Shelter
Tanya watched him move easily among the people in the different groups, always touching them in some way, either a hand on their shoulder or simply a slight touch on the arm. His laugh echoed through the crowded hall as he listened to their stories, talking and joking with them, never patronizing them with his comments, but always warm and welcoming. It was why she was always happy when he came to help out at the shelter. He made her day easier. And he never complained when she asked him to clean up a mess or calm down a volatile situation. He was especially good at that, using his humor to diffuse the anger that sometimes erupted among the different factions. She had seen him break up a fair number of fights since he'd been volunteering here, and it didn't hurt that he was a cop, although he didn't make that known unless he absolutely had to. She had known him a very long time, and he could always make her laugh after a tiring day.
"Marty's here." Shandra's face lit up whenever she saw him. He had gotten her brother out of a bad situation once and Tanya thought she probably had a schoolgirl's crush on him. Shandra and her brother, Tyrone, had been staying at the shelter off and on with their mother for the past two months and they ate here often.
"How are my two favorite ladies tonight?" Marty asked, spreading his arms wide for a hug.
Tanya remembered flirting with him a little herself in her younger days. Now, an occasional hug was all she needed to remind herself how fond she had become of him. He was the first white boy she had ever hugged and it hadn't gone over well with some of her friends. No matter that he was ten years younger than her and a lonely teenager who was so skinny she would give him extra portions just to try and fatten him up a little. Her friends didn't trust any white person, and she eventually stopped asking them to help out at the shelter, since it was a place where all the races came together. The shelter had been a lifesaver for her and her family when she had been a young teenager. She began to volunteer there after college and became a full time staffer when she turned twenty-four and had become the director by the time she was thirty.
The two of them had made a connection when she was a staffer and he was coming in for dinner three or four times a week. He saw her crying in a corner one evening after her drunken father had punched her in the face for mouthing off when he came by to ask for money. Marty had brought her a wet towel to clean the blood off her face, not saying anything, just sitting with her and then asking if he could bring her a piece of the apple pie the shelter was serving that night. He had surprised her early on with his offhanded kindness.
After that, whenever he came in for a meal, they would talk and share stories about their childhood. She remembered the first time he told her about his father and she could see the fear that still remained, even though he hadn't seen his father in years. She knew he was on his own and she had started looking out for him, finding him a bed when he needed it. He told her she was like the older sister he never had, and she liked that role. He needed the help, too. She was pretty sure he only had two different sweatshirts and maybe three tee shirts to his name. The ratty pair of jeans he constantly wore was starting to unravel and she pulled a pair from the donation box one day and insisted he put them on. The look he gave her was one of surprise and vulnerability. He gave her a shy smile when he took them and she felt sorry for him, because having someone be kind to him was a rare occurrence in his lonely life.
She had watched him mature and gain confidence and curiosity about the world outside his own neighborhood. He never lost his gentle kindness with people in tough situations, especially children, but he was unforgiving of those who preyed on others. He was tough, never backing down from a fight. It was during his confrontations with the unsavory people he came in contact with that he revealed the dark undercurrents in his personality that sprang from his tough upbringing and that he usually kept well hidden until needed. There was a steely hardness in his core that seemed incongruous with the laid back personality he presented to most people.
She was not surprised when he became a cop, even though she was sad he had given up being a lawyer, because she had encouraged him to give it a try when he had started asking her questions about college. Now, all these years later, he would show up to help out whenever he could, never forgetting where he came from. And she loved him for that. The regulars at the shelter were his friends and they knew he was someone they could joke with and talk to about anything that was bothering them. He was sympathetic and helpful where he could be, but honest with them, and if they broke the law, they knew he would arrest them.
She could see he was in a lighthearted mood tonight, and she didn't want to spoil that, but she needed his help. She motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen and after getting him a cup of coffee, she led him into her office.
"What's going on, Tanya?" Deeks asked. "You look worried."
"I hate to ask, Marty, but something is going on with Shandra and Tyrone," she told him. "The last time they were in here I heard them arguing, so I went over to see what was going on, and I saw that Tyrone had been in a fight. I asked who had beat him up, but he wouldn't answer and couldn't wait to get away from me. Shandra was crying, but she wouldn't tell me anything either. I've heard one of the gangs is after him to join. Isaiah's I think."
"So you want me to see if they'll talk to me." Marty said quietly.
"Well, she does have a crush on you, Marty," Tanya said with a smile and getting a crooked grin and a doubtful tilt of the head in return.
"Is their mom still staying here?" he asked as he stood to return to the dining room.
