CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Leighton
I got a lovely bunch of coconuts standing in a row. The phrase played on repeat in my mind while I worked. Rich told me I couldn't come back to the manor until I found a Jackal we could torture for information. Though, whether he meant about the attack at Temptat!on, Victoria setting us up, or both, was anybody's guess. I opted for both. It was always better to cover all the bases than deal with Rich when he was truly pissed off. My antagonizing Az had crossed a line, and I was already treading dangerous territory with Rich because of it.
Tucking my hands into the pocket of my hooded sweatshirt, I kept my head down as I walked through the streets of Southside. I needed to focus, but between the stupid earworm and my brain wanting to recall every sound Victoria made as I railed her, I wasn't doing a good job of it. Fuck. This hunt would take longer than I wanted if I couldn't get my head on straight. It had already been a week, and I hadn't turned anything up.
I only had myself to blame for it. The Jackals were like cockroaches if you knew where to look. And I knew where to look. I just couldn't keep my thoughts from straying to la petit démone . The look on her face when I tore out of the camera control room made me feel funny. It was like a dull ache in my chest, and I was constantly rubbing my knuckles along my breastbone to ease it. Part of me wanted to disobey Rich's order and return to the manor to check on her. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why.
"Fuck." I muttered as drizzling rain started to spit from the sky. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"
Growling to myself, I hooked a left on Providence, ignoring the street girls calling out to me. Usually, I would have stopped to chat. The girls who worked the corners were some of the most informed people on the street. They knew everything that happened in Southside and would tell you for the right price. Sometimes, I'd even pay triple their hourly rate just to slake my thirst for causing pain. Any other time, a week would be a long enough dry spell for me to consider it, but la petit démone was in my head, twisting things all around.
Upping my pace, I speed-walked toward The Spotted Cobra. It was a rundown little hole-in-the-wall bar that had been around probably longer than I'd been alive. It was also the only other neutral territory in Southside. I hadn't missed the irony of the youth center and a bar being the only neutral ground in the whole city when I first met the other guys, and they made me part of their tight-knit family.
When the dilapidated bar came into view, I jogged the rest of the way to the doors. The sky had grown darker in the short time it took me to walk there, and I didn't intend to get caught in the coming storm. I paused, reaching for the handle, as I took notice of spider-webbed cracks in the bulletproof glass windows of the swinging doors. For a brief moment, I wondered who would be stupid enough to risk being barred from neutral territory. It had to be one of the lone criminals. There were only three crime families in all of Sacona, and while I despised the Jackals and rarely encountered the Golden Devils, neither of their syndicates would stand for their low-ranking soldiers causing problems at the Cobra.
Strolling through the outer and inner doors, I approached the bar. My curiosity was riding me hard, and I was desperate to ask Harrison who had tried to shoot up the place. And to offer my services for dealing with them. The longer my hunt took, the more my need to hurt and maim someone consumed me. Instead of finding the grizzled old medic, his daughter stood behind the long wooden counter. Her fiery red hair was wrangled into a messy bun, and she wore the standard black t-shirt and jeans that passed as a uniform in the Cobra.
"Mags!" I called cheerily as I slid onto a stool. "Where's Pops?"
"He's out on business. What can I get you, L?" she replied, her bright green eyes narrowing.
"Whiskey, neat. And maybe the name of whatever idiot thought it was a good idea to fuck with my favorite bar in the city."
"It's being handled. Besides, I know better than to accept a favor that would make us indebted to any of you lot."
I clutched my chest in mock surprise. "I would never offer you my services in exchange for a favor, Mags. The way I figure it, we have enough I.O.U.s racked up that, if you asked, we'd be obliged to take out the whole damned city for you. You and Pops have patched me up on more than one occasion. Let me return at least one of the favors."
"No can do, L. You know the policy." She replied, pouring a generous serving of whiskey into a glass and sliding it over to me. "Now tell me why you're here. You ain't bleeding, so I know it's not a medic you're after."
"I'm looking for someone–"
"You've come to the wrong place. You know the rules here, Leighton. We don't rat on anyone, not even to others like you."
"I know, Mags. I'm not looking to start trouble for you and Harrison. I was just hoping I might see who I'm looking for and just… catch them where things aren't so neutral." I grinned.
"Drink your whiskey and then get out of my bar, Leighton. Whatever trouble you're looking to stir up, it ain't gonna track back here." Mags said in a stern voice.
"Can I at least wait out the rain? It's nasty out there. You wouldn't want me laid up with pneumonia or some shit now, would ya?"
"Fine, but if you tail anyone out of this bar, it won't be whoever you're after you gotta worry about."
"I know, I know. Pops isn't just a medic, he's a seasoned war vet and he'll have my head on a platter faster than I can say 'hey Pops'. I'll behave, alright. I just wasn't thinking when I decided to come here."
Mags narrowed her eyes at me and pursed her lips. "See that it doesn't come to that then, Leighton. You're one of our best customers. I'd hate to see Pop bury you for bad behavior."
