All This Time (16 page)

Chapter
Twenty-Nine

Just
after dawn I hear a car arrive to take Decks to the airport. I hop out of bed,
watching it drive away before I pull out my personal cell and send a quick text
off to Russ. I want him to know about the meeting and to let him know that the
X’kapz’s are still concerned about his case, at least Decks is keeping tabs.
Whether it’s just because of the simple attraction to me or something else, he
is making Russ’ case a priority and that bothers the hell out of me. I was
hoping that he would be a fading memory for the group, but I’m beginning to
realize that this job is different from all the others I’ve had before and that
I should just start expecting the unexpected.

After
changing into my running clothes, I read Russ’ reply asking me to meet him
today. I reply, telling him to meet me at one this afternoon in the probation
office, that way I can use my cover just in case Decks is having me watched. I
won’t be naive and believe that he’s letting me get away with the waiting game.
There is definitely something swirling around in that naughty head of his, but
whatever it takes he will believe that he can trust everything I tell him.

The
early morning cool temperatures and low humidity today are optimal for a nice
hard run. I’ve been slacking on my usual workout routine, but now that I’m free
for the day I am going to take advantage of this short time alone and get in a
good one. It feels great to push my body through the hard run around the quiet
neighborhood. The houses here are all mansions crammed in against each other on
a one hundred acre mountain top overlooking the lake that links Buckhead to
Atlanta. I take a well worn trail that leads along the edge of the
mountainside, enjoying my first real alone time since starting this job. After
reaching the back edge of the property, I loop back retracing my path.

A
minute later I spot a man running my direction about two hundred yards in front
of me and I focus on his muscles contracting with each push and pull of his
limbs. His thighs and calves are well formed and since he’s only wearing
running shorts, I can see that his glistening abs’ are carved divinely. His
arms whip backward and forward like a well tuned machine and the muscles
encasing them are thick and powerful. My eyes linger on his baroque physic a
little longer than they should, allowing him to approach and catch me checking
him out like a Rembrandt hanging in the British Museum. I falter at his
dazzling white smile made brighter by his dark suntan and nearly fall when I
realize that the body belongs to the man I need to quit ogling over every time
he’s around.

“Good
morning,” I watch Blues mouth a greeting as he slows his run to a jog while
continuing toward me. I smirk, wiggle my fingers and then point toward my ear
buds before averting my eyes quickly back to the path ahead.

While
passing him, I pray that he doesn’t try to stop me and I couldn’t be happier
when I get exactly what I hoped for. I need this run for more than the physical
results; it helps clear my head of all the bullshit. If Blues would have
stopped me for even just a quick chat it most definitely could have turned into
another huge mistake. Seeing him with minimal clothing covering his
sweat-soaked body is heart-stopping.
For someone in
as good a shape as I am, I'm panting far too hard.
Being out here alone
with Blues, looking that fucking hot, is very, very bad for my health. Suddenly
I feel like I need to run faster. I crank the volume on my mp3 player strapped
around my arm and kick up my pace.

Passing
Blues’ house, I slow down to a reasonable speed and then run around the side of
Decks’ mansion toward the pool house. Before slipping into a swimsuit I take a
quick shower to rinse off the sweat and to cool down my sizzling skin. Allowing
the water to cascade over my head and back, I close my eyes tilting my face
downward.

“Damn,”
I groan, thinking about Blues’ muscles stretched and taunt. I imagine how
amazing he must have looked while he climbed on top of me holding his weight
off of my body just before we had sex. Although I felt each flex under my
fingertips, it was too dark to see all the definition.

“Get
it together,” I encourage while tying the string of my top around my neck. I
drop the hair band on the counter top and step outside. It’s too cold to swim,
but Decks keeps his pool heated during the winter so I dive in and find a good
pace as I skim atop the crystal clear water.

