The Collector
Chapter 21
...
Deeks passed out as they dragged him to the car, jerking awake when one of his shoes hit him in the ass as he lay sprawled across the back seat where they'd thrown him. He heard the snorting laughter of Raul's men and the driver as they tossed his clothes in on top of him, and he wanted to beat the shit out of them. He ran his tongue over the split in his lip where Solano had hit him, tasting the blood and the lingering fear that went with it. The slight man had been deadly calm as he methodically hit and kicked him until Cortez ordered him to stop. Deeks had spit a mouthful of blood at him as the bodyguards hustled him out, his own rage simmering beneath the exhaustion that didn't allow him to respond with anything more than that. Now, he welcomed the coolness of the black leather seats, unable to hold back a soft moan as he coughed up more water. When he began to shiver, he struggled to sit up and managed to dress himself, watching the eyes of the driver who repeatedly looked at him in the rear view mirror. The smooth turns as they drove down the hill lulled him for a while, but eventually his stomach started churning from the kicks and the amount of water he'd taken in.
"Give me my gun," he demanded, yanking it out of the driver's hand when he held it up, pissed at the smirk on the punk's face.
"Does Cortez own this car?" He asked with a weary smile.
When the man nodded, Deeks bent over and threw up his dinner of burger and fries and a lot of water, leaving the taste of chlorine in his mouth, and the stench of vomit in the enclosed confines of the expensive car.
"Fuck, dude. You know how pissed he's gonna be?"
The driver's eyes had taken on that haunted look of someone about to have the shit kicked out of him, and Deeks wanted nothing more than to do just that. He felt a deep and dark rage that he had no outlet for, so he choked it down, staring out the now open window as the car moved into the city. He didn't really feel like himself. It was if he was a different person than the one who had walked into Cortez's lair. He really longed to hit somebody, and he looked down at his fists as they rested like tightly coiled springs on his thighs. He had never experienced anything like tonight, but he wasn't afraid now, just different, as if all the good he thought was inside of him had shriveled up and now felt unnecessary. He didn't want to be a nice guy right now or joke his way out of his dark mood. He didn't want to let go of the anger and rage building in the empty pit of his stomach. He wanted to let it explode.
"Get out, you fuck," the driver growled.
Deeks hadn't realized they'd arrived at the motel, and just managed to get out of the car before the driver peeled out of the parking lot, leaving his shoes and socks scattered across the asphalt. He stared at them, knowing it was going to hurt to bend over and pick them up, but he did it, his mind now turning to how to describe the evening to Pete.
A black SUV caught his eye and it didn't fit, so he pulled his gun and listened intently, moving swiftly on bare feet toward their room, dropping his shoes in what passed for a flowerbed. The sound of breaking furniture and Pete's voice cursing, sent him barreling into the door to their room, slamming it open and knocking a man to the floor. Pete was on his knees between two guys he recognized from the first night at Cortez's office and he brought his gun up and moved to where he could cover all three men.
"Get your fuckin' hands off him or I'll shoot your fuckin' balls off," he shouted, his anger raging now.
Pete's face was bloody and he looked barely conscious as the men let him drop to the floor. Deeks was suddenly ice cold and felt such an urgent need for violence that it stunned him. The men must have recognized that he was close to being out of control and put their hands up, their eyes pleading for mercy as they backed up against the far wall.
"You don't wanna do nothin' stupid, man," the one with bloody fists said as he got up from the floor. "Cortez don't want him around. He fought back."
"Do you know where I've been?" He asked, his voice strangled and strange sounding.
"Yeah, we know," he said, his eyes full of the truth.
"Then you know how truly pissed I am right now, don't you?" He said even more softly. "You know I want to kill you all right now, because it's how you felt afterwards too, isn't it?"
The men wouldn't look at him and he knew he was right.
"We're just doin' our job, man," a young Latino said, his eyes wide and scared.
"Shoot the fuckers, Marty," Ace groaned.
Deeks knew he didn't mean it by the calm look in the one eye that was still open, but the three men didn't and pressed themselves hard against the wall, their eyes glancing repeatedly at the open door.
"You think all of you can make it outa that door alive?" He laughed, the harshness getting him a warning look from Pete, who had eased himself up onto the bed.
