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DEA?
“…you’re sure?”
“He broke into my room the night Roach disappeared,” she said. “In fact, the DEA were the ones who grabbed Roach and hauled him off.”
“The DEA has Roach?” I asked, astounded.
“They did they last time I saw him.”
I stared at the floor. It was hard to think; my thoughts were jumbled chaos.
Eddie Deacon –
I patched that motherfucker in myself!
He’s been playing us from the beginning –
How long did the Feds plan this?
That means Ali might have been snitching to Eddie –
Wait – Roach broke into Fiona’s room –
“But your room,” I said, latching onto at least one fact I knew. “Roach trashed it.”
“No, that was Eddie, to make you guys think Roach trashed it.”
I thought back to the last time Fiona and I were in bed together, and what I’d said afterwards. Lou thinks you’re a federal agent. It wasn’t the Santa Muertes who broke into your room… it was a guy named Roach he sent to kill you.
I shook my head in equal parts weariness and disgust. The betrayals just kept on coming; there was no fucking end to them. “I told you about Roach when I asked you about the DEA, and you just lied right to my fuckin’ face.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice anguished. “But I’m telling you now. No more lies.”
I chuckled bitterly. “It’s a little late for that.”
She didn’t say anything. She just stood there looking guilty as hell.
“Wait,” I said, my brain starting to work normally again. “If Eddie’s DEA, then why hasn’t he taken down Lou already?”
She grimaced. “Because he was after you, too.”
Jesus – yet another fucking knife to the gut.
“And you were going to help him take me down?!” I yelled, moving a couple steps towards her.
“Aah aah aaaah,” Sid said, gesturing with his .357. I’d almost forgotten he was there.
“No!” Fiona protested. “I told him you were clean, but he didn’t believe me. I think he wants the entire club – he said he’s going to wipe out the entire distribution network.”
My guts suddenly went cold.
“‘Entire distribution network?’” the old fart asked sarcastically. “What’s that all about, Mr. Goody Two Shoes?”
“We sell pot, for Christ’s sakes,” I said, glaring at him.
“Pot?!” Fiona yelped, suddenly self-righteous. “You said you were a hundred percent legal!”
“We sell to dispensaries,” I snapped. “That’s who we supply.”