Avoiding
thoughts of Blues, I work through the details of this assignment and know that
soon I will have to break through with one of the members. I need someone in
tight with the X’kapz to trust me enough to roll over on this whole
organization. The dream scenario would be for Blues to give up everything on
Nelson since he probably knows the most. Then we can move him into witness
protection. Since he was once a police officer I doubt he would take the deal.
He has apparently been through too much to give a damn about helping others
anymore and is now a selfish bastard. Whatever Wise’s deal is, I’m not sure
he’s high up enough on the totem pole to provide specifics to shut down an
operation of this magnitude. That leaves me with Decks. He knows everything and
is in the deepest with the family connection. Apparently he likes to be a
hands-on kind of guy since he works the trap house and is now setting up the
new host houses.

What
could he be up to with Mad Hatter? I know he doesn’t need a two timing piece of
shit like that working his sell house, the fucker would use up all of his
drugs. Working in the storage house wouldn’t be much better since it would be
like a fucking Costco wholesale warehouse to him. His involvement with Mad must
be related to the flight out to the Atlantic coast. Whoever this new investor
is must be bringing in something more than Nelson has to offer with his Mexican
cartel connections. This shit is getting weirder by the day.

Finishing
up my swim, I rush through another shower and dress casually for my probation
meeting and grab my gear off the table in the front foyer. Just before starting
my bike I spot Blues jogging behind me in the middle of the road. I switch on
the ignition and roll down the driveway. He has already passed me when I pull
down to the main road, but stops and turns around toward me. A big grin spreads
across his face as his eyes devour me on my motorcycle. I smile smugly knowing
that I am any guy’s fantasy at this precise moment, but even more so for Blues.
He’s had me in his bed so he knows I can handle this beast between my legs.
Blues stands there, his chest heaving and sweat rolling down his glorious,
nearly nude body looking like my exact fantasy too. Our eyes meet and he drops
his grin to something a lot more sinister.

I’m
sure that he’s thinking about replacing the beast that’s positioned between my
legs which is exactly why I need to stay away from him. If we start something
while I’m trying to get Decks’ cooperation it will fuck up everything. I tilt
my chin upward, acknowledging him as I pass by and then gun the hell out of the
throttle. The ride into town isn’t far from Decks’ place. I park in the
adjacent parking lot and then walk into the probation office.

“May
I help you?” the sweet lady behind the front desk asks.

I
smile and nod, “Yes ma’am. I’m here to meet with my P.O. My name is Angel
Johnson.”

“Have
a seat and I’ll notify Mr. Stevens that you are waiting.”

“Thank
you.” I take a seat next to the other twenty people in the small waiting room.

“Ms.
Johnson,” a heavyset man announces, poking his head around the door leading
down the hallway toward the back offices.

I
rise and say, “That’s me.”

“I’m
Mr. Stevens,” he states. “Follow me.”

We
walk all the way to the back of the hall and he turns down another long
corridor leading me past all of the private offices. When we reach the administrators
office, he pushes open the door and gestures me inside. I spot Russ
immediately.

“This
room is clean, no video surveillance,” Mr. Stevens assures, closing the door
behind him and leaving us alone.

“So Decks and Mad Hatter?
That’s fucked up.” Russ grins
staring up at me from his seat behind the desk.

“Yep,
I’m a little freaked out about it. Something isn’t adding up about his
involvement with the X’kapz.” I take the open seat in front of him.

“You
won’t like what I’m about to tell you, but we have an unreliable giving up some
pretty good information on Mad working for someone under Dr. A’s direct order.”

I
stare at him and wonder what in the hell has gotten into my department. First
the Captain and now Russ is buying into the bullshit story of Dr.
A
being real. Plus, this implausible fact was given to him
by a nark that hasn’t proved to be a reliable source of information. A new
awareness moves through my mind and I wonder if Decks could be putting himself
into some kind of new danger. The stories surrounding the infamous drug lord,
combined with Mad Hatters involvement doesn’t settle well in my belly.

Relenting
to the possibility that there may be something seriously messed up going on, I
sigh before asking,
“
Who is the source?”

