Criminal Instinct (12 page)

“My vehicle’s this way,” he said.

Jax’s chopper started up, then rumbled down the street.

A vibration went off in Ana’s coat pocket. She sighed, pulled it out and read her cell. A number was texted to her that she didn’t recognize.

“I need to make a quick call,” she said, grabbing the side of the passenger door he’d just opened. The heavy weight of the door startled her. She glanced at it. “What’s up with your car?” The window glass appeared thicker than normal.

“Bulletproof.”

She looked back at him, her mouth popping open. Was he serious?

With his face deadpan he said, “You just never know when someone might try to kill you.”

Didn’t she know it.
She let out a nervous laugh and hitched herself up into the passenger seat. “Holy crap.” Again his signature leather surrounded them, this time a smooth-as-butter beige. But it was as if she’d entered an entertainment center instead of a SUV.

The dash in front of her seat held a small television screen. A CD/DVD player was embedded in the center, and below it were more electronic devices than she’d ever laid eyes on before. Of course the car included some kind of Telestar communication system like she’d seen on television, where the driver could press a button and ask for directions.

She turned her head to scope out the back seat, spotting another mini screen embedded in the leather. She slid around on her knees and peered over the seat. Yep, another box behind her too.

“Who is he to you?” Jonas asked.

His expression was distant, his mouth a flat line.
That look
didn’t need clarification.

“Do you live in this car?” She eased back into the seat as she dialed the number.

“It’s like pulling teeth to get an answer from you,” he observed.

Waiting for the line to pick up, she looked at him point-blank. “Then don’t ask.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and she glanced away, oddly uneasy with her remark. It had sounded bitchy even to her. But how else was she supposed to evade all his pointed questions?

“Talk,” a deep voice rumbled into her ear.

“Who is this?”

“Is this Ana?” The voice went into a slight sing-song.

Great, a whack job. “Who wants to know?”

“Name’s Doms. Got a friend of yours here. Says you’ll vouch for him. You know a Paul?”

Alarm skittered down her spine. “Yeah, I do. Put him on.”

“I don’t think so. Meet me at the Vista Motel on Polk. Room 212. If you don’t want Pauly hurt any more than he already is.”

Click.

Her grip tightened on the cell. “Damn it!”

“Ana, what is it?”

Chances were Doms didn’t work alone. Chances were she would need help. Not to mention, she wanted to get to the motel quick. But there was no way to call Jax back. And no way could she contact the firehouse with her present company listening in.

“Damn it, kid.” She turned to Jonas and swallowed. “Someone’s in trouble. But seriously, it’s by
my
rules, Jonas, or I go alone.”

Miles “Sarge” Winters entered the firehouse. It was late. He should have been home asleep. But there was nothing—no one—at home for him. Chasing X leads on the Deadly Adam op was a hell of a lot more productive than staring at his damn ceiling.

Taking the stairs, he saw the meet room’s light on. Hadn’t he turned that light off earlier?

Every nerve in his body sprang to alert mode. He slid out the Glock from his hip holster and then slowly proceeded up the steps toward the open doorway. Back pressed against the wall beside the entry, he swung his arms around, gun outstretched. Then he entered the room and scanned the area.

It was only Jay.

Christ, he was on edge.

Jay raised his hands in mock surrender, humor flickering in his eyes. “I was just doing a check on the kids, Miles. Didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

Miles stuffed the Glock back in its harness. “Everyone where they’re supposed to be?”

“Close enough,” Jay said. “You did send Ana and Billy together on the Tyler lead, right?”

Sitting at his desk, Miles grunted. He never understood why Jay always felt the need to call the recruits by their first names. Too damn personal. “Let me guess, Switch didn’t follow orders.” He cursed at the thought of her. “I’m tired of her attitude. Nobody else gives me lip. I’m telling you, Jay. I don’t know how much more of her sass I can take without wringing her scrawny neck.”

Jay didn’t comment on the bane of Miles’s existence. “I show Ana and Billy in separate vicinities. But I’m sure everything’s okay.”

“And what about our little runaway?”

