As we approach the large conference room made of glass, which is where the term “fishbowl” derives from, I see a dozen or so people are sitting around the table, and the images of our perpetrators displayed on the projection screen.
Sergeant Black waves us in, and both Deacon and I drop our bags to the floor by the door before taking our seats. Before proceeding, Black hits a button that frosts the glass to the conference room, making it so those on the outside can’t see inside. He then takes a moment to govern a brief introduction.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to meet officers Winslow and Beaumont. They are the top two guys in our SWAT and gang units. Guys, to your right, are agents Johnson and Parker with the DEA. Across the table are FBI Agents Horvath and Thompson. Next to them are agents Garcia and Mendoza with the ATF. Everyone else, you know.”
Going around the table, each team hands out information they’ve collected on our perpetrators. Unfortunately, we don’t have anything new for the group aside from telling them we have a confidential informant. No one presses us to give up our CI because they know perfectly well that if they approach him, they’ll spook him, which could jeopardize our contact, and we’d lose the inside knowledge that Lil Romeo provides.
While thoroughly discussing each packet in front of us, we learn that Flores and the Hernandez brothers were on the cartel’s hit list for killing the leader Morales’ wife’s cousin. Being as the cousin wasn’t anyone significant, Flores begged for his life and negotiated a deal with Morales to become his go-to mule between Mexico and the bordering states.
The Hernandez brothers are or will be collateral damage. They’ve been Flores’ right-hand men since dropping out of high school nearly ten years ago. When Flores cut his deal with the cartel, he signed their death certificates when shit hits the fan. There always needs to be someone to take the fall. Flores is one of many for Morales, and the Hernandez brothers will be the fall guys for Flores.
“Are you going after the gang members or Morales?” I direct my question to the group.
“I’m glad you asked,” Agent Thompson responds. “Now that we have competent local authorities working the gang case, we want to go after the big fish. We want Morales, and we believe that if you catch Flores and the Hernandez brothers, they’ll cut a deal to get two life sentences without the possibility of parole instead of the death sentence.”
It doesn’t go unnoticed that Agent Thompson emphasizes “if you catch,” as in LPPD is on its own to apprehend the gang members. That high and mighty bullshit pisses me off to no end, but being as we’re local law enforcement and they are federal, we are the ones who have to do the grunt work. At least we know they won’t interfere or get in our way.
“So, just to be clear, count you out until we have Flores and the Hernandez brothers in custody?” My emphasis clearly states we will get our guys.
“Exactly.”
“Got it.” Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms, thinking of what to say next.
“Kade.” Black is eyeing me when he says my name as a warning.
“Just making sure I understand, Sarg.”
Deacon leans closer to me and whispers that Lil Romeo texted. Neither of us gives away that we may have eyes on our guys. These federal agents may say they don’t want to get involved at this point, but if they knew we could get those assholes today, they would do the exact opposite of what they said and take over our case.
“Are we done here?” Deacon asks. DEA agent Johnson speaks up as Deacon and I stand up to leave the conference room.
“We know you two are known as ‘The Cowboys.’ We don’t need reckless behavior, got it?”
“Crystal-fucking-clear.” Why bother hiding my annoyance? These guys don’t know us, and they won’t be around long enough to piss me off further. Fuck them.
As Deacon and I walk out of the room, I tell him, “Giddy-up, cowboy,” loud enough for the group to hear, but don’t stop for their remarks.
“They couldn’t leave it alone, could they?” Deacon asks as we change into our BDUs.
“It appears that way. That’s why we need to find out what Lil Romeo knows so we can catch our guys and hand them off to the feds. The sooner we do it, the sooner they get the fuck out of town.”
Nothing more needs to be said at this point. Deacon replies to our CI, telling him to meet us at a different location than the usual place. There’s no telling who may know he’s a snitch or if someone else has eyes on him.
The meeting with our CI was brief. Honestly, it was a waste of time, but the information we receive is information nonetheless. Romeo mentions there was a guy who possibly fit Chico Hernandez’s description at a party last night. I asked if he had “Chico” tattooed on the back of his neck, but he said he had a Pendleton shirt on, and the collar covered the back of his neck. The only thing that gives us some inkling it was Chico is that Romeo said he thought he overheard the guy bragging about a bank heist to a hyna—slang for gang-affiliated female—with whom he was trying to hook-up.
For the rest of our shift, Deacon and I stay on the east side of town, patrolling. We arrest two prostitutes and put the fear of God into some punk kids who were tagging someone’s car. All in all, it’s a typical night.
The next few days are uneventful as we keep our ears to the ground, listening for anything that would give us a lead on our gang members. Lil Romeo hasn’t been in contact, which is typical if he doesn’t have anything to provide to us.
We have rotating schedules, which means our days off alternate weekly, giving everyone a weekend off every few weeks. Since our weekend starts today, our fellow gang unit members who work opposite days from us know that they are to contact either Deacon or me if they hear or see anything related to our case.
Tonight, Deacon and I are meeting up at McShane’s with some people from the police department. We try to do this at least once every other month, keeping up the camaraderie among patrol, detectives, the gang unit, and so on. Some people’s egos spin out of control when they get put on a special assignment. This get-together helps minimize what could be a more hostile work environment given what we all do for a living. McShane’s Pub is a neutral zone where the egos get checked at the door.
10
Britney
Another Saturday night and neither Sydnee nor I can decide what we want to do. Do we go to the city to go clubbing, or do we do the same ol’ thing and head to McShane’s? I did receive an email saying that the pub will have a DJ tonight. The only problem with going there is I know my brother will be there, which means so will Kade.
Every night since our brief encounter, I’ve dreamt of Kade. And every morning, I wake up hot and bothered with feelings of dissatisfaction. What I wouldn’t give for one night with him. To feel his chiseled chest against my bare breasts, his hips between my thighs, his cock buried deep inside my—
“Brit!” Sydnee yells my name, snapping me out of my erotic daydream. “Seriously, you need to get fucked. Not by Kade, but by someone. He has your brain turned to porno mush.”
“What are you talking about?” I question. Could she read my mind?