by Rhys Ford
“You don’t really know if you want to find out?” Damien bumped his head against Miki’s shoulder. “Are you scared about what you’re going to find?”
“More like… suppose I find out she really meant to toss me out? Then what?”
“So what if she did?” Damien lifted his eyes up to meet Miki’s gaze. “That changes nothing. Besides, you already have a mother. Her name is Brigid, and other than the fact that she’s a redheaded Oompa Loompa, she’s exactly who I imagined would be your mom. I mean, I get wanting to know where you’re from, but that doesn’t define where you’ve been and where you’re going.
“You kicked life’s ass way before you knew that woman even existed, and right now even though Kane may or may not find out who your mother was, you need to focus on getting your feet underneath you. The rest of it, Sinjun, is all just noise. You’ve got a family—including the stinky dog of yours—and we’re not going to go away.”
“I was so mad at you for going away,” Miki confessed, his voice breaking. “I never knew I could hurt so much until I woke up and they told me you weren’t…. God, D! It hurt so fucking much. And it never stopped hurting. And I was just angry because I was alone again and there was a part of me that was missing. And I love Kane. Fuck, I love him so much, but I lost my only family.”
Damien straightened up, pulling him close. The kiss he brushed over Miki’s lips was as gentle as his arms wrapping around Miki for a hug. Dude slithered out from between them, grumbling as he found a new place to lie down, but Miki couldn’t see him through the tears in his eyes.
“I love you like I’ve loved no one else. I would die without you. And see, you’re made of better stuff than I am because you kept going after I was gone.” Damien pulled Miki toward him until they sat together, tangled around each other as they had done years before when life had been both harder and simpler. “I’m glad Kane found you. And I’m fucking happy as hell he loves you. If there is one thing I know about you, Sin, it’s that you are the fiercest, most loyal feral asshole I’ve ever met, and I am proud as hell to call you my brother. And if you need me to hold you up—for as long as you need me—I’m here. I will always be here. Just like Kane, the band, and the rest of your crazy family.”
Chapter Nine
Red light, torn jeans
Filthy sheets by the hour
Aching feet, dirty greens
All of the work, none of the power
A skip along a white line
A snip of ice in my vein
Opens up the sky for a bit
Helps me forget all of my pain
—Reality Mirrored
“I WISH I had better news for you, but I don’t.” Chang twisted his mouth to the side, shrugging remorsefully as he handed Kel a stack of folders. “I thought I would dig through the cases that brought down Danny Wong, thinking it would give me a few names, but these things are more pixilated than Japanese porn.”
“At least the pixels thing you can figure out what’s going on behind it. Black bars are hard to see around.” Kel shuffled through some papers, handing a couple over to Kane. “Man, they took everything out of this. Are we even sure this one went down in San Francisco?”
Kane was still a little bit tender from the conversation they’d had in the Hummer. The world hadn’t been jerked out from underneath him often. He could probably count the times it had been on one hand if he tried: realizing he’d fallen in love with Miki St. John, standing in the hospital waiting for news about Quinn, then later on, his mother. And now, oddly enough, a Medusa head of words wrapped around something as beautiful as a friendship but with a bite sharp enough to hurt.
The shock of the discussion still resonated inside of him. It was a piano string wrapped around something he thought was solid—his relationship with Miki—and it had been tested with the yank of that edged metal line. It bloodied Kel’s hands to yank and twist, but if Kane and Miki hadn’t been stone, the severing of that dangerous, poisonous specter would’ve been done to save Kane’s life.
He respected Kel’s courage. It had been a risk, a frightening leap of faith and trust that Kane didn’t know if he would have it inside of him to do, but there was Kel, willing to put a solid, close partnership on the line and poke at a wound Kane might not want to pick at.
“Hey, Morgan.” Chang raised his voice. “Are you paying attention?”
“Yeah, we don’t do the last name thing often,” Kel said, chuckling. “Sure, it’s protocol, but when you’ve got five of them within shouting distance of each other, calling out Morgan and hoping to get the right one is next to impossible.”
