Bossy Brothers: Alonzo

by JA Huss

  “Same, I guess. I don’t know what happened to her after that night in Long Beach Harbor. All I know is that the FBI made me a deal. So of course I took it. As far as I knew this was just part of the plan. The FBI had our backs for decades. How was I supposed to know something was off?”

  “I’m not blaming you, Diablo.”

  Quint adds, “Who was your contact in the FBI, Diablo? What was his name?”

  “Not a him. A her. Special Agent Madrid.”

  “Madrid.” I try and think if I’ve ever met an agent called Madrid. “No. I don’t know her.”

  Diablo turns in a circle and runs his fingers through his dark hair. “I’d never heard of her either. And she looked young, man. I’m talking like barely out of high school. But she had the badge and the power to get a private meeting with me in the fucking lockup. And when the FBI walks into your interrogation room, turns off the cameras, and says ‘I’m gonna make you a deal and all you have to do is shut your mouth and keep doing your job,’ you don’t question the messenger, ya know?”

  “Dude,” I say. “Preaching to the choir, man. According to my dad, that’s how it happened the first time too.”

  We all take a deep breath and exhale as we share an uneasy look.

  Quint speaks up first. “Something is wrong.”

  “Ya think?” Diablo asks.

  “Hey!”

  The three of us turn to see Zach Boston walking down the dock towards us. Quint and I trade a look that says, We really don’t have time for this asshole right now.

  But he’s here. And that means he has to be dealt with.

  So I smile at him. “Hey, Zach. What’s going on?”

  He stops just a few paces from us. “What’s going on? That’s my question for you. I know what you’re up to, Alonzo.” He’s looking at me when the words come out. But then his gaze finds Quint and Diablo in quick succession.

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Zach.”

  “Don’t fuck with me. I might just be the younger cousin, but I’m part of the fucking family, OK? I’m in. One hundred percent in.” He glares at me like we’re enemies. “You get me, Lonz?”

  I seriously have no fucking clue what he’s going on about.

  “You hired Tara to investigate Jesse?”

  Aw, hell. “Look, Zach. It’s not what you think—”

  “Not what I think?” He takes three steps closer to me, pokes me in the chest and punctuates his words. “Stay. The fuck. Out of our business.”

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

  Now all four of us turn to find a woman walking down the dock. There is no way to miss what she is. The dark suit, the dark sunglasses, the stoic, flat line of her mouth.

  She stops a few paces off. She’s not exactly short, but we all tower above her. Doesn’t bother her, though. You can just tell by the way she slides her sunglasses down her nose and looks up at us. At Diablo. Specifically. “I’m only gonna say this once, devil man. Your deal was to handle things on the West Coast. So you have ten minutes to pack your shit and get your ass back there. Nothing that happens on this coast is any of your concern.”

  “I’m sorry,” Zach says, still in mortal-enemy mode. “Who the fuck are you?”

  She directs her gaze at Zach now. And it’s a mean gaze. “Special Agent Madrid, Mr. Boston. And I highly suggest you walk back the way you came, get your cousins, and take your asses back to the city, pronto. Because we’ve had it with all of you. This sword-crossing ends now.”

  Quint and I trade another look. But I speak first. “What the hell are you talking about? Sword-crossing?” My dirty mind goes right to Luke and Zach’s sex life. Because… well, I’m a horny, thirty-something, yoked-out, hot-as-fuck-fisherman with sex on the brain pretty much all the time these days.

  “I don’t know what you boys are up to,” Madrid says. “But it’s not part of the plan.”

  “What… plan?” Quint asks.

  She shoots him a look like he’s the dumbest dumbfuck on the planet. “The one you’ve all been a part of for the past two decades. That’s what plan.”

  Zach is the only one to say, “Oh. Fuck.”

  But the rest of us are sure as hell thinking the same thing.

  Because that means… all that dirty shit I was so certain the Boston brothers were up to?

  Yeah. We’re in on it.

