Chapter 2 #2
“You two will enter the prison posing as criminals and make Santiago talk.”
“Excuse me?” I said incredulously. “Do you want to get us killed, Chief? Half of the guys in the Smitsville Penitentiary are there because I put them there.”
“Not at all,” Chief Bibb replied, pushing his glasses up his nose. “That is why you’re going to the maximum-security facility in Grangetown where Santiago is serving his sentence.”
Was he insane? First, a maximum-security facility meant the worst of the worst. Second, someone could still recognize us there. Third, Jordan Slade would be there.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” Jordan mumbled, just as I exclaimed, “No way in hell!”
Chief Bibb reached for his glass, filled to the brim with a peculiar-looking green liquid.
“The warden is in on it,” he continued, never minding us.
“Your transport has been arranged, along with your fake IDs, rap sheets, and the rest of the paperwork. SPD and GPD are working together on this, and Detective Marcello Biancchi will be your contact in Grangetown. The operation starts tomorrow, so I suggest you start packing.”
“What… who are we impersonating?” Jordan said, sounding strangled.
“You are a small-time drug peddler,” Chief Bibb replied, stone-faced. “Detective Markland is your supplier and a local pimp.”
“Is this some kind of joke?” Jordan said as I burst into laughter.
“Not really,” Chief Bibb replied, smirking. “Although I’ll admit, it sounds like one. You could say it’s your punishment for making my life hell all these years.”
Jordan buried his face in his hands, while I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or kill someone.
“You are also sharing a cell,” Chief Bibb added, taking a sip of his green concoction.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not!” I bellowed, jumping out of my chair, because that was where I drew the line.
Chief Bibb shrugged. “Suit yourself. Either do it or resign.”
Jordan stood up as well. “No… erm… let’s think about this for a moment.”
Chief Bibb checked his watch. “Sure, but I suggest that you hurry. Your shift ends in one hour. Oh, and you’re leaving tomorrow at dawn.”
Jordan looked at me wide-eyed as Chief Bibb pointed toward the door. “Dismissed, gentlemen.”
I marched out of his office, ready to give him my resignation because fuck him. Five years in this bum-ass division, and what did I get in return? Nah, I was done.
“Fuck them,” Jordan said, following me to my desk. “We can do it.”
“There’s no us, weirdo,” I bit out.
I sat behind my desk, feeling helpless for the first time since my teens. I needed this job. Hell, I liked this job. I didn’t have a problem going undercover or cozying up to Santiago, but sharing a cell with Jordan Slade? I would rather hang myself.
“What’s going on?” Maddox said, cocking his eyebrow.
“We’re going undercover,” Jordan told him in a low voice. “Our mission is to infiltrate the prison in Grangetown and sniff out where Bull is hiding.”
Buck blinked. “Who’s we?”
“Adam and I,” Jordan replied, as I threw a stapler at the wall. It was either that or hurling something or someone out of the window.
“It sounds dangerous,” Maddox mused. “Someone might recognize you.”
“You think?” I snapped.
“Chief Bibb said we will share a cell,” Jordan added. “It should help us protect each—”
“He didn’t do it to protect us, stupid,” I hissed. “He did it to torture me. You. Us.”
“Shit, I get it now,” Maddox said, grinning. “Oh, to be a fly on the wall of that prison cell.”
I jumped to my feet. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Maddox shrugged. “Nothing. What do you think it means?”
“I think it means you should shut the fuck up,” I said through my teeth. “I’m fed up with your sick insinuations.”
“I’m not insinuating anything,” Maddox drawled. “I’m saying it as it is. Do you have a problem with that?”
His mad eyes flashed dangerously, but he chose the wrong day to mess with me.
“Just stop it, both of you,” Jordan said with a sigh. “This is stressful enough.”
“Stressful?” I exclaimed. “This is not stressful. It’s a fucking nightmare.”
“I’m not looking forward to it either,” Jordan countered. “Why are you behaving as if you’re the only one who has to suffer through it?”
“Oh, spare me the victim act,” I snapped. “I’m sick of you playing the martyr while behaving as if you’re better than everyone else… what the fuck is that?”
I pointed at something on my desk that didn’t belong there. It seemed like some kind of blue… fabric?
“It’s a shirt,” Jordan replied, as his cheeks turned pink. “You know… for yesterday?”
I frowned in confusion. “I don’t follow.”
“You took off your shirt to stop my nosebleed, but I couldn’t wash it because it was ruined.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “So, erm... I bought you a new one.”
I blinked in disbelief. “You bought me a shirt?”
Maddox burst into laughter, earning himself another glare from me.
“Yeah, I j-just,” Jordan stammered. “I wasn’t sure about the size, but I think…” His gaze dared to find my fucking chest. “I think I got it right.”
I was speechless. Enraged. Ready to kill him, Maddox, Chief Bibb, and the rest of the world.
Instead, I went to Pete’s and got drunk.
I spent a few hours there, drinking myself to oblivion and wondering when exactly my life turned to shit.
Was it when I ended up in the LD? Or when I chose this profession?
Or when I was born? The possibilities were endless.
While feeling sorry for myself, I fended off the advances of two lonely ladies and one misguided gentleman.
A chatty barman fucked off after I told him to do so.
I ignored Jordan’s texts and Chief Bibb’s emails.
After a few drinks, things didn’t seem as catastrophic anymore. I began to wonder why I was making such a fuss over this stupid mission. Sure, Slade would be there, but I could always ignore him. Hell, I have been ignoring him since he joined the LD. On some days, I was even successful at it.
When I finally came home, I ordered pizza, ate it, puked it, and showered.
I packed my shit for the trip to Grangetown Correctional Facility.
It was almost midnight when I got into bed, and my phone rang.
Since it was Jordan, my first impulse was to reject the call, but I figured I should probably talk to him.
“What?” I answered, adjusting my pillow.
“It’s m-me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know it’s you, weirdo. What do you want?”
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
His voice sounded different on the phone. Raspier. Not entirely unpleasant. In fact, it was easier to talk to him without having to look at him.
“Talk then,” I said with a sigh.
“So, um… did you read Chief Bibb’s instructions?”
“Yeah, I got his email while I was still at Pete’s. Fairly basic stuff. Avoid eye contact, listen more than you talk, yada, yada, yada. Have you ever worked undercover before?”
“No.”
Of course, he hadn’t, because such was my luck.
“Do you have any advice for me?” Jordan asked me.
“Yeah, just do what I do. Don’t talk too much. Stick to me. That’s about it.”
“How long do you think before we make Santiago talk?”
“I have no idea,” I mused. “He is the right-hand man of the most dangerous man in the country. He’s bound to be tight-lipped, but based on his file, he’s a hothead and a narcissist, so we should use it to our advantage.”
“Right.”
“Anything else?” I said, yawning. “I had a few too many drinks at Pete’s, and I would like to go to sleep. Incidentally, where are you?”
“In my bed,” Jordan replied. “You?”
“I’m in my bed, too.”
Why did that sound so weird?
Jordan sniffled. “It’s cold today, huh? Is your heating turned on?”
I chuckled, shaking my head in disbelief. Was I really up at midnight, discussing the weather with Jordan Slade?
“What’s so funny?” Jordan said, sounding as if he were smiling. “Are you… um… tipsy?”
“I’m fucking drunk, Jordan,” I admitted. “I’m angry, annoyed, tired, sleepy, and hard, but most of all, drunk.”
Jordan gulped. “What did you just say?”
What did I say? I had no fucking clue.
“Enough talky-talky, weirdo,” I grumbled. “Get your shit together and concentrate on the task at hand. Go to sleep and stop calling me. In fact, never call me again.”