“Well, there’s about to be one more,” Kane pointed out. “Ian is about to get his badge pinned on him. He’s hoping to get someplace out of district so he won’t have to run into any of us.”
“It’s got to be hard to be coming up behind a bunch of you,” Chang commiserated. “My brother is over in Oakland under Narcotics. Every once in a while we end up crossing paths, and all I hear is about how great he is. If I wasn’t already our mom’s favorite, I would kill him and take his place.” He grinned at Kel’s confused look. “We’re twins.”
“What are we going to do about this lack of information?” Kel waved a handful of papers. “Are we going to have to cash in on that favor you have at the DEA, K? Because there is shit here. I mean, we’ve got a couple of first names, but nothing else. I’m going to guess that the Sandy here in this report is our vic, but that would be making an assumption. Have we gotten any information on the shooter? Rodney Chin, right?”
“I’ve got feelers out for him, but so far nothing’s hit back,” Chang said with a grimace. “In Chinatown, it’s hard to find somebody who doesn’t want to be found. You are also asking me to straddle a very thin line. Most of the people who would know about Chin are older, the same people we now get as informants because they’ve aged out of gang activity. You’re talking someone who was active thirty years ago. People aren’t going to know his name and face unless they are the same age, so they are less willing to hand them over to the cops.”
“They’ll turn in somebody’s kid but not the guy who drank a beer with them in high school?” Kel clarified. Grunting at Chang’s nod, he continued, “Then if we want to get more information, we are going to have to go to the DEA and beg. This would be a hell of a lot easier if everything was shared and on the computer.”
“I definitely have somebody there,” Kane replied. “Just give me a second and I’ll see if he can meet us someplace. I don’t think I want to do this officially until I know we can get something tangible. I don’t want to walk into their office and stand around only to get told they have nothing for us.”
“I’m sorry I can’t give you more,” Chang said. “I’m still going to have my guys asking after Chin. We’re working with the station to bring him in. As soon as I get anything, I’ll let you know. We all agree he needs to get off the street, especially if he is working for a loose cannon like Wong. The guys I have now that I’m trying to run herd on are at least sane. I don’t have to worry about them shooting up a place on Grant or doing drag races down near the Embarcadero. They’re sharp, keep their eye on the ball, and are very much aware they have a short lifespan. A lot of them go in, make a million, and then I never see them again. I did get a name of sorts. That guy, Adam Lee, who has a bit of a hold on the same area that Wong used to run. Lee’s mother is Wong’s sister, and at one time she’d been under federal protection, but she defaulted out.”
“Why would you do that? Actually, you know why she went in?” Kane asked.
“No, but I’m guessing it has something to do with Wong because I got a lot of veiled references to the two of them fighting over how the family criminal business was being run. Susan Wong-Lee wanted her brother to golden parachute and he wasn’t up for it.” Chang shrugged, gathering up the materials he’d copied for the inspectors to take with them. “I don’t know if she turned informant on them, because these reports are shit. But I can g
uess that something went down. Lee—the father—was a minor player in a few things, but his son Adam seems to be a heavy hitter. From what I could pick out, she came back because the father wouldn’t let his son go with her.”
“Could she be the one directing Chin?” Kel took the folders away into a messenger bag. “Was she loyal to her brother to that extent? Maybe giving the old guy a last hurrah?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Chang laughed. “One of the charges that she got amnesty for was his attempted murder. Her focus seems to be mostly on making sure Adam keeps his place in the hierarchy, maybe even growing some of his territory. I can’t see her—what little I know about her—risking that just because her brother got out of jail and he wants to relive his glory days before kicking the bucket.”
“Well, at least it gives us some place to start.” Kane shook Chang’s hand, then stepped back to give Kel room to get out. “Thanks a lot for all of your help. We really appreciate it.”
“Just get Wong and his people off my streets,” Chang grumbled, slapping Kel on the shoulder as he went by. “That kind of crazy really throws the routine off. I would rather take a coldhearted son of a bitch I can play a chess game with than some asshole who Wile E. Coyote’s through my district. The sooner I go back to busting gambling rings and old grandmothers’ high-stakes mah-jongg games, the better.”
