None of them, with the exception of my original characters, belong to me. And, though it's not really that bad, I do warn that there is a somewhat sensitive theme in this chapter, so I feel a heads up is in order.
Chapter 25: War, huh, what is it Good for? Absolutely Nothing...Unless One just so Happens to be a Fed.
"You'd better be here to tell me that you've found her," Potter demanded hotly, pacing the back office of Second Time Around as she pinched the bridge of her nose, determinedly not looking at her chipping toenail polish while she awaited a response. When nothing but tense silence followed her words, Potter resisted the urge to send another piece of furniture flying as she turned and glared at Ricardo, raising one red eyebrow as she uttered, "Well?"
"Sorry, boss," the heavier set man replied, giving a small shrug, though inwardly he didn't like the way this whole thing was going down in the least little bit. "She's MIA. I checked her apartment, but her car is gone from her covered space and the doorman said he hasn't seen her all day, and neither have any of her neighbors." First, I was conned into helping Franco clean up a dump truck load of mutilated shoes, Ricardo silently grumbled as he waited for his employer to lose the rest of her composure, Then, I am forced to play private eye trying to find a grown woman who probably wised up and got the hell out of dodge before the shit hits the fan, what's next? He was barely able to suppress the groan building in his throat at Potter's next statement, which, not only was a sign she'd gone off the deep end, but also more than answered exactly what she expected his next move to be.
"Well, then, Ricardo, what are you still doing standing here? Get your ass back out there and find her..." He wasted no time, hurrying past her and her impatiently tapping foot out the back door as he made a beeline for his SUV. He heartily hoped that, despite the icy wind swirling around him, it had retained most of its warmth from the short trip over from his apartment. With a long suffering sigh as he let himself into the vehicle, rubbing his hands together to generate what little heat he could, Ricardo wondered why he hadn't stayed in his home country of Bolivia with the rest of his family. Though he hadn't had to worry about the all too real threat of the overwhelming poverty or malnourishment in almost 20 years, he'd recently found himself being more and more homesick for the open spaces and sprawling mountain ranges from his youth. Don't suppose there's much I can do about it now, he thought as he let the semi warm air pour out of the SUV's vents, the Feds would probably pick me up the minute I set foot in an airport, and, if I am wrong about the way this is all going, betraying Potter is a sure fire way to end up six feet under the ground.
It was several minutes before Ricardo felt that the interior was warm enough to make his next move, pulling out his cell phone and dialing Jordy, waiting for the other man to answer before speaking. "Yeah, she's still missing...I don't know, man, Potter must want a pedicure or something..." he paused while the reply came over the line, "Beats the hell outta me, but we need to find her, and I got nothin' but dead ends at her apartment, so we're gonna have to branch out with our search...Better let Franco know where we stand and, Jordy? Potter wants to know where she is, and I mean like yesterday," Ricardo finished, knowing both of the other men conducting the search would understand the urgency of that particular phrase. "Ok, give me a ring the moment you know anything...Good luck to you too, man," he snapped the phone shut as he put the SUV into gear, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was going to have anything but good news to give his boss whenever they finally found out something. Two hours later that dread was more than confirmed when his cell phone rang, his muttered, "What?" as he put it to his ear a cover for the extreme anxiety he was suddenly feeling at Franco's words. "No, I'll make the call, but are you absolutely sure about this? Mhm, alright, let me call Potter and get further instructions, but you and I both know this isn't going to end well for any of us."
He hit the call end button, immediately dialing his boss's number and not the least bit surprised when it was picked up before it even had a chance to ring once. "I have news..."
"Hey, Rodrigues," Agent Carl Sanchez said softly from his nondescript sedan, setting his binoculars on the dash in front of him, knowing the man on the other end of the earpiece should be able to hear him loud and clear, despite the physical distance between the two. "Check out Alinksky, heading your way fast...that woman is definitely on the warpath about something," he remarked as he noted the rage clearly emanating off of the redhead, even at almost half a mile away, and trying to tamp down the feeling that whatever had the once inseparable pair at odds was going to be the break they needed to finally bring their empire to its knees. But what in the world managed to drive a wedge between those two? The dark haired agent wondered as he listened to Julio Rodrigues's response.