Jay shook his head. “The nearest patrol car was delayed. When they arrived at the location, he’d already moved. I just did a scan for his recent location, somewhere on Polk. The map guide indicates a motel.”

“Hell. We have our hands full with this op and we can’t even depend on a uniform to do his job. I thought for sure Switch knew where the kid was, but she would have had him back by now if she did. So much for trying to get this team to look out for each other. I let too much time pass,” he murmured. “We got to pick the kid up.”

“I’m on my way now. We’ll find out what’s been going on with him.”

Miles nodded.

“Miles.” Jay hesitated then pulled up a chair and sat on the other side of his desk for a quiet moment. “About Ana. I remember when her record popped on the database for a potential recruit. I was there for most of the kids you put on your list. You fought to get her on the team because she was what you were looking for. You thought that—”

“That she had what it took. Deceptively young looks, street smarts, and a tough-as-nails attitude. I knew she could take a good ass-kicking and get back up again. I remember. She doesn’t let me forget.”

“It’s not just Ana that’s got you upset, is it? It’s the op.”

Miles didn’t comment. Not even when Jay’s expressive eyes told him he understood. His hands just curled into fists.

“We both thought Johnson would lead somewhere,” Jay said. “We couldn’t know he was going to get himself killed at the rave.”

Miles slammed his fist on his desk. “Bullshit. If Switch hadn’t pissed him off he might have kept his head, stayed alive long enough for him to be questioned about what the hell he meant about Saven and that shipment!”

Jay remained seated and unfazed. “It’s not Ana’s fault he pulled the gun. The autopsy showed evidence of barbiturates in Johnson’s system. You saw the pictures of Ana’s arrest six months ago. You know what happened to her then, and you’ve heard the surveillance tapes from the rave.” He shook his head. “She couldn’t stop herself. And if you thought it was entirely her fault, why did you file a report against the Narcotics Division for locking Ana and Paul inside that bathroom with Johnson?”

“Because they know damn well our recruits are unarmed. SIDE works for law enforcement, but they are not cops. I won’t let anybody get my people killed. It’s nothing personal, Jay. That’s how I work.” He didn’t think about the recruit’s personal experiences. All of them harbored demons—hell, so did he—but he just didn’t care. “The truth remains, if I had Johnson in my hands…”

“Charlie’s been dead for three years now, Miles.”

His anger fell like a stone. Now only sadness and grief pulsed in his blood. And it felt like they would forever.

Jay stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. “When are you going to stop punishing yourself?”

Miles pushed back the grief when he heard pounding feet up the staircase.

Digit came through the doorway. “I got something on Tyler.”

Painted a drab ivory, with outdoor entries, the Vista Motel appeared to be a typical thirty-dollar-a-night joint. Not the Hilton, but it didn’t look like it had cockroaches crawling in every corner either.

Ana wiped her damp palm on the front of her coat as she and Jonas climbed the stairs to 212. Muffled voices sifted through the thin walls. She’d told Jonas a friend had stumbled into some unsavory company and she needed to cut him loose. That was it. He hadn’t been happy with her curt explanation, but he’d been unwilling to let her go alone. His only demand—that she button up her coat.

Ana banged on the door. The voices stopped.

The door swung open. A haze of cannabis smoke floated into the night, and a big Rasta-looking dude filled the doorway.

Jonas stepped forward, half blocking Ana’s body from the big guy.

Short dreadlocks stuck out of the guy’s head in every direction. He had a double chin—a miniature roll of fat that matched his big blob of a belly. His eyes were buried close together in his wide head and his lips poked out, resembling tiny sausages.

Those sausages finally moved. “Yeah,” he said.

“I’m Ana,” she said. “We’re looking for Paul.”

Big Rasta dude looked at Jonas. “Doms’s expecting Ana. Nobody else.”

It had to be difficult, but Jonas didn’t say a word. A million questions would be fired at her when this was over, she just knew it. But she would have a few questions for him, too. For instance, he’d better have a good explanation for following her earlier.

“Yeah, well,” she said. “Little ol’ me needs protection and Darryl here is it. Now step aside, fat boy.”

Surprisingly, he did and they entered.

Three other people occupied the room. And none of them was Skates.

