Summary: Life and work must go on, even if it is not conducted completely in the open. Furia redirects her focus on a task Johnny set her on while Dex gets his plan in shape. Once he's ready to hit the Los Carnales plant, he decides to the new standout in a precarious position.
a/n: Again many thanks to the lovely Chy for her time and willingness to let me spam her inbox as well as her companionship on the silly little road I travel when writing sometimes. Oh, and a side note, it would seem that things are slowing again for Furia so beware the updates may not be quite so frequent as they have been of late. And I apologize for the worst chapter title ever.
21 Trojan Horses of a Different Color
-1-
The building did not make much of an impression. Nor did the neighborhood, and Ekaterina was not sure she felt entirely comfortable parking her car there, even right in front of the building. She tagged the buzzer for the apartment number that Furia had given her over the phone and was let in almost immediately. The interior of the building darkened significantly, making her a little more cautious as her eyes adjusted. The blonde knocked cautiously on the door when she reached the landing of the top floor.
"It's open," Furia called from within.
Ekaterina pressed at the partially open door slowly. The difference between the dank feel of the building lifted when she entered the small apartment. Tall windows let in a great deal of morning light, and despite the dark floors the space felt warm and cozy. Of course, part of that was likely due to the wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen.
"You cook?" Ekaterina asked carefully.
Furia flashed a smile over her shoulder. "Sometimes."
"Well, it smells incredible."
"Thank you. Do you want some coffee?"
"Very much."
Another woman was sitting at the table, yawning widely behind her hand. "G'morning. I'm Peaches," she introduced, reaching across the expanse to offer her hand.
"Ekaterina."
Not long after another young lady arrived. The blonde's eyes moved over the shorter girl whose dark hair was highlighted with streaks of purple. She was dressed like a bad cliché: fishnets, very tiny leather shorts and a top that just would not do for the chilly weather in the forecast. She chuckled under her breath at the girl the others called Lucy, the poor thing. Sweet face. Bad taste. And her inexperience shone like a beacon.
"Was that what you were planning to wear?" Ekaterina asked and all three of them stopped and looked at the blonde.
"Uh, yeah. I thought-"
The Ukrainian beauty shook her head at the younger woman. "You will stick out like a sore thumb on that side of town, well, at least before dark. It really is just a mite on the trashy side."
Lucy's jaw dropped, but Furia chuckled.
"Don't worry though. We'll fix it."
"After breakfast," Furia announced as she walked toward the table with plates.
"I still cannot get over this," Ekaterina said. "I would not figure a woman with your reputation could cook." Her words melted into a low moan with the first bite.
"I have a big family, which meant we all had to help in the kitchen." Furia brought another set of plates and set down with them.
Ekaterina only ever saw her driver as that. After that first afternoon, she had asked around about her and learned that Furia's reputation was solid and growing. She assumed that someone affiliated with a street gang might be a little less-domestic. And feminine, she thought as she watched the Latina at the table. Her motions in this sphere seemed delicate, almost dainty. Her hands were quite lovely, but until that moment Ekaterina had only seen them gloved.
"So why are we doing this in the morning?" Lucy asked. "I mean, what kind of hookers are we going to be able to find at nine am?"
"Clean ones, usually," Peaches replied.
"She's right. These are the women that want to work," Ekaterina agreed.
"Whatever their reasons," Peaches added, lowering her voice slightly as she spoke into her coffee cup.
That seemed to stem Lucy's curiosity about the timing of their excursion. Peaches turned the conversation to the food, gushing about it to the point that it finally made Furia blush from the praise. After eating their fill and clearing the table, the four of them retired to the bedroom and Ekaterina forced herself to start with Lucy.
"You want to play up your strengths dear, and that top just takes away, though the shorts were a good call," the blonde lectured as she went through some of the items available to her, which included a bag Ekaterina had brought with, as well as Peaches' backpack. Furia also offered up her own closet, though she was surprised to find it overpowered by clothing much too large for any of them, including the owner.
"You want to look sexy, not necessarily garish. Tight, but not so tight you can't get it on or off easily. And you need to consider your timing and location. For daytime downtown, you're not going to want to dress like the ladies on the corners in Rebadeaux at two in the morning. The ladies working the business district during business hours are obvious in the most subtle ways than fishnets and booty shorts," Ekaterina said, shaking a chemise at Lucy.
"And with the shoes. For the sake of your own feet wear ones you can survive the day in."
As she helped the women chose something that would make them blend in, she offered a few other suggestions, like tying your coat closed rather than buttoning or zipping, it made it easier to open the window for the shoppers to ogle. Another marker was the hair. If you put it up, invariably some client would try to take it down. So Ekaterina preferred wearing hers down when she worked, and using almost nothing in it; that way she could run a brush through it and repair most traces. The same went for makeup, she wore very little when she worked-sticking to eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. But she knew these were her preferences. Despite that, she offered the suggestions up to Furia and the other young women.