"Cortez won't like it if you kill us," the bloody fist guy threatened.
"Am I supposed to care about that? Cause I really don't give a fuck right now," he felt his hand shaking slightly and he stole a quick look at Pete, who managed to look concerned in spite of all the blood on his face.
"Give me the gun, kid," Pete said in Ace's voice. "I need me some payback."
The tension in the room was palpable as Ace Merrill got to his feet and reached for the gun, moving slightly in front of Deeks and giving his assailants the opportunity to make a run for the door. The three men tumbled over each other as they fought to be the first one out as Deeks roared in anger. The explosive sound of the gun echoed through the room and the last man screamed as the bullet tore through the back of his leg. He didn't go down though, as another man managed to grab his arm and drag him toward the waiting SUV. Pete slammed into Deeks, taking him to the floor as the men returned fire, shattering the window above them, and shredding the bland curtains. Vile curses and threats echoed above the gunfire as the wheels of the SUV squealed in their rush to escape.
"Stay down, kid. You hear me? Stay down," Pete was laying on top of him, but Deeks fought to get up, his emotions raw and uncontrollable.
"Get the fuck off me," he shouted as he struggled against the strength of the man.
"Deeks! Stop it. You're okay," he yelled at him as he tried to hold him down.
"No I'm not." His voice fading along with his energy. "No I'm not."
Pete rolled off of him, patting Deeks gently on the chest as they both lay panting on the floor. The detective finally eased himself up until he could lean his back against the bed and pulled out his phone.
"Bates? We need the safe house tonight," Pete said. "I'll fill you in later. Right now we need to move fast, unless you want us arrested."
Deeks looked over at him as he talked with the lieutenant and realized just how badly he'd been beaten. Then he looked wildly around, wondering if Pete forgot the room might be bugged. He struggled to his feet, trying to catch his breath and slow his still raging anger.
"The room's clean, Deeks," Pete said. "Help me up, man. We gotta go. Now."
"Let me get my shoes. I'll drive," Deeks said as he rushed out and back, finally understanding Pete's urgency. "Can you even see out of that eye?"
"Why aren't you wearing shoes?" Pete asked, pushing himself up off the floor and then collapsing on the bed, holding his ribs.
"Sirens," Deeks said quickly as he slipped his shoes on, forgetting the socks as he helped Pete to his feet. "Can you make it?"
"I can if you can," he mumbled as he stopped to pick up his gun from the dresser.
A few curious people had gathered in the darkness outside as Deeks and Pete held each other up and made their way slowly to the car. The onlookers began backing away as soon as they saw the condition the two men were in and the weapons in their hands. The motel manager started yelling at them until Pete took a step toward him, making him instantly backpedal, but still nervously warn them that the cops were on the way and that they would have to pay for the damage. His last comment hit Deeks funny and he started to laugh as he settled in behind the wheel. He began to wonder just what kind of damage he had truly suffered tonight. Broken furniture and broken bones could be repaired, but he wasn't sure that he hadn't lost something much more precious, something he might never get back—his sense of innocence and his hard held belief that he was one of the good guys. As he drove away from the seedy motel, he thought back over his brief career, a career he was proud of. When he wore the uniform, the line between the good guys and the bad guys was plain for both sides to see. It was a hard line. The bad guys knew what side you were on and acted accordingly. You didn't have to convince them, they already knew. But being undercover for even this short period of time made him realize there was no line undercover except in your own mind. The line was blurred even there. You had to be almost as bad as the men around you if you wanted to survive and that changed you. A rage so dark it had surprised him had been exposed tonight, released from somewhere deep inside of him and he hadn't even realized it was there.
"How do you do it?" He asked, looking over at Pete as he slumped against the window.
"How do I do what?"
"How do you hold onto yourself?"
"Don't think about that now," he answered. "It's all too raw right now, kid. Just drive."
So he did as he was told, the cool night air ruffling his hair, drying it into an unruly mess. He ran his fingers through it again and again as his rage slowly ebbed and the night's memories closed down on him.
...
