Cade
Present day
Tino’s bar was the place to be on a Friday night on the south side of Atlanta, and that Friday night was no exception. I parked my ’93 Harley-Davidson FXDWG Wide Glide on the side of the building, its black paint and flame-licked gas tank glistening in the streetlights. You never knew what the night might hold, so I backed it in for a quick getaway. Always best to be prepared.
The early October night air was crisp and cool, preparing for colder days ahead. A neon light on the building across the street blinked on and off as if crying out its final SOS. The noises of traffic rose up around me, and yet the night felt oddly quiet. Foreboding somehow.
I shook off the eerie feeling and opened the door to Tino’s, trying to forget the last time I’d ignored that itchiness between my shoulder blades. A young woman stood at the bar, her auburn hair glistening under the “Got Beer” sign, tall with curves in all the right places. Her back was to me, so I couldn’t see her face, but so far she seemed pretty easy on the eyes. Tino must have hired new help.
“Beer, please!” I threw the words over my shoulder as I made my way over to my normal table, a booth in the back corner of the bar next to the pool tables. I’d wait there for Juan Carlos Alvaro and Santiago Domingo to show up.
Levi had said they’d be there, and I was betting they’d arrive minutes after me. I glanced over to the bar and saw the young woman filling a beer glass. Good—she’d heard my request. I’d tip her well, but I didn’t have time to stand at the bar giving in to idle chitchat. All my focus and attention was on the conversation I was readying for with Chavez’s men.
As if summoned by my thoughts, the door to the bar flew open, and two men in all black walked in. Juan Carlos was taller than his partner, just under six feet, with greasy, black hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He’d fought an unfortunate bout of acne as a young man, if the scars on his face were any indicator, and he had a scar that slashed through his eyebrow and up his forehead to his hairline. Santiago was short and wiry, but mean as a snake. What he lacked in height and muscle, he made up for in skill with a blade—a butterfly knife he kept in a holster against his thigh.
They gazed around the room, and I lifted my hand, giving away my location. Juan Carlos gave me a quick nod as he barked out, “Tequilas, double” to the bartender, his hand held up in a number two as they sauntered my way.
Santiago slid into the seat across from me, followed by Juan Carlos. I could smell the beer they must have been drinking prior to their arrival as well as the cigarettes they loved so much.
“Amigo.” Juan Carlos stuck his hand out for a fist bump, and I turned to Santiago to do the same.
“Long time no see.”
“We’ve been a little occupied with shipments lately.”
“Business is good, then?”
“Very good. The buyer you set us up with was just what we were looking for. The relationship will be beneficial for all involved. You got your cut?”
I nodded. I’d set a buyer up with Chavez, hoping for a more permanent relationship. The guy was a nobody, and the DEA had already confiscated most of what he’d purchased the week before. My goal was to play middleman for a while, then maybe I could dig a little deeper into Chavez’s organization and hand over the information the government needed to take him out permanently—one way or another.
We’d hoped to have infiltrated Chavez’s organization and the mole at the DEA in the first six months, but unfortunately we were over the two-year mark. It was way past time for a break.
Since Levi and I started Shadow Force, we’d taken on new identities. I was still Cade Montgomery, but physically I looked much different. Gone was the clean military-style hair and khaki pants, and in their place was chin-length strands, three days of beard growth, and black leather and chains. The tattoos running up and down my right arm and along my back didn’t hurt either.
The large back tattoo I’d gotten two years ago was a memorial to Martin, Rivera, Falwell, Romero, Gonzalez, and Smith. A large Celtic cross spanned from the base of my neck to the top of my ass. Each name of my fallen comrades was hidden amongst the intricate design. The words “I will repay” were inked across the bottom. It was a promise I planned to keep and a reminder if I ever lost focus.
“I hear Chavez is coming to town.” I let that carrot dangle a minute hoping they’d take the bait. Juan Carlos shifted just slightly, giving away his nerves. It had taken two long years to set up a reputation among nobodies in order to garner the attention of Chavez’s men, but it was past time I met the man.