-2-
Peaches fidgeted at the mirror in the bathroom. Ekaterina's hands in her hair made her flinch slightly. The woman smiled gently, a smile too reminiscent of another woman's, another woman with the same profession. With a quick breath, the younger of the two walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.
Furia's apartment was just a tiny circle, which was a nice advantage in this case, because it did not feel crowded even though the small space was brimming with people at the time. Peaches could tell that Lucy was still feeling a little sulky about the prostitute's assessment of her initial outfit, though she did admit what the Ukrainian chose in the end looked a lot less cheap.
When the buzzer announced the arrival of the drivers Furia had chosen for this little diversion, they made their way downstairs carefully. Lucy was always bad in heels, and Peaches walked with her to help her keep her balance. She honestly expected Mikey and Dean-O to go against Furia's warning and make some kind of crack or comment, but they did not say a word.
"Oh, you employed your own drivers," Ekaterina said with a laugh as she looked at Furia.
"Well, they aren't really our drivers. We're recruiting. They are relocating."
"Very nice." The blonde walked over to Mikey, who stood a little straighter as she approached.
Peaches noticed his eyes dart to hers just before the blonde angled his chin toward her. "Aren't you just the cutest little thing? So nervous it's almost tempting."
"Thank you, ma'am."
The last word made Ekaterina laugh as she turned to Dean-O. She did not say a word to him, though she did not need to. Dean rubbed at the back of his neck and glanced up at her shyly. She planted a little kiss on Mikey's cheek before she turned toward the baby pink Cosmos parked in front of the black sedans the boys had procured.
"Before I forget. The Sewing Club is meeting on Thursday. Are you going to be able to make it?"
Furia smiled and nodded. "It shouldn't be a problem."
"You sew?" Dean asked quietly as the blonde drove off.
"No. I drive."
"And cook," Lucy injected.
"Get in the cars."
Furia pushed Lucy into the backseat of Dean's car as Mikey opened the door for Peaches. There was concern in his eyes when he leaned on the car door.
"Mary, are you okay?" he asked softly. "With all this?"
Every once and a while Peaches could not help but be surprised by Mikey. He seemed way too sweet to be real.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"I just thought with-"
She kissed him quickly then slipped into the passenger seat. "I'm good. I swear, its fine. Now, get in the car."
"Yes, ma'am."
Peaches blushed when he closed the door with a sly little wink. When Mikey started the car, she leaned against his shoulder, taking a great measure of comfort in his presence. Even so she knew what she told him was only marginally true. She was uncomfortable, but not about the job. The situation of it all hit a little close to home for Peaches.
Once they got downtown the girls left the boys to their own devices in the back parking lot of City Hall. The three females strolled toward the central business district looking for Helmers' girls. It felt a little strange for her.
"Why are we even doing this?" Lucy asked. "I mean Helmers is a troll."
"It could be worse," Furia said.
"She's right," Peaches agreed. "He's not all that bad. He takes care of his people."
Lucy looked at her with a furrowed brow.
"What?"
Her good friend eyed her incredulously.
"I know some of these girls," Peaches said by way of explanation.
Both of them stared at her, though neither of them asked the questions that seemed to be written all over their faces. Lucy certainly would ask later, but Peaches knew Furia would not, though the young woman would likely freely tell the older woman about how she spent months on the street with these girls. But the answers Peaches really wanted were not to be found, sadly.
Lucy spotted while Furia chatted up an older blonde. The woman's face, her mannerisms, but most of all it was the reasons she claimed-the twin girls in pigtails-that made Peaches shift uncomfortably as the woman spoke with the oldest of the three Saints. It felt a little too close to home for her. It was a story she knew, well enough. It was her own childhood, or at least the side of it she did not know about until too late.
What Peaches knew was that her mom walked her to school every morning, and picked her up after. She helped her with homework and attended all the parents' nights at school. Her mother was just there, until she wasn't. That's when she found out precisely what her mother did for a living and quite how she was able to be that attentive.
When she noticed Furia's keen eyes on her, the young woman straightened and hazarded a glance up the street. She nodded slightly, signaling that street was still clear. The working girl that Furia spoke to started up the street toward the courthouse a few minutes later.
The quiet voice seemed to echo in her head when Furia leaned toward Peaches. "Are you all right, Sweetie? You look a little-"
"No. No, I'm good," she replied, noticing her voice crack.
Furia gestured at Lucy and Peaches was certain that her friends heard the indication of her anxiousness. "I think half a dozen girls is a good number for today. Too many and then the pimps will get wise. And I'd rather avoid going all wild west this close to two buildings brimming with cops, if it can be avoided."
Lucy called Mikey, who had taken the first group of girls to the brothel. He was going to be their ride back to a more comfortable neck of the woods. The quick conversation between Furia and her boyfriend did not go unnoticed. After dropping the others off at the church, Mikey took Peaches home. It was one of those times she really appreciated his overdeveloped gentlemanly streak.