She wandered off to the other end of the bar, cleaning and restocking as she occasionally scanned the patrons. I turned my back to the bar, leaning against it, and sipped my whiskey as I made a mental note of everyone present. None of the low-ranking soldiers for the Jackals were anywhere to be seen. It was all two-bit pimps and drug dealers. They were probably the only people who frequented the Cobra without needing Harrison or Mags to patch them up. Needing a medic was usually the only time I ever stepped foot in the place myself. But that happened often enough I'd gotten really familiar with the father-daughter duo that owned the joint.
I nursed my whiskey for the better part of an hour and watched the small-time criminals as they went about their business. The lone operators, and sometimes even the major players, liked to conduct deals in the Cobra. The ones being made weren't interesting to me; the players were too small-time to even be a blip on my radar. That was until Colin McDoyle strolled into the bar sporting fresh ink.
My eyes narrowed in on the red spider lily on his forearm. He hadn't had the ink the last time I saw him, less than a month ago. He strolled to a booth tucked in the far corner of the bar where three other men sat. None of them had caught my interest initially, but now I was curious what they were up to. As if sensing the shift in my mood, Mags moved toward me behind the bar.
"Not here, Leighton." She ordered, causing me to look at her over my shoulder.
"Of course not, Mags." I grinned, turning to face her fully and pulling my wallet from my pocket. "Sounds like the storm has stopped, so I should be on my way. You give Pops my regards, yeah?"
Mags frowned as I slapped a couple hundred-dollar bills on the counter. It was unnerving how she and her father seemed to have a second sense for potential trouble in their bar. But I wasn't an idiot. Reckless, sure, but not stupid. I wouldn't break their rules by following McDoyle from the Cobra. There weren't any rules that said I couldn't track him down another way, though. That was a loophole for me to exploit and avoid getting on Harrison's bad side. Still, I could feel Mags watching me until the inner doors closed behind me.
After putting a few blocks between me and the Cobra, I pulled my phone from my hoodie pocket and dialed Craig.
"What do you need, L?" He asked without preamble.
"An address on Colin McDoyle. Our local smack dealer seems to have landed himself a job with the Jackals."
"On it. Call you back in ten." Craig replied, ending the call.
I wandered around Southside while I waited for him to call back with Colin's address. My mind was already figuring out how to get the guy back to one of our safe houses to interrogate him. He would most likely only lead me to someone else, but after a week, I needed any lead I could get. I nearly clapped when my phone finally rang.
"Address?" I asked, not bothering to say hello.
"Thirty-seven A, Brook Lane." Craig chuckled.
"Those rundown condos? Of fucking course." I snorted. "Thanks man, talk soon."
My annoyance over the long hunt quickly turned to excitement as I approached one of our safe houses. We had several throughout the city, each stocked with medical supplies, food, clothing, and tools for each of us should we need them. I was definitely going to need them to secure Colin somewhere I could interrogate him.
It took me twenty minutes to arrive at the apartment complex where I'd find the tools of my trade. The entire building was owned by a shell corporation, city officials having been paid off to prevent the place from tracing back to us. Craig had insisted on leasing out the apartments we didn't need to women with children in the Southside. Every resident went through a reasonably intense vetting process to ensure they were actually in need in exchange for a home that they could afford. For some reason, that made me think of Victoria; as I jerked open the front door of the building, the ache in my chest returned.
I growled and rubbed my fist against my breastbone. Something was definitely off with me, and I wasn't sure I liked it. As soon as Colin was safely stashed away, I would confront Victoria. The woman was driving me mad, and I hadn't even seen her in a week. Thankfully, nobody paid my odd behavior any mind as I stalked toward the apartment where we kept our things.
"Focus." I scolded myself once I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. "It's time to collect our prey and we can't fuck this up. Rich is already mad. He might actually put me out if I don't get this shit done right. Secure the package, then deal with her ."
Giving myself a curt nod, I moved to the apartment's back bedroom, where all my equipment was stored. It was sparsely furnished, with three massive chests along one wall and a twin-sized bed in the center of the room. Ignoring the chests, I moved to the bed and shoved the frame until my stash was uncovered. When we outfitted the apartment for our purposes, I'd shoved everything I thought I might need haphazardly under the bed. Now, my eyes scanned it all as I considered what I might need to capture Colin alive.
"Smoke bombs, rope. Grenades? Nah, no grenades, I need him alive, not in bits." I mumbled to myself, cackling at the image of Colin confetti filling the air. "Oooh, gas mask. I think yes! Lock picking kit, wire, and my trusty blackjack. That should do it."
I grabbed a backpack from the closet and stuffed all my goodies inside, the thirty smoke bombs taking up most of the space. There was no telling how long I'd have before Colin returned to his shitty condo. Still, I intended to be inside waiting for him, like a pleasant little Leighton surprise. I still needed to figure out how to transport him once I had him incapacitated, but that was future me's problem.
