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“Who the hell do you think you are?” asked Elwin Jordan, the mayor.
“We’re the fucking guys with balls enough to take on Sutton and stop him, that’s who we are. Now, we can do this easy or hard. I can call in the feds now, have all of you arrested, or you can tell us everything that’s happening here. Where are the women and children, the drugs, all of it.”
“We don’t know where he keeps any of it,” said Carraras. “All we were asked to do was to keep the trail off of him. We’d arrest small-time dealers now and then, saying that they worked for someone else. Sutton was considered a pillar in the community.”
“And who bought that bullshit?” growled Eazee.
“No one,” said Carraras, shaking his head.
“You guys are fucking unbelievable. You call yourself civil servants? Americans?”
“Sutton is planning something big,” said Jordan. “All of this was leading up to something more than just trafficking and drugs. We just don’t know what it was. He wouldn’t tell us anything.”
“Well, good news. You’re all going on a long hiatus. It will be announced on the evening news that the four of you are going on a retreat to discuss the issues of your fair city. Sutton will have no contact with you because you’re going to give us your cell phones.”
“What if our wives want to contact us?” Cowboy smirked at them, shaking his head.
“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“What are we going to do when we find Lomas Rivera?” asked Mo.
“Ironically, he’s meeting us at a Colombian coffee house,” smirked Liffey. “Mo, I need for you to record this entire conversation. If anything goes south, I want us to have a record of it for the team.”
“I thought we trusted him?” asked Mo.
“No. Brooke and Fuentes trust him. Not me. He might be providing information to them on Sutton, even his brother in L.A., but he’s still a drug-dealing piece of shit. The last I heard from the tech team, he’s even expanding into artificial intelligence, scamming corporations for billions. He’s no fucking choir boy, but then again, I suppose neither are we.”
“Speak for yourself,” smirked Mo.
“Come on,” laughed Liffey. “I know that you went against your parents when you fell in love with Ophelia. Then, you defied them a second time by marrying her. That’s anti-choir boy behavior if I’ve ever seen it.”
“Maybe,” smirked Mo. “But this is coming from the small-time thief, expert carjacker.”
“That was a lot of years ago,” smirked Liffey. “I haven’t picked a lock since, well, I picked three this week, but it was work-related.”
“If I haven’t told you, Liffey, I love working with you. You’re a solid dude, and I love the way you treat your wife. I know it was a rough start for the two of you, but you’ve made an incredible life for yourselves with Brooke. I’ve learned a lot from you about being a man, husband, and teammate.”
“Yeah,” smiled Liffey. “Thanks for that. I love working with you, too. When I found Shay, or I should say, when we found Shay, she was a fucking mess, brother. Her little boy was dying from cancer caused by some shit near their home. She was skinny as a rail, wouldn’t eat anything. Mostly because she couldn’t afford anything. But through it all, Mo, through all her tears and pain, I knew I loved that woman with all my heart.
“That shit that was injected into her scared the shit out of me, but as it dissipated, almost everything went back to normal. She still can outrun most of the men and doesn’t seem to get winded at all. She’s also still got a pretty good jump. None of that changes how much I love her.”
“We’ve all had our stories, haven’t we?” said Mo, shaking his head. “I’m so grateful every damn day that we ran into Ophelia in Jakarta. I’m sick that she had to lose her sister for that to happen, but at least we saved her. Crazy to think we reconnected thousands of miles from home.”
“Crazy?” laughed Liffey. “Brother, you and I both know if it’s crazy, her name is Irene. I swear that woman is a witch or voodoo priestess or something. Shay and I didn’t think we’d be able to have children, and then before we knew what was going on, she was pregnant.”
Both men chuckled, smiling at one another as they parked the car in the small parking lot of the coffee shop. There were only two other vehicles in the lot, a rusted out pickup truck, and a very shiny, very beautiful Steel Patriots bike.
“That’s interesting,” frowned Liffey. “And by interesting, I mean strange as fuck.”
The two men walked into the shop seeing one young girl behind the counter and a middle-aged man sitting in a booth. He wore black leather chaps over his jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. The matching leather jacket was flung over the back of the seat.
“Gentlemen,” smiled Lomas Rivera. “Nice to finally meet you both.”
“Mr. Rivera, I assume,” said Liffey.
“Please, just Lomas.”