-3-
The next morning, after watching the weather report, Furia had no intention of braving an excursion in the barrio in a tiny skirt. That was just not going to happen, so she dug out the very tight jeans Nico had chosen for her instead. Grabbing her coat on the way out, she trotted down the stairs as she slipped it on. When she pulled open the front door, she stopped cold at the sight of the man standing outside her building. It was starting to get a bit eerie.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Good morning to you, too," Troy replied with a sly little grin.
His eyes dipped to the leopard print halter that was just barely visible beneath her coat.
"Buenas dias, jefe," she mocked. "What the fuck are you doing here?" She exited the building and pulled the door closed behind her, checking to make sure the automatic lock caught.
"Dex is ready to do … whatever the hell it is he's planning," Troy said, standing at the bottom of the steps.
"I take that to mean he hasn't been forthcoming with you either."
The derisive little snort confirmed that Dexter Jackson seemed to be keeping everyone out of the loop.
"And here I thought it was just me," Furia opined as she beat him to the punch and got into the car before he told her to. "You could have called. I'd have worn something a little less …"
Furia paused to consider just the right word and Troy glanced at her as the engine roared to life. "I'm not sure you could get much less," he offered.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Listillo," she grumbled. And he just laughed.
"If you're going to keep calling me that, you're going to need to tell me what it means."
"I'm not the only person you know that speaks Spanish."
He shook his head at her and started the car, letting that topic drop. The silence did not last long, but she had not expected it to. Troy usually only showed up on her doorstep with good reason, though she liked the previous impetus for that behavior much better than the current. The tension in him seemed to suggest that something big was going down.
"I don't know what Julius is thinking," Troy said as they drove toward the church. "Cleaning up the Row is fine, but this drug shit." He shook his head and looked at her seriously. "You don't fuck with Hector Lopez. If you do, he won't stop until you're dead or he is, which means there is only one way for this to play out."
"Then we need to make sure it's him and not us," Furia clarified.
"Great theory. In practice, however, it's never that easy. These guys have been the major players in the Stilwater drug scene for decades. These are not some little hot shots in their Daddy's car. These are some bona fide crazy motherfuckers."
"It's like Johnny said about King-bullets still kill people."
Troy grimaced. "Not Victor Rodriguez."
"He's the one that the Vice Kings couldn't kill, right?" Furia asked. When Troy nodded, so did she.
"They've been gunning for him years. Legend has it the cat just shrugs off bullets."
"No one shrugs off bullets, not even Johnny, though he'd deny that," Furia replied, tapping her thumb on the car door. "But after their little visit the other day, I can see your concern. That was uglier than anything I expected."
"All in retaliation for that damn truck's cargo." Troy flicked the cigarette through the crack in the window.
"Didn't Dex say what it was carrying was a bonus. He really just wanted the truck?"
"Yeah, but why?"
Furia stared out the window. "Can't say for sure. But I can think of a few reasons."
"Care to enlighten me?" he asked as they pulled up outside the Saints' HQ.
"Why guess when we'll know soon enough?" She stepped out and walked toward the steps.
Troy followed her. He startled her when he leaned over her shoulder and said, "You're almost as bad as him."
"I resent that implication," she replied with a shiver.
"Resent it all you want. You know you play things just as close to the vest as he does."
"I do not."
Troy just laughed as the two of them entered the church and headed right for Dex's office. The yelling broke her stride.
"Why are we waiting? We should hit those motherfuckers now!" Johnny barked, punctuating his statement with a punch to the makeshift desk. The gesture jostled everything and left pens clattering to the floor as they rolled off the surface.
"They are expecting us to retaliate. We'll never be able to get near that operation with the way things are right now. Even if we laid out a good thirty of their boys in that attack the other day, you and I know that none of the guys they threw at us had even half a clue."
"He's right Johnny," Troy said, sliding past Furia. "Most of those guys that came through here were nothing but fodder."
"That explains why they were flooding in off the trains," Furia noted. "They were not expecting to take anything over, just throw enough guys at us to weaken our position. Like human buckshot."
Dex looked up from his map when he heard her voice. "Ah, just what I need. A distraction." The smile that crept across his face had her hackles up.
"Pardon?"
He waved her forward and she crossed the space under all their attention. "I need you and that little mini crew you're dicking around with to create some misdirection. Perform a little sleight of hand for me. I need you to pull their attention away from the factory district, so Encanto or Ezpata would be ideal. Make them look to the other side of town, far, far away from what we want." He tossed two well-worn and marked up maps her direction.
"And what pray tell are you wanting us to do?" she asked, studying the maps that bore familiar handwriting.
"Johnny," Dex said with a Cheshire-cat grin. "Did find what I asked you for the other day?"
"Yeah," he said cautiously as if suddenly uncertain about the request he fulfilled.
"Let's have it then."
Gat placed a bag on the table rather gingerly. Then Jackson gestured from Johnny to Furia. "A gift to create destruction and mayhem to pull their attention away from that plant."