“You know we don’t know Chavez’s travel itinerary.”
“I’m ready to meet him. I’ve proven myself, haven’t I?”
Santiago leaned over the table. “You’re ready when we say you’re ready. One successful buy isn’t exactly a track record.”
The tension was so tight, the air felt as if it would crackle and snap with the energy. I didn’t take my eyes off Santiago, as we stared at each other in some kind of testosterone-laden standoff. His hostility came out of nowhere and was laced with suspicion.
A shadow appeared at our table, a hand reaching out and putting my beer in front of me and the two double shots of tequila in front of Chavez’s men.
“You boys need anything else?” The sweet, southern accent startled me from my stare-off with Santiago, and I looked up into grass-green eyes, the color of a meadow in early spring. Eyes I’d seen before. Eyes I knew. Eyes that had kept me awake at night for eleven long years.
She gasped, dropping the tray she’d had in her hand. It landed with a clatter on the floor. I took in the sight of her—long, lean legs that ended in short denim shorts; a tight black V-neck shirt that left little to the imagination; toned, tanned arms; and bow-tie lips that parted perfectly as if she’d just been kissed.
“Piper?”
“Cade.” It wasn’t a question. She knew who I was. We’d known each other well at one point in our lives. Granted we were kids living in the same foster home and trying to deny the growing feelings we had for one another, but kids all the same.
“What are you doing here?” I hardened my gaze on her. She’d cut me off twelve years ago after I’d returned from California where I’d gone to train at a premier MMA gym, and now she was a bartender at a place I frequented at least once a week. I’d been told she’d cut me out of her life to do something special with hers. But the proof of what she’d really been doing slapped me in the face. Slinging drinks for lowlife nobodies. Nice.
“I work here. I thought, I mean, last I’d heard you were out West fighting.” She had no idea I’d been in the DEA, then. I wasn’t sure I wanted to fill her in on that tidbit. Her disappointment in me was evident in her voice, and if she heard I’d been disgracefully let go, that disappointment would grow.
“Moved back to Atlanta and started an MMA gym with my friend.”
Juan Carlos cleared his throat and drew my attention back to the table where it needed to be. I couldn’t afford to get sloppy. Too much was riding on this relationship, and I’d be damned if I let a girl who gave up on me more than a decade ago get under my skin and distract me from what was important.
“See ya around, Piper.” I said the words coldly, hoping she’d get the hint and walk away. Dismissive. That was it.
She took the hint but not before muttering the word “ass” under her breath as she returned to the bar. I couldn’t help the small smirk that lifted one side of my mouth. She was still as sassy as ever. Good to know some things didn’t change.
But she had changed—at least physically. She’d been beautiful as a teenager, but those sharp angles had rounded into curves, and the then underdeveloped features of her face now stood out in high definition. She was stunning.
“Old friends?” Santiago’s voice oozed innuendo and suggestion, and I shot him a look of annoyance. No way was Santiago getting his hands on her.
“Off limits.”
Santiago lifted his hands. “Fine. If you don’t want to share, I understand. But when you’re done with her, send her my way, amigo.”
Over my dead body.
“Let’s get back to the topic at hand.” I changed the subject. “When do I get to meet Chavez?”
“For a middleman, you’re sure interested in our boss. Care to tell us why?” Juan Carlos lit a cigarette and took a puff, blowing the smoke out slowly.
I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. This was tricky territory. If I acted too eager, their suspiciousness would take over, and not only would I not meet Chavez, I’d be let go—and not like I had been with the DEA. No, this would be of a more permanent nature. And if I didn’t act eager enough, well, I’d never get close to Chavez and possibly never have the information to take him out of the game. Failure wasn’t an option. It was imperative that I make it to his Atlanta compound, since our intel had come up with a general location but no concrete address.
