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“Brighton, don’t scare the kid. He’s a little green but shows promise.”
Brighton? Alexander Brighton is a known trafficker in the Pacific Northwest. Randel told me about a bust he was part of a few years ago that everyone knows circles back to him but they’ve been unable to prove it. While the officers who raided the home expected to find drugs and weapons, they had no idea the level of armory waiting for them. It was clear then that men in the house were deep into something much bigger.
All the pieces of investigations within my own department and other agencies come together. I understand why Blake sought me out. Why he put this team together. We’re all poached from various counties and agencies along the route that will take anyone from British Columbia to the US-Mexico border. Drugs, guns, and humans. All just a commodity to men like Alexander Brighton.
Before I can be put on the spot again, a loud crash and scream precede the tell-tale sound of a gun being shot.
Chapter 15
Gage
Hands fly as weapons are drawn. I’ve pointed my own weapon at someone but never have I looked down the barrel myself. Until tonight. One of the burly guys standing behind Brighton has his weapon pointed directly at my face. I don’t dare break eye contact. Indifference is supposed to be my attitude. Like I live in a world that gunfire and an environment like this is a regular occurrence.
Behind me I can hear the rustling of bodies and shifting of furniture. Women are crying and there is only the sound of one man groaning. Two men who are built like starting linemen for a winning Super Bowl team are moving two guys with their hands wrapped around their necks toward a large door. A door that looks suspiciously like one you’d see at a bank vault.
There’s no question where those men are being taken. How they’ll be taken care of.
“We’re all friends here Brighton. No need for the weapons.” Blake’s tone is even, not a hint of stress.
“Those men with you?”
Blake scoffs and places his hands on his hips, chin lifted. “The fuck kind of insinuation you making? That I brought trouble to your home? You know me better than that.”
Brighton doesn’t respond, his eyes scrutinizing Blake as if he’s a human lie detector. Blake continues, “Looks like the party’s over so if you’ll ask your men to stand down, we’ll be going.”
Brighton squints his eyes and tilts his head assessing Blake. His eyes jump from our leader to me and then Vargas. Spellman is still sitting in his spot, elbows resting on his knees as he watches. He too is unfazed by this scene.
The standoff between the two leaders of our groups continues when a guy with a shaved head and full-sleeved tattoos interrupts. “Boss, I’m going to take Helling to the doc. Doesn’t look serious but he’s crying like a bitch so maybe he’ll shut up.”
“Take Harding with you and use the secondary route after you check the scanner. It was one shot but fuck knows if the cops have surveillance and will send a car. You men can stand down.”
Guns are lowered but my anxiety isn’t. It may actually be worse now that I don’t know what to expect next. In my peripheral I can see Spellman has moved closer to the door. Blake lifts his chin and turns his attention back to Brighton.
“You want to discuss business further, you know how to reach me. My offer stands at fifteen off the top. It’s not open-ended so I’ll expect to hear from you by week’s end.”
He extends his hand and the men shake. Vargas and I fall in line behind Blake and Spellman as we exit the party. We resume the spots we had on the drive here and are quiet as Vargas drives us back to the safe house. Music plays and Spellman talks about the women who were trying to ride his dick. I know the conversation is for the bugs that were likely placed in our vehicle while we were partying.
When we drive down the residential street toward the house, I note two unmarked cars and sit up straight in my seat. I’ve been told of a team that will sweep the bike and SUV for trackers and listening devices. The other car is occupied by officers that work as our backup in case trouble follows us back.
We file out of the SUV and enter the garage. When the large door closes, we each strip out of our clothes, tossing them in a can before redressing in fresh clothes.
“Should I push this out the side?” I ask as my face pops through the neck of my hoodie.
“Yeah. They’ll check the clothes for anything that may have been slipped to one of us. A note, drugs, or a bug.”
The guys move into the house while I push the bin out the side door and leave it for the other team. When I join everyone else inside, they’ve gathered in the living room. Vargas is on his phone tapping out a message while Blake has his laptop.
“Send your girl a message, Castillo.”
Uncle Cal.
Gage: You still thinking of me?
Janie-Redhead: All night.
Gage: Good. Keep thinking and I’ll hit you up later.
As my fingers type the last letters, Blake catches my full attention.