"Wait a minute. I thought these were for this little party you're planning on the docks," Johnny countered.
Furia pulled open the small duffle and stared at it for a long moment. It was not quite the RPGs that the Carnales had brought into the Row, but the bag full of grenades made her chest tighten up.
"It is. In a roundabout way. Besides I don't want explosives in the warehouse. We're trying to minimize damage to the equipment there," Dex explained, turning his attention to the warehouse.
"Fine then. I'll go to the barrio-"
"Damnit Johnny. Julius wants us on the plant."
"And the two of you are going there. Furia can take her party to the docks with you guys and babysit your precious equipment, while me and my boys go blow some shit up and piss off motherfuckers in the barrio. It's more my style anyway," he said to Furia as an aside.
The Latina smirked and tipped her head in agreement. Gat had a point. Mass amounts of destruction and suicidal stands seemed right up his alley, much more so than hers.
"Look! The plan is set. Furia you're going to the barrio. Johnny, you , me, and Troy will take down the plant. End of discussion. Now, can we please move on with this?"
He went into a little more detail about the three-pronged assault he had planned. It offered a little more insight into a reason why he was adamant that the three lieutenants participate in that attack. He wanted people with experience in the plant; and from the layout of the place and the number of people they suspected to be guarding and working in the location. It seemed obvious that Johnny was actually going to be needed there. And sadly, Johnny could not be in two places at once.
Of course, Furia doubted that she could channel him in destructive capacity or the crazy motherfucker category, but given the number of grenades he had procured-maybe she could just come close. Troy ducked out of the office when his phone rang, which Furia took to mean that it was likely Julius, since she did not figure anyone else would be able to pull him out of a discussion like this. After Johnny grumbled something under his breath at Dex, he made his way out of the office and down the hall.
Furia grabbed the handle of the bag and lifted it carefully off the table. The last thing she really wanted to do was blow up the church and herself in the process.
"Hold up." Rounding the table, the strategist closed on her with his hand in his jacket pocket looking at her in a way that set her on edge. "I want you to keep the pressure on until we have everything under control. I really don't want any of these guys flying back home to roost, if you get my meaning?"
"Yeah. I got it."
"I'll call you once we're clear. Just so you know, though, it might take a while."
"I bet."
"Just concentrate on the big operations. They'll draw more heat. Those maps are really good and up to date so they will help. Text us once you've gotten their attention, then we can move."
"Will do."
"Bueno. Now go forth. Wreak havoc."
Furia spun and exited the room quickly. Her head swam; he wanted them in the crosshairs before the rest of the Saints made their move and the idea of it had her on edge. He wants four of us to draw attention off the plant. Even with a bag full of grenades that seems a tall order.
Her jaw tightened as she walked deeper into the church. Troy exited Julius' office as she passed and he grimaced, leaning toward her.
"Look. Take Javier with you, he knows all the LC shit going down in that hood. That will help, and you'll be able to hit them where it hurts and localize the damage to their operations," he said in a voice above a whisper. "And if you go for the money makers first it will pull them out of their hole, then you can just maintain interest with some less high profile targets."
"Thanks for the advice," Furia said with a nod.
He looked like he still had something more to say, but Dex's voice carried down the hallway, tugging him back into a mindset to deal with whatever Jackson had in store for them. Bradshaw just grimaced and patted her on the shoulder as he passed by. When she got to the back room, Johnny looked a little more pissed than he had when he left the other office, but he also seemed overly prepared.
Four bags lay on the table. Each holding a metric fuck ton of ammunition from the open cabinets that Gat stood in front of like a connoisseur who sought out the perfect vintage. Furia never even thought about what he kept in those lockers until that moment when she saw them brimming with various brightly colored boxes of ammunition and clips for a myriad of weapons both empty and full.
"Gimme that," he said, turning and taking the bag before she could even offer it to him.
For a moment his frenzy stopped and he leaned on the table, staring at her. "I'm guessing you've never done something like this."
"You think?"
He scowled. "Tell me you don't throw like a girl."
"Fuck you."
His grin, as unsettling as it could be, offered her a measure of relief. "I figured with as many brothers as you have it was a safe bet. These are pretty easy. Pull the pin. Throw it, kind of overhand, like so," he said, demonstrating for her, "and then get the fuck down. Oh, twist when you pull the pin-it helps. Sometimes they can be a little stubborn."
"Sounds simple enough."
Gat's mouth pulled into a thin line. "Well it only sounds that way, trust me. And don't get too close to where you are throwing. You've already gotten yourself blown up once this week. If it happens again, I think you're brother might just blow a gasket."
She rolled her eyes at him.
"Look. I did not realize this was what Dex had up his sleeve. And since he seems hell-bent on sending you and your kiddies out there, just shut up and listen for once," he lectured, staring at her.
Furia stared at him for a moment. "Go on."