"I haven't seen her for a couple of days." She said sadly. "Those kids are on their own, Marty, and I worry about them."
"Just like you used to worry about me." Marty smiled shyly at her and put his arm around her. "I don't know what I would have done without you and this shelter when I was their age. I'll see what I can find out, but it's gonna cost you."
"What's your price, Deeks?" She only used his last name when she was scolding him or teasing, which always got a lopsided grin out of him.
"Two slices of that peach pie I saw you take out of the oven earlier." He smiled as he crossed his arms and stared down on her with a cocked eyebrow.
"You're on," Tanya said and swatted his butt as he headed back out to the main room.
...
Marty stood looking out over the large dining area that hadn't changed since he had come here as a teenager after his mom died. He had been living on the streets mostly then, with an occasional stay at Ray's house and some nights with Mrs. Joyce, but he felt like he was taking advantage of them, especially his old teacher, Mrs. Joyce. Plus, Ray's dad liked to beat the crap out of both of them whenever he could catch them. Ray's dad had never liked him, or his own son for that matter. So when he had discovered this place, it had been just what he needed. And Tanya had been so kind to him that he would sometimes come in after school just to talk to her. She had always looked out for him, just like she was doing now with Shandra and Tyrone. He couldn't say no to her and kept an eye out for the two young teenagers.
"So Shandra, how's Tyrone doing?" Marty asked as she came through the serving line. "I haven't seen him tonight."
"He's around," she replied, but not meeting his eye.
"Is he staying out of trouble?" he asked quietly, watching her reaction to his question closely. He knew Tyrone, who had just turned thirteen, was a good kid, but needed structure in his life that he didn't get from his drug addicted mom. A gang offered him that structure as well as protection. Tyrone was small for his age and Marty knew what it felt like to be scared all the time that the bigger kids were going to beat the shit out of you. He had been a small, skinny kid himself growing up and he'd learned to use humor to get himself out of most confrontations. But when that didn't work he would turn aggressive and was fearless, taking on older boys who were tougher and bigger, but never more determined. He'd gotten his share of beatings, but he was used to that, because none of the gang members in his neighborhood could compare to his own father when it came to violence.
"He said he was coming," she said sadly. "But I think Isaiah was after him today, so he's been hiding."
"Isaiah is a gang leader, yeah?" Marty asked. He'd checked him out once before, and knew he was a scary dude, especially to a young vulnerable kid like Tyrone. He just couldn't quite figure out why Isaiah wanted a shy young kid like Tyrone. But he did, and hiding out was the only way Tyrone knew to protect himself.
"Marty, I think Isaiah wants Tyrone to be a runner for him," Shandra whispered when he handed her a plate of food.
"Isaiah's supplying drugs now?" Marty found the new information disturbing. Running drugs to different small time dealers was dangerous. It was the last thing he thought Tyrone should be dragged into, but he wasn't sure he could prevent it from happening, unless he found a way to bust Isaiah.
"Tyrone's scared, Marty." Shandra told him when he sat with her after dinner. "Can you help him?"
"I'll try," he said earnestly. "But he has to come talk to me."
"I'll make him come," she said with a determination he admired. She was only sixteen, but she was the one raising Tyrone, since her mother was a heroin addict and not even able to take care of herself. Marty had no idea where her father was, wondering if he had ever been in the picture.
"Shandra, do you know where your father is?" He saw her eyes fill with fury and he leaned back to give her space.
"He's a friend of Isaiah's," she spit out with venom in her voice. "He's a dealer."
"How do you know that?" he asked curiously.
"Because he was the one that got my mom hooked." Her face was a mask of anger and her voice was distant and hard.
"I'm sorry, Shandra, I didn't know." Marty said softly. "Is that why Isaiah wants Tyrone as a runner?"
"Yeah. I think my dad put him up to it," she said and glowered at the thought.
"Why would he do that?" Marty was usually not surprised by much, but this time he was.
"He wants Tyrone, now," she said as tears began to pool in the corners of her eyes. "I raised him since I was nine. Just me. My mom didn't know we existed after he got her strung out on smack and he didn't care about us at all. We just got in the way. But now he wants him, Marty and I don't know what to do."
"I'll find out as much as I can about Isaiah, Shandra," he told her. "Maybe the cops can shut him down, if we can get enough information about his set up."
"Thanks, Marty," She said, suddenly shy and acting like the teenage girl she was.
...
Deeks spent the weekend asking around about Isaiah and his gang. Plus he pulled up the rap sheet on Shandra's father Malcolm James. He had several arrests for possession and had been investigated for dealing, but nothing stuck. He had done some jail time for assault, and had been charged with domestic violence, but the charges were dropped when Shandra's mother refused to press charges. Tyrone was a year old at the time. Deeks didn't think he'd like the guy if he ever had a chance to meet him.
