Blood Lines (31 page)

>> Hawthorne Machine Shop

>> Hawthorne Lane

>> Charlotte, North Carolina

>> 0801 Hours

“Why are you here?” Victor Gant demanded.

Will hauled the man to his feet and pushed him face-first into the nearest wall. The man reeked of sour sweat, alcohol, and reefer smoke.

“Because you made it personal,” Will answered.

Victor cursed. “Your people did that when they killed my boy.”

“Bobby Lee brought what happened to him on himself.”

“Yeah, well so did your gunnery sergeant.”

Will grabbed a handful of the man's hair and yanked his head around so he could face him. “Now I'm making it personal. I'm going to put you away, and when you get out, I'm going to put you away again. You're not going to be able to breathe without me standing in your shadow as long as I feel like you're a threat to one of my people.”

Victor glared at him. “You don't have that kind of time, cap'n.”

“You'd be surprised at the kind of time I have,” Will stated.

A lazy smile pulled at Victor's cruel mouth. “Don't know what you think you got on me, but you ain't gonna make it stick.”

“We're going to start with breaking and entering at the ME's office,” Tarlton said as he cuffed a man next to Victor. “That's just to get you in a cage. Then Commander Coburn is going to bring up charges of tampering with evidence in a homicide investigation.”

“What evidence!” Victor tried to push off the wall.

Will dropped a knee into the back of Victor's knee and caused it to go out from under him. He put an elbow into Victor's back and bounced him off the wall.

“Stay,” Will growled.

“Your son was killed,” Tarlton said. “Until Gunnery Sergeant McHenry is cleared of any wrongful charges—and he will be—Bobby Lee's body is evidence in the investigation. We have a witness who says you broke in and touched the body.”

“I was saying good-bye to my son!” Victor roared.

Will heard the pain in the man's voice and couldn't help feeling it as a father himself. He couldn't imagine how he would act or how he would go on if something ever happened to Steven.

Put that away,
he told himself.
You've got a job to do here. You're not Victor Gant, and Steven is never going to be Bobby Lee.

Will prayed for that to be true with all his heart.

“Chief Tarlton,” someone called over the radio.

“Yeah,” Tarlton responded.

“I got an FBI agent here, name of Urlacher. He says he wants to talk to you about Victor Gant.”

“Tell him I'm busy.” Tarlton pulled the biker he'd cuffed from the wall and started walking him down the hallway.

“Yes, sir. I did. But he's waving some kind of legal paper at me that he seems right proud of.”

“It's a court injunction,” Urlacher bellowed loud enough to be picked up by the radio. “You're interfering in a federal case.”

Tarlton glanced at Will. “Sounds like Urlacher went directly to the nuclear weapons. You got enough muscle to handle this?”

“I don't know,” Will answered.

“Man,” Victor said, grinning now, “you guys ought to know you can't screw with the FBI.”

>> Parking Lot

>> Hawthorne Machine Shop

>> 0824 Hours

“Let me translate the big words for you, Commander Coburn, Chief Tarlton,” Special Agent-in-Charge Urlacher growled. “You can
not
usurp control of my informant. He's under my protection. More than that, he's under the protection of Judge Terri Watson. You have no right to arrest him.”

Tarlton leaned against the police car and eyed the FBI agent with grave distaste. “Actually, I have every right to arrest your
informant
. He's been interfering with an ongoing homicide investigation.”

“He went to say good-bye to his son.” Urlacher looked apoplectic.

“Then,” Tarlton said evenly, “we agree that he broke and entered.”

“Even if he did,” Urlacher said, “here's his get-out-of-jail-free card.” The FBI agent waved the injunction that prevented the detainment of Victor Gant.

Will wasn't happy. He stood at the rear of the police vehicle where the motorcycle leader had been stashed. On the other side of the parking lot, Remy worked with EMTs to stabilize the woman the sheriff's deputy had shot.

“Give Gant to me,” Urlacher stated in a harsh voice, “or you're going to be in contempt of Judge Watson's court.”

Since Judge Watson presided over a federal court in Washington, D.C., Will knew that Tarlton—and he—could be buried in a mountain of red tape and possibly face criminal charges.

Still, Tarlton didn't seem to be impressed. He leaned a hip against the car and smiled. “You know, Will, I've had a lot of people threaten me during the time I've been chief here. You probably have too.”

“I have,” Will agreed. He didn't always play nice with people outside the military's rank and file either. The military was a different matter, though. Everything had a chain of command, and that was obeyed first.

“You ever been threatened by the FBI?” Tarlton looked as though he was really interested in the answer to his question.

“Not threatened, exactly.”

“They threw the big intimidation cloud, didn't they?”

“Pretty much.”

“Offered interdepartmental assistance, then hosed you the first chance they got and got all offensive when you called them on it.”

Urlacher turned redder.

Despite the situation, Will found he was taking a perverse satisfaction at digging his heels in. He wasn't going to let Tarlton swing by himself if things went south.

“That sums it up,” Will agreed.

“We found a lot of weapons in that warehouse, didn't we?”

The Purple Royals, as it turned out, had had quite a cache of weapons on hand. Tarlton and Will were guessing that they'd been planning on a big trade-off somewhere. Weapons were better than cash in a lot of third world countries.

“We did,” Will agreed.

“Do you think we could make a case for Homeland Security?” Tarlton asked.

“It's possible.”