  And just in case we didn’t put that together in the three-second silence that ensues after Zach’s ‘Oh, fuck,’ Special Agent Madrid starts to spell it out.

  I blink my eyes at her when she says the name Megan. I turn my back when she says the name Brooke. But I turn back around real quick, my heart beating like a motherfucker inside my chest, when she says the name… Wendy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - TARA

  I swallow hard and just stare at the tatted-up Boston brother. Finally I clear my throat and try to act brave in the face of this hostile confrontation. “My… future?” I guess the good news is that I have a future.

  Johnny points to the couch. “Please. We’re not going anywhere until we sort this mess out.”

  “Over here, love.” Jesse pats the couch cushion to his left. “I won’t bite. I’m the nice brother.”

  I look at Belinda with wide eyes.

  “Just do it, Tare. Because if what just they told me is true, you’re going to need to be sitting to hear it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Johnny points to the couch. “I’m gonna spell it all out for you. But I need you all to sit so I don’t have to worry about one of you trying something stupid.” He eyes Vann when he says this. Like Vann did something stupid right before I walked in. “You too, Sick Boy. Have a seat. And if you try to attack me again, I’ll do more than rough you up.”

  Vann huffs and straightens out the twisted collar of his t-shirt. But he walks over to me, places a hand on my back, and urges me to sit with him.

  Johnny nods his head at Belinda. “You too, Rosalie. Or whatever you go by now. Sit.”

  Belinda pulls her arm out of the other guy’s grip, then looks hesitantly at the little girl in the kitchen.

  “Don’t worry about her,” Johnny says. “She’s not gonna touch anyone unless we tell her to.”

  I blink and turn around to take another look at the blue-eyed girl. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re about to find out,” the other guy says.

  Belinda joins Vann and me on the couch. I try to concentrate on Johnny, since he’s clearly the one in charge here. But I can’t shake the feeling that I should not take my eyes off that little girl.

  Jesse rubs his hands together like we’re all about to do something very exciting. “OK. We all comfortable?” He stands up, walks over to Johnny, and turns to face us, making it very clear that they are a team. “Good. Let’s start putting all these pieces together. How about some introductions? Just so we’re all on the same page as far as identities go. Hm? I’m Jesse Boston. This is my brother, Johnny. Zach? That guy who lives next door with Luke? He’s our cousin.”

  “We’re not stupid,” Vann spits.

  “Shut up, Vann.” We all look at the little girl. She’s not in the kitchen anymore. She’s right behind me on the other side of the couch. A chill starts crawling its way up my spine and when it reaches my neck, all the tiny little hairs stand on end and I shudder. “Obviously you’re stupid enough to put your nose into other people’s business. And this is what that gets you.”

  “That?” Jesse points to the girl. “Is Wendy. Say hello, Wendy.”

  Wendy snorts. She does not say hello.

  “And that?” Jesse points to the other, quiet, tatted-up dude. “Is Chek. C-H-E-K, for the record.” Jesse smiles at us. “People always wonder. So I like to clarify. He’s Wendy’s…” Jesse pauses to look at Chek. “I know we call her your daughter. But she’s not your daughter.”

  Wendy walks around to join Chek off to Jesse and Johnny’s left. “You can just call me the weapon.”

&
nbsp; “What the fuck?” I mumble. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

  “Tare?” Belinda puts a hand on my arm. “Trust me. It makes all the sense.”

  “And you are Phoebe-slash-Tara.” Jesse points to me. “You walked into something with a man named Diablo two years ago, testified against him, he got off, and you were put into protective custody. You”—he points to Belinda—“are Rosalie-slash-Belinda. You also walked in on something and were put into protective custody. Now here we are. Diablo is in town—”

  Belinda gasps and looks at me.

  “It’s true,” I say. “I just came from the marina. He’s here meeting with Alonzo.”

  “What?” Belinda exclaims.

  “I knew it,” Vann growls.

  “You didn’t know anything,” Johnny snaps at Vann. “You’re a nosy fucking kid from Colorado who got lucky with a few good guesses.”

  Vann laughs. “Is that what I am?”

