Storm - Dominant Protectors Book Two

by Jack Ellison

  Which was why I felt an ice cold grip of fear stung my stomach as I heard an ominous knock at the front door. Three knocks, slow, threatening.

  Fuck, Mickey. What now? Come round to hit a woman again? Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?

  I sighed as I walked reluctantly to the door. My car was out front on the drive. He knew I was here. If I didn’t answer the door I’d only piss him off more. And he was probably only here because he was pissed, high, drunk or desperate. Or any combination of the four.

  I opened the door slowly, praying that the visit would be short. I was shocked when I was met by three figures in front of me. Mickey in the middle, standing a head taller than the two meatheads with him.

  One was black, long dreadlocks hanging down, framing his mean looking face. Hooded, bloodshot eyes looked back at me. The other guy was white, smaller that the other two but broad, fat and muscle heavy on his wide frame. Gold teeth flashed at me through his sarcastic green as he looked me up and down hungrily.

  “Hey, babe. Thought me and my friends would pay you a visit. We need to have a chat, you and me.” He grimaced at me menacingly. Amazingly, he appeared sober. Which meant he was probably hung over.

  “Listen, Mickey. I’ve done what you wanted. Haven’t said a word to anyone, promise. I just want to get on with my life, Mickey. I wasn’t lying to you.” I pleaded slightly, my heart sinking as his face darkened at my words.

  “Well, we’ll see about that. Let's have a chat then, shall we?” He pushed me hard in my stomach as he forced his way into my house. His two goons followed. The guy with gold teeth pushed past me rudely, shoulder barging me aside. The guy with dreadlocks looked at me sheepishly, hanging his head as he followed the other two.

  They walked into the kitchen, Mickey and the other white guy taking two chairs and leaning back like they owned the place. The guy with dreads perched himself on the side, arms crossed.

  Mickey rudely put his dirty boots on my dining table, sighing as he shook his head at me.

  “Now I’m gonna ask you something. You better tell me the fucking truth, or you’ll be in trouble.” He looked at his two henchmen in turn, nodding at them.

  “One of my guys was in your bar the other day, minding his own business. Having a few beers.” Mickey gestured thoughtfully with his hand, feigning a faraway expression.

  “This friend of mine told me you been chatting to cops. One of them was a detective. Did you tell them anything about me? Did you say a fucking word to them about me? Us?” He leant forward menacingly.

  “No, Mickey. We were just chatting. I told you I wouldn’t say anything, and I mean it.” I crossed my arms, waiting for the accusation that was bound to follow. Mickey had already made his mind up what he was going to do, what he was going to say. All I could do was protest my innocence.

  I continued anyway. “Only one of the guys was a cop. And that was my old friend Danny, my friend’s cousin. We talk fairly often, and never about you. I swear.”

  Mickey was shaking his head. “Thing is, the other guy you spoke to was a detective. The one that took down my fucking uncles. Forced me into hiding.”

  “Oh, him?” I feigned ignorance. “I just thought he was Danny’s friend. Didn’t realise he was a detective.” I frowned thoughtfully.

  “I won’t speak to him again, if that will make you happy. He wasn’t asking about you or anything, anyhow. Just wanted some drinks, is all.” I waited with breath held.

  “You better be telling me the truth. ‘Cause if you aint, me and my boys here will come back. And we won't be so nice,” Mickey spat. The guy with the gold teeth was grinning, teeth flashing under the light above him. His piggish eyes one my body, roving from my hips to my breasts. I felt sick.

  “The cops ain't got shit on me yet. If they did, I’d fucking know about it. So, if they start sniffing around, I know who’s to blame. And I better not catch you chatting to your detective friend again,” he said, wagging a finger at me. He straightened, mean expression faded.

  “I hope you like what I brought you before. I got some more for you,” he said, smiling. He took out another bag of meth. Larger than the last time.

  “Mickey, I...”

  “Don’t fucking Mickey me. This isn’t open for debate. I’m giving you a fucking gift, and you’ll accept it. OK?”