“I may be a middleman, but I like to know who I’m doing business with. I guess you could say I’m old-school like that.”
Juan Carlos stood. “Let’s play.” He motioned towards the pool table.
I followed behind, grabbing a cue stick from the wall and chalking it as Juan Carlos racked the balls. I couldn’t help that my eyes drifted back to the bar where Piper stood drying glasses and returning them to their proper place. It felt as if someone had punched me in the gut. Her beauty was breathtaking, but there was a weariness to her that hadn’t been there when we’d been kids. I wondered what her life had been like all these years.
She must have felt my gaze on her because our eyes met and held across the room. At first her face displayed animosity, then changed to affection, and finally landed on disappointment.
“You ready to play, amigo? Or you going to eye-screw your lady all night?”
“I’m ready.” My voice was guttural and raw, a growl that warned others away from its prey.
“You can go first.” Juan Carlos waved his hand across the table like a male, Latino version of Vanna White. I took a shot, landing three stripes in the corner pockets. I took a second shot and scratched when Piper’s voice sounded over my shoulder.
“No way you’ll make that shot.”
I didn’t.
“Interference.”
“Fair play. I’m not in the game.” Her voice was soft and husky, as if she’d just woken up. I remembered that from when we’d shared the same house, and how it had driven me crazy. She’d been off limits back then, at least until she’d turned eighteen and was out of the system, but when I’d returned from California after training for nine months at one of the most prestigious gyms in the country, she’d left. Our foster father had told me she didn’t want me to reach out to her. She was starting her brand-new life. I’d only get in her way. Pull her down.
At least that was how I’d read between the lines. Piper had cut me out of her life, and for some absurd reason, I wanted to hurt her as deeply as she’d hurt me.
“Of course you’re not. Your MO is to walk away when things get challenging.”
Piper’s eyes narrowed, and if looks could kill, no doubt I’d be lying on the floor bleeding out. She turned, walking away with clear determination in each step. As if she couldn’t get away fast enough from my presence. The sway of her hips was mesmerizing, and I forgot for a moment to be angry at her for showing up in my town uninvited. Atlanta was a big city, so why’d she have to show up on this side of town? The wrong side of town.
I turned my attention back to Chavez’s men, who were looking at me with leering smiles on their faces.
“What?” The word shot out of me with an angry sneer.
Juan Carlos just shrugged, while Santiago threw his head back in laughter. “She’s a feisty one. Imagine what she’d be like…”
“Stop right there, amigo. I don’t want to ruin this budding relationship of ours by planting my fist in your face.”
Santiago laughed harder. “You got it bad, man.”
We played for an hour, and I pretended I was worse than I really was. No harm in letting these guys underestimate me just a little.
“We’re heading over to Teaser’s if you want to come?” Juan Carlos asked me as he returned his cue stick to the wall.
Teaser’s was a low-class strip joint. The women were strung out and barely cognitive while they danced. The place had been busted multiple times for drugs and prostitution, but it just kept springing back to life.
“I think I’ll pass this time.”
“Suit yourself, amigo. We’ll be in touch. In case Chavez wants to meet you, I’d stay in town if I were you.”
It was a power play, not offering up the information about Chavez until the end of the night. Unfortunately for them, it did nothing to intimidate me. I’d seen it all at this point in my life and career. The DEA had taught me plenty in my eight years as an agent with the Special Response Team.
“Got it.”
I walked back to the table, picking up the now warm beer and downing it. The door to the bar opened just as Santiago and Juan Carlos reached it, and angry shouts in Spanish rang out across the room. I didn’t know much of the language, but I knew whatever words they were hurling at each other were definitely not compliments.
Four Latino men surrounded Juan Carlos and Santiago, one man digging his finger into Juan Carlos’s chest. Spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted obscenities. Their black leather jackets had a skull and crossbones on the back that was bleeding from a wound in its head; El Sangre was stamped across the bottom.