Sunday night, he was back at the shelter, helping to serve dinner and hoping to see Tyrone. Both he and Shandra were no shows at the early serving, so he hung around with the regulars, hoping the kids would come to the late dinner service. This shelter was one of the few in the area that split up dinner service this way. They served more homeless families at the early serving and the truly hard-core addicts and alcoholics usually wandered in later. It was a good way to keep the two needy, but very different groups separate.
He was surprised Shandra and Tyrone would come so late, and he was a little worried about them. He started to ask some of his friends among the regulars if they had seen them.
"Hey Mick," Deeks said, slapping the Vietnam vet on the shoulder. He was at the shelter most nights and Deeks had known him for almost three years and trusted him. They had become friends after Mick had helped him subdue an unruly drunk who had started screaming at people and trying to stab them with the plastic utensils. Mick had thought that was pretty funny and the two of them ended up talking afterwards.
Mick Broderick was a compact man in his mid-sixties with shoulder length grey hair and an incredible mustache he was quite proud of. He had been wounded at the Battle of Hue and had eventually lost his leg. After returning home, his wife left him and he had started drinking, ending up on the streets and in and out of government rehab facilities for years. He didn't get sober until after he went to the unveiling of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington in 1982. Now, he worked for a veterans' support group that had an office around the corner and took some of his meals at the shelter because he liked Tanya's cooking.
"Deeks, how you doing buddy?" Mick said in his distinctive gravely voice. He always reminded Deeks of the actor Sam Elliot, only not as tall or as handsome.
"Mick, have you seen Shandra or Tyrone around?" Deeks asked, handing Mick a slice of Tanya's peach pie as he sat down next to him with a piece of his own.
"If this is a bribe, Deeks, you're getting off cheap." Mick said, mumbling through a mouthful of peaches.
"What more do you need in life other than a piece of peach pie?" Deeks asked smiling.
"Well, you could bring in that cute chick I saw you with a couple of weeks ago." Mick replied.
"If Kensi heard you call her a 'chick', she would kick you in your real leg." Marty warned him. "Besides, you're too old for her."
"Says who?" Mick demanded. "I'll have you know I'm still pretty attractive to the ladies."
"It's probably the mustache," DeMarco said as he joined them, fanning out a deck of cards.
"Yeah. It is pretty cool," Mick agreed, touching it affectionately.
"Hey DeMarco," Deeks said, turning to the scruffy young man. "You seen Shandra or Tyrone tonight?"
"Nah," he replied as he started a game of solitaire. "Why you lookin' for 'em?"
"Tyrone is being recruited as a runner by Isaiah," Deeks said quietly. "Know him?" DeMarco was a former meth addict who had finally gotten clean after almost overdosing a year ago. He still experienced anxiety attacks from the experience and Deeks wasn't sure he could trust him. But he had watched him with Tyrone, and he knew the rough looking former addict had taken a liking to the teenager and looked out for him. He was also sure DeMarco knew most of the local dealers, including Isaiah.
"Why the hell does Isaiah want Tyrone" DeMarco said curiously.
"Apparently it was Tyrone's father's idea," Deeks answered.
"Malcolm?" DeMarco looked very scared all of a sudden and Deeks needed to find out why.
"You know him?" Deeks noticed DeMarco nervously rubbing his hands together and sweat had broken out on his forehead. Deeks had never seen DeMarco afraid of anyone until now. He was a former kick boxer and reminded Deeks of Sam, except he wasn't the physical specimen Sam was, although he could take care of himself in a fight. Deeks had found that out first hand when he had tried to separate DeMarco and another guy and had gotten clocked in the jaw for his effort. After DeMarco had calmed down he had come over and apologized and they had become friendly over time.
"Yeah. He's bad news Deeks." DeMarco said in a very low voice while looking around to see if anyone was close enough to hear what he was saying. "Don't mess with him, he'd kill you without blinkin'."
Deeks was about to ask DeMarco for specifics when he saw the two teenagers come in. He rose and followed them over to the serving table.
Tyrone was a lanky kid, the color of milk chocolate. He wore dark rimmed glasses that sat crooked on his nose, and he never seemed to wear clothes that actually fit him. There was a sweetness about him, an air of innocence that was contrary to the toughness of his life. Deeks credited Shandra with helping him hold on to his childhood. But he knew that the boy's innocence would be gone as soon as he was initiated into a gang, and Deeks didn't want to see that happen.