  “I don’t want it, Mickey. I don’t need it anymore,” I whispered, fear creeping into my chest.

  Mickey rose to the door, blocking it. He gestured towards his goon with dreadlocks.

  “Teach her a lesson, Dready,” he growled, in a low, mean voice.

  The guy with dreadlocks eyes widened as he looked to me, then back at Mickey.

  “Me nah be hitting no woman, Mickey. Me do anything you say breddah, hit any man you want. But not...”

  “I don’t fucking care, Dready. Shut up.” He looked over to the other of his henchman.

  “Goldie. You’re up.”

  The guy rose slowly, swaggering towards me. Grinning meanly. He rolled his shoulders as he approached, swinging his arms from left to right.

  Pain exploded as his fist lashed out to strike me on the left cheek, just below the eye. I staggered back, crying out with pain as I held my face.

  “Fucking hell, Goldie. I meant a slap, you goddamn animal.” Mickey was smiling nonetheless. Goldie shrugged nonchalantly as he leant down, his breath acrid with the smell of cigarettes and stale alcohol as he spoke in my ear.

  “You don’t do what Mickey says, you’ll be getting more than my fist next time. Alot more, sweetheart.” I was sickened by his repulsive presence so close to mine. I cowered away from him, into the corner of the kitchen.

  “That's enough, Goldie. Let’s go.” I saw Mickey leave the room, his two goons following him out.

  “Oh, enjoy the meth. It’ll help with the pain!” Mickey shouted, laughing as the three left. I heard the front door slam, and the house was suddenly quiet. Filled with merciful silence.

  I shuddered with emotions, fear, shame.. But mostly anger.

  Fuck you, Mickey.

  I rose quickly, tears of pain and anger welling in my eyes. I probed my cheekbone, wincing at the bruise that was starting to form already.

  Don’t think makeup is gonna hide this one.

  I strode to the table, picking up the bag of meth. I looked at it closely. It was yellow, with a strange blue hue that shone as I turned the bag under the kitchen light.

  My first instinct was to flush it away before Mickey had a chance to come back to ask if I’d enjoyed it. But then an idea came into my head. I felt a strange strength come over me, a grim resolve as I gritted my teeth.

  I’m gonna take you down, Mickey. Charlie doesn’t know it yet, but he’s gonna help me. You won’t get away this time.

  I put the meth in a drawer in my kitchen, a plan forming in my mind as I went upstairs to have a shower, double locking the front door on the way past.

  Charlie

  I AWOKE EARLY ON MONDAY, eager to get started on what would hopefully be my case by the time I got into work. My mind had also been equally filled with thoughts of Abi, and I felt a tingle of excitement at the thought of seeing her again at the bar after work. Since Friday I’d found thoughts of her a pleasant distraction from what was otherwise an uneventful weekend. I’d been to see Rick, who was recovering well physically but still didn’t seem his usual, confident self. I didn’t expect him to be back at work any time soon.

  And I sure don’t want most of those other cops in my department as my partner. No, I’ll work this case alone until I have all the evidence I need.

  There were a couple good reasons why I wanted to work the case on my own. Firstly, I knew it would be a fairly high profile case, and I would be set to earn a great deal of prestige if I took down the O’Neill gang. Also you never knew who was listening; hell, even straight cops talked about their cases to other cops and their families, and I didn’t want word getting round to Mickey O’Neill or any of his associates. Or to the c
orrupt cops, that would probably be just as bad.

  I thought about what the old cop had said on Friday at the office. The way I figured, by the time the case was in full swing I was pretty sure they would have had a chat or two with Mickey O’Neill. If Mickey was really good he’d have approached them, made some sort of offer in a dingy bar or restaurant somewhere, handing over a couple brown envelopes stuffed full of bills.

  The old Mickey I knew would have been too greedy, but this time he’d managed to pretty much corner the meth market in the town. And if you went around killing and intimidating everybody there’d be no dealers left to work for you, and no cops to cover your tracks.

  No, it seems Mickey has smartened up at least a little since my time undercover. Maybe he’s been plotting this takeover since the day he left town. I better be damn careful.