  Wendy scoffs. “We don’t have time for this. The whole thing is going down tomorrow night and nothing can go wrong. We need those kids.”

  “What?” I exclaim. “Oh, my God.” I stand up and start pacing. “You’re all in on it! Oh, my God.”

  Belinda gets up and walks over to me. “In on what, Tare? What’s going on?”

  “The kids! The fucking kids! The sex slaves!”

  “What?” Pretty much everyone in the room says that.

  Johnny pushes Belinda out of the way so he can stand in front of me. “Sex slaves? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The kids! They’re taking kids! I saw Diablo at Long Beach Harbor! That’s why the FBI intervened, asked me to testify, and put me in the witness protection program when the whole thing went sideways! They’re selling children, Johnny! For the sex trade.”

  “Wait. When did we start selling kids?” That’s Wendy. And all that creepy badassness in her voice is suddenly gone as she looks up at her… whoever that guy is to her.

  “We’re not selling kids,” Chek assures her. “This one is out of her mind.”

  “Me?” I point to my chest. “I’m not the one out of my mind here, OK? I saw it! I saw it and Diablo was charged with it! Just because he got off doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

  “She’s not supposed to know about Angelica, Chek. You said no one knew but us! This is great. Just fucking great. I promised Angelica I’d take care of things and there would be no witnesses. But now…”

  Oh, man. I almost pee my pants. Because Creepy Wendy is looking at me with a whole lot of now-I-have-to-kill-you in her sinister blue eyes.

  I casually take a few steps behind Johnny Boston. If that little weapon attacks, she’s gonna get him first.

  “OK, hold the fuck up.” Johnny grabs my arm and drags me out from behind him, pushing me forward into the center of the room. “Can you please explain that accusation?”

  “You know what I’m talking about!” My voice is too loud and a little bit screamy. “And Alonzo Dumas is in on it too! They’re selling sex slaves!”

  Everyone in the room is quiet. They’re all just staring at me. “What? Why are you all staring at me?”

  “They’re not staring at you.”

  I whirl around and see Alonzo standing in the open door.

  “They’re staring at me. But I heard what you just said. And now I’m wondering…” He doesn’t finish that statement.

  “Wondering what?” I ask.

  He shakes his head and frowns at me. “Just what kind of man you think I am.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - ALONZO

  Tara sputters out some incoherent words. But I’m not listening. I’m running her accusation though my head on repeat.

  Sex slaves. She thinks I’ve been smuggling kids into the US for the sex slave business.

  I look her in the eyes. Try to think rationally. “I get it. You thought you saw something in Long Beach—”

  “I did see something!” Tara points to Diablo, who is standing behind me next to Quint. “I saw him smuggling in children! They came in freight containers. He was arrested for human trafficking and put in jail. There were guns involved, Alonzo! I know what I saw!”

  Diablo takes a step forward to stand next to me. “I was found not guilty, Phoebe.”

  “Trust me, I know that, Diablo! My whole life was upended because you got off.”

  I… don’t even know how to process this. She thinks I’m a sex trafficker. Not just any kind of sex trafficker, either. Children. She thinks I sell children to pedophiles. It’s one thing to accuse Diablo. She said she didn’t know him. I kinda get that misunderstanding.

  But me?

  She knows me. We’re in love. She’s been like my best friend for two. Fucking. Years.

  “OK, hold on here.” Everyone turns to look at Johnny. But he’s only looking at me. “Would you like to explain what’s really going on so we can move forward with a plan?”

  “Yeah,” Creepy Wendy pipes up. “My friend is counting on me, OK? We cannot fuck this up!”

  I look at Tara. I could explain. It would literally take about ten words to clear up her confusion.

  But you know what? Nat-ah. I point at her. “Fuck you, Tara.”

  And then I push through Quint and Diablo, walk out, and slam the door behind me.

  I hop over the side of the porch. Hop up onto my porch, throw the front door open, and walk inside, slamming that one too.

  I pace back and forth across my living room for several minutes, holding my head in my hands. Her words echo in my brain.