He laid a large rifle down on the table. "You're going in there with the intention of kicking a hornet's nest. Once they start buzzing full force no pistol is going to do the trick. You'll want that Spree or you're going to want this."
Johnny moved to stand beside her and gave her the twenty second beginner's lesson on assault rifles-how to load it, how to clear it, how to aim it. "It's a reliable weapon. You shouldn't have any issue, but if you do give it to Mikey. Boy's good. And you're going to want him to have one of these with, just in case," Gat stated laying the long black triangular soft case on the table "Believe me with him on this you'll only need one."
"Fucking Dex," he sighed and looked at the table for a long minute before facing her again. "Keep track of your people. Try not to get separated, you're going to need all the help you can get from the sound of it." He shook his head with a look that bespoke his irritation. "Just watch each other's backs. With four of you, it will be a blessing and a curse. You've got cover and muscle and things in between, but you're going to have a lot of guys coming at you. So use the environment."
She gasped with a look of mock surprise on her face. "Is Johnny Gat telling me to use cover and be careful?"
He tipped his head and cocked an eyebrow at her petulance
"Si. Okay, I read you."
"I'm not done," Gat said, straightening. "To get the guys out of the plant you are going to have to draw down a lot of heat. More than likely, you won't just be dealing with red, if you get my meaning."
"Cops?"
"Fucking A. And don't go thinking they've stopped looking for your pretty face. A few of the boys got dragged in on a speeding beef and saw your mug front and center like a goddamn billboard. Looks like they might still be pissed about that kid you punched out."
"That should make this more interesting. Like I needed that," she grumbled.
"So just assume there might be a few of those gung ho bastards in the mix. And don't bunker up anywhere too long. Keep moving." He leaned on the desk and looked at her over the top of his sunglasses. "And if it gets too hot, get out. Whether you've gotten the all clear from Dex or not. It's your call. I don't want to lose any more good people to these coked up whack jobs."
"On that we can agree," Furia said, her worry dissipating barely.
"I know your first choice is going to be to not do this, but you need to take Memo on this little excursion." She started to protest but he held up his hand. "You can't think about him being your brother right now. You need the best, and the kid's fucking good-solid under fire, and packs one hell of a punch."
She stared at him and he chuckled at her.
"Save the fire for them, Sweetie. It's not going to work on me," he concluded with a wink.
When Johnny left, Furia pressed her palms against the plywood surface already bowing from the weight of the bags. The smaller ones Gat prepped had clips for Sprees and Vices, which about covered the usual span. She pulled her phone out and dialed Mikey first. He was actually at the church and came back to help her pull ammo for the quartet. Javier was close too, showing up just as they concluded the packing.
"Who's our fourth?" Mikey asked, grabbing the extra bag and the assault rifle they had pulled out.
Furia bit her lip hard and stared at her phone for a long moment before she dialed the very familiar number.
-4-
Wearing red made Gat itch, even if it was a loosely tied bandana that was going to be pulled off as soon as he got out of the truck. Johnny shifted awkwardly in the front seat before checking the AR-40 in his lap. The only thing he was at all concerned about with this plan was happening thirty blocks or so northeast of their destination and that was wholly out of his control. He took a deep breath and tried to redirect his mind to something he could exert a little force over.
With a glance to his left, Gat eyed the driver of the truck and sighed at him. Troy was taking his sweet assed time getting to the plant, but in part it was a calculated move. The truckload of Saints waited for the barrio crew's call before setting out at a leisurely pace.
"You drive like my grandmother," Gat grumbled finally after Bradshaw ignored the impatient signal the passenger offered.
"And you give Asian drivers a bad name," Troy returned as the truck turned onto Fox Drive.
"Why the hell are you driving anyway?"
"Because you're predictable. You cannot resist the temptation of the scissors."
"Man. Fuck you, Troy." Rock, paper, scissors is a piss poor way to determine who gets to drive anyway.
The driver laughed. "Shoot it again. Hundred bucks says you can't choose anything but scissors."
"Shut up and get your gun out. I'm going to show you how this is done."
"Sure you are, Gat," Troy replied as he backed the truck up toward the dock.
"You feeling confident enough to put your money where your mouth is?"
Putting the truck in park, Bradshaw took up his own rifle with a grin. "Always."
"Fuck yeah. That's what I like to hear."
The sound of gunfire followed the grating noise of the rising cargo door on the truck. Johnny and his cohort exited the cab quickly and joined the Saints moving into the warehouse. The pack split into three and each lieutenant took their own teams through the plant. Johnny knew that he was not the only one on his crew or Troy's keeping a count, though he doubted that any of Dex's boys were doing anything of the like.
The plan was for each group swept their own levels. Bradshaw was in the lower levels, Johnny had the ground floor, and Dex headed upstairs to try and secure the offices and equipment controls. He wanted to salvage as much out of this place as possible. Johnny and Troy were content to send a clearer message to the Lopez brothers by creating the largest dockside bonfire possible in the metal-skinned building.