Shandra had become an adult early in life, because of her mother's addiction, but she still loved the things all teenage girls do. She was tall and slender, always wearing her hair pulled back at the neck and tied with different colored ribbons. They seemed to be the only color in her life, and she constantly culled through the donation boxes to find new ones. Her hazel eyes were sharp and she watched Tyrone closely as they moved through the serving line, surrounded by foul smelling drunks and rough, strung out addicts.
It was almost eleven before Deeks had a chance to sit down at a small table with them. The hall was beginning to thin out and Tanya was in the kitchen cleaning up. A large number of regulars remained scattered around the tables talking or playing cards.
"Hey buddy, haven't seen you for a while," Deeks said to Tyrone as he put his arm around his bony shoulders. He saw the boy's face light up when he saw the slice of pie Deeks put down in front of him.
"I thought the pie was all gone," Tyrone said as he eagerly started in. "I love this kind of pie. What's it called?"
"Peach," Deeks answered as he watched the pie disappear. "I can find one for you too, Shandra, if you're interested?" She was one of the few people that didn't love Tanya's pie. She really didn't eat sweets, which had shocked Kensi when she had come to help out one weekend. The girl had followed Kensi around all night asking her questions about her clothes and what shampoo she used to wash her hair and what perfume she was wearing. Kensi had answered every question, even giving Shandra a small vial of perfume she carried in her purse. The girl looked like she was going to explode she was so happy. And it made Deeks love Kensi even more, if that was possible.
Deeks was about to ask Tyrone a question when he heard the front door slam open against the wall. He turned to see Isaiah and eight of his gang members enter the shelter, and he felt a deep dread settle in his stomach. He stood as the gang leader headed toward them, wishing his gun wasn't stored in a locker in the back pantry.
Isaiah definitely worked out and it was obvious he took pride in his physique. He wore a sleeveless tee shirt that showed off his large biceps and the dark tattoos of intertwined snakes that covered them. He wore a thick gold chain around his neck and sported several large rings on each hand. His hair was done in short dreads and he wore dark glasses even though it was almost midnight. Deeks could tell he was full of himself as he approached.
"Hey Tyrone, I been lookin' for you, man," Isaiah said with a hint of violence in his voice. The whole room became silent with the expectation of a confrontation.
Tyrone wouldn't even look at him and Deeks could see him shaking out of the corner of his eye. He stepped between them, blocking Isaiah's view of his prey, and the gang leader quickly removed his dark glasses and glared at Deeks with a questioning look of outrage.
"Get outta the way, asshole," Isaiah spit out. "I'm talkin' to my boy here."
"I don't think he wants to talk to you at all Isaiah," Deeks said, his tone flat and low.
"Who the hell are you to get in my business?" Isaiah moved toward Deeks as he spoke and the other gang bangers spread out around him.
"My name is Marty Deeks, and I'm Tyrone's friend," Deeks replied, not moving an inch, and staring straight into Isaiah's eyes. The tension crackled through the room as Deeks put his hand out to warn Isaiah not to come any closer.
Isaiah stared at Deeks hand and his eyes narrowed. Then he slouched back and slowly drew a gun out of his waistband and pointed it at Deeks. Suddenly all the air seemed to be sucked out of the room, and everyone held their breath as the other gang members drew their weapons, and moved to guard the exits, locking the entrance doors.
"I'm a cop, Isaiah. And I don't think you want to shoot a cop." Deeks lowered his hand and spoke softly, trying to defuse the situation.
"He might not, but it wouldn't bother me," a tall, well built black man wearing a purple long sleeved shirt and black pants said from the back of the room. He moved fluidly around the tables and Deeks heard a small gasp from Shandra.
"It's my dad," she whispered to Deeks.
Malcolm James walked up and stood next to Isaiah and Deeks could see he was holding a gun.
"These are my kids, so step aside cop," Malcolm's voice was harsh and Deeks was pretty sure he was high. There was a sheen of sweat on his face and his eyes were huge and ringed in red.
The two teenagers got up and stood behind Deeks as he continued to shield them from their father.
"I don't think they want to go with you, Malcolm," Deeks said, speaking calmly, which was not how he was feeling inside. Tension filled every fiber of his body and he wasn't sure how this was going to turn out.
"What's going on?" Tanya said loudly as she came hurrying out of the kitchen. "This is not the place for this Isaiah. You and I had an agreement. This is neutral ground!"