  One thing was for sure though, if any of those old cops were making deals with Mickey or interfered with the case, I’d be taking them down too. And working the case alone would give me an edge over all my adversaries; there wouldn’t be any chance of info getting to the wrong people if I played my cards right.

  And I always did.

  I got to work a couple hours after waking up, feeling refreshed and strong after a good workout and a big breakfast, washed down with a black coffee. I’d brought a spare, crisply ironed white shirt with me to change into after work which I’d left in my locker, wanting to look as sharp as possible for when I met Abi.

  I arrived at my desk just before 9am, straightening my trench coat over my shoulders and checking my white collar was showing over the top of the jacket’s neck. I knew I looked smart, strong, and not someone it would be wise to fuck with. I felt a few furtive glances sent my way from a couple of other older, fat detectives. Probably jealous, I figured.

  I made myself another coffee before sitting down at my desk, having taken a thick notepad and a few pens from stationary. There was no way I was gonna start filling the case wall out with names and details. That would be the quickest way for Mickey to catch wind of what I was upto.

  Before getting started I went through my morning ritual. I took out both of my pistols and released the clips from both. I emptied the rounds from the clips and placed them carefully on my desk. I usually let the springs relax for a while or so every day. Didn’t want a bullet not fully entering the chamber when I needed it most.

  Then I put my feet up on the desk, legs crossed as I waited for my coffee to cool a little. My mind was going over what I knew so far about the case, and what I would need to take Mickey’s gang down.

  Movement from over to my right caught my eye. My heart rate increased as I saw Danny and two other cops heading for the Lieutenant’s office. Danny looked calm, his expression guarded yet confident. Head held high as he surveyed the department.

  Good work, Danny boy. Knew I could count on you. Go get me my case, brother.

  I’d have to buy Danny beers for the rest of our days if I made Lieutenant from this case, I thought, smiling to myself.

  I guessed it wouldn’t take long for the cops to go over their evidence and thoughts with the Lieutenant. With a hand shaking slightly from pure excitement I downed my coffee, and set to putting my bullets back into both my guns carefully and methodically, distracting myself with routine.

  I then opened the notepad and began to make a few quick notes. It was all clear in my mind, but I knew I’d have to be organised on this one. The Lieutenant would want to see everything mapped out, times, dates. Names. Places. Crimes.

  I knew there were a few vital pieces of the puzzle I still knew little about. First off was the lab, assuming there was one. With consistent, fairly high grade meth being produced there had to be some sort of cook and lab. And if there was, I’d need to find it.

  Secondly, I’d need solid evidence against Mickey. Which could be done by catching him red handed, if he did something stupid. But chances were he now had people doing all the dirty work for him.

  Therefore the third jigsaw piece was finding out who were his top associates, dealers, enforcers, distributors. If I could get dirt on them, they might then make a deal for a lighter sentence if they dished the dirt on Mickey. That was probably the most solid chance I had of taking the whole gang down in one fell swoop. If one talked, then the others would likely follow suit. As long as we could promise them protection from the O’Neills behind bars, of course.

  Finally, there was Abi. She’d recognised me from somewhere, and I’d quickly figured out it was from my time undercover. Which meant when she first saw me she thought I was still rolling with Mickey, and for some reason that made her shit scared.

  So what does she know? Is she willing to talk?

  At the same time I knew I was really attracted to this girl, and if she was any near as nice as she was hot, then I couldn’t see her wanting anything casual. And I could see myself falling for her real quick.

  And I don’t want to get her involved in this mess. But should I tell her about the case? If she was scared of Mickey I doubt she’d go running to him at the first sign of trouble.

  For once I was stumped. I shook my head, resolving to think about the matter later. Which I struggled with repeatedly. She was on my mind all the time, and while it was a pleasant distraction I felt uneasy that my mind wasn’t as sharp as it was normally.

  Danny came swaggering over to my desk, one thumb through his belt, the other pointing back over his shoulder. He was trying his best not to smile.

