Rogue Alliance Page 12

  “Okay.”

  Shyla tossed her bag to the floor and headed straight for the liquor cabinet.

  “I was out of town and my flight home was delayed,” she said, “I had to call in to work. My plane just got in half an hour ago. That’s why I wasn’t home. I’m sorry.”

  She pulled the bottle of whiskey down and took three deep swallows, enjoying they way it took her breath away and opened up her sinuses.

  “Can I have some?” Carmen asked.

  “Psh. Hell no, you can’t have some,” Shyla capped the bottle and put it up on the highest shelf.

  “Well, I bet you’re hungry,” Carmen said, "I could go grab us some food. We could just play cards and hang out for awhile.”

  Did the girl not hear her just say she was dog tired? Shyla sighed.

  “Sure,” she said, “call up some pizzas. Extra pepperoni. I’m going to jump in a hot shower.”

  Tired or not, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. There was too much on her mind. And, truth be told, she kind of wanted the company. She popped her head around her bedroom door.

  “And stay out of the liquor cabinet.”

  An hour later, she felt warm and fuzzy from the inside out. They’d been playing poker, betting with toothpicks, and she’d been drinking steadily throughout the game. The disastrous events of the weekend lingered only on the murky outskirts of her mind, almost like they didn’t exist.

  Carmen was staring at her with a smirk.

  “Maybe you should drink more often,” she said, “you lose that uptight, control freak side of you and chill out for once.”

  “Control freak, huh?” Shyla laughed, “that doesn’t sound very cool at all.”

  They sat on the floor with cards spread about and giggled.

  “Yeah, I guess I’m a bit of a tight-ass,” she conceded, “but the answer isn’t alcohol. Alcohol is bad. Stay away from it.”

  She lay back and stared at the ceiling. It started to spin.

  “This coming from the drunk lady rolling around on the floor and slurring her words,” Carmen observed.

  “I’m serious,” Shyla said, trying to compose herself, “I know I’m not setting a good example right now, but I’m an adult and I’ve had a rough day. Besides, I’m not drunk. I’ve only had a few drinks.”

  Slowly she stood up and only swayed slightly. See, she was perfectly fine. “Anyway, I need to get to bed. I’ve got to work in the morning.”

  Carmen picked up the cards and gathered her coat.

  “Okay, thanks for the pizza. I had fun kicking your butt at poker. Next time we should play with real money.”

  Jesus. Gambling, drinking, swearing, what was she teaching this kid?

  “I let you win,” she said, “I won’t go so easy on you next time, kid.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  Carmen was standing but suddenly had a serious look on her face.

  “Did you really kill your dad?” she blurted.

  Shyla halted mid-step. Her throat tightened.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  Carmen blushed and stared down at her feet.

  “You know…around. People talk. Don’t worry though. I don’t believe everything I hear. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  Shyla leaned against the wall and pursed her lips.

  “It’s okay. I uh…yeah…I did kill my dad. Stabbed him probably about eight or nine times, I don’t really recall exactly. I was fourteen and was sick of him abusing me, so I killed the son-of-a-bitch. My psychiatrist said I had a mental break-down. You probably heard that my mom killed herself too.”

  Carmen was silent and shook her head with a dumbfounded expression.

  “Well she did. She couldn’t take it…any of it. So in a way, maybe I killed her too,” Shyla felt like the world was getting smaller and closing in around her.

  “Don’t say that,” Carmen said quietly, “you were just a kid. It’s not your fault that your dad was a sick-o. Your mom probably felt guilty for what you went through, not angry with you for what you did.”

  The alcohol was clouding Shyla’s mind and toying with her emotions. She wanted to end this conversation before she regretted saying anything further.

  “Look, Carmen, I’m not proud of my past and I don’t talk about it…ever. But I’m glad you know. Maybe now you will choose to make other friends. I’m not someone you want to hang out with.”

  “But I do want to be your friend. I don’t have any other friends and my parents never want me around. I don’t care what you did all those years ago. I just want to learn kung fu and kick some ass.”

