Dark Alleys (Lukas Donovan: Undercover #1)

Chapter One

Monday, June 2 nd .

Two weeks with any woman was a week and a half too long…Lukas Donovan.

Riverside District. Austin.

“You knew what I was the first time you straddled the bitch seat.”

“I didn’t plan on falling in love with you.” She swatted a couple of tears away.

“Don’t you fuckin’ cry over me. I warned you not to love me, girl. I got no time for baggage, and I made that clear.”

“That’s what I am to you? Baggage?”

I shrugged and didn’t answer.

Sitting slumped over on the side of the bed, I lit up a smoke and watched her get dressed.

“Why bother with underwear that’s hardly even there?”

“Shut up, Lukas.”

Give me a fuckin’ break.

She picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder, “Guess this is it, then.”

“Guess so.”

The door slammed and I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Woke up starving two hours later, grabbed a quick shower to get the smell of Brandy off me—cheap perfume or some shit shampoo that smelled like dead flowers she used—nearly gagged me. Never bothered me much before but this morning I couldn’t fuckin’ take it.

I picked my keys up off the kitchen table and went out in search of food and coffee.

The apartment above my buddy’s garage was where I lived most of the time when I wasn’t pretending to live at my Aunt Gail’s house in Cherrywood. The Riverside neighborhood suited me better and it was handier for the work I did at night as Lukas Weaver.

Wasn’t a fake name. It was the name I was given by the couple who bought me a few days after I was born. As soon as I was big enough, I ran away from that shit show.

The cab of my truck smelled like Brandy too and it made my gut roil. As soon as I ate my drive-thru breakfast, I headed for the car wash.

With a singular purpose, I purged Brandy from my life. I cleaned the interior of my truck with Armor All and vacuumed the seats and the floor twice.

Two weeks with any woman was a week and a half too long.

Feeling better with the reek of her being gone, I headed to Cherrywood to have a coffee with my Aunt Gail. I needed to do laundry, and I’d run a load through while we drank coffee on the porch.

I’d make up lies about where I’d been.

Cherrywood. Austin.

My aunt lived in a more upscale and safer neighborhood than where I lived, and I wanted her to be safe. She was my mother’s sister, and I’d only met her less than a year ago.

I never knew my mother since I was the twin she chose to sell. Never bothered me until I found out about it, then it pissed me off every fuckin’ day since. My mother—turns out her name was Judy—chose to keep my twin brother Lincoln and I was the kid who got sold to pay the bills.

Huh. I guess somebody had to do it.

“Did you have breakfast, dear?” My aunt’s question brought me back to reality.

“I grabbed a drive-thru on my way to the carwash.”

“I made banana muffins in case you came home.”

I grinned at my aunt. Couldn’t tell how old she was. I was twenty-eight or nine—might have been thirty by now. No fuckin’ birth certificate to go by—so she was probably close in age to my non-mother. Fifty?

“Sometimes the job I’m working runs on and I can’t get home. I don’t have regular hours. I keep track in a little book and hand the number to Blacky, and he trusts me not to stiff the Agency.”

“And so he should. I’d like to think all of the Donovan boys are honest.”

That’s a stretch, but honest as we can be, considering where we came from. White trash right out of your friendly neighborhood trailer park.

Riverside Bar and Grill. Riverside. Austin.

I dropped my clean laundry off at home, parked my truck in the driveway and jumped on my Harley to go to the bar to start work.

When you work undercover, you have to blend into your surroundings and become as invisible as a bloodstain on the barroom floor. After a while, nobody sees it as a sign of danger anymore. They stop walking around it and ignore it completely.

It’s just there.

They accept it.

The same way they accept me in this bar. I’m here and that’s just the way it is. When they walk in and look for a table, I’m as familiar as the battered booths and the dusty old memorabilia hanging on the dark-paneled walls.

“Hey, Lukas.”

I gave the bartender a wave and right away he sent a kid over with a pitcher and a clean glass for me. My usual booth was in the back corner where I could see everything that was going on.

Any customers walking into the dimly lit bar couldn’t see me.

Bird’s eye view from the shadows.

I’d picked this bar after running a preliminary investigation of my own and found out a lot of guys belonging to the Tango Blast hung out here.

Over nineteen thousand members in the State of Texas and Blacky figured if we could get that number down, then violent crime would go down too.

Simple math.

Made sense to me.

I said I’d give it a shot. Whatever I find out, I text to him, and he runs with it. Or I take the bad boys out myself if I can do it without blowing my cover.

Been working out good so far. I got lots of hours and it ain’t hard work.

I kind of enjoy being somebody else. Hard to figure out if this is the real me, or if that other Lukas is the real one. I feel more real right here in this booth and that’s the sad truth of it.

Four Tangos came through the door and sat down in a booth. One of them I recognized. Adan Pena.

Pena was the enforcer for the local chapter. Heavy hand in Austin and I’d heard his weapon of choice was an antique Coca Cola ice pick.

Nasty.

I kept my eye on the four of them and by the way they were keeping their heads down and talking in low voices, I figured something was going down.

“Hey, Lukas. Want company?”

“No. Are you looking for free beer, Crissy?”

She giggled. “Maybe.”

“Get a glass from Sam and I’ll share with you.”

I needed more cover if I was going to find out what the four guys in that booth were up to and Crissy might help me out with that.

She strutted off in her high heels to the bar for a glass and I walked a few steps behind her, trying to look like I was waiting for her. While I was close enough, I heard a few words.

Three words.

Mahaffey’s at eleven.