While moving through the loading area, Johnny sauntered slowly down the walkway lined with crates, shooting from the hip as people took their chance to take a shot at the bolder lieutenant. When his clip emptied, Johnny pressed his back to a crate and noticed his competitor, as it were, moving down a row toward the far side of the building. He had to admit Troy was effective; he usually at least gave Gat a run for his money when they did things like this. But he was much more cautious. With his rifle pressed tightly to his shoulder, Bradshaw moved from crate to pillar to wall, firing from cover.
With a shake of his head, Johnny was fairly certain he had this one in the bag. In a target-rich environment like this, Gat figured his style of come and get it would win out over Bradshaw's peek-a-boo whack-a-mole method. The enforcer turned out of cover and restarted his trek through the main floor of the building with his crew in tow.
-5-
"You know I think that might just be too motherfucking precious for words," Julius opined as he walked into the back office where his lieutenants were gathered. Gat and Bradshaw were sitting on opposite sides of a table, each of them getting stitched up by the Nguyen women. Lucy's hands shook more than her mothers, which did not bode well for Troy.
"Are you two really so competitive that if one gets shot the other one has to aim for the exact same result?"
When Johnny started to speak, Julius looked at him in a way that discouraged any reply. Little walked over to Troy and looked at the extremely lucky hit then conducted a similar inspection of Gat.
"So what was the final count?" Jules asked.
"Even," Gat grumbled with a glare at Troy.
"Oh, save your fuck me eyes for somebody else, Johnny," Bradshaw shot back. He turned his head and lost his train of thought in the hazel eyes of the woman leaning just inside the door.
Julius' entrance had been so noticeable that Bradshaw missed Furia slipping in after him. She was not dressed like a woman who had just come from an assault. The white turtleneck sweater and black slacks suggested something on a whole other level from what he knew she had been part of about an hour earlier.
"Troy, you-" Johnny began again.
"Shut it, children! Dex, did you get what you needed?"
"Yeah, and then some. I've… We've got enough guys on the building to keep it under our control as well," Jackson noted.
"Jules," Furia said quietly from her leaning post.
"What's she doing here?" Dexter called, the irritation clear in his tone. Obviously Bradshaw had not been the only one to overlook her.
"Don't worry, Dex, I'll keep it short," she bit back with at least as much venom as was directed toward her. "Johnny, I put your gear in your office. I didn't know where all you wanted it, so I'm leaving you to stow it yourself. But I'm claiming that McManus for Mikey for a few days. I have something I'm going to need both for."
"What would that be?" Dex demanded.
Furia ignored him. "I'll call you when it's done, Julius."
Troy could not say he was surprised by her reaction to Dex. The errand he sent her on, while necessary, was a bit fucked up nonetheless. When he heard it, Bradshaw really wondered why Dex had not handed it to Johnny and his guys; it really seemed more up Gat's alley. Regardless of what he thought, he knew that she and her crew managed to make a big enough mess that several carloads of LCs had been pulled out of the plant before the truck arrived. Even given that, it had still been thick on the docks.
Bradshaw knew if it came down to it he could get a run down on what happened in the barrio from Memo, or one of the others in her quartet. Judging by her style of dress, Furia's plans did not include a briefing. And when she slipped into the hall without another word, he figured that would be the route he would have to take.
"What-"
Julius' upheld hand stopped Dex's mouth again. The boss moved toward the office door and leaned on it. "Ladies, are you done?" Julius asked Lucy and her mother.
"Almost," the elder Nguyen replied for both.
The tension thickened as the silence dragged on while the two women finished the stitching and wrapped the left biceps of both injured men. Troy's wound had been a shallow through and through; thankfully, it had missed the bone. Gat's was in about the same location but the shot that hit him had merely eaten a deep grove through the meat a few inches above his elbow. Either way the two lieutenants were going to be running around with matching bandages for a while.
The door slammed behind the women, and Julius glared around the room, pulling his hands onto his hips.
"I've got four Saints in the barrio creating havoc. Two lieutenants counting kills, and another that seems hell bent on wasting a motherfucking asset. What the hell is going on?"
No one answered. There was no answer for it.
"You two need to tone it down a notch or two. Walking through a warehouse full of Carnales like you're damn well invincible-this Rambo shit needs to stop. That kind of example is going to get some of these kids killed. And we all know Angelo's surprise visit has us short-handed enough."
The boss turned and looked at his second. "We're going to need to get back on the stick with recruiting. Troy let all the guys know to keep an eye out. Johnny, you're going to need to probably put in an extra session or two in until we get our blood flow back up."
Gat and Bradshaw nodded, though Julius turned toward Dex without waiting for any acknowledgement from the other two. "Would you like to explain to me what the fuck you were thinking?"
"You said yourself she is capable, and to use her in any capacity we see fit," Dex challenged.