As she walked up to confront Isaiah, Malcolm suddenly backhanded her across the face and she stumbled and fell to the floor. Deeks charged Malcolm, and they tumbled over a table and landed on the floor. The gun skittered across the floor as Deeks pounded his fist into Malcolm's face a couple of times before being pulled off by Isaiah's men. He started to resist until he felt the cold barrel of a gun on the back of his neck.
"You're done, cop," Isaiah told him.
Deeks looked over to see about Tanya and she looked scared to death but angry at the same time. Shandra and Tyrone had helped her up and she sat down heavily at one of dining tables. The regulars started to gather near her and Isaiah's men began to point their weapons in their direction. It was a volatile situation as shouts and angry voices echoed off the walls.
"This is suppose to be neutral ground, Isaiah," Tanya said again through bloody lips. "You agreed to that."
Before Isaiah could respond, Malcolm came to and stumbled to his feet, attacking Deeks in a rage, hitting him again and again in the face and body as Isaiah's men held his arms. As Deeks sank to the floor, Malcolm began brutally kicking him, as shouts rang out and the crowd of regulars surged forward. Isaiah fired over their heads and the crowd hesitated as the gang members began threatening them with guns.
"Stop daddy, please." Tyrone was suddenly between his father and Deeks, trying to push his father back, but Malcolm was so enraged and high that he grabbed the slender boy and threw him against the wall. Shandra screamed and ran to his side. Hot tears streamed down her face as she gathered her semi-conscious brother into her arms. Then Isaiah and his men pulled Malcolm away and held him until he calmed down.
Deeks lay bleeding on the floor and struggled to rise, but couldn't. Tanya rushed to help him, finally getting him to his feet with Mick's help. He stood swaying slightly between them and spitting out blood.
"Tie that cop up to one of them posts," Isaiah instructed his men. "And the rest of you shut up. I'm in charge now, and you do what I say or I start shootin' people, starting with the cop."
Three of Isaiah's men grabbed Deeks, shoving him roughly against one of the supporting posts and tying him tightly with thick cord they found in the storage room. Deeks was having trouble breathing and was pretty sure he had a couple of cracked ribs. He could feel warm blood on his face and he shook his head to try and clear his double vision. He looked at Tanya and knew from the shocked and frightened look on her face that he didn't look so good. He gave her a small grin of reassurance, but she shook her head in fear. Her whole world was now in jeopardy and he could tell she had no idea what to do. His own mind was in turmoil and he knew he and everyone in the room was at the mercy of these very violent men.
"You been asking around about me, haven't you cop?" Isaiah asked, tapping his gun on Deeks chest as he spoke the words in his face. "I don't like cops gettin' in my business." He stepped back from Deeks and then hit him across the head with his pistol, opening up a large gash over his eye. Deeks moaned and slumped against his bindings and slowly sank into unconsciousness.
"Nobody messes with me," Isaiah shouted to the roomful of silent people. He turned to Tanya, who had cried out when he struck Deeks, and pointed at her. "Get me and my guys something to eat, Tanya. Right now!"
Tanya rose slowly to her feet and she felt a dark anger she had never felt before. She had seen all kinds of violent things happen at the shelter, but this had happened to Marty, a young man she cared deeply about. She thought of him as a kid brother and until tonight, she had always counted on him to be her protector when things got out of hand. Now she knew she and his friends from the shelter were going to have to be the ones to help him, otherwise, she didn't believe Isaiah and Malcolm were going to let him leave here alive. And she couldn't let that happen.
"I'll need some help in the kitchen, then, my staff already left," she said coldly to Isaiah. He nodded his approval and she looked quickly at Mick and DeMarco and they followed her into the kitchen.
"You okay?" Mick asked her softly as he surveyed the damage to her face.
"I'll live. It's Marty I'm worried about." She noticed that DeMarco was practically hyperventilating and she was afraid he was going to have an anxiety attack, which would mean he would be no help at all.
"They're gonna kill him, man" DeMarco said shakily to Mick. He kept looking back toward the dining room to see what was going on, but things seemed to have quieted down. "We should call the cops."
"I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that, De," Mick said with a bitter laugh. "But if Isaiah hears sirens they might just shoot us all."
Tanya almost had all the food ready for Isaiah when she remembered that Marty had told her privately that his girlfriend worked for some sort of Federal agency. She couldn't remember what agency she was with, but she would want to know what was happening to Marty and maybe she could help them. She checked her secret drawer and found the small notebook she kept and found her listed as Fern, under Marty's numbers.
"Watch the door and let me know if anyone's coming," she whispered as she edged over to a small desk where she had thrown her cell phone earlier. She quickly dialed the number.
"Who's calling?" Her voice was calm and slightly musical and somehow Tanya felt better.