  Selling sex slaves.

  Alonzo Dumas is in on it.

  That’s all I hear.

  The door flies open and hits the wall. I turn around, expecting it to be Johnny. He’s here for a reason, after all. Seems we actually do have some mutual business going on tomorrow night.

  But it’s not Johnny. It’s Tara.

  “Lonnie—”

  “Fuck you, Tara. Don’t even call me that.”

  “Let me explain. It’s just a stupid misunderstanding.”

  “Stupid misunderstanding? No, Tara. That’s not what this is.”

  “Johnny told me. He told me what you guys are doing. And that’s… well, pretty wonderful. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Stop.” I hold up my hand. Because I can’t listen to one more word. “Just stop, OK? You thought I was selling children to pedophiles.”

  “I know, but it was a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” I guffaw. “That’s not a mistake. That’s a… that’s a… I don’t even have a word for it.”

  “Listen, I’m sorry. I was wound up. And I saw you with Diablo this morning—”

  “When?”

  “I just came from the docks. I was…” She pauses. “I was hiding in your office when you guys walked in. I saw you and… I assumed things… and…” She lets out a long breath.

  “You just assumed I was peddling kids to pedophiles?”

  “Look, Alonzo—”

  “No, you look. I didn’t tell you what I do because it’s illegal. And I don’t want you involved.”

  “So you fed me some story about mermaids and sailors?”

  “I didn’t feed you anything. That’s my family history. Take it or leave it. That’s what I was saying that night. But if you take it, then you—”

  “I what?” Now she’s seething. And that kinda pisses me off. She has no right to seethe. “I shut my mouth like a good little wife? While you go out and save orphans in Haiti? Is that what you were trying to tell me that night?”

  “Yeah. That’s exactly it. I wasn’t gonna tell you the truth, but—”

  “You weren’t gonna tell me because I’m just some dumb girl, right? You have this all figured out, don’t you? The whole myth thing? You get to go do all these beautifully dangerous things. Isn’t that what you said?”

  I walk over to her and look down, daring her to look me in the eyes. She does. So I keep it going. “Yeah. That’s right. That’s what I said. And apparently w
hat you heard is that I’m a sex trafficker.”

  “It’s not my fault I jumped to conclusions. You were with Diablo. I told you I was running from him. What was I supposed to think?”

  “Well, if you weren’t fucking spying on me this morning, then you’d have known the truth about what we do. Because I brought him over to Dumas Street so we could sort this out. We were going to explain the whole mix-up. But then I get here, find you gone, and then I hear you getting all loud and screamy next door.” I throw up my hands. “And I open the door just in time to hear what you really think about me.”

  “That’s not fair and you know it!”

  “You’re not fair. I’ve risked my fucking ass twice a year for the past eighteen fucking years to smuggle orphans from Haiti into the US and give them a second chance. My family has been doing this for decades. In lots of different Caribbean countries, too. We”—I point to my chest—“are the good guys, Tara Tanner!”

  “I know.” She reaches for me, but I swat her hand away. “Just… I’m sorry. I misunderstood and—”

  “That was not a misunderstanding.”

  She points her finger at my face. “You’ve been lying to me for two years! I came here to confront you, but you weren’t interested in telling me the truth. All you wanted was to feed me stories and keep me quiet.”

  “And fuck you.”

  She points again. “Yeah. And fuck me. Like some good little woman who isn’t capable of knowing the truth about beautifully dangerous things. Or helping out, for that fucking matter! Did you ever, for one fucking second, wonder if maybe I—the actual goddamned orphan in this relationship—would like to partner up with you in your beautifully dangerous scheme?”

  “You can’t.”

  “Why can’t I?”

  “Because that’s not how it works!”

  “Because I’m a woman?”

  “No… just…”

  She points her finger at me yet again. “You know what, Lonnie? Fuck. You.”

  Then it’s her turn to storm out. She slams the door behind her.

  I resume my pacing of the living room. So fucking… I don’t know what I am.