Mahaffey’s was a dive bar in Montopolis where a lot of shit went down. City cops were scared of dying there and the gangers knew it, so they used it whenever they needed a place to make a deal or take somebody out.

Chrissy walked towards me with a glass in her hand. Wasn’t frosted. Just a semi-clean glass, and I turned and walked back to my booth.

In the middle of pouring beer into Chrissy’s glass, Brandy strutted over to my table and gave me the finger. “You can fuck right off, Weaver.”

“Sure. Same to you.”

Crissy laughed. “You and Brandy fighting?”

“Nope. We’re done.”

Crissy’s brown eyes lit up. “That’s good news.”

“It is for me,” I said.

More giggling from Crissy. “You’re funny, Lukas.”

Time to get rid of her.

“Last thing I want to be is a fuckin’ clown. Finish your beer. I’ve got to go.”

“What if I want to hang out with you for a while? Maybe go home with you later.”

“I have errands to run, and you can’t come.”

“I could wait for you at your place.”

“Beat it, Crissy. You’re getting on my nerves.”

“You’re in a mean mood, Lukas.” She stood up and wiggled her ass at me as she walked to the other side of the room.

I finished the pitcher, then hit the men’s room, pissed out the beer, and went out the back way to my bike.

Before I started my baby up, I sat for a minute and texted.

“Mahaffey’s at eleven. Something big.”

“Will you be there?”

“Going now.”

“Good copy.”

Mahaffey’s Bar and Grill. Montopolis.

This bar wasn’t my usual hang, but I figured I could fit in with not too much effort. I picked the end stool at the bar while I waited for some of the Tango boys to show up.

The deal itself would probably go down in the parking lot and I had to be ready to move out there on a moment’s notice. But I didn’t want to appear on edge either.

I relaxed into my surroundings and pretended I was interested in the memorabilia hanging on the walls. Just a lot of old junk, but the clientele of this bar wouldn’t know the difference.

Blacky would be outside with the gang squad, and he’d take action if there was any reason to. Always a fun time to shake up a club by tossing a dozen of their finest in the can for two or three days.

Made them go nuts and do all kinds of things we could arrest them for.

While they were sorting themselves out, crime numbers would drop like a rocket and that’s what the boss wanted to see. He wanted a drop, but not just for two or three days—for longer—much longer.

No easy way to do that. The only way was to never let up and try to hold the line. That was the main purpose of the gang squad.

Hold the fuckin’ line.

The bartender was a girl I hadn’t seen before. Tall and slim with dark auburn hair and beautiful eyes.

“What can I get you, blondie?” She asked me with a big smile.

“Pitcher of Shiners will do it.”

“You’re easy.” She winked at me.

“You have no idea.”

She filled my first glass for me and moved on to serve another customer. I sipped my beer slowly to make the pitcher last because I might have a long wait before I saw any action.

When the time came, I couldn’t afford to be wasted. Fighting drunk equals dead.

Tried it before and got the scars to prove it.

There was a rhythm to these things. My brother had taught me that. He felt things more than I did and his instincts were keen and accurate. That took experience and I didn’t have as much as him, even though he was younger.

The door opened behind me, and I didn’t turn around. When the new arrivals walked past the bar I saw the tats and knew who they were.

Didn’t take much brain power.

They walked past empty tables and booths and sat down in a booth with easy access to the back exit.

Yep. They were ready and waiting for whatever.

I refilled my glass wondering if Blacky was already in the parking lot out back. The gang squad didn’t wear uniforms but for this outing they’d be wearing tactical.

Not much of a disguise but they’d be out of sight until they weren’t.

The door opened again, and the beautiful bartender glanced up from a pitcher she was filling. She caught my eye for a second, then went back to what she was doing.

Four more.

They sauntered to the back and joined their buds.

About twenty minutes later, four more arrived and then they came quicker. Twos and threes, funneling in.

Eighteen at last count when they stood up and headed toward the rear exit.

My cue to get off my ass.

I pushed a twenty towards the beauty behind the bar and pointed to my cell number on the edge of the bill knowing she probably wouldn’t call.

I went out the front door and made my way around the old brick building, sticking close to the shadows at the side of the parking area.

Harleys rumbled and the shouting escalated. Was about to hit that point where words weren’t enough. Important points of contention had be reinforced with fists and lethal weapons.

Stepping around the corner where I had a full view of what was going down, I saw the twenty Tangos facing off against about a dozen Crips.

No idea what the fight was about and didn’t want to know.

Not my monkeys. Not my zoo.

When the fighting turned mean and dirty and the guns and knives came out, it was my turn.

Sticking to the shadows so I didn’t blow my cover, I shot anybody with a gun pointed at anybody else. I broke necks and cranked off a half dozen knee shots to knock them down and make sure they stayed down.

Blacky and the gang squad—both shifts—numbered about fifteen. Plus me.

We were outnumbered but better equipped and we had the element of surprise on our side. This crowd didn’t give a shit if we had badges. They had no respect for authority of any kind.

Some of the gangers chose to abandon their buddies and they rode off on their bikes into the night, but when all was said and done, Blacky had himself about twenty arrests, a ton of evidence—drugs and guns—and four dead bodies.

He gave me the nod to get going before First Response got there. I hopped on my ride and beat it to Riverside.

Riverside District. Austin.

I was in a hurry to get to my apartment and specifically to my bathroom where I had first aid supplies. I caught a blade when quarters got a little too close and blood was pouring out of my arm making me feel a little light headed and crazier than usual.

I wrapped my left forearm with a hand towel and taped it tight to stop the bleeding. Swallowed four Advil and flopped on my bed.

My work day was done.

See how I felt when I woke up.