Urlacher had reached his limit. He took a step forward and jabbed Tarlton in the chest with his forefinger. “You listen. If you don't let that man go this instant, I'm going to—”

“What?” Tarlton interrupted. “Run and tell? And if you poke me with the finger again, I'm going to snap it off and shove it up your nose.”

Urlacher withdrew his hand. “Give me Victor Gant.” He pulled his phone off his belt. “Now.”

In the end, Will knew they had no real choice.

Tarlton nodded at the police officer manning the vehicle's rear door.

The policeman opened the door and hauled Gant out.

The biker grinned. “Special Agent Urlacher,” he acknowledged. “Good to see you again.”

Urlacher didn't say anything.

Gant turned to Will. “And you tell your gunnery sergeant that I'll be seeing him soon. Maybe not as soon as I'd hoped, but I'm a patient man.”

Will struggled with his temper. He tried to play it cool, but he was tired and stymied. More than that, he was protective of his team. They were family to him, and a man didn't let his family get threatened without drawing a line in the sand. He'd tried to do that here today, but Urlacher had yanked the fangs from that.

Walk away,
he told himself.
Just let it go.
But he didn't like feeling powerless, and he didn't like having his team exposed to predation.

“And since you've gotten so swollen up over this thing,” Gant said, “maybe I'll pick off another one of your people while I'm—”

Nothing human could have held Will in check at that moment. He'd turned the other cheek and tried to work within the law. That hadn't worked out. His anger exploded. He stepped forward and threw an eight-inch punch into the center of Gant's stomach.

The biker's breath shut down immediately. Will hit him again with a hook that caught him in the side of the jaw.

Gant's legs turned to rubber, and he dropped to his knees. His shaggy hair fell over his shoulders.

Then Tarlton was there, wrapping his arms around Will and butting Will back with his chest.

“Easy, champ,” Tarlton said. “You've made your point.”

Will let himself be led away. He felt guilty at once, but there was a savage need to protect his people that still demanded to be fed.

“It's all right,” he said calmly. “I'm good.”

Tarlton stepped away from him but remained between him and Gant.

“Urlacher,” Tarlton said without turning around or taking his eyes from Will, “pick up your trash and get out of here before I decide to run you in for littering.”

Gant hacked and spat and gagged as he tried to regain his breath.

“You can't do this,” Urlacher said to Will. He caught one of Gant's arms and helped the man to his feet. “I'll arrest you myself for assault.”

“You're out of the FBI's jurisdiction,” Tarlton said. “And if you try to press any charges, I'll bury you and your new pet ape on the court docket. You can expect a nice long stay in town if you want.” He turned to face Urlacher. “Do we understand each other?”

Urlacher bit back a reply, swallowed, then nodded.

“Get him out of here,” Tarlton ordered. “Before I decide to find out if Judge Watson is really interested in backing your play by sending somebody here.”

“Get these cuffs off me,” Victor Gant growled. His dark eyes lasered into Will's.

“I don't think that's a good idea.” Urlacher pulled on Victor's arm.

Victor whipped his arm free of the FBI agent. He spat blood at Will's feet.

“You got a guy on your team who likes blowing up kids that don't know better,” Victor snarled, “and you're mighty big on hitting guys who got their hands cuffed.”

Will felt bad about that. As much as Victor Gant had had it coming, Will still didn't like taking advantage of the situation. At the time, though, he hadn't even thought about it.

“You Navy boys never was all that tough back in the jungle,” Victor said. “You guys never stayed till the water got hot.”

“I'll be here,” Will said.

“We'll see, Navy man.” Victor showed him a mirthless, scarlet grin. Then he let himself be led away by Urlacher. His mocking laughter sounded even after the FBI agents put him in the car.

Will watched the FBI vehicles drive away.

“You know,” Tarlton said, “I think that went really well.”

Will watched the cars make the corner and disappear. “That's sarcasm, right?”

“One of my best things. Totally underappreciated if you ask me, though.”

“I can see how that would happen.” Will let out a tense breath. “About hitting him—”

“If you hadn't, I would have.”

“Not a good thing to do.”

“I forgive you. It's not like Victor Gant asked anybody's permission for killing those men.”

“We don't know that he killed anybody,” Will said.

“We haven't
proven
he's killed anybody. I don't have a single doubt about his guilt. And I intend on trying to pin him to one of those murders we
suspect
him of.”

“It would be interesting to see if we can put that together.”

“Kind of like a hobby,” Tarlton said.

“I like the occasional hobby,” Will said.

“The problem is, if you make Victor Gant a hobby, he's going to come back on you.”

Will didn't say anything. He'd gotten that feeling as well.

“He'll probably try for that sergeant of yours first,” Tarlton said. “But you can bet he's marked a spot on his dance card for you as well.”

“Yeah.” Will took another breath. “In the meantime, Urlacher will keep him locked down. That's almost as good as putting him in jail.”

Tarlton nodded. “It would be interesting to know what Urlacher's working on.”

“The heroin supplier.”

“You got all that NCIS equipment and those international contacts.”

“I do.”

“You might want to broaden your new hobby and take a look into that end of things.”

Will smiled. “I was thinking about that myself.”

“I'm thinking that Sheriff Greene and I can shake up the Purple Royals while Victor Gant is MIA. We can send you a few more heroin samples. Maybe get you some names you can run through those fancy computers you have.”

“You have computers.”

“I'm betting your computers are better than our computers,” Tarlton said. “I'm also betting if anyone can trace that heroin back overseas, your agency is going to have a better shot at it than the Charlotte police department.”

“I'll let you know,” Will said.

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