Satisfied I had everything I needed, I grabbed a small pistol from one of the chests pushed against the wall, and stuffed it in my waistband. I was confident I could subdue Colin without it, but it never hurt to be careful. A dead flunky wouldn't draw the Jackals out as much as a live one, but he would still serve a purpose if he decided to act rashly and get himself killed.
I whistled as I strolled from the apartment, locking it behind me. The halls were still empty, most of the residents working at this hour, their children at the youth center. It was for the best. I couldn't afford to be slowed down by residents wanting to chat. The walk to Colin's shitty condo would take long enough. I could've taken my bike, but then I'd have the headache of figuring out where to stash it while I packed the man off to another safe house, one where I could interrogate him without interruption.
About twenty minutes later, I was in the most rundown part of Southside. At one point, some developers had tried to buy up the land and build high-end condos to entice the rich to gentrify the neighborhood. Unfortunately for them, the criminals of Southside were all too happy to snatch the things up before any of the wealthy could genuinely commit. As a result, every condo was in disrepair, the sidewalks and roads were unmaintained. It had become a crackhead haven rather than the hoity-toity community the developers wanted, and he'd quickly abandoned the project, leaving more than a few places partially built.
I went to the address Craig had given me and began circling the outside. The lights were out, the interior pitch black as far as I could see through the few cracked blackout curtains. As far as I could tell, nobody was inside, but that didn't mean the place was actually empty, considering one side of the condo was inaccessible from the outside due to the other condo it was attached to.
Carefully, I tested one of the windows, biting back a cheerful giggle at finding it unlocked and easy to open. I poked my head inside, listening for any noise. When I didn't hear anything, I hoisted myself through the window and began moving from room to room to ensure I was alone.
The condo was an even bigger shithole than the exterior would have had me believe. The flooring was ripped up in places, trash and drug paraphernalia scattered throughout. Colin was a destructive slob if the state of the residence was any indication. Still, I was in a hurry to get back to the manor and didn't want to waste more time waiting to catch him out elsewhere.
I closed the internal doors as I worked my way through the condo until only the living room and kitchen were open. Dropping my backpack on the worn-out sofa, I dug out my smoke bombs. Using the wire I'd packed to connect the pull strings on my neon pink smoke bombs, I went to work setting them up through the two open rooms. With how small the rooms were, thirty smoke bombs were a tad overkill, but I couldn't wait to see Colin's reaction to me turning his drug den into a pretty princess palace with them.
Happy with the setup, I arranged the rest of my tools to be within easy reach and dragged a raggedy bar stool into a shadowed corner of the living room to wait. I must have sat there for hours, humming to entertain myself, before I heard Collin's voice drawing near the front door.
"We can't get close to her with them around. I don't know what the boss wants us to do." His voice carried through the thin door.
I donned my gas mask and pulled the wire, setting off all thirty smoke bombs and flooding the living room and kitchen with pink smoke as I eavesdropped.
"Yeah, and how'd that work for them? From what I heard, the horsemen dropped all of them and the girl was gone before any of our guys could get eyes on her." Keys jingled in the lock just before I heard it crack open. "What the fuck. I'll call you back. Some dipshit decided to set off smoke bombs in my place like I'm some sorta fag or something." He paused for a moment. "You're right, probably just some new initiate hazing shit, but still."
I tracked his silhouette through the smoke, waiting until I was certain he'd ended his call. Slipping off my stool with my blackjack in hand, I stalked around him on quiet feet until I was nearly pressed against his back.
"Tell me you're insecure about your sexuality without telling me. Does someone have a closet they're not telling anyone about?" I sneered through my mask.
Colin jumped, whirling to face me. "This isn't funny, asshole. If this is how you guys treat new members, you should know I'm not gonna take this shit quietly."
"If all their new soldiers are as whiny as you, it's a miracle they haven't already left you in a ditch somewhere," I replied, brushing flakes of dandruff that had turned pink from the smoke off his shoulder. He stumbled backward, realizing I wasn't one of his new cronies. "Usually, I'd take my time with this, but you see. I'm in a bit of a rush."
His mouth gaped open and closed, unable to form a response before I hit him in the temple with my blackjack, hard enough for him to collapse. Checking that he was definitely unconscious, I searched his pockets and found the keys to his car. I grinned triumphantly before hoisting his dead weight over my shoulder and making for the front door. I loaded him into the trunk of his rusted-out Honda Civic, not giving a damn if anyone spotted me. It would be better if they did, anyway. There would be someone to tell the Jackals where to look, making it easier for us to flush them out.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Rich as I hopped behind the wheel. "I've caught something interesting." I said the moment he answered. "I'm stashing it in the basement of our place and coming back to the manor."
"Fine, but don't start up your shit with Az again when you get here." Rich drawled. "You've pushed him too far already and we can't afford to have any of us off our game."
I cringed a little, something almost like guilt hitting me at the thought of putting any of the men I considered family at risk with my games. Rich was right. I needed to back off, for now, at least. Once we had a handle on the situation, I could push all the buttons I wanted. Another face came to mind, and as I opened my mouth, the words came out unbidden.
"Sure thing, Rich. Besides, I need to see a girl about an apology."