The safe house seemed so normal, something he wasn't sure he would ever feel again. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, as if his true self was no longer there, misplaced or just wandering aimlessly alone somewhere, and out of his reach. His response to what Cortez and Solano had done to him still had him feeling anxious and decidedly unsure he was right for this kind of assignment. He had no idea what he would do when he had to face Cortez again, residual anger flaring whenever he thought of the man. He'd managed to survive, but who was he now? Who was the man who felt so empty, yet so full of rage. Where had that bitter rage come from?
"Go take a hot shower, kid," Pete said as he eased himself down onto the couch.
"I've been in the water enough tonight," he grunted out, jolted that he hadn't even heard the man approach. "You okay?"
"Fuckin' bastards," his only comment before he groaned loudly.
Deeks picked up the vial of Vicodin he'd found in a cabinet and drew a glass of water, walking over to hand them to Pete before slumping into the chair next to him.
"You want to tell me what happened?" Pete asked softly after downing a couple of the pain pills.
"Do I have to?"
"You need to," he replied. "It's not healthy to hold it all inside. Whatever it was made you pretty damn angry and close to out of control. I thought you were gonna kill those shitheads."
"I wanted to," Deeks whispered.
"Just tell me, kid," Pete encouraged. "How bad?"
He wasn't sure he wanted to recall it all, let alone describe the experience and he looked away from Pete's penetrating gaze, hoping to gather himself and sort out his feelings. He wasn't finding that easy so he simply started with his first sight of a naked Solano, his voice sounding hollow as he recounted the night's events, stopping only once with embarrassment and once with pure rage. Pete didn't say anything as he talked, just stared at his bruised hands, his head jerking up to look at him with shared anger at a couple of points in the story. When Deeks finished, he was exhausted and flushed with anger, his eyes blurred by tears he quickly wiped away with now trembling fingers.
"He called me his whore," Deeks choked out, rising quickly and rushing into the kitchen to throw up in the sink.
Pete followed him, handing a dishcloth to him when he finally lifted his head and he took it, wiping the spittle from his mouth and the hot tears from his eyes.
"Don't take his fuckin' label on yourself, kid," Pete said. "You're Marty Deeks, a decorated cop and a natural undercover who survived a sick bastard's attempt to break you. He didn't. He just thinks he did."
"You sure about that?"
"Hell yeah I'm sure," Pete laughed and slapped him gently on the shoulder. "You charged into that crappy motel room and scared the shit out of three fuckin' assholes and saved my life. Cortez wants me out of the picture so I don't think they were there just to warn me off."
"He sent them to kill you," Deeks said quietly as he stared at the beaten face of his partner. "You can't show up again, can you?"
"Not where he can see me," Pete said as he limped back into the living room.
"Sonofabitch."
"This wasn't part of the plan, Deeks," Pete said. "You can opt out of this now."
The sudden ring of Pete's cell phone made both of them jump, and he saw Pete close his eyes and nod as he listened to whoever was on the other end.
"It's Bates. He's outside," Pete whispered. "Get the door, will ya kid? Not sure I can make it that far."
Deeks' mind was almost numb from the questions roaring around inside his head, so the site of a very concerned Lieutenant Bates centered him and he clung to the feeling of support the man exuded.
"You guys need medical care?" He asked as he followed Deeks into the living room.
Both of them mumbled no, but Bates lifted Pete's head to get a good look at him, gently gripping his shoulder as he swore softly under his breath. He turned to do the same to Deeks, but when he touched him Deeks jerked away, his eyes guarded and his hands up as if ready to fight.
"What the hell did the bastard do to you, kid?" Bates asked quietly, stepping away from him.
When Deeks didn't answer, Pete slowly recounted the night's events with little emotion, occasionally glancing over at Deeks as he paced the small living room, his arms wrapped protectively around himself. Bates let out a couple of whispered curses as the story spun out, keeping understanding eyes on the young cop as he moved anxiously back and forth. Pete caught Bates' attention before he could make a comment, warning him with a simple shake of the head. He quickly moved on to his own brush with Cortez's methods of persuasion.
"Why didn't they just shoot you?" Bates asked when he finished.
"They mentioned that Cortez had a favorite spot for his executions," Pete said. "I didn't cooperate. I woulda been done though, if Deeks hadn't come when he did."