  Carmen broke into a huge grin inviting her to share her good humor.

  Shyla gave a thin smile.

  “Suit yourself, kid. Now get on home. I’m beat.”

  “I’ll see you Friday?” Carmen asked.

  “Yeah. Friday. G’night.”

  Shyla closed the door and leaned against it with a small smile on her face. She liked the kid. A moment later, she walked toward the kitchen and jumped when a loud knock resounded through the apartment. What did that kid want now, she wondered. She must have forgotten something.

  She flung open the door and stood shocked as she stared up at Shawn. He looked angry.

  He brushed past her and stepped into her apartment.

  “What in the hell were you thinking going down to L.A.?”

  “Well hello, Shawn. How are you? Nice to see you, too. Won’t you come in?”

  Shawn stood in a wide stance. His hands were fisted.

  “Drop the sarcasm, Shyla. I’m in no mood for your attitude. You know what I’m talking about. You were supposed to go to San Fran, not make a side trip to LA and get your targets arrested before we even have a case.”

  Shyla walked past him and down the hall.

  “Well, I see that rumor spreads fast. How did you hear?”

  “Eli gave Hal a call and he talked with us about an hour ago.”

  Shyla poured herself a shot and downed it.

  “Well that’s nice,” she said, “now I don’t have to.”

  Shawn stomped toward her.

  “Is this a fucking joke to you? You could have been killed. And for what? We all know that they’ll get out on bail.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad, Shawn. It all goes on the books regardless. It’s all part of building a case. When Victor finally does go down, all of this will be accounted for. It’s not a waste. Now chill out. Besides, its not like I had a choice, they were going to kill Ricardo if I didn’t do something fast. I did the best I could given the situation.”

  Shawn was standing practically nose to nose with her. She looked up. She’d never really noticed how tall he was. The look on his face took her by surprise. It was a mix between anger and concern and she suddenly realized that he was going to kiss her. It occurred to her a moment too late.

  The force of the kiss took her by surprise. It was forceful and intense. She could sense that he was angry with her for his own feelings. He obviously didn’t want to feel whatever he was feeling toward her.

  “God damn it!” He said through gritted teeth, pulling back quickly, “I…I have to go. Forget I even came by.”

  He turned and marched down the hall and through her front door, slamming it shut behind him.

  Shyla brushed a fingertip over her lips. She didn’t know what to think or feel. She hadn’t seen that one coming.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Brennan paced the eight-by-ten cell in which he was incarcerated. He’d spent a decade and a half imprisoned in the institute and had always imagined that if he ever was caged again he’d go stark raving mad.

  He was agitated. He was on edge. But he was perfectly sane and his brain was on high alert. He had no doubt that Victor’s contacts would have them out within days. What he was concerned about was how they would move forward once released. Business would carry on as usual, but there were new questions which needed answers.

  When Ricardo had shouted at Shyla, he ha
dn’t called out her name, but there had been recognition there in his eyes. Where did he know her from? Was he mistaken? And who in the hell had called the cops?

  Ricardo had seemed just as shocked when they burst into the warehouse. But he was also smart enough to know what their ultimate intentions for the meeting had been. Chances were good that he had been the one to make the call. Still, it was all suspicious.

  He gripped the cold bars and leaned his head against the cool metal. Even in jail, he felt freer and more liberated than he’d ever been under Shinto’s reign.

  Fortunately he’d had his supplement the morning they’d been arrested. It had been twenty-four hours since and he was growing weak. The craving was raising its ugly head, but he’d been deprived many times before. At least this time, he would have food and water. He was confident he would make it until after the arraignment. He’d be sick and weak, but he’d make it.

  If, for some reason, they weren’t released at that point, then he would be in a whole hell of a lot of trouble. But there was no point in worrying about that now. Thinking of his need brought back hateful memories. He shuddered and tried to shut them out. Thoughts of Shyla filtered in and mixed with memories of the institute; the look on her face as they’d been escorted out the building and then again when Ricardo had spotted her. Not to mention the way she’d behaved in the warehouse. Her actions were brave, fearless, not the woman she seemed.