With that Julius rushed him, and pinned Dexter Jackson against the wall, his forearm on the younger man's throat. "You think you're so fucking clever. You're just going to stand there and throw my own words back at me. Huh?" he asked, pressing against the younger man's windpipe.
Johnny and Troy both dashed out of their chairs when Little made his move, though neither of them put their hands on the man. They were not that stupid. Troy glanced over at Johnny. They both held similar opinions about the assignment Jackson had set Furia on, and had voiced them in their own ways. It was not so much who he sent, but the fact that he was willing to trade off their own people for a distraction, which did not sit well with the other two men. It had been a veritable suicide mission.
The thing that seemed to keep that from happening had a great deal to with the group Furia had taken-two strong shooters, Javier had the barrio wired, and Furia could think her way out of some hairy situations while having the guts to try some stellar shit. Sending her out there was a calculated move. A part of Troy doubted that Dex chose her for the assignment because he believed she could pull it off. Jackson seemed to harbor a great deal of undisclosed concern or resentment toward the young woman, though Bradshaw could not pinpoint why. Maybe it was merely her success or because she did not take all his plans at face value, maybe it was Julius' shift in interest and his focus on her-maybe that made Dex felt threatened. Fuck, maybe he just didn't like her purple boots. Bradshaw could not even hazard a guess at the strategist's motives, but whatever they were, the longer they went on the bigger the problem it would create.
Julius grabbed Dex by the collar of his jean jacket and bounced him off the wall, letting the young man slide to the floor gasping and coughing. As the lieutenant choked down breaths after being denied air, Julius stalked away from the kid.
"You want to know who she is? She's just what we need. Now I'd thank you to stop planning suicide missions for her. She can find enough danger on her own, if you haven't noticed."
Johnny and Troy grinned at each other; they both knew the truth in that statement.
"Now. Lin says she thinks she knows who is running things on the west side. She's trying to work a contact she hopes will pay off on that front," Julius said, crossing to his desk. When he sat down he looked straight at Johnny. "Where do we stand on King?"
"I'm working on something that will hamstring their income."
"And what is that?"
Gat glossed over the same plan he had mentioned to Troy in his car a few nights prior. Julius looked tense. Deep down, Bradshaw was really hoping to hear Little call the plan off and put a stop to the bombing before the plan got all that much traction, but he did not. Julius just pulled off his hat and ran his hand over his head a few times.
"Try to keep it to a minimum. Just what's needed to accomplish the task."
The little chortle to his right made Troy's entire body tense up.
"I'm serious Gat. Limit it. King's interests only. You take out an entire city block and we'll dance."
"Wasn't planning on it. I want to get Williams and King where they will really feel it."
Bradshaw wondered by the tone if there was not a personal stake for him in all of this. Even if she were not the impetus, Aisha would be affected by this plan, and in the back of his mind Troy wondered if she might not have something to do with the entire fiasco.
When the meeting ended, the auburn-haired man picked up his jacket and left. He smiled at the holes through the fabric that mirrored the trajectory of the injury to his arm. Before he exited the church, Troy shrugged it on despite the new ventilation. Entering the courtyard, he was a little surprised by what he found adorning the hood of his Bootlegger.
"Thought you had something you were doing?" he called as he started down the steps.
"My ride is late," Furia replied, raising her gaze in his direction.
"And what do you have planned?"
"Imminently, family stuff. Later, a little hunting trip, so to speak, just outside of town."
"That sounds ominous."
"Not really."
He could see the question in her eyes. It was a question he was nearly certain he would be asked more that he would prefer in the coming days.
"How is it you and Gat had the veritable army of guys and you two wind up being sewing projects?"
"I could put a similar question to you, except it might sound like praise," he chided with a grin.
Furia rolled her eyes and shook her head. He noticed she did not do well with kudos, though in this instance he felt it was heartily deserved.
"So what's this surprise you're working on?"
"The Carnales put in an order for some … high-end equipment. They have a driver meeting a truck on the outskirts of town just before dawn. We have the meet time and location and the route. I figure Angelo owes us one after his last visit to the Row," she explained, staring at him as he crossed toward his car.
"You think stealing from the Lopezes again is worth it?"
"I think if I get that truck, it won't matter if he does respond similarly." Furia slid off his hood and looked up at him. "How's the arm?"
"Hurts like a bitch."
She grinned at his honesty. "Is it true you and Gat were playing who's the better killer?"
Troy laughed and shook his head. "Who called it that?"
"Dean-O and the boys."
"I guess we were."
"Who won?"
The few feet of chilly winter air between them seemed like a no man's land; the border of which neither were willing to breach.
"No one. It was a tie," he said with a smile.
"Are you serious?" Bright and uncontrolled laughter swirled around him, when he nodded. "Wait. Let me get this straight. You tied, and you have matching gunshot wounds? Julius is right, that it just precious as hell."
Before he could form a retort the honking horn drew her attention, when she looked back at him there was a trace of fatigue around her eyes
"And that's my ride. Do me a favor? Don't play any more murder games with Gat until I get back. I could use a good laugh."