Sprawled on one of the two beds was another Rasta dude, this one small, practically skin and bones, with scruffy dreads trailing to his waist. He was stroking a half-naked Latina like she was some sort of pet.

On the other bed, a white woman wearing an over-sized T-shirt lay on her stomach across the thin orange comforter, engrossed in the porno playing on the television. A prostitute’s education, apparently.

A square plastic table between the beds held a mirror with lines of coke, a colorful assortment of pills in a plastic baggy, and a handful of fat joints. Empty liquor bottles were scattered across the floor of the room.

Ana surveyed the skinny dude. “Doms?”

He smiled, showing off radiant silver and gold caps. “That’s right, Ana. Glad you could join the party.”

“Where’s Paul?”

“In the bathroom. But first we have some things to settle.” He lit the biggest joint Ana had ever come across, what the streets called a
blunt
. She’d heard how tokers took apart cigars and loaded the wrappers with pot. It had seemed funny at the time. Now seeing a bony guy smoke one as big as his thumb was just bizarre.

“You see,” he continued, “Pauly has been asking a lot of questions that I don’t like. We already had this conversation before and I told him if he wanted to remain living in this fine home we call Earth, he had to prove to me he wasn’t a narc. So I gave him a little doctored white powder to try, and all was settled.”

Ana stood still and listened. That was where she’d come in to the equation and found Skates drugged, just before she’d sent him to her apartment.

“Later, I hear he was hanging around one of my establishments inquiring about some Love Drug.” The dealer toked the blunt and held it in his lungs for what seemed like a frigging eternity, then exhaled. The smoke formed a feathery cloud. “Pauly did not ask permission to come to my territory to talk to my people.” He tsked. “That was very rude of him. I had my men pick him up. I was ready to kill him, but he swore to me he wasn’t a weasel. He said he was looking for a score and that he had people to vouch for him. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, as I am a fair man, and asked you to join the party.”

His dark eyes went to Jonas. “I don’t remember telling you to invite anyone else.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t, either.”

Doms smiled again. “Right. Right.” He looked Jonas over. “You look familiar, my friend. Have we crossed paths before?”

Familiar to Doms?
Ana’s chest tightened, but somehow she managed to not give off her discomfort. She hadn’t considered the possibility of the two travelling in the same circles. Just more proof that she didn’t want to acknowledge Jonas was guilty of drug trafficking.

Jonas didn’t bat an eyelash or utter a sound. She was a little shocked that he was following her rules.

“Don’t say a word while we’re there. The superior attitude that radiates off you in waves—”

“Look who’s talking about attitude.”

“—could get my friend hurt.”

She witnessed his struggle, but his face merely went unreadable before he inclined his head. More of his almighty control. She admired his willpower, but it was starting to grate on her nerves.

Doms looked at her, likely tired of waiting for Jonas to answer. “Darryl’s just the muscle,” she said. “Let’s get down to it. I vouch for Paul, he’s not a narc.”

“I’ll believe it when the two of you join the party.”

“Wish we could. How about we set up a deal instead? No offense, but I party when I’m off the clock and right now I’m not. I’m here to pick up my friend.”

“You will join the party and we can talk deal.”

“Fine.” She’d faked taking a drug hit before, but it wasn’t the easiest to pull off if they watched too closely. Either she’d talk her way out of it, or they might just have to fight their way out. She glanced around and purposely ignored Jonas. “But first—you, me. In private.”

Could be a sixth sense, but she had the distinct feeling Jonas wasn’t too ecstatic with this new turn of events. He didn’t tense, he didn’t shift, but he was like a threatening cloud that loomed over her, ready to spit out lightning bolts right at her leap-before-she-looks ass. She knew what she was doing, though. This was a bad situation, but it was also a lead that needed to be checked out.

Doms eyed her with interest. “And where would you like this privacy?”

“How about the john?”

“While your man here stays with my entourage.”

“Not a problem.”

Jonas cut her a look.

Meeting his eyes, she gave a nod. “It’ll be okay. Five minutes. That’s all I need.”

She felt his gaze on her back as she and Doms took a few short steps to a closed door.

Ana had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach about Skates, and she relied on her gut like an instinct.