"Kensi, it's Tanya at the shelter, Marty's in trouble," she said barely above a whisper.
"What kind of trouble," Kensi said. Tanya heard the tone of her voice change from friendly to stone cold business in a flash.
Tanya quickly outlined what had happened and how many people were involved and Kensi told her to leave the cell phone on. She thought Kensi was going to hang up when she heard her voice soften.
"Is he okay, Tanya?"
"They beat him up pretty bad, Kensi," she answered. "But, the sooner someone comes to help the better I'll feel. They know he's a cop and I'm afraid they're going to kill him."
"We're coming," Kensi said and Tanya could hear the venom in her voice and wondered again just what Kensi did for a living.
...
Deeks head was swimming as he slowly regained consciousness and the pain in his head brightened and intensified whenever he moved, causing him to be so nauseated he was afraid he was going to vomit. His whole body ached as he tried to stand to relieve some of the pressure from the ropes they had tied tightly around his ribs and chest. He kept his breathing shallow to mitigate the pain from the cracked ribs but it didn't seem to help much, and he couldn't stifle a groan when he leaned back against the post he was tied to. It would be better if they thought he was still unconscious, because he didn't think he could take anymore physical punishment right now.
He realized that he had probably made a mistake when he charged Malcolm, but he had lost it when he saw him hit Tanya. The rage he felt was instant and he just couldn't restrain himself. She was special to him, and he wouldn't let some two-bit drug dealer hurt her without suffering the consequences, even if it meant suffering the pain he was dealing with now.
His mind flashed back to the first night he had come here as a teenager. He had been staying with Ray that week, but Ray's dad had caught them with a couple of his Playboy magazines and all hell had broken loose. They had tried to escape out the window of Ray's room, but his dad had grabbed him before he could make it all the way out. Good old Mr. Martindale had picked up one of the mini baseball bats that Ray had in his room and had began to beat the shit out of him. If Ray's mom hadn't come in and made him stop, Marty was pretty sure he would have ended up in the hospital. As soon as he could, he escaped and ran without any idea where he was going. He'd ended up collapsing in the alley outside the shelter. He hadn't intended to go in, but the smell of food made his mouth water. He had no idea how bad he looked until a young black woman gasped at the sight of him. He had started backing out of the door, when she smiled and motioned for him to come back in. He was hungry and the lure of food and the kindness in her face had made him stifle his wariness and follow her. It was Tanya, and after she had watched him eat a huge plate of food and a piece of pie, she brought over a first aid kit and cleaned up the cuts to his head and face. She didn't press him with questions; she just asked him if he needed a place to sleep. After that he had become a regular at the shelter and the two of them became friends.
Somehow, over time, the shelter had almost begun to feel like home, at least a safe haven he could count on when he needed it. And Tanya had become someone he could talk to about his future, because she had very little knowledge of his childhood or any preconceived notions about his abilities and she didn't judge him or make assumptions about his capabilities. She was one of the people who made him believe he could go to college and make something out of himself. It was because of her encouragement that he did just that. He owed her.
Now, he had to figure out how to get out of the situation he found himself in, and he wasn't very confident that he would be able to do that.
Through swollen eyes, he watched Tanya, Mick and DeMarco, bring out food for Isaiah and his men. He saw the looks on their faces as they passed by and he tried to figure out what they were feeling about the situation. He felt he had let them all down by losing his head and getting in a fight with Malcolm, and now he was in no position to help them and he felt bad about that. A feeling of isolation began to settle down around him, and the familiar pang of loneliness beat in his chest. No one was coming to help him and no one could prevent what he was sure was going to happen to him. Killing a cop might make some bad guys nervous, but to a gang leader, it could only enhance his reputation. As for Malcolm, Deeks didn't think he had any built in reservations that would keep him from shooting a cop. They might fear being caught, but Deeks was pretty sure they didn't think they had anything to fear from the regulars here at the shelter. Isaiah ruled the neighborhood, and snitching to the police about any crime, even murder was just not done.
No, he was alone now. Alone as he had always been and he waited, alone, to die. He resigned himself to it, as he did when he was undercover. Imminent death was part of the job and he had always accepted that, but that was before he had met Kensi. He didn't accept dying as easily now because being with her was the happiest he had ever been in his life and he was becoming addicted to it. There had to be a way out of this, he just had to think how.
That's what he was doing when Malcolm stepped in front of him.
"How do you want to die, cop?" He asked with a sick smirk on his face. "Should I shoot you, or stab you or just drag your ass behind my car until there's nothing left of you?"
"Let me think about it and get back to you." Deeks answered with a smart-ass grin on his face. Why he said it, he didn't know, but it felt good not to show fear to this animal.