FINNEGAN’S WAS the cornerstone of the Morgans’ migration to the city of San Francisco. Established by Brigid’s family, it served as a waystation where most Morgan offspring waited tables and dealt with drunks for nearly two generations. Located on the pier side past the Embarcadero, the pub was an updated Irish tavern with broad windows overlooking the Bay, a resented sticking point with Sionn’s grandmother. It was brighter than most pubs, with banks of recessed lights and pale walls. Still, it put up a traditional pub food menu and now served beers brewed under Sionn’s direction. It was where Damien Mitchell found the love of his life, Sionn, who then led him to the Morgans’ kitchen, where he found his long-lost brother, Miki.
The scent of fish and chips, the light perfume of seagull poop, and heavily waxed wood always brought out a sense of home in Kane. He’d bussed the tavern’s tables for more afternoons and early evenings than he could count, and as a child must have rolled up at least a thousand sets of silverware into white napkins every day. He drank coffee at the corner banquette reserved for family and crew way past closing hours and puked up his first few shots of vodka over Connor’s shoes when he was ten, bawling as his older brother reassured him it was okay while mopping it up before they were caught.
It was definitely tourist season, and the newest influx of Irish cousins was working the bar. The most recent one, Cassie, shot Kane and Kel a grin as she pulled a Guinness from the tap, twisting her head to flick her mane of red hair from her face. Cassie was like him and his siblings, a child of a Morgan and a Finnegan. She had the look of Brigid about her, with Quinn’s startling green eyes, but her broad mouth was definitely Finnegan.
“Give me a minute and I will have the boy clean off the family table for you,” she shouted at them over the bar. Letting the pint’s head settle, she held the glass steady as she placed it on the counter. Her accent was thicker than Donal’s, the hard burr of the country they’d all come from. “Connor is in the loo. Said something about having to move someone along outside, so God only knows what he put his hands on. Give me a minute and I’ll bring you a pint.”
“Coffee for us, Cass,” Kane said, ignoring Kel’s agonized groan. “We are on the clock. Something to nibble on wouldn’t be amiss. What is coming out of the kitchen?”
“I’ve got chicken wings brined in kimchi juice then deep-fried twice, and grilled king oyster mushrooms. There’s also some bacon-wrapped Brussels sprouts as well as the regular stuff.” Cassie gave him a resigned lift of her slender shoulders, but the slightly disgusted look on her face told a different story. “I don’t know what’s wrong with just serving fish and chips. The rest of it just seems silly. If steak pie was good enough for Gran, it should be good enough for anybody. Told Sionn as much. Gran would turn over in her grave if she knew what was being served on her tables.”
“She started turning over in her grave the moment Sionn let Damie play in front of the pub. As for the food, I lay that at his door too. He’s always trying new stuff at other places and then convincing Sionn to carry it here,” Kane muttered. “But, you have to remember, most of the people who come to those doors aren’t Irish. Why don’t you give us the wings and the mushrooms? Coffee for me and—”
“Iced tea for me,” Kel said, a wicked smile curving across his mouth. He grunted when Kane kicked him in the shin, shooting his partner an angry, outraged glare when he bent over to rub at the spot. “I’m only being nice.”
“No, you’re flirting. And, just like my sisters, my cousin is off-limits,” he warned.
“As if I had any chance with Kiki,” his partner grumbled. “And if I so much as looked at your baby sister—who is still a minor, I might remind you—I would not only be drinking my food through a straw, that’s probably also the same way I would have to shit. So, no, I am not a stupid man. No flirting.”
“K!” Connor’s voice boomed across of the pub, turning heads toward him. He covered the space between them in a few strides, pulling women’s attention with him. Grabbing Kane, he gave him a quick hug. “When we’re done here, I need to talk to you about something. Personal. Nothing serious.”
His older brother always seemed larger than what Kane remembered, but his was a familiar embrace, the clench of arms around Kane’s back and the fresh green scent of his cologne briefly ghosting through Kane’s nose. They’d grown up in each other’s pockets, nearly twins in looks except Connor had always been bigger, always been more. Both brothers had followed in their father’s footsteps, from rolling in the dirt across Irish fields to wearing a badge on San Francisco’s streets. They spoke their parents’ native tongue, a Gaelic that clung to their words still, and rode their other siblings rough, keeping them in line as older brothers should. Standing shoulder to shoulder, Kane and Connor held the line until the baby Morgans could hold their own. He was close to Quinn, their quixotic, slightly younger brother, but he had a special bond with Connor, one forged of carving out the rules of their small clan and establishing dominance over the six children who followed them.
It was worrisome that Connor wanted to talk to him about something, but sometimes his older brother made plans he needed help with or promises he gave to their mother and wasn’t quite able to fulfill.
“Glad you can meet with us.” Kane patted his brother’s bulging shoulder. “Go grab a seat and take Kel with you. I think I see Alex by the door. I’ll go drag him to the back.”
He let Alex wade through the crowd to get to him. There was just a little bit of a hitch to Special Agent Alexander Brandt’s stride, and not all of it from the tourists he was having to get past or the messenger bag he had slung across his back. He moved like a man still learning his way around pain, although as far as Kane knew, Alex was well on his way to full recovery. He’d obviously caught Alex on a day off, unless the DEA’s dress code now included black jeans and a snug-fitting short sleeve shirt. At six two, with a muscular build, neatly styled black hair, and expressive brown eyes, Alex was attractive and in a lot of ways reminded Kane of Kel. They’d both made inspector at the same time, but the DEA was a lure for the stalwart cop and Brandt exchanged one badge for another. Keeping in touch had been easy, and during Alex’s recent hospital stay, Kane had gladly spent a few hours here and there keeping the man company. Calling in a favor with Alex wasn’t necessarily a hardship. Kane never wanted to strain the relationship, but they’d reached a point where only someone with enough leverage could help them.
Alex Brandt was definitely that someone.
Their hug was quick, a brief stop hindered by the tide of people, but Kane put his heart into the slight clinch, cautious of Alex’s healing wounds. A flash of black along hi
s friend’s arm edged out from under Alex’s sleeve and Kane drew back, his fingers around Alex’s thick bicep so he couldn’t pull away. Alex chuckled when Kane shoved the fabric out of the way, deepening his laugh at Kane’s whistle when he saw the whole outline.
“You got a tattoo?” Kane made a big deal of examining the large piece of unfinished artwork scrawled over his friend’s upper shoulder and arm. Mostly outline, it promised to be a strong piece if done right. “What is that? A phoenix?”
“Yes. Or at least it will be once it’s done. Gus Scott down at 415 Ink drew it up for me.” Alex rubbed at the piece of art on his skin. It looked bumpy, rough in places from healing over the inked lines. “I wanted it to…. There is art that I saw at Dimah’s place that… this is going to sound kind of stupid, but it spoke to me and I wanted to wear something like it. So I asked Gus to come up with pretty much a Russian phoenix. It’s going to be black and red for the most part, but there’ll be some oranges and yellows.”
“Man, that is going to hurt something fierce.” Kane led Alex to the secluded back area set aside for the family and staff. “I never thought I’d get anything that big. It was bad enough hearing Connor cry like a baby when he got his piece done.”
“Fuck off, K,” Connor growled at him. “There are tales I can tell about you if you want to play that game, boyo.”
“You two make me glad I don’t have brothers.” Kel reached across the table to shake Alex’s hand. “Good to see you again, man. Kane says you might be able to help us out of the red tape maze we seem to be caught in.”
“I’ll do my best,” Alex said, setting the messenger bag on the table. “I dug into the back cases as much as I could before coming down here. There’s not a lot, but probably a lot more than SFPD has. I spoke to my boss and he’s okay with me sharing the information, considering our department is all about cross-agency cooperation these days. Although he did say he would like to avoid a SWAT task force storming through any of our takedowns.”