Devil's Playground Page 13

“He’s still my partner.”

  Caitlyn mumbled something incoherent under her breath, but Mac didn’t have time to figure out what it was. Herding her to the living room, he made sure she was as protected as possible by the recliner before he grabbed the gun.

  Tom was reloading a clip when Mac crawled into the kitchen.

  “You always carry a gun and a spare clip when you visit your sister?” Mac took the other side of the window and fired at a flash of red behind a garbage can. Thank God it was late morning or the neighbors would be around.

  “You always flap your gums when you’re getting shot at?”

  Ignoring the jibe, Mac searched for more telltale flashes of red. “How many?”

  “At least three, maybe four. I think I took one out while you were pussy-footing around.”

  “There!” Mac spotted thug wearing a red bandana running for cover. Aiming carefully, he nailed him twice in the thigh.

  “One more down.”

  “Make that two, I got the one by the garbage can.”

  Silence filled the air, broken only by the sound of sirens in the distance.

  “Whatdaya think? One or two left? And are they waiting for a shot or running?”

  Tires squealed and horns blared.

  “Running,” they said in unison.

  “I can’t be here when the cops come.” Mac looked at Tom, trying to read his eyes. Could he trust him? He’d just saved his life. Hell, Tom had saved his life more than once. His gut said Tom was clean, and right about now his gut was all he had going for him.

  “Take my car. I’ll cover for you.” Tom tossed him the keys, no questions asked.

  Mac caught the keys in one hand. Where he’d go, he had no idea.

  Chapter Twelve

  Caitlyn paced the confines of Jim’s apartment. Although bigger than her own, it was still too small to contain her restless energy. Where was Mac? Did he really think Tom was involved with his case?

  “If you wear a hole in Jim’s rug, he isn’t going to be happy with you.” Tom clicked off the TV and dropped the remote on the beaten up coffee table under his feet.

  “How can you sit still at a time like this? Your partner accused you of being a traitor, we’ve been shot at, and now Mac is off God knows where in your car. And you’re watching crappy talk shows.”

  “All in a day’s work, kiddo.”

  “Don’t you dare ‘kiddo’ me. And maybe it’s all in your day’s work but not in mine.” Caitlyn flopped down into an armchair.

  “Which is why I want you out of it. You’re not cut out for thugs carrying guns.”

  “I didn’t ask to have a bleeding man roll under my car, you know.” She stood and crossed to the window to peek out. “I was just trying to help my brother’s partner stay alive.”

  “Oh, so was that CPR you were giving Mac this morning?”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny. What do you have against him anyway? I thought you liked him as your partner.”

  “I do like him as my partner. He’s a great guy and I trust him with my life. Have trusted him with my life many times. That’s why him thinking I have something to do with this pisses me off so much.”

  A glimmer of sympathy broke through her self-pity and worry. “I’m sorry, Tom. I wasn’t even thinking about how all of this might be hurting you too.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

  Caitlyn sat next to him on the couch. “Why would he suspect you? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, it depends on the case. If it involves the local municipalities, I have connections with both fire and police. If there’s something going on where they suspect one or both of being dirty, then it makes sense to question me.”

  “But…but he’s your partner!” Caitlyn sputtered indignantly. How could Tom defend him?

  “It happens all the time. You’d like to think that everyone you work with has the same ideals and morals that you do but the truth is some of them turn. It’s a tough job with very little thanks or recognition. We’re always the tough guys and a lot of what we do goes unnoticed by the general public. That gets to you after a while.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You sound like you agree with him.”

  “I’m just trying to explain. Yeah, it bugs me that Mac thinks I’d turn, but he has to keep an open mind. If you’re blinded by emotion, you can’t do your job.”

  “Would you ever suspect him?” Caitlyn asked.

  “Depends on the situation. Mac doesn’t have the family connections I do, but if I caught him in a situation that was questionable, I might be suspicious. I’d have to be.”