Malcolm pulled his gun and coldly shot Deeks in the leg, smiling as he heard him cry out and his friends shout out in anger.
"Maybe I'll just watch you bleed to death," he said as he held Deeks' head up by his hair and watched as he gasped at the pain. When Deeks finally passed out he walked away, his face euphoric. He walked slowly around the room, holding the gun by his side, as people shrunk back from him. He enjoyed scaring people and he saw fear in most faces and anger in some, but that didn't bother him.
"I like that idea," he said loudly as he started back toward Deeks.
Shandra suddenly got up and took Tyrone's hand and went and stood in front of Deeks. Her face was determined as she looked into the face of her oncoming father. Tyrone stood a little taller and he stopped shaking as he waited. Malcolm hesitated as he saw his own children shielding the wounded cop.
Then Tanya walked from the serving table and stood with them. She had to do everything she could to slow Malcolm and Isaiah down until Kensi, or whoever she was sending, arrived. She only hoped her actions didn't get her and these kids killed. She could see the faces of the regulars as they looked from the three of them standing protectively in front of Deeks and then back to Malcolm, who stood undecided in the middle of the room.
Mick Broderick had faced onrushing Viet Cong soldiers at the Battle of Hue, and he had never faltered. He had been afraid, but he had held his ground, because the soldiers around him had held their ground. Their strength came in numbers and in holding their positions together. Now he saw two young teenagers and a brave black woman trying to form a human shield in front of a man they respected and cared about, trying to protect him from a maniac with a gun, and he felt shamed by his lack of action. He slowly moved to join them.
DeMarco heard the murmurs of the crowd of regulars that had gathered close by as they saw what was taking place. People began to stand and shuffle forward, and he felt a strength growing in him he hadn't felt since his kick boxing days. He hadn't liked what Isaiah and Malcolm had done here tonight, and he was convinced none of the other regulars did either. This shelter was their only home and Tanya had always looked out for all of them and Deeks had always stood up to any bully that would take advantage of the weakest people who came here. They had both been hurt trying to defend two young vulnerable kids, and now Deeks was going to be killed unless they all stood up together and protected him. He walked resolutely forward and motioned for his friends to follow.
The strength of a few inspired the rest and soon a wall of homeless men and women surrounded Marty Deeks. Some were his friends, and some he hardly knew, but they all knew him and what he had done at the shelter over the years. They knew his story and why he came to be here and they knew it was their turn to help him.
"Get away from him!" Isaiah shouted as he joined Malcolm in front of the people.
But they stood silent and unmoving.
"He's just a cop," Malcolm spit out as his anger grew.
"He's one of us," someone murmured. And no one moved.
...
Kensi sat silently in the back of Sam's Charger as they raced through the dark streets. Her fear grew as the minutes flew by and the unsettled feeling she'd had since receiving Tanya's phone call threatened to overwhelm her. She could feel every beat of her heart as she tried to remain calm. She knew Deeks needed her to be focused when they arrived at the shelter, but she was having trouble doing that. All her mind wanted to do was recall their last day together. A day that was nothing extraordinary. It had been a typical workday, with Deeks bringing her a coffee and a bag of donuts in the morning and then finishing paperwork on their last case. He had made her mad at one point and she remembered yelling at him about something he said, receiving one of his lopsided grins in response, which had only made her angrier. They had patched things up at lunch, somewhat, but she had decided to teach him a lesson by bailing on their Friday dinner together, saying she had plans that night and for the weekend. She had made that up and now she deeply regretted her foolishness, because he would have been with her this weekend instead of volunteering at the shelter. The guilt lay heavy on her and she choked back tears as she fought to redirect the anger she felt at herself. She would make the men responsible for hurting him feel that anger. She only hoped she wouldn't be too late, because if she was, she would never be able to forgive herself, and a small cry escaped her lips.
"Hold it together Kens," Callen turned to look at her when he heard her break.
"We'll get there, Kensi," Sam said softly as he picked up speed. His own anger at the situation was boiling, and he knew Callen was as antsy as he'd ever seen him, willing them closer than they were. He had no idea exactly what they would be facing when they got there, but he knew they would do whatever it took to save Deeks. He was such a part of the fabric of their lives now, that Sam couldn't imagine what OSP would be like without the lightness he brought to it every day. And, they weren't going to let some small time gang end the life of one of their own.