  “Lieutenant wants to see you, Storm. Says it’s urgent.” His eyes were bright with excitement as he winked at me.

  “All right. Thanks Danny. I’ll be right in.” I tried to act as casual as possible as I rose to walk to the Lieutenant’s office. I felt a few eyes on me as I passed through the department.

  The Lieutenant was on the phone as I entered. He waved me in as I poked my head round the door, and gestured for me to shut it after me.

  “Yes sir. Absolutely. Thank you, sir.” He put the phone down with a flourish, turning to face me with a broad smile.

  “Charlie. You got yourself a case. Congratulations.” He leant forward, arm extended. I shook his hand gratefully, grinning with relief.

  “Now,” his expression turned serious in an instant, his voice low. “tell me what your thoughts are. And Charlie, keep this case to yourself.” He looked over his shoulder to the other detectives, some of whom had been staring through the slats at the window and turned away awkwardly as he looked their way.

  “We both know there are ears everywhere. Let’s just keep things quiet until we get something solid, something that makes us, you, untouchable by those meatheads out there.”

  The Lieutenant looked at me with concern, the way a kindly uncle would when offering advice to his nephew. I knew I was one of his favourites, and it was common knowledge that he was due to retire soon. If I did well on this case, my gut told me I’d be sitting in his desk come the end of the year.

  “Of course, sir. I got this. Ain’t gonna say a word to anyone until I get something we can use.” I sat down in the chair opposite him, notepad in my left hand as I rubbed my chin thoughtfully with my right.

  “So here’s what I’m thinking so far...”

  Chapter 5

  Abi

  I’d managed to put a brave face on the day after Mickey’s visit, when I was working at the diner. I passed off the bruised cheek and slight black eye as a drunken stumble into a door when visiting my friend at the weekend. Hell, I’d rehearsed the lie so many times I was actually starting to believe it myself.

  In truth though I was shaken, my confidence that I’d built up from nothing over the last few years had taken a big hit. As soon as I left the house in the morning I was looking over my shoulder constantly, paranoia turning every shady looking character into one of Mickey’s goons.

  And god knows there’s enough of them in this town...

  I had the same feeling when I was walking home after finishing at the diner, like I was being watched.
The hairs on the back on my neck stood on end, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

  Then all of a sudden an image of Charlie appeared in my mind. Strong, tall, handsome. Smiling casually at me like the last time I saw him, as he rested against the bar, eyes looking deeply into mine. Part of me longed to see him when I opened the door to my house, for him to take me into a warm, protective embrace.

  Thoughts of Mickey and his threats started to evaporate as I thought about Charlie. When I did, I found myself distracted, unable to concentrate on much else. I’d been a bit ditsy since I’d seen him Friday, not my usual, intelligent, confident self.

  I got back home, head held high and smiling as I entered the front door quickly, making sure to lock the door behind me. I was once again greeted by silence and a sense of loneliness as I walked through to the kitchen.

  Damn. No Charlie. Well, maybe if I play my cards right one day soon he’ll be waiting for me when I get back from work. Just need to make sure I get this right, or we’ll both be in trouble...

  I still had a few hours before starting my shift at the bar, and I set to work rehearsing my plan for when Charlie visited me later in the evening.

  That’s if he turns up...

  I smiled to myself, thinking about the way he’d looked at me when we’d met. Somehow I knew he was gonna be there.

  I decided to wear pretty much what I was wearing before, choosing a different set of underwear than the last time. A bit less cleavage, makeup not so pronounced. I wanted Charlie to see the bruise on my face. And I didn’t want too much unwanted attention from any drunken strangers tonight.

  A while later, after having a long, hot shower and getting ready for work, I sat on a chair in my kitchen, chewing thoughtfully on a pen. My laptop sat on the table in front of me, a small scrap of paper next to it. I was browsing a local map online, zooming in and out and scrolling around town. I nodded decisively, the screen fixed on a single location. I brushed my hair back over my ear as I scrawled a note onto the scrap of paper, hiding the scrap in my pants pocket.