  He closed his eyes and replayed it over and over again. When Ricardo yelled, she hadn’t been overly distraught. Worried maybe, but not to the degree the situation warranted. The feeling that had lived in his gut ever since he’d met her was inflamed and raw now. There was something about her that was not what Victor thought. His instinct to protect his friend was strong, but the pull to protect her was nearly as magnetic. He’d felt it when he’d seen the bruises on her neck.

  The sounds of the jail echoed and hummed. He turned and started pacing once again.

  *

  Brennan was dizzy as he walked up the stairs and onto Victor’s plane. They were going home, but the only thing he could think about was retrieving his supplement from the small refrigerator on board. Visions of violence and blood filled his mind. Thoughts of the warm, metallic taste that would drip down his throat poisoned his thoughts. Even Victor’s safety was at risk while he was in such a state. He’d warned him to keep his distance when they reunited in the jail parking lot where their driver had picked them up.

  Victor watched him from afar as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a bag. It was filled with a dark, viscous fluid. He heated the contents quickly, his mind obsessing over his need. Without waiting another second, Brennan pulled out a needle, slid it into his vein, and tapped the intravenous tubing to the bag.

  Minutes later, coherent, rational thought slowly returned and his mind settled. The fog of his need ebbed and he felt himself once again.

  He glanced at Victor, whose expression was pinched.

  “Better now?”

  Brennan nodded.

  “Good. We’ve got things to talk about. First- what are your thoughts on matters? Do you think Ricardo made that call?”

  “I think there’s a good possibility,” Brennan nodded, “if he was already nervous about us finding out what he’d been up to, and then he assumed we were the ones who killed his girlfriend, yeah, I think he could have definitely made the call.”

  “But…?” Victor prodded.

  “Well, is there anyway to find out who made that call for sure?”

  Victor leaned his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes.

  “I’m working on that,” he said, “meanwhile, Ricardo recognized, or thought he recognized, Shyla. What do you make of that?”

  Victor threw him a sidelong glance. Brennan flexed the arm receiving the infusion.

  “I think that we had better find out which of the two it was.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “What do you mean they’ve been released?” Shyla shouted into the phone. Wincing, she rubbed her temple. Last night’s retreat had been cheap vodka. She had purposefully chosen the lower grade alcohol, like a punishment.

  “Their arraignments were first thing this morning,” Eli said, “you know that. Judge dismissed all evidence on the tape, concluded that there is no quantifiable evidence to show there was mal-intent toward Ricardo, and let ‘em go.”

  Shyla stayed silent.

  “Come on,” Eli prompted, “you can’t be shocked? You know as well as I do, that Champlain has the means to have a judge or two in his pockets. I warned you about this. It’s gonna take a lot more to get where we need to be with this case than what we’ve currently got. This is only the very beginning to a long cause.”

  He paused.

  “Do you think your cover is blown?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Shyla sighed, “I saw him on Monday and he seemed to believe my confused and scared bit, but who really knows? He’s a smart guy. I’m sure he’s starting to doubt me at the very least.”

  “Well maybe you should come home, then. I don’t want you to put yourself at risk.”

  “No, no, I’m going to see this one through. I think I’ve got it covered. Ricardo was just frantic and would do anything to save his hide. Speaking of which, how did Ricardo’s interrogation go? I wish could have been there.”

  “You know very well why you couldn’t, for exactly this reason. I’m hoping you are still in good standing with Victor. If your cover is intact, we still have a chance. Ricardo has retracted his earlier statements of being willing to talk. He’s denying any and all business dealings with Victor. I’m sure he’s hoping to benefit from Victor’s connections as well. He really has no idea who to trust and who not to trust at this point. He’s just trying to cover his own ass.”

  Shyla put a hand to her stomach. It rolled and burned.