"I have to pull you out Pete," Bates said as he took one of the chairs. "Too dangerous to send you back there, which leaves us with what to do about you, kid. You're a rookie and never been undercover before. I'm thinking I should shut this whole operation down and try to get to Cortez and the X another time."
"No!" Deeks said earnestly. "I can do this. Cortez thinks he broke me, but he didn't. He thinks he has another willing underling he can dominate. What he did was his method of control. He wants to mold me to be what he wants me to be. I think he gets off on that. If he thought I wasn't completely willing to do what I'm told, I wouldn't be standing here right now."
"If I let you go back and you're wrong...you're dead for sure," Bates said, watching Deeks carefully as he spoke. "You'll have no backup inside, kid. You'll be on your own. Still willing to risk it?"
"I want to bring him to his knees," Deeks' colorless tone matched his weary features, but there was no doubt about his determination.
"Right now, it looks like you're the one having trouble staying on his feet," Bates said gently.
"I'm fine, or I will be," Deeks said, snapping out of his stupor. "If I go in tomorrow after fighting for Ace, he'll realize how loyal I can be."
"Or he'll shoot you where you stand," Pete warned, suddenly looking completely unconvinced.
"Not if I tell him you ran out on me after what happened," Deeks proposed. "If he believes you thought I wasn't worth dying for, he'll realize I have no one left to turn to except him. He'll like that."
"He might, but I don't," Pete said. "It's too great a risk."
"I think Pete likes you, kid, and that's rare," Bates said. "But if there is any chance you can pull this off, I think we have to take it."
"It won't be you taking that chance," Pete snapped, angry now and his voice rose as he stared at the lieutenant.
"He didn't kill me last night and he sure as hell could have," Deeks argued. "He must have some use for me, right? He wants Purcell, remember?"
"Maybe. But that was before you shot one of his men and stopped them from killing me," Pete shot back. "You think he's the kind of man to let that go unpunished?"
"Only one way to find out," Deeks replied softly.
"You're one crazy sonofabitch, Marty," Pete said. "You're young and stupid, and have no idea what the fuck you're doing. He's winging it Bates, and he's gonna get himself killed. Don't let him do this."
"Cortez is running rampant over this area," Bates replied. "We've got people dying from product he's producing. I'm not sure I have any other option."
"Are you doing this for revenge, Deeks?" Pete asked roughly. "You want to get back at him for what he did to you? Cause if it is, you're gonna screw up. It will blind you and you need to go in with your eyes open and your mind clear and sharp. He has to believe he broke you. Do you understand? You can't let him see the rage you're showing right now. You have to be humble in mind, in what you say and in the look in your eye, cause if he sees what I'm seeing right now, he'll kill you."
"Can you do that, Deeks?" Bates asked.
"I'll do whatever it takes to get this guy," Deeks said, dropping his hands to his side as they curled into fists.
"Even if it costs you your life?" Pete looked defeated as he asked the question.
"I'm a survivor, man," he replied. "Trust me."
"It's Cortez who has to trust you. Not me," Pete said as he pushed himself out of the chair and stood toe to toe with Deeks. "You said he called you his whore. Can you play that part, Marty? Can you be his puta? Because if you can't, if you waver even a little, he'll know you're faking it and he'll wonder why. He's smart, kid. Way smarter than you or me. He's not like those three men you scared tonight. He's fuckin' crazy as shit and if he suspects you, he'll cut his losses without blinking an eye and then it's over. He'll fuck you and then he'll kill you."
"Think about it, Deeks," Bates said quietly. "Get some rest and I'll be back in the morning to see if you're still willing to do this. I won't order you to do it, and to be honest I'm not sure you can pull it off. But given I don't have a lot of other options, if you decide you want to finish this assignment, I'll send you back in."
Pete shook his head and headed toward one of the bedrooms and Deeks felt the loss as the distance grew. He had come to respect and like the big man and he didn't like the feeling of ill will that had grown up between them. His emotions were raw and he knew he was exhausted, but he wouldn't be able to sleep if he let Pete go without a word.
"Pete?"
"Yeah, kid?" The man stopped and leaned heavily against the door to the bedroom as he waited for him to continue.