  There was no way she could live like that. Her family was her foundation. She knew no matter what happened, no matter what she did, her brothers would be there for her. If she didn’t have that bone-deep support in her life, she’d never have survived their parents’ deaths and stayed sane.

  Caitlyn leaned over and kissed Tom on the cheek.

  “What was that for? Do you forgive me for barging in on you?”

  “No. But I’m grateful that you do the job you do.”

  “It’s a tough job but someone has to do it,” he joked.

  “Exactly. And I, for one, do appreciate all you do so I can sleep safely at night.”

  Tom gave her an odd look, but didn’t say anything.

  “I’m going to take a shower. When Jim gets home I think we should call a family meeting. I have a feeling we haven’t heard the last of Mac.”

  “We’d better not have. He still has my car.”

  * * *

  What a freaking day. Mac eyed the comings and goings of his former “brothers” as they went about their business. Drug traffic seemed to be up since the last time he was out. The corner where the Children set up shop was busy with junkies begging for just one hit. Cars rolled up to the curb and furtive transactions took place through tinted windows.

  Carlos must have gotten a new supplier or something. There was more crap on the street than he’d seen in all the months he’d been working undercover. What was going on?

  A pimped out car with its radio blasting a thumping bass line rounded the corner and several heads turned. Hands reached for weapons and junkies scurried for cover like rats sensing a storm. The car cruised by slowly and Mac caught a glimpse of a blue bandana wrapped around a dark head.

  Shit! What were the 525s doing here? Mac had seen little kids shot at just for wearing the wrong colors and this guy was cruising down the street announcing his affiliations?

  Blood pounded in his veins and he reached for his gun. This could be a blood bath if someone moved too fast.

  “Hey Miguel, you up for a trade?” The driver called out to the oldest of the Children standing on the corner.

  “Maybe. Whatcha got?” Miguel walked cautiously towards the car, his hand hovering near the gun Mac knew was stashed in the back of his pants.

  “How about we trade a blow for some blow?” He laughed at his own wit.

  “Show me the girl. And it better be a girl. I don’t want one of your nasty-ass fags.”

  Mac could see Miguel’s nostrils flare from his hiding place. Could this be for real? Was one of Satan’s Children going to make a deal with one of the 525s? What the hell was going on?

  Apparently the girl met his standards, because Miguel motioned for one of his boys to bring him something, which he handed over to the driver. The passenger door opened and Miguel rounded the hood and climbed in.

  Could this be happening? Before Mac had left, a cease-fire had been declared. But tensions still ran high. No 525 would have dared to come to this corner without heavy firepower backing him up. How had so much changed in less than a month?

  The driver stepped out of the car and Mac caught a glimpse of a skinny girl on her knees in front of Miguel. The car rocked a little bit and a nervous twitter went through the crowd of youths watching. As the driver snorted his lines off a sliver of a mirror, hands moved away from hidden guns. This was a business tran
saction, not a set up.

  Before he could wrap his mind around this new partnership, Miguel stepped out of the car, hitching his pants up.

  “Nice doing business with you, man.” The driver wiped off his nose and climbed back into the car.

  Mac crouched in his hiding spot, stunned. Were the Children and the 525s working together? Could they be planning a war on the Black Hands? That wasn’t beyond the realm of believability. Still, old hatreds ran deep amongst all three gangs. It was hard to believe they could bury the hatchet and not in each other’s backs.

  A youth, no older than eleven or twelve, came running up to Miguel. “Five-oh! Cops are coming!”

  “Move!” Miguel shouted.

  There was a flurry of activity as blankets were packed up and junkies scattered. The formerly bustling street corner was deserted except for some empty vials strewn on the sidewalk. Miguel stood in a doorway mere feet away from Mac. Sweat dripped down his neck as he waited for his “brother” to glance down at the window well where he hid. It wouldn’t take more than a stray breeze to move the newspapers he had covering him and he’d be visible.