Great. Wonderful. Just what the night needed was a gunfight between two rival gang cartels. Although Chavez wasn’t a gang leader, his men located in Atlanta were. The Chavez gang was high on the food chain, the highest we knew about in Atlanta, but that didn’t keep smaller gangs from wanting a piece of the action.
I saw Juan Carlos’s hand go for his gun, and I yanked mine from the back of my pants. Two shots were fired into the ceiling by one member of El Sangre. Screams erupted from the other patrons in the bar. I aimed my gun at the man who’d fired the shots and slowly walked to Juan Carlos’s back. If I had to choose sides tonight, I’d have to go with Chavez’s men. I prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
“Amigos!” I called out over the melee. “Surely we can talk about this.”
The man aimed his gun at me and squeezed off two shots. I ducked just in time, the bullets whizzing over my head.
“Dammit!”
I heard two more shots fired and a loud whistle. Piper stood between the men, a Glock in her hands. One foot was on the back of the man’s neck who’d tried to kill me, while the other five men looked on in awe.
“Drop the damn weapons!” Her voice was calm, not at all what I’d expect from a scared bartender. No—she sounded like a trained operative. Her gun never faltered, and her gaze never strayed from her targets.
One of the men obviously didn’t take her seriously, as he spun around to land a kick to her stomach. She blocked the kick, catching his foot under her arm and wrenching it to make him fall to the ground. The gun was still in her right hand, but the distraction was enough to allow Juan Carlos and Santiago the window they needed. They both fired, hitting the two men who remained standing center mass. They dropped like lead balloons to the ground, while the other two men writhed in pain on the floor.
Piper swung her gun at Juan Carlos and Santiago. “Drop the guns. Now!” Her voice left no room for argument. Juan Carlos just grinned at her.
“You’re not going to kill me, you stupid puta! Do you know who I work for?”
“I don’t give a damn. Drop the weapons or I shoot.”
I got to my feet, my gun raised and leveled on the two men on the ground in case they got any ideas. But although Piper’s attention was on Chavez’s men, she’d yet to let the other two out of her sight. She was vigilant and determined, and I’d never seen anything more damned beautiful than Piper Collins with a gun in her hand in the middle of a stand-off.
“Juan Carlos. Santiago. Get out of here. I’ll wrap things up.”
Piper’s shrewd gaze landed on me, as well as her gun. Her face revealed the disappointment she felt that I’d taken these guys’ side instead of hers. But I wasn’t about to let her undo two years of my hard work laying the foundation for entry into this organization.
“Let them go, Piper.”
“Cade, you don’t understand.”
“Let them go.”
She looked at me for understanding, some kind of sign I was joking, but I couldn’t give it to her, and I couldn’t tell her the truth. Piper didn’t trust me, and I sure as hell didn’t trust her.
Her arm lowered, training her gun on the two scumbags writhing on the floor. The other two were still, blood pooling around their lifeless bodies.
Chavez’s men backed out slowly, a smile tipping Santiago’s face. I didn’t like that smile. It was predatory, evil. The door closed behind them, and Piper turned to me. “Call nine-one-one.”
“You call. I’ve got these guys.”
“This isn’t a power play, Cade. Call the police.”
Sirens blared in the distance, coming closer.
“Looks like someone else already did that for us.”
I backed away to the front door, my gun still trained on the guys at her feet. I could hear the police drawing closer, and I needed to maintain my cover. If I was arrested, no one in the government would come bail me out. It was part of the risk of working for Shadow Force. No backup. No get-out-of-jail-free card. No glory for the lives we saved or the drugs we took off the street.
“See you around, Piper.”
Her eyes watched me, and I felt the hurt, the dismay, the regret. It was all there and all aimed at me. I couldn’t tell her how I’d changed or how I’d become the person she’d always had faith I would back in that foster home. Instead, I left her there, her gun trained on the two scumbags at her feet, and her heart thinking I was just like them.