"I won't let you down, man," Deeks' voice tentative and slightly sad.
"Just don't get yourself killed, okay?"
"Not on my list," he said softly. "Will I ever see you again?"
"If you do, don't stare," Pete replied. "I wouldn't want you to blow my new cover."
"What new cover?"
"Just cause Ace Merrill split doesn't mean I have," he laughed softly. "Didn't think I'd leave you all on your own without some backup did you?"
"You'll be around?" Deeks was pleasantly surprised and couldn't keep a crooked grin from lighting his tired features.
"Don't look for me, just know I'll be there," Pete said, turning to look kindly at him before heading into the bedroom and closing the door.
...
Deeks pulled on the bottom of the black tee shirt he was wearing under his slightly rumpled gray suit coat as he stood waiting to go into Raul's office. He'd gotten blood on the dress shirt he'd worn last night and the motel manager had taken the rest of the new clothes he'd bought as well as his own. He'd found the old tee shirt in his duffle bag in Pete's car early that morning after Solano had called to tell him Cortez wanted to see him. He was nervous about showing up in a tee shirt, and then laughed inwardly, knowing that would be the least of his worries when he faced the man.
He jumped when Solano walked out of Raul's office and motioned coldly for him to follow, leading him to the elevator, which they took down to the second floor in silence. He had no idea what to expect, his empty stomach quivering as he dutifully fell in behind the fast moving man as he walked between the studs of a line of unfinished offices. Sheets of heavy plastic hung stiffly just inside the large space, crackling as the man brushed them aside and wove his way through them and several more lines of the same plastic that stretched across and deep into back of the space. Deeks followed, his throat now dry, but his face prickly with sweat as static electricity tingled the hair on his arms and the back of his neck. Solano moved fast, and Deeks tried to keep him in sight as he wove through the milky sheets, his dark form a muted shadow as he moved wordlessly forward. A sharp cry of pain echoed dully in the dim space and Deeks stopped. He wiped at his eyes as he tried to locate the source, noticing several blurred shapes gathered behind several layers of the plastic sheets far ahead.
"Move it," Solano growled as he stepped between a break in the hanging plastic, startling him. "Cortez is waiting."
Deeks nodded and followed, slightly nauseated by the odor in the enclosed space and dreading what he would find when he came out of this disorienting maze. All he could see through the unfocused foreground were the shapes of five or six men and a few dark forms lying on the ground. His first touch of fear came with the rivulet of blood that made its way under the sheet of plastic Solano had just stepped behind. He swallowed hard and steeled himself as the plastic crackled and moved aside to reveal Raul Cortez standing shirtless before him, holding a bloody machete over the body of one of the men who'd been sent to kill Ace Merrill. The other two lay next to him, wrapped in heavy plastic taped tightly around their dead bodies, dark blood seeping through the gaps.
"These deaths are on you, puta," he said. "These men didn't do their jobs, and that's not acceptable. This one said you were crazy. Said you threatened to shoot their balls off. I like that, puta."
He laughed and a second later the other men still standing laughed with him, except for Solano, who only stared darkly at him.
"You scared them," Cortez said as he stepped back to allow two men to wrap the bloody corpse in the plastic it was lying on.
Deeks had yet to speak, unable to take his eyes off the process happening before him. When he looked up, a man had taken the machete from Raul and he was slowly wiping the blood off his hands and chest with a white towel as he stared back at him.
"Where is your friend?" He asked. "Where is this Ace Merrill you fought to save from my men?"
"He took off," Deeks said softly, lowering his eyes as Cortez watched him. "He said you wanted him dead, so he left town."
"But you saved his life," Cortez said, his face openly curious.
"Said I wasn't worth dying for," Deeks told him, shrugging his shoulders as if he had expected it.
"You have been disappointed many times in your life, Marty," the man said as he stepped toward him and laid a hand on his chest. "You fight for the wrong people, puta. You took the wrong side and you see now what you made me do."
Deeks felt his empty stomach clinch into a hard knot at the man's words. He tried to look away, but the sheer walls of plastic that surrounded him only blurred his vision and made him dizzy. Cortez patted his cheek, his eyes assessing him critically, his breathing heavy from the exertion it had taken to hack the man at his feet to death.