  Luckily, Miguel’s attention was focused on the unmarked police car driving slowly through the street. As the car slowed down, the passenger window opened and Miguel visibly relaxed. With a quick look around, Miguel slipped into the passenger’s seat and rolled up the window.

  Not willing to push his luck any more, Mac waited for the car to pull away, then hightailed it out of the neighborhood while everyone was still in hiding. He had a lot of thinking to do, and crouching in a window well covered in newspaper wasn’t the place for it.

  Mac used every ounce of training he had to slip out of the neighborhood unseen. He’d taken courses in jungle training. This was only another form of jungle. The wildlife might be punks and drug addicts, but they were just as dangerous as snakes and panthers.

  Using the shadows as cover, he blended from one building to another, walking silently in the night-darkened streets. His stomach muscles ached and his stamina wasn’t what it used to be, but all things considered, he wasn’t in as bad shape as he could have been.

  And Caitlyn had been worried about him. Ha!

  Well, that wouldn’t be a problem any more. After he admitted to suspecting Tom of being involved with the case, she wouldn’t be concerned about his welfare now. Hell, she probably hoped he would get hit.

  No, she wasn’t that type. She might be pissed off, but she wouldn’t wish him harm. Mac had a minute to regret how things shook down. It wasn’t like he wanted to suspect his best friend of being in cahoots with scumbags like Carlos. But it was his job, damn it.

  A covered bus stop stood empty at this time of night and Mac risked sitting down. The bus would be there soon and he could take it back to the commuter lot where he’d ditched Tom’s car. He’d have to return it sooner or later, but he might very well end up sleeping in it for the rest of tonight.

  The nearly empty bus pulled up and Mac got on. Good thing he’d taken that handful of change from Tom’s ashtray. He slouched down near a window and pulled his baseball cap low over his eyes. With his face shaved and his hair shorn, he probably wouldn’t be recognized, but why take chances?

  What the hell was going on in the city? Mac had been brought undercover because the FBI and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms were worried about the number of weapons intercepted in this little city. The numbers didn’t add up, and that made folks nervous. He knew going in he’d have no local backup because the locals were the ones under suspicion.

  But how far up did the corruption go? The police car that Miguel had gotten into wasn’t from a beat cop. Could someone in Mac’s department be involved?

  Tom?

  Mac shook his head against the thought. It was one thing to have an open mind, it was another to ignore his gut. His instincts screamed at him, telling him that Tom and the rest of the O’Tooles weren’t involved. Tom had saved his life just this morning.

  But he could have done that just to save his sister. Was he just making excuses to believe in Tom because he wanted to see Caitlyn again?

  No. Mac shook his head as if to dislodge the niggling thought. Whether or not he believed in Tom’s innocence, he still couldn’t see Caitlyn again. Some things were better left alone.

  It was for the best anyway, he thought, denying the surge of regret tightening his chest. What kind of life could he offer her? He was in deep cover for months at a time, he never knew when he’d be home or even what he’d look like on any given assignment.

  Sure, she was used to that in some respects because of her brother, but having a lover in the FBI was a little different. Mac knew there were guys who had wives and families and were able to keep their jobs separate, but he didn’t think he was up to that balancing act. There was a reason the divorce rate was so high in his field.

  Christ, he was getting maudlin. Last night had been the most amazing experience of his entire life. He should be grateful that he’d had a taste of heaven, instead of moaning about losing it. Caitlyn was probably counting her blessings that it ended quickly before her heart got involved.

  The bus stopped with a hiss of air brakes. Mac got off and watched the other passengers until they all stumbled to their cars and left the lot. When he was sure no one was around, he slipped up to Tom’s sedan and peered under it. Checking the car for explosives might be a bit paranoid, but better paranoid than dead.

  Nothing seemed out of order. He was probably over anxious but lately it felt like his life was one disaster after another. The only calm he’d had was the time he spent at Caitlyn’s.

