The Collector
Chapter 25
...
Deeks' admiration for Chaco grew as he realized the man had not looked at him once the entire time he was being beaten. He was a tough sonofabitch, and Deeks was finding it hard to watch what they were doing to him. He tried to remain impassive, especially whenever Cortez shot a glance at him, but when the man ordered Chaco killed because of a suspicion, he looked away, knowing he couldn't keep the anger off his face. He tried to think of what Pete would do in this situation, but there was really no time, so he simply acted.
"Let me do it," he said.
"And why would we do that?" Solano snapped, as he pulled the black gloves off his hands.
"Let him explain, Solano," Cortez said calmly with an inquisitive look on his face.
"Yeah, Deeks. Why the hell do you want to kill this guy?" Ruben asked, looking rather stunned.
"I know none of you trust me yet," he told them. "Let me prove that you can. Let me kill this guy for you. The sonofabitch set me up. Why shouldn't I be the one to make him pay for that?"
"He has a point," Cortez said with a slow growing smile.
"Where will you dump his body?" Solano growled.
"Somewhere nobody is ever gonna find him," Deeks said without emotion. "I know a few places. I grew up here, remember?"
"Then tell us," Solano snapped.
"I thought you didn't want his death traced back to you, Raul," he said roughly, ignoring the man and looking only at Cortez. "If his cop buddies come asking, you can honestly say you have no idea what happened to him."
"Makes sense to me," Ruben said, backing him up.
"You surprise me, puta," Cortez said. "Do it."
Cortez walked away and motioned Solano to follow him. Deeks knew Solano would never trust him, but if this solidified his position and saved Chaco then he really didn't give a shit.
"You kill anyone before?" Ruben asked with a calculating look.
"Yeah. Haven't you?" He answered flippantly.
"No," Ruben said softly. "Wanted to. Still do."
"Well now you got me," Deeks said as he started to untie Chaco, