight of her, his eyes widened and he gasped.

  “Ms. Stone?” He glanced behind him and then out into the hallway. “Whatchu doin’ here?”

  “I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to talk.”

  “Talk? Are you crazy? Why would you come to my house? Whatever it is can wait.”

  “Actually, it can’t.”

  He looked out into the hallway again, and so did she. The head of a younger African American male peeked out of a door a few letters down with a puzzled expression.

  “I wanted to—” she started.

  “Keep your voice down,” Miguel hissed. “Yo, you can’t be here, Ms. Stone. You gotta leave. Now.” He pushed her shoulder.

  “I can’t,” she said, standing her ground. “I need to talk to you about Eduardo.”

  His expression went guarded at the mention of the other student and his body locked into place.

  Miguel shot the other boy a warning look, and the kid reluctantly faded back into his apartment.

  “Look, Ms. Stone. You can’t be here and I ain’t talking about E or nobody else around here. Please, just go before somethin’ bad happens.”

  It wasn’t a threat, but a warning. She heard it in his tone. But she recognized something else in his tone, too. Panic. For her.

  “Fine.” She wasn’t about to make things more difficult for either of them, but she came for a reason. “I’ll go. But promise me something first.”

  He gave her a cautious look, then nodded.

  “Promise me you’ll stay away from the drugs. The gang. Promise me you’ll reconsider the scholarship. Please, Miguel.”

  He kept his expression impassive, but she could tell he was having an internal battle. His throat worked and his eyes glazed.

  “You’re better than this, you know you are,” she pressed. “You can go to college. You earned that scholarship. Take it and make something of your life. Get off the streets. Don’t follow in your brother’s footsteps.”

  “Yo, who the fuck you think you are?” another male voice bellowed from farther down the hall. She turned, catching sight of Ronan barreling toward them with scowl. “What she want, Miguel?” When he said the name, it wasn’t how she pronounced it. Ronan’s version was much more annunciated. Mee-gel.

  “Nothing,” Miguel said. “She was just leaving.” The look he sent her said it would be in her best interest to go along with his story.

  “It don’t look like nothing.” Ronan stepped up into her personal space and placed his nose inches from hers. “It sound like she tryna turn you away from your family, mi hermano.”

  Cass leveled her breathing and tried like hell not to show how absolutely terrified she was. She kept her eyes locked with Ronan’s and her stance firm.

  “My brother don’t need your fancy words, puta,” he went on. “He got family. We take care of him. There ain’t nothin’ for him in that great big city you live in.” He pulled back enough to give her a once-over, and then ran a tongue over his gold-plated front teeth. “You tryin’ to fill his head full of some bullshit, or what?”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but Miguel jumped in first. He braced an arm against Ronan’s chest and pushed him away from her. “She cool, Ro. Just let her go.”

  Ronan tilted his head and assessed her again. “I see your pretty little face around here again talking that college shit, and I’ll cut your tongue out so you can’t talk no more to no one. You feel me?”

  Loud and clear. She gave Miguel a final glance, pursing her lips, and spun on her heel.

  Cass made it down the hall and stairs in pr
obably less than one minute, and was in her car faster than she could say holy shit.

  Slamming the car door behind her, she grabbed onto the steering wheel for some sort of anchor and inhaled as much oxygen as she could.

  If Ronan was any indication of the type of people surrounding Miguel, Miguel was in deeper trouble than she’d originally thought. His brother was a bully of the worst kind. It was Ronan’s way or else.

  Sliding her key in the ignition, she turned the car on and placed it in reverse. As she prepared to back out, she noticed the brothers exit their apartment building. She watched for a moment because, based on Ronan’s body language, it seemed like he was berating his brother. Up in his face, using his age and height as intimidation. Ronan’s arms flailed wildly as he continued his verbal assault. Rage built inside Cass; affronted on Miguel’s behalf. How dare Ronan treat his brother that way. But then Ronan’s posture relaxed and he touched his forehead to Miguel’s, saying something. Miguel shrugged and then nodded, causing Ronan to smile.

  They continued across the dirt-patched lawn toward a waiting luxury car. Miguel entered the rear driver’s side of the car and shut the door. A tall male got out of the driver’s side, allowing Ronan to get behind the wheel. She caught a glance at the beak-like nose of Joaquin as he moved toward then lowered himself into the passenger side.

  Shit. She couldn’t let them drive away and then wonder where they’d gone. It would make her crazy. Miguel’s life, and possibly other’s lives, were at risk. She wouldn’t forgive herself if she didn’t do everything in her power to save them. Another tragedy like Eduardo wasn’t going to happen if she could do something to stop it.

  Cassandra backed out of the spot and followed the high-end car from a safe distance out of the neighborhood.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “All right, gentlemen,” Ash’s voice spoke into the COMs. “We good?”

  “Affirmative,” Tyke said.

  “Roger,” came Reese’s response.

  Luke checked his earpiece, making sure it was in place and out of sight. Felt for his discreet wire nestled against his chest and rechecked to make sure his concealed weapon was indeed still concealed along the side of his seat.

  He was doing his damnedest to concentrate on the task at hand and not on the brunette he’d have to hurt. Walking away would be the hardest thing he’ll ever do in his life. It would take everything he had not to fall at her feet and beg her to stay with him.

  But what was the use?

  Either Serrano would find her and use her against Luke, or Serrano would find Luke and kill him. Cass deserved better than that. She was better than that. So despite the cramping in his stomach and the ache in his chest that wouldn’t subside, he had to tell her. He wanted her to move on, find someone who appreciated her, and settle down in her small, quiet hometown.

  “Calder, check in,” Ash snapped.

  Tyke jabbed an elbow into Luke’s ribs.

  He winced. Right. Head in the game. “Good to go.”

  They’d parked in an empty alleyway with one lowly lit streetlight, two abandoned cars across the street, and a chain-link fence missing half its links.

  The blackness outside seemed deeper tonight. More oppressive for some reason. Maybe it was Luke’s morose thoughts or the impending doom awaiting him with Serrano. Either way, it was starting to weigh on his patience and peace of mind. He wanted this mission over as soon as possible. He wanted to leave Baltimore and never look back. A fresh start somewhere that didn’t have snow, winter coats, or murderous drug lords.

  As usual, Reese was scouting out the area in the surveillance van, Ash was disguised as a disheveled addict farther down the street, and Luke and Tyke were in Luke’s sports car with phony plates acting as wealthy drug buyers.

  Tyke got himself all gussied up for the night. Even shaved his beard off and ironed his dress shirt. Thick, dirty-blond hair was brushed back and pulled together in a tie at his crown. Expensive watch. The guy looked slick. Cramped as hell in the front passenger side of Luke’s sports car, though, knees bent almost into his chest and arms with a six-and-a-half-foot wingspan taking up most of the cabin space.

  “Let’s keep it clean and orderly, guys,” Ash said from his location about one hundred feet away. “If you see an opening, take it. Otherwise, don’t push it. Get the information we need for now, then set up the meeting. Serrano’s out there, and these sons of bitches are going to lead us to him.”

  Luke had parked close enough to the dim streetlight to give off some illumination to see everything around them, but not enough to act like a spotlight. They were on the east side of the city. More crime. Less police activity. It was the type of area cops ventured into only if they were ready to bust someone.

  Tyke pulled at his collar. “Shit’s cutting off circulation. I can barely fucking breathe in this monkey suit.”

  “Awww,” Luke said with a sidelong glance, “but you look so pretty. If you’re lucky, I might let you take me home tonight.”

  “Screw you, man. Let’s get this over with so I can get these clothes off.”

  “At least let me buy you dinner first, you animal.” Luke punctuated the remark with a grin and a wink.

  The other man’s jaw worked, but he didn’t respond.

  “Settle down, ladies,” Ash said. “We’ve got company.”

  Reese’s voice came through next. “Subject approaching at your three o’clock. Silver Mercedes, deeply-tinted windows.”

  Luke and Bryan followed the vehicle’s path as it approached their location. “Got it,” Luke said. “Are we sure this is our guy?”