-6-
Climbing out of the driver's seat, Memo yelled, "C'mon Tati. We're going to be late."
Furia took a moment to conclude her conversation before eying him sharply as she approached the car.
"Better forego the speed limit."
His sister groaned when she slid behind the wheel of his Cavallaro. "Which will just give Socorro more ammunition to fire at me," Furia noted as she toyed with the pendant on the thin gold chain around her neck.
Watching her for a long moment he saw the whole ritual that usually happened whenever family was involved. She would toy with the cross she got at her confirmation more than a decade earlier, then she hold onto it tightly before kissing it and either letting it fall against her chest or tucking it back into her collar. This time it was the latter.
Memo always assumed she might be praying for the strength to get through the scrutiny of their aunts, who were convinced that his sister should be married and pregnant by now. In the past few months, the second or seven children had come to realize that his sister had already raised six kids, and he figured it was highly likely that she did not have plans for more. Plus, in his enlightening, he found out just how Furia prioritized things and she seemed to be on the bottom of her own list.
In many ways he appreciated it, but he also hated it. Guillermo knew better now, than he ever had, just what kind of life Furia led. Everything seemed to outweigh her interests. Even now, with the Saints she set most of her earnings aside for the younger ones, though he was helping that that now in the hopes that she might just be a little more selfish. But he knew, from talking to Miguel, that she had only just started squirreling away some of what she brought in beyond basic expenses. That too was practical-it was for her car.
Furia's fingers started tapping against the steering wheel as they neared the community center on the north side of Stilwater. His other sister, Socorro, took art classes there regularly and was part of the Stilwater Community Children's Chorus. She was fifteen and Memo could only ever describe her as moody. Sometimes she would not even talk to him, but he ranked higher on Socorro's list than Furia did. For some reason his baby sister blamed their older sister for-well, as far as he could tell-everything.
With a long sigh, Furia put the car in park and turned it off before holding the keys out to him. She got out, ran her hands over her thighs to straighten out her slacks, and walked toward the door. She almost marched, striding as tall as she had that afternoon when the four of them had strolled into that LC storehouse. He could not help but smile that spread across his face at the sudden realization that for his sister walking into family gatherings was fairly similar to invading enemy territory. With both the main intention seemed to be just living through the assault and getting back out in one piece. Memo walked just beside and behind her, pulling the door open for her as they entered.
"They are in the front row, center," Memo whispered over Furia's shoulder. Gabriel had texted him about ten times since he picked Furia up. The other Saint was fairly certain that her phone likely held just as many messages from the baby of the family.
She nodded silently.
Programs in hand they found their way through the crowd. Typically, Furia would have been mobbed by his younger brother's but their uncle Antonio intercepted Gabriel and Memo was certain by the gestures and the look on their tio's face that the younger boys were being lectured about that particular behavior. It was a lecture they all knew well, because it happened everywhere, namely because their sister was the one they all counted on. Furia was there, she was the matriarch they had left, the one that showed up for every school function-even before their grandparents died, in a lot of ways she had simply fallen into the role vacated by their mother's death.
Gabriel, the youngest at fourteen, had always been the most dangerous about sprinting over to greet her. He was a natural klutz, and more than once had taken out small children in an excited attempt to get to Furia. But then Memo understood the reason. The boy was two when their mother died; and by his eighth birthday, both grandparents had followed. Furia was the closest thing to a mother Gabriel and Socorro could remember. The others were a little older and had some memory of their mother and Abuelita, but even for them it was their older sister that was the one who had always been there.
When they reached the section the Guerrero clan claimed, Furia was mobbed. The smile on her face was more relaxed than Memo had seen in weeks. And the woman with her arms draped over three of their brothers was very different to the one he had spent the afternoon with. She gently held his brothers' faces in her hands and she kissed their foreheads in turn. The difference was stark. Hell, of the five boys, he spent the most time with her, and even in that moment he sidled up to her and wrapped an arm tightly around her, which was something he would not do any other time.
She looked up at him curiously after he kissed her on the cheek.
"What?" he asked.
"Didn't we spend the afternoon together?"
"Kind of, but not quite."
She furrowed her brow and shook her head at him.
The lights flashed three times and the jostling started. The twins won out and Gabriel plopped into a chair next to Memo with a sulky set to his shoulders and his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
"Watch that someone doesn't trip on that lip, mijito," Memo whispered as he draped his arm over the back of Gabriel's chair.
The boy cast a sidelong glance at the oldest brother.
"Think of it this way. You get to sit beside her at dinner."
That did the trick, there was a hint of a smile on the youngest's face as the choir took to the stage for the opening night of the Winter Pageant. The choir performed every Friday and Saturday night (with a Sunday matinee) from mid-November to the weekend prior to Christmas. Furia had been adamant that they were not going to miss this; in part it was due to the fact that it was Socorro's first solo as part of this larger group.