  “Okay. So we’re back to square one, except now Victor’s gonna be skittish, which means I’ve got a lot of convincing to do.”

  She heard a soft sigh.

  “Shyla, I’m thinking of pulling you off the case,” Eli said.

  “What?” she said, leaping off the couch. The world tilted and she broke into a cold sweat, “No, way, Eli, I’ve got this. Victor might have his sensors up, but don’t count me out. I’m already in. You aren’t going to be able to find anyone who can get as close as I already have. You pull me and you’ll lose the whole damn case and you know it.”

  The line was silent.

  “Listen,” she continued, “Victor will be home within hours. He said he’d call me as soon as he got into town. Let me feel him out, see where he’s at. I told you, the visit we had on Monday went well. He knows Ricardo would try anything and feed anyone to the wolves if it meant striking a deal.”

  “Yeah, well, Ricardo hasn’t done that yet. I think he’s hoping Victor will step in.”

  “Screw, Ricardo,” Shyla said. “He obviously isn’t going to get us anywhere. What we need is solid evidence - shit that a judge won’t be able to deny.”

  “Settle down, Shyla,” Eli sighed, “I know this case is getting to you. You are right in the middle of it, sacrificing and giving more than you should. But if I think for one second that you are in jeopardy, or not coping, then I will pull you. I want you to contact me as soon as you and Victor talk next. We’ll see how that plays out and go from there. Okay?”

  Sweat was pooled on her upper lip. Her voice quivered.

  “Okay.”

  She hit the end call button, tossed it to the couch, picked up the waste basket and vomited.

  *

  Rummaging through the center console between the two front seats of her Range Rover, Shyla cursed a red streak until she finally found her sunglasses. The sun was shining without mercy and her hangover wanted nothing to do with it.

  Only minutes after the phone call from Eli, as she bent over her waste basket and emptied her stomach of everything from the evening before, Hal Jorgensen had called. “Emergency meetin
g at my house in half an hour,” he’d said before slamming down the phone without waiting for an answer.

  She had hopped into a scalding hot shower, quickly brushed teeth to rid herself of the dragon breath, and was on her way to Hal’s house. Her head was throbbing and her mind was in disarray as she tried to make sense of the last twenty-four hours. But thinking hurt, so she rolled down the window and concentrated on taking in deep breaths of fresh air.

  When she arrived, she didn’t bother to remove her sunglasses as she greeted her small team.

  “Good morning, Hal. Hello, Jason. Shawn.”

  Shawn kept his distance, standing farther back from the group. When they followed Hal down the hall to his study, he sat in a lonely chair in the corner while the rest of them sat on the two couches facing one another. She wondered if he regretted his actions two nights ago or if he was just embarrassed of them. Either way, it appeared he was going to pretend it never happened. She wished she could do the same. But it would have to be addressed at some point.

  She took off her sunglasses after she had a seat on the leather couch, Jason next to her, Hal sitting directly across. She should probably open the dialog, she thought. But she waited.

  Hal leaned back and gave a deep sigh.

  “You wanna go into detail about what went down this weekend?” he asked.

  Shyla mirrored Hals movements and leaned back.

  “I thought you and Eli already had that conversation.”

  “We talked. I just thought that maybe you might have a bit more to offer.”

  “Not really,” Shyla shrugged, “we went to San Fran. I taped the conversation that took place between Victor and his contact. The tape specifically addresses the fact that Victor deals and Ricardo is not only a pusher, but has been scrimping off the top. When I get back to the boat, Victor says we’re going to make a quick stop in L.A. Sunday morning. I figure there’s a good chance they’re going to mess Ricardo up pretty good, so I call Eli in for back-up. All three are arrested. Ricardo spots me and calls out, saying he knows me and he’ll talk. But he doesn’t because he gets to thinking about it and realizes he might still have a chance to make good with Victor. Meanwhile, Victor and Brennan get off Scott-free because they’ve got a Judge on the payroll. The tape is dismissed. And the criminals are home laughing at the system. Did I miss anything?”