“Arch
Bishop,” he says beaming with pride and I shake my head, disbelieving that he
can trust anything that the well known storyteller inside the X’kapz says.

Chapter
Thirty

Three
days pass with no word from Decks. I don’t have feelings for the drug dealer in
the least bit. However, after hearing Russ’ fearful concerns about this new
drug shipping into the US, I might begin to worry about the legitimacy of the
legendary cockamamie story and what it all could mean for my safety.

According
to some of the reports, Russ gathers that the drug known as Ryske is being
manufactured in England and then shipped into the states through small islands.
Drug runners find vacant beach front houses to store the drugs in until they
can push them onto the local drug dealers while sending small packages into the
states by personal watercraft. It’s easier to sneak a small boat passed the
watchful eye of the coast guard than a large shipping vessel.

Hospitals
around the east coast have seen a rash of deaths along with unexplained
behaviors from the usage of Ryske. With little to go on since they haven’t
seized any shipments yet, all the DEA can tell us at this point is that the
drug is a deadly mixture of illegal amphetamines, sedatives and an undetermined
substance. The drug users’ description of the effects it is having on them has
the doctors believing that it must be a man made mind manipulator, affecting
each person differently. Lucky for our side of the drug war, not many shipments
have been delivered into North America. The unlucky part is that not once has
the coast guard busted a boat transporting the shit either.

On
my ride back to Decks’ house after leaving Russ, I recall my first day at the
grungy trap house and remember Lourdes bitching about the decline of their
sales of cocaine because of some
risky
drug. Clearly she wasn’t too
familiar with it at the time. But if my gut is correct Decks is one of the
locals in Georgia who will be signing up to receive and distribute Ryske. If
so, we’ll all become very familiar with it soon.

Sitting
at my booth at the tattoo shop waiting for my next client to arrive, I get a
text from Natalie asking if I’m interested in joining them for a drink at
Holidays tonight and I tell her that I’ll drop by after work around ten. I drop
my phone into my bag and spot a young woman entering through the front door.
With our front desk girl on another cigarette break, I assist her.

“Hey,
welcome to the TatHouse. Do you have an appointment?” I ask, pulling up the
schedule on the computer.

She
smiles sweetly and bobs her head yes, making her cork screw reddish brown curls
bounce wildly. “Yes, I believe I’m with Angel.”

“That’s
me,” I say before turning and walking around the counter to join her. “You must
be Chelsea.”

“I
am.”

“Do
you have something in mind or do you need some time to look through the
drawings?”

“I
know what I want.” She unfolds a piece of paper and thrusts it at me. “Can you
do this?”

I
glance down at the paper and decipher the Spanish words,
esperando
en
un
angel,
porque
no
quiero
ir
sola
into “waiting
for an angel, because I don’t want to go alone” scrolling down like a stem from
the rose above it.

“It’s
cool. Do you know where it’s going and what color you want the rose?”

She
nods and thrusts both thumbs toward the space between her shoulder and right
breast. “Yep, right here and I want the rose red.”

“Okay,
let’s get started then.”

After
prepping everything, I get Chelsea set up at my station and apply the transfer
to her pale skin. Hoping to keep her mind off the pain, I get her talking
casually about general bullshit for the first few minutes.

“Where
are you from Chelsea?”

“Alabama.
I moved here about two months ago. I visited with some friends back in the
spring and met a really cool dude. He let me move in with him and we’re kind of
getting serious.” She smiles sweetly, her dark brown eyes light up while
talking about her new love interest.

“That’s
cool. Are you in school or working in the area?”

She
shakes her head and I watch her smile fall. “No, I left school a few months ago
and worked around at a lot of places before moving. I just haven’t found my
thing yet.”

“Your thing?
What is it you like to do?”

“I
love to draw and hang out with cool people. I would love to work in a place
like this one.”

“Yeah,
it’s a great place to work at. My boss is totally the best.” I grin, finishing
up the outline of her rose. “Do you need a break?”

“Can
I get a quick smoke?”