"Yes, she is, isn't she?" the other man remarked from his vantage point down the street, watching as the suspect took her rage out on an antique bed table that was displayed just inside the window of Second Time Around, kicking it across the space as she stormed into the back, leaving the young clerk staring after her in equal parts terror and bewilderment. "You know, I was beginning to think she wasn't going to come here to check on operations, since it's been at least two days from the last time any of us have seen some sort of activity-"
"Yeah, the last time was that out of the blue warehouse fire down on South Avenue and E. 132nd Street," Carl interrupted as he watched the brunette set the newly righted table off to the side, before picking up the phone and dialing a number, No doubt she's reporting Ms. Alinksky's behavior to her other boss, he mused, knowing full well that the line was tapped and the crew in the truck would catch every word of the conversation, just waiting to find something to use to aid in getting the brother and sister-in-law behind bars where they belonged. "Wonder what they were trying to cover up with that blaze," the agent wondered aloud, knowing it had to have been something big if either one of the usually restrained bosses resorted to torching a building in order to cover something.
"But so far local arson investigators have ruled it an accidental electrical fire," Julio reminded the dark haired man firmly, not wanting the younger agent to get sidetracked by what could be nothing more than what it appeared, an accident. "If there's something there indicating any sort of cover up, the boys will find it, but until then, we keep our cards close to our vest...One of them is going to make a mistake this time, and not a small one but something we can use to drive the nail into the coffin once and for all, I can feel it," the other man insisted, getting that antsy rush that always filled him when a big bust was about to go down. "We're about to get the integral piece of the puzzle, and neither one of them is going to be able to get off, no matter how expensive their lawyers are, or how much clout either one has around town."
Carl knew just how important this case was to Julio, even though he'd never opened up about it, and how the older man would do just about anything to see both of the suspects either behind the thickest steel bars America's prison system could offer. Or six feet under the cold, hard ground, Carl thought with a sigh, harboring a sinking suspicion that Rodrigues's preference leaned heavily toward the latter outcome, but, if even a smattering of the rumors that the others on the crew had been whispering held any truth, he really couldn't blame the man. Because, though Carl lacked any real details, he knew then that Potter and Phoenix were solely responsible for the death of the man's son, as well as the rest of his family. It would certainly explain what has driven him to catch the pair, he admitted as his cell phone went off, pulling him from his musings. "Agent Sanchez," Carl greeted, listening intently for a moment before he uttered a hurried, "I'm on my way," snapping the phone shut and letting Julio know, "Sounds like the last piece might have finally fallen into place..."
What am I going to do with that man? Chief Vick idly wondered as she scanned her email again, realizing that, no matter what he was doing, her most unique consultant never failed to turn her police department on its ear, even with his father acting as liaison between the two. And as glad as she was for the contact from Mr. Spencer, letting her know he was alright and hoping to be home soon once he'd figured out exactly had happened this time, which as he put it was 'still up in the air,' the Santa Barbara Police Department Police Chief couldn't quite hold back a sigh as she debated what her options really were. Or pretty much just throw in the towel and admit there are no options at this point, Karen thought as she watched her officers go about day to day operations through the glass doors of her office, And that there won't be until Mr. Spencer makes it back to the city, and only if he's finally able to figure out what has been happening. The blonde saw Detective O'Hara make her way across the room, a handful of files in her arm, when a thought immediately occurred to her. The chief closed the distance to the door in four long strides, pulling it open, demanding, "O'Hara, my office," and heading back toward her desk while she was still speaking, leaving the startled detective staring after her for a few heartbeats before Juliet entered the room, shutting the glass behind her.
I haven't done that in years, Phoenix thought in satisfaction, And I don't remember it being quite so...exhilarating. He let the memories wash over him as he showered at his second residence in Glenview, Illinois, slowly scrubbing off the remnants of exactly how he'd spent his day as he savored them, and grinning when he imagined the look on Pamela's face when she found out what he'd just done. And it shouldn't take the woman all that long to hear about it through the grapevine, the dark haired man thought in satisfaction, After all, I left one hell of an obvious trail this time, Phoenix admitted, frowning when he thought of the exorbitant amount of clothing that the woman had mutilated, And it serves her right for having the gall to enter my home and destroy my wardrobe...In reality he was expecting his sister-in-law to either show up on his doorstep, desiring blood, or to call and lambast him, with both barrels, anytime now.
