Chapter Two
“You want me to do what?” Lucifer Stone shot from the chair he’d been lounging in.
His boss, Special Agent in Charge, Bill Flint, ignored his reaction. “Don’t overreact, Luke. I know for a fact that you used to belong to a band. That back in the day you sang in a lot of bars in Nashville. And that you were bloody good at it too.”
Luke drilled his boss with cold eyes. The chip on his shoulder firmly in place as he spoke low. “I did what I had to do to get out of the ghetto.”
“Yeah, a lot of us had it rough.” Bill’s thin eyebrows raised… his only expression in a deadpan face that seldom showed any emotion.
“Not saying you didn’t. Don’t really give a flying fuck. Just saying I left that life so I could earn enough money lawfully and finish college… get into Quantico. Working in those honky-tonks and bars wasn’t something I enjoyed. Trust me. It’s a shit show.”
“Maybe. But you know the ropes. Getting back into the scene without anyone asking questions would work. It’s where the bulk of the action is for the drug trade. Jesus, Luke, I need a man in there.”
“Chrissake, Bill. A lot of those same people know I’m with the FBI now.”
“Figured so. We’ve got that angle covered. We can set up a scenario where you get kicked out of the force. Make it look good – believable. When a person hits bad times, they go back to what they’re used to – right? It’s a buyable disguise. Hey, quit freaking me out with those looks.”
“What looks?”
“The ones that make me want to grab my gun for protection. Anyone ever tell you how scary your act is man?”
“What act? I am who I am. Get used to it. I’ve told you that before.”
“Many times. I know. You’re a mean bastard. Yet you’re one of my best men.” Bill lifted his hands and rubbed the back of his head, leaving his thinning gray hair standing on end. “Look, Stone, we need to get this shit off the streets. There’s been a lot of shipments hitting this city lately that are just pure poison. Addicts have no idea if their next hit will kill them, and yet they can’t stop.”
“Same story we’ve been hearing for years. What’s so different this time?”
“You really wanna know what’s different? I’ll tell you. The mayor’s niece, who’s only seventeen years old, ended up in the hospital with an overdose. They still don’t know if she’ll make it. Annette’s a good kid, normal, just wanted to have a bit of fun.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised. Shit happens.” Luke saw the shock his boss didn’t try to hide. Luke suspected his crew thought him heartless, but he often felt like the law played on the losing side. Everyone knew the truth. Just like in a Vegas casino, the house always won. It was kind of similar to life on the streets with the drug trade. Jail any of the traffickers and the courts either looked the other way or the bottom feeders would get a lawyer and be out on the streets before the cops got home that night.
For all the innocent idiotic tourists just looking to get high for a night’s fun, there were twenty times as many at-home civilians who couldn’t live without the shit. Drug money – the root of all evil – flowed through Tennessee like the Mississippi River.
It was the addicts playing roulette with their lives that bought the cheapest shit they could find. And for money to keep up their habits, they had no scruples in selling it to those underaged idiots looking for a party.
When the cheap shit gave them more than the euphoria they expected, only luck and the paramedics could save them. The others on his team called it depressing, but he’d shut off the empathy a long time ago.
When the silence went on too long, Luke caved. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll fucking do as you’re told, Stone.” Bill saw the look and capitulated. “Okay, okay. Think about it. Look, Luke, I wouldn’t put you in this situation if I didn’t have faith that you’d catch the greedy bastards and get them off my streets. Come the summer, we’ll have millions of folks passing through this city, and they expect to be safe. You’ve never let me down yet.”
“Always a first time, boss. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
***
Luke knew it was no good to remind Bill that he’d recently come off a vicious undercover case where he’d been lucky to make it with his skin intact.
Blasted government officials who think they can defraud the people and get away with it because they’re rich and powerful… bastards that they are.
Didn’t work this time. He’d had them dead to rights with their hands in the cookie jar and no alibis to get them a get-out-of-jail free card. Corruption seemed to be imbedded in their local politics – well, except for the mayor. Turns out, he was one of the good guys.
The others hired professionals to do their dirty work. But Lucifer got down in the dirt where they existed, dug them out, and got enough evidence to arrest all the lawbreakers. And with one of the top lawyers in the city bringing them up on Rico charges, they’d be in a court battle for years.