  “One second to confirm,” Reese responded.

  The Mercedes slowed to a stop beside Luke’s car on the driver’s side and the window lowered. The tanned-skin of Ronan Cortez appeared. “You Christian?”

  “Affirmative,” Reese said through the COMs. “I have visual on the target.”

  Luke nodded in response to their visitor’s question and Reese’s statement. He gestured with a tilt of his head to the passenger seat. “This is my financier, Little John.”

  “Christ, Calder,” Ash grumbled into the earpiece. “Cut the shit.”

  Tyke didn’t show a visible reaction, but Luke felt the anger roll off the guy in thick waves.

  “I assume you’re Ronan?” Luke asked as he quickly scanned the other occupants in the vehicle. Joaquin in the passenger seat. Two shadows in the backseat looking slightly smaller.

  All right, the gang was all here and they were ready to get this show started.

  “Yeah,” Ronan responded, seeming to do his own assessment. He scanned the outside of Luke’s car, then turned his attention to Luke’s limited edition Rolex, designer scarf, and high-quality wool coat. He ran his tongue over his gold-plated front teeth. “So how we gonna do this, hombre? You bring the Gs or what?”

  Luke flicked an upturned palm to Tyke, who slapped a thick envelope on it.

  Opening it enough so Ronan could see the wad of unmarked one-hundred-dollar bills, Luke said, “You keep up your end of the deal, hombre?”

  Ronan mirrored Luke’s movement and waited for his passenger to drop a small envelope into his hand. He waved it in the air with a smirk. “The extra good shit.”

  “We’ll see,” Luke mused.

  Ronan’s eyes narrowed. “You questioning my honor, dawg?”

  Luke shrugged one shoulder. “Only if you give me the weak shit.”

  “Weak shit?” Ronan glanced around at the passengers in his car, laughing. He said something in Spanish Luke didn’t catch.

  “‘You believe this gringo motherfucker?’” Reese translated into his earpiece.

  Sweet kid. The gang tattoos crawling up his neck really added to his charm, too.

  “Do I have a reason to question that what you’re giving me is authentic?” Luke fanned his face with the envelope, stirring the brisk November air into his face. “How do I know your supplier is legit?”

  Ronan dropped his smirk. “It’s go
od, homey.”

  “Yeah,” Luke pressed. “But where did your stash come from? The last guy swore his shit was good, and I felt high for about two minutes. That’s why I was told to come to you, Ronan. You’re the one with the stuff I need. Am I wrong about that?”

  “Nah.”

  “So, tell me, how do I know you’re not getting your drugs from the same supplier as the last guy?”

  Ronan stared at Luke, his fingers drumming on the leather steering wheel.

  Come on. Give me something. Mention Serrano. Just once.

  “Heads up,” Ash’s voice said. “Second vehicle incoming.”

  Luke didn’t react, just continued staring at Ronan. Tyke didn’t give a visible reaction, but Luke knew his partner was following.

  Not taking his eyes off the dealer, Luke said, “Is there a reason you brought more friends to this party?”

  Ronan slid a glance at the car, then hardened his stare at Luke. “Not mine. There a reason you brought more amigos?”

  “I’m on it,” Reese said. “Doing a scan of the tags now.”

  Playing it off, Luke reclined in his seat, resting an arm along the window frame.

  Ronan searched the street, probably for anything out of the ordinary. “New buyers looking to spend your kind of dough raise alarm, dawg. Howda we know you ain’t some five-oh or somethin’?”

  “Cops?” Luke said through a loud burst of laughter. “Did you get a look at this car, man? And these clothes?” He flipped the overhead light on. “This shit is fine Italian wool. You think the police on their fifty-grand-a-year salaries are wearing this? Give me a fuckin’ break.”

  “Turn off the light, Calder,” Ash barked. “What the hell is wrong with you? You want BPD showing up?”

  Luke waited a moment, letting what he said register in Ronan’s expression. Once it did, and the guy’s posture eased up a little more, Luke turned the overhead light off.

  “Are we doing this or what?” Ronan said. “I got other buyers lined up if you ain’t into it.”