Though the man's darker appetites were usually kept on a tight leash, he couldn't resist occasionally indulging them and letting them come out to play, just enough to take the edge off, but he'd never used someone he knew in his everyday life before. The petite pedicurist had been such an easy target, immediately following him when he'd told her that Pamela was waiting for her, that Phoenix thought the whole ordeal was going to be a major disappointment. So he was pleasantly surprised the amount of fight the scrap of a woman had displayed when it finally occurred to her that her boss hadn't summoned her at all. Phoenix used a dark colored washcloth to clean out the deep scratches, marveling at just how fiercely she'd fought to the very end, his only real regret being that the encounter had been over with far too quickly, because once he'd gained the upper hand in their scuffle, the battle was all but over. And I would have loved for it to have lasted long enough to really make the bitch suffer, the dark haired man grumbled, letting the rapidly cooling water wash over his body as he simply stood under the spray, knowing he was going to miss seeing the brunette all the time, and the revealing outfits she was known for wearing, but positive it was the fastest way to get back at his sister-in-law.
Though, the rush I got with this encounter makes me think that maybe it's time to appoint someone to oversee operations here, if we can make it through this Spencer thing unscathed, and do some long needed traipsing around the country...Phoenix mused, finally shutting off the overhead spray and stepping out of the shower, wrapping the plush, oversized cotton towel around his waist as he left the room to take in his reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror. He gathered up the clothing he'd gotten just for this morning's sport, the only time he ever bothered to clean up after himself, and deposited it all in a heavy black trash bag, along with the belt he'd used as an impromptu restraint, and tossed the Hefty bag in the corner. Heading over to his massive closet, Phoenix selected an outfit, as well as a small tube of antibiotic ointment from the supply cabinet, covering the five four inch long scratches that were peppered across his chest before bandaging them and pulling his undershirt carefully over his head.
Five minutes later the green eyed man was fully clothed and making a beeline for the door, grabbing the bag as he passed, purposefully strolling through his 5,000 square foot home, smirking as he cut through the gym that housed his full sized indoor pool on the way to his private incinerator. Gotta admit, he silently thought, It certainly does come in handy when I need to make things disappear without anyone ever knowing they were here in the first place, like anything that could potentially have DNA evidence on it. He opened the door, tossing the black plastic bag in as far as it would go, not particularly concerned about the fact that he'd left plenty of his DNA on the pedicurist, even after severing her seemingly razor sharp nails once he was done with her. It's gonna take a helluva a lot more than that to take me down, Phoenix vowed with a malicious grin, debating which of his classic cars he was going to take out for a spin if Pamela didn't hurry up and get this confrontation over with already. Since it was a frigid 13 degrees outside, the half a dozen convertibles were firmly out of the running, as were the handful of Bentleys, Hmmm, what about my '69 Chevy Corvette or '39 Lincoln Zephyr? he mused as he made a quick stop in his study, pulling out a decanter of 12 year old scotch and pouring himself three fingers before softly swirling the amber liquid around in the glass. Phoenix took a small sip, savoring the unique taste as he rolled the liquor around in his mouth, swallowing while he stared out the window before repeating the process until the glass was empty.
Deciding that he'd waited long enough for his idiotic sister-in-law to come after him for permanently removing her private pedicurist from this earth, Phoenix headed toward his 30 stall garage, knowing immediately that something was amiss when he passed through the doorway to see the deserted guard station. Entering his garage at a dead run, the dark haired man felt his blood boil as he took in the deliberate destruction of what were his pride and joy, and vowing that he and Pamela were going to have this out now, and one of them was going to cease to breathe before this ordeal was over...and he'd be damned if it was going to be him.
Dun dun dun…so now that Potter and Phoenix are totally distracted, all my lovely readers can take a moment and leave me a review, you know you want to ;P xD And no, I don't have any shame, but that may have to do with all of the things I drop on my head while at work... *bows out*