During that time, he’d met the mayor… one of the assholes who wasn’t corrupt. Seemed like a nice guy. In fact, he’d seen his family on the news, and his first impression had been that they all looked happy. Shame about his niece. Shitty thing what happened to her. Without him trying, his brain began building a case he couldn’t ignore.
Growing up like Luke did never left much room for empathy, but he respected people who deserved it. With a rod of steel through his innards, he went about his days and nights keeping everyone at arm’s length. Last time he remembered having soft feelings had been when a schoolteacher had told him she was proud of him.
Thinking back as he seldom did, he remembered the year when he’d become such a mean little bastard. The only time he’d lower his shield was when Katrina Bolder winked at him in the hallways. He’d been struck by the woman’s pretty ways, her gentle smiles when he’d appear… as if he mattered. Admitting what he knew to be true always made him nervous. But without her influence, he’d never have made it on the right side of the law.
Fighting for sleep that night in his air-conditioned bedroom, enjoying the king-size bed in the modern condo he’d worked so hard to afford, he returned to the plan his boss had insisted he think about. Glad he hadn’t let any if his string of girlfriends visit that night, he luxuriated in his alone time.
Tossing and turning made resting an impossibility. Finally, he stopped fighting the impossible. With his sweatpants riding low on his hips, he strode to the living room searching for his guitar. While he strummed various songs, he sipped on the first brew, and then another to help him settle down.
As was his custom, he put the large-screen TV on without sound, preferring to read the highlights in the news. Ignoring the blinking pictures in front of him, his mind traveled to places he hadn’t visited in a long time, and he found himself becoming more unsettled.
Reaching in the wine fridge for his third beer, he silently vowed it would be his last. Two had become his normal limit, and only on those nights when he couldn’t force his brain to shut off, did he allow any leeway.
Christ, the idea of returning to the gut-wrenching honky-tonk life that had been so hard to get away from had him flinching with unease. Memories washed over him and rather than pushing them away as was his custom, he let them in.
***
After Miss Katrina Bolder had disappeared at the end of that pivotal school year, life had become even more intolerable. Survival meant fighting, and he’d gotten good at it. In fact, with his reputation for being crazy as a shithouse rat, he’d become so competent with his feet and fists that any chance of living in what one might consider a normal way disappeared. In those days, he’d only stuck around for his mom.
After one too many shit-kickings from the bastard she’d married, the only person who he cared about finally succumbed to breast cancer. Helping her through those last months had been some of the worst moments of his young life. Burying her ended his loyalty to remain. Sixteen and filled with righteous anger, he knew his options were limited.
Unable to stand his home life, he fled and found himself in the city. Nashville drew everyone who had a ruthless background, so he fit in well. For the next few years, he’d joined up with various groups of kids just like him… all searching for something to hang on to.
Finding he had a talent for singing, he taught himself to play the guitar, helped by one of the best performers in the city. He soon found himself taken in by different music groups, all living hard… drugs, booze, women, you name it. Even felt like he belonged, until one night when their drummer OD’d. Flying high on a new product he’d bought cheap from a street stranger, he’d reacted weirdly. The others, all partying themselves, left him in the alley behind the tavern, not really caring that one of theirs was in trouble.
Only Luke stopped to help, calling the ambulance, and then realizing he’d been too late. Personally, he’d seldom used drugs. He preferred being in control, and so drinking became his choice of shame. Once the police had finished wrapping up, he came to understand that the young idiot had paid with his life by buying his latest stash from some jerkoff working his product without a care to what it might cost the buyer.
Next morning, Luke came to and looked around the messed-up, dirty, stinking hole they called a home. Seeing the bodies of the rest of the band – either pitifully drunk or stoned – surrounded by naked girls of every age in the same condition was no different than any other day.
Only this time, he couldn’t shrug it off. Instead, for some strange reason, a memory of green eyes took shape. The soft words of praise… I’m proud of you, Luke filtered into his memory. Those words rang over and over, making the mist of the moment fade, leaving him a clear image of what he’d become.
That’s when he’d dressed, gathered his personal belongings into a garbage bag, slung his guitar case over his shoulder, and walked out.
Over the next few years, he’d worked like a slave, taking on contract work, firefighting, window-cleaning, anything he could get that would fill his bank account with enough money to get him through school.
Living in a broken-down old van, he’d survived on cold canned food, cereal, and apples. Though it hadn’t been easy, it had paid off. Now, at thirty-four, he ran with the good guys… the Federal Bureau of Investigations and hoped he’d finally made Miss Katrina Bolder proud.