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Marisa
Chad Davis was pacing in front of my desk. “How bad did I screw up?” His question came out on a hurried breath.
“Pretty bad,” I said, fighting the tears I wanted to shed but wouldn’t allow myself to. Not because it was Chad, but because I had to keep myself together and focus on the job.
As badly as I wanted to apologize to Tyler and fix things, right now, the job came first.
“Crap. I’m sorry. I didn’t consider that he might not know.”
“Yeah, well . . .” My eyes landed on the captain’s office. The blinds were drawn. “They in there?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s get this show on the road.” My grimace matched my emotions. And it wasn’t just because of Tyler, but because the thought of having to work with Mitchell infuriated me.
I listened intently, taking mental notes and physical ones as we went through the logistics of the operation.
When working undercover, the first thing you have to consider is how far you’re willing to go to succeed in achieving your goal. You also need to consider how you’re going to deal with the aftermath if things go horribly wrong and how you will live with the repercussions if they do. Also, the people you’re working with have to believe that crossing the line won’t be a problem and that you’re willing to do absolutely anything, no matter how horrible.
I was in the perfect mindset for this assignment because the only thing that mattered to me was getting to Alonso López and taking down his organization. Sometimes the only way to get through an assignment like this one was to remind myself that in order to stop a monster, sometimes you had to act like one yourself.
Things seemed pretty cut and dry.
Now, I just had to meet with Guadalupe Garcia to ensure we were on the same page. I tried to be patient as I sat in our secured off-site location at the mall. The clock was ticking. Several hours passed. Tyler hadn’t responded to my texts. The nausea I felt was akin to being seasick. My nerves were frazzled, and I felt like I was being tossed around like a boat on the open sea during a monsoon. It was my own damn fault, though.
I straightened the file folder in front of me, forcing myself to concentrate on something other than Tyler. I had memorized everything inside, the details running over and over through my mind on repeat like a bad song you couldn’t get out of your head.
Guadalupe Elizabeth Garcia, aka “Lupe,” born and raised in San Diego. Family is very deep with the Los Tiburónes. Connected and trusted because of her family. Her father has been in the joint since Guadalupe was twenty. He’s never getting out. Her mom dealt for Los Tiburónes, and died when Guadalupe was seventeen. Her brother Hector was in prison on a twenty-year sentence. He was killed in prison. Been an active CI with the DEA. Handler said all her tips have been solid.
Preparing to go undercover was a lot more complicated than updating a résumé, mainly because you’re taking on the role of someone else. You have to become that person in order to convince everyone you come in contact with that you are who you say you are. The slightest slipup, the smallest inclination that you are deceiving them, and you’re screwed. If you could keep your facts straight, you’d be fine. If you messed up, you might not live to see the next sunrise.
Guadalupe Garcia walked in. I knew her from the photographs I had studied.
“A cop’s CI relationship is all about trust, Guadalupe. I need to trust you. Or I won’t do this,” I told her this, to build her trust in me, not the other way around. I’d never before trusted a CI, but in order to get her to confide in me, I had to establish a rapport. We both knew how this worked.
She nodded, understanding that I wasn’t here to waste my time. I had pressing things to get back to. I wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. Only one thing mattered. Tyler.
“You don’t have to worry, Detective. I know the drill. I’m hooked in deep withLos Tiburónes. Have been for most of my life because of my father.”
“And?”
“I want out. I want to take them down. And then, I want to disappear and forget this part of my life.”
I flipped to a page in my file. “You’re Alonso López’s girlfriend?”
“Yes.” Her face was unreadable. “For a couple of years now.”
“And he doesn’t suspect anything?”
She scoffed. “No.”
“You’re one hundred percent positive?”
“If he did, I wouldn’t be here talking to you. I’d be dead.” The girl had somecajones, I’d give her that. “Every other week, I go and see my dad. In prison. He’s locked up for life.”
“I’ve read the file.”
“He’s loyal to them. Till death.”