"Sam, there it is!" Callen was out of the car as soon as it stopped, racing towards the back of the shelter as Sam and Kensi followed. Kensi showed them the staff entrance and they were relieved that it was unguarded. They could hear shouts and demands coming from the main dining area as they moved silently forward with guns ready. As they moved into the kitchen, they encountered a guard near the door there, but Sam took him out quietly with a knife to the throat.
As the dining area came into view, they hid themselves behind the center counter in the kitchen so they could survey the situation. What they saw stunned them all. Armed gang members stood in a semi circle threatening a group of ragged looking homeless people who formed a protective human wall in front of Deeks, who was tied to a post in the middle of the room. He was unconscious and they could see blood pooling on the floor and that caused them to go into action.
Callen looked quickly at the others and they spread out.
"Federal agents!" Callen shouted as all three stood in unison, firing and killing the gang members closest to them. As they fell, the team moved forward, firing together.
Sam saw a grey haired man with an enormous mustache throttle a guy with his bare hands, while another use a smooth but vicious kick boxing move to take out another. Most of the people in front of Deeks hit the floor when the firefight erupted, except for two teenagers and a small black woman.
Kensi saw Tanya push the two kids behind her. But a man with mini dreads and dark glasses pulled her in front of him and she cried out in terror. The sound of gunfire and Tanya's cry woke Deeks and he struggled to stand up. He saw Isaiah holding Tanya and he yelled out to him.
"Don't Isaiah! Let her go!" His face was dark with anger but there was fear and pleading in his eyes.
Isaiah turned toward Deeks and took aim at him. Callen fired, hitting Isaiah in the head, and he fell dead at Deeks' feet. Tanya stumbled back and sat down hard on the floor and the two teenagers ran to her. She looked back at Deeks and screamed. Malcolm stood behind Deeks, holding his head back against the post by his hair. His gun was pressed firmly into the side of Deeks' head and there was a feral look in his eyes.
"I'll kill him if you come any closer," he said huskily, his breathing heavy and uneven. Deeks knew he was coming down from the high he'd been on, and that made him even more dangerous. He had ultimate faith in the team, but he couldn't see himself getting out of this alive and his mind began to drift toward darkness again.
"As soon as you do, you're dead," Sam said coldly as he inched closer. He saw that Deeks was semi-conscious and losing a lot of blood. Time was running out and they needed to end this, or Deeks was going to bleed out.
All three agents' guns were trained on the drug dealer, and he continually looked from one to the other. As the standoff continued, silence cloaked the room, as people waited, afraid to breathe.
"Please daddy, let him go," Shandra said softly as she got to her feet. She walked steadily toward her father. Tyrone tried to follow, but Tanya held him firmly next to her.
"Shut up!" Malcolm said coldly, but his voice was shaky.
Shandra reached up and put her hand on his arm and he flinched at her touch. He stared down at his daughter and his face was unreadable. Tyrone broke away from Tanya and ran to his sister, trying to pull her away and everyone could see the fear that clung to him. But Tanya wouldn't move, pushing her brother away. Suddenly, the young boy ran at his father, beating on him with his fists, and Malcolm's face became a mask of seething fury. He swept the gun away from Deeks' head, hitting Tyrone across the cheek, knocking him into his sister, who cried out as she caught him in her arms.
All three agents fired in unison, and the impact of the rounds to Malcolm's chest and head sent him crashing backwards onto floor.
The room instantaneously became filled with sound and movement. It was if everyone let out their breath at the same time and began talking all at once. Tanya rushed to help Tyrone, as he lay unconscious in Shandra's lap, while three Federal agents quickly moved to Deeks' side. He hung limply against the ropes that held him, but when he felt Kensi's hands gently lift his head his eyes opened and he smiled briefly at her as Callen cut him down.
"We got you," Sam said softly as he and Callen supported him between them.
"Is everyone okay?" he whispered.
"They're all good, Deeks," Callen told him as adrenaline still raced through his body and he was amazed at the truth in his own words.
"I should be dead," Deeks said with a touch of surprise.
"You probably would be, if it wasn't for the people at this shelter." Kensi told him.
"What do you mean?" he asked as they lowered him into a chair.
"Don't you know what they did?" Sam asked. Then they all realized he had been unconscious during most of it.
"When we got here we found you surrounded by all the people here," Callen said, still finding it hard to believe what he'd seen. "They stood together and shielded you from Isaiah and Malcolm."
Deeks looked stunned. Tears filled his eyes as he realized the enormity of such a selfless act. That people he barely knew would risk their lives for him was overwhelming. He was truly speechless for the first time in his life.
Then Tanya came and hugged him and Mick and DeMarco and the others all gathered around him, touching him and joking with him and celebrating what they had done together.
They had protected one of their own.
...