"The question becomes how I punish you for making me do this?" Cortez said, sounding quite reasonable.
"I thought he was my friend," Deeks said weakly. "He saved my life once. I owed him."
"And you were angry, puta," he whispered, leaning in until his chest was pressed against his.
Deeks felt a wave of nausea and billowing rage and struggled to contain it, trying to mask it with a look of fear. Cortez smiled and then huffed out a laugh, his breath warm and sour smelling, his hand now gripping the hair at the back of his neck, holding their faces close.
"But, you did not run," his voice now soft and calm. "You came and faced me. That is impressive my little puta. You are brave and I like brave men up to a point. So, I have to question if you learned your lesson last night, or if the anger you showed toward my men was really directed at me?"
"No, man. I just owed Ace, that's all," he said with as much deference in his voice as he could manage.
"I told you to call me sir, remember?"
"Yes sir."
"And I told you to be very afraid of me, didn't I puta?"
Deeks nodded his head as he watched the man's eyes turn dark as he stepped away from him. The tension in his muscles was almost painful and he felt his mouth go suddenly dry, his mind racing as he tried to read the situation and the mercurial man in front of him. He waited, knowing there was nothing he could say to change what was about to happen, knowing he had to decide whether to fight or beg for his life, not even sure himself, which one he would choose. The plastic crackled behind him and he felt a breath of moving air as a couple of men stepped through the gaps behind him.
"You're scarin' the shit out of me right now, boss," he ventured honestly, even flashing a crooked grin, inwardly angry with himself for trying to charm a sick, murdering bastard.
"That is good to know, because you should be scared. Always, puta. Remember that and remember this," Cortez said as he backhanded him across the cheek with a closed fist.
Deeks knew instinctively if he fought back he would die here, so he took the hit and the next one as well, a little proud that he managed to remain on his feet.
"You have a lot to learn about me, Marty," Cortez said as Deeks wiped blood from his mouth. "I like to punish people if they screw up. I like to watch a man struggle to live under my hand. It gives me pleasure."
The men behind him suddenly pushed him forward into the center of the space and he could feel his heart beating in his tightening chest. Cortez reached up and put a hand on his shoulder and then walked behind him, and Deeks almost gagged as the man ran his hand up the back of his neck and into his hair. When he pulled the suit coat off his shoulders and threw it aside, Deeks tensed as memories of the previous night exploded in his mind, causing an inadvertent shiver.
He smelled the plastic almost before he heard the soft crackle of it and half turned, trying to figure out what was going on behind him. The milky sheet dropped over his face and Cortez yanked it tight behind his head, the thick plastic clinging to his skin and cutting off his air and the muffled scream he couldn't stop. He clawed at the slick stuff and at the arms of the man who was tightening it, trying to free himself, fighting for his life. His mind went completely blank as his open mouth struggled for breath where there was none and his body bucked against Cortez, the man's grunting laughter close, but muted as he forced him to his hands and knees and then face down on a sheet of plastic on the floor. His mind became gray with bright red dots dancing at the edges as Cortez straddled him, pressing his face down until he felt as if he were floating from the lack of oxygen.
"Should I let you live, puta?" the words hovering in the deepening blackness of his consciousness.
He had no fight left, his arms and legs limp and useless as he lay semi-conscious on the plastic sheeting. Relief flooded through him when Cortez released his hold on him and when he was able to breathe again, but panic flooded his body as he felt men begin to wrap the sheeting tightly around him, taping it closed over his face and around his neck. They cinched his arms to his sides and taped his legs together, rolling him over and over until he was encased in a cocoon of plastic. He opened his eyes as Cortez sat down on his chest and lifted his head up, the man's face just a milky blur.
"You will learn, my little whore or you will die. Maybe even today."
He could barely feel the pat on his cheek or see the man's face as his breath coated the inside of the plastic, muting his vision even more. The sound of receding footsteps sent a sharp flush of pure terror through him when he realized they were leaving him there with the men he had sentenced to death simply by fighting for his partner. He wondered if Cortez could hear his muffled screams and curses as he kicked and fought his fate. Would he relent and let him live or would this be the end of a life he never dreamed of?
...
...