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Chapter Five
Storm headed into the city and went straight to FBI headquarters on Justice Way in Dallas. He shared an office there with another agent, Neal Patter, and they’d just cleaned up their latest MS-13 case. Another murder committed by the Parkview clique.
The Salvadoran, Arturo Vargas, had been instrumental in multiple atrocities including operating in Las Vegas, Nevada, with the Racketeering Conspiracy known as RICO as one of the charges. They also associated multiple counts of murder and kidnapping as well as firearm charges to him and his crew.
Having them off the street had given both Storm and his partner, Neal, a huge sense of relief. Exhausted by the constant conflicts they had to overcome these last few weeks, it was time to slow down and catch up on the paperwork involved. Not a part of the job he normally enjoyed but today, he had to admit to being glad of some down time from living on the edge.
Having infiltrated their operation as a driver, he’d earlier studied everything the FBI had on the leader. By keeping his ears open, and his thoughts to himself, he got close to the man. Because Vargas refused to drive himself around the city and had hired Storm to be his chauffeur, Storm came into a lot of information over the three months he’d been working the assignment.
Thinking back to how they’d met, he’d known that Vargas loved the Supercar races and often went to watch the performances. Setting up a day when he knew Arturo Vargas would be there, he’d put on a performance that had rocked everyone, himself included. Soon after the show, one of Vargas’s goons approached him.
Once he’d gotten the word out that he was a badass who’d just been released from a five-year stint in a Los Angeles prison, an invention the FBI had painstakingly set up to be foolproof, he’d had no problem breaking into the confidences of Vargas and his crew of misfits and crooks. In a strange way, he’d become enamored of the bizarre genius who loved as hard as he hated.
Being one of the lucky ones, Storm only saw the good side of a man who adored his family, his close employees, and his mistresses. He had to convince himself that Vargas pulled the strings and people died.
Though it had been his information that led to the final outcome, he’d been forced to stay away from the eventual takedown. Saved from the home invasion where Vargas had been captured and the gang either disseminated or dead, he’d been able to keep his FBI persona from coming out in the open.
Now back in Dallas, getting past all the handshakes and hellos from those he hadn’t seen for months, he finally got a window of time to sit down at his desk. Taking out the phone that had been burning a hole in his pocket, he grinned at the blingy cover that flamed with rhinestones.
Upon opening it, he thrilled to find it had no password or special login. Scrolling through the settings to gather information on the owner, he decided not to pry and figured his colossal honor deserved a medal.
Checking her contacts, it showed her mother and the address and phone number of her place of work.
Bingo! She owned a restaurant downtown called Jill’s; a fabulous high-class place he’d been to a few times for their delicious seafood specialties.
He clicked on the phone number and waited. Eventually, a woman’s voice answered, “Hello, Jill’s Place. How may I help you?”
“Hi, this is Special Agent Kurt Storm. Do you know Ruby Allen?”
“Sure. She’s my daughter. Is so-something wrong.” He heard a hitch in the woman’s voice, and her worry became evident.
“No, no. It’s about her phone. It’s in my possession, and I wanted to return it to her.”
“Oh, thank goodness. I’m always terrified of bad news, and you introduced yourself as an FBI agent. I’m sorry. Yes, she mentioned she’d left it at the bar yesterday.”
“That’s right.”
“Then how did you get it?”
Busted!Not willing to lie, he nonchalantly replied, “I was there too.”
“Okay…”
“She left it behind.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, when I went back there today, the bartender, who’s an old friend, gave it to me.”
“Because… why? Because you’re a cop?”
“Not really.” Stuck and knowing he would be telling tales if he admitted to their kiss as the reason that Ted offered him the phone, he dithered just like he had as a little boy in front of Molly. Even with tomato juice and seeds all over his face, he’d be unwilling to admit he’d just ransacked her garden, yet he couldn’t fib either.
Trying to stick as close to the truth as possible, he came up with the lame excuse of, “Probably he knew I’d be able to return it to her faster than he could.”
“I see. Well, she has the day off today but will most likely show up for dinner. Why don’t you come too… around six, and I’ll save you a table? Of course, the meal will be on the house, whatever you choose.”
“You don’t have to do that ma’am. I don’t need any reward. I’m happy to pass it over to her.”
“Or you could just drop it off anytime, and I’ll see she gets it.”
“Right. Six is fine. And thank you.”