  Slipping into the car, he locked the door and slid low in the driver’s seat. He had some heavy thinking to do and it didn’t involve Caitlyn. It was time he admitted it, he needed help. Big time. If the 525s and the Children were cooperating, he had to assume the Hands were cooperating too. If all three of the city’s gangs were working together instead of at cross-purposes, they’d have an army of gigantic proportions.

  Who was directing that army though?

  Mac dug around in the glove box, looking for something to either prove or disprove Tom’s innocence. There was a wad of napkins from a fast food place, some maps of metro D.C. and a pack of matches. Not much to go on there.

  In the back seat was Tom’s briefcase. If he had any incriminating evidence, he wouldn’t keep it in there. Still, there might be something Mac could work with in there. Plus, he was nosy. It went with the job.

  Unzipping the pockets one by one, Mac rifled around, finding a PDA, a calculator, some pens and a tangle of wires that probably belonged to the laptop in the main compartment. He might have some information on there, but Mac didn’t have time to figure out his password. In frustration, Mac dropped the case onto the passenger seat where it tipped over. A little blue booklet fell to the floor.

  Tom’s passport.

  Mac picked it up and flipped it open. It was a smudgy picture of Tom but it had his undercover name on it. He flipped through the pages looking for where Tom had been last.

  Nicaragua. And he’d only just returned to the states. Mac flipped through looking to see how long he’d been down there.

  Shit. No wonder he was carrying a gun and extra clips. Tom had been in that hell since they split up over six months ago. That would explain why he was taking a vacation.

  And would clear him from any involvement with the gangs. He couldn’t have blown Mac’s cover if he was in the jungle up till a week or so ago.

  Relief flooded Mac’s body. It had killed him to think of his partner being dirty, but he had to keep his options open. He needed Tom’s help badly and now he could use it without watching his back.

  And he could see Caitlyn again.

  He had to stop thinking about her. It was enough to make him question his sanity. She was just a woman, like any other.

  Okay, not like any other but still just a woman.

  A woman with laughing eyes and creamy skin. One who respo
nded to his touch like she was on fire.

  Mac’s body hardened at the memories from last night. No, Caitlyn wasn’t just any woman. Too bad if he tried to touch her again, she’d bite his hand off.

  Or would she?

  Chapter Thirteen

  A hand clamped over her mouth startling Caitlyn out of a fitful sleep.

  “What are you doing in here? I thought Tom was sleeping at Jim’s?” Mac’s voice whispered in her ear, sending tingles through her body.

  Caitlyn tried to mumble out an answer but Mac’s hand still covered her mouth.

  “If I let you go, will you promise not to scream?”

  The darkness covered the rolling of her eyes but she nodded her head yes.

  “Now, why are you in the guest room?” Mac knelt on the bed and his weight made her roll towards him.

  “Because I’m the girl, that’s why. Tom’s on the couch and Liam’s on the floor in Jim’s room. My place is a mess so I’m staying here until it gets fixed up. I’ll never get my security deposit back at this rate.”

  “Oh great, all the O’Toole’s are here to pound me into dust at the same time.”

  “Then why did you come back?” Caitlyn’s heart rose in her chest. Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Even though she’d fought against it all day, her hurt and sadness smothered the anger she felt towards him.

  “I have to talk to Tom. I know he’s not involved with this.”

  “What? Did you get proof? Is that where you’ve been?” She tried to ignore the heat coming off his body. The T-shirt she’d worn to bed was bunched up around her waist and the only thing covering her lower body was a thin, crumpled sheet.

  “I don’t have time to explain. I’m in way over my head and I need to talk to him.”

  “Oh.” Her heart sunk with disappointment. He wasn’t there to see her, he was there to see Tom. “He’s in the living room, on the couch.” Her gaze dropped.

  “Good. Thanks.” He shifted his weight, but didn’t get off the bed. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you of my suspicions earlier. I’ve been undercover for so long I don’t trust anybody.”