“Absolutely,
I’ll grab something to drink and be back here in a few minutes. Can I get you
anything?” I toss my rubber gloves into the trash and fish in my pocket for
some cash.

“Water?”
Chelsea asks and I nod.

We
step outside together, she goes around the side of the building toward her car
and I cross the street after the traffic light at the intersection changes to
red, halting the heavy flow of vehicles. I grab our waters and head back over
to the shop, bumping into my boss rushing out the front door.

“Hi
ya, Trevor,” I say, jumping out of his way.

“In
a hurry Angel,” he says quickly. I push open the door and laugh at him because
he’s always in a hurry. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After
another fifteen minutes Chelsea doesn’t show and I begin to wonder if the girl
skipped out on me. I glance over at the other artist, currently working on a
full back design as I walk toward the front door. Chelsea step through before I
have a chance to open it.

“There
you are,” I say watching her eyes languidly land on me as she smiles.

“Sorry,”
is all she offers, as we return to my station.

“This
is the worst part,” I say, starting the fill in on her design.

“Yeah,
I have others. I can handle it,” Chelsea says smiling. “I see your diamond on
your wrist. Does it have meaning behind it?

“They’re
unbreakable, sort of a goal of mine,” I answer honestly.

“Do
you have others?”

I
nod before answering, “Yeah, I have ten in all.”

“Wow,
I wouldn’t have guessed that many.” Her eyes sparkle with shock.

“Really?”
I frown, “Why not?”

She
shrugs her shoulder and I pull back so I don’t screw up her tattoo. “I don’t
know. You just don’t look like the type of chick to get so many tattoos.”

I
laugh. “What type of girl do you think I am?”

“The
good type,” she says flatly, glancing away from me. “Definitely not like me.”

“Aw,
I’m sure you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Nah,
I’m a waste of space according to my ex-boyfriend, but you’re like freaking
perfect.”

While
shaking my head, I growl before snapping on her, “Fuck perfect! There’s no
chance in hell that I’m perfect. Looks are totally deceiving Chelsea.” I lean
down, starting on her design again. “Don’t buy into that shit your ex is
feeding you either. People say bullshit all of the time to just hurt others. He
is your ex after all and there’s a reason for that. Clearly he wasn’t good
enough for you.”

“Shit.
I doubt I’ll ever find the one. Mr.
Perfect
doesn’t exist for me. Have
you ever been in love?” Chelsea asks, staring up at the ceiling.

“Nope,
and I’m not looking either.”

“You
don’t have to look.” I quirk an eyebrow up and wonder what the hell her
statement means. She giggles, causing her chest to bounce and I stop working
again. “Have you ever once looked in the damn mirror? I bet guys fucking throw
themselves at your feet.” She continues to giggle and then slurs, “I would love
to look like you.”

“It’s
not at all like that for me. If guys were that ridiculous I wouldn’t date them
for sure. I like guys who have a shred of self-respect and can handle
themselves in every situation.” I watch her eyes glaze over and shift the
subject. “Besides you are adorable. I’m sure you get more than your fair share
of hot guys. I bet other women hate you for being so damn tiny and a total
bombshell.”

“No, not really.
The only thing…” She slides her eyes close
as her words trail off.

“Chelsea?”
I ask, watching her eyes open into a slit. “Are you okay honey?”

She
smiles weakly, “Yeah, I think I buzzed.”

“What?”
I keep my voice controlled, hoping that I don’t freak her out while studying
her. “You must be on some good shit.”

Chelsea
nods and her grin widens, “Yeah, my roommate hooked me up with some Ryske last
night. It’s a freaking crazy ride.”

“Shit,”
I mumble, but recover quickly. “I’ve heard of it, but haven’t come across
anyone with a hook up. I might need to meet your friend.” She nods her head,
closing her eyes again. “Well
Chels
’, since you’re
wasted I can’t finish this thing today. So we’ll need to reschedule you.” I
begin putting away my equipment. “And next time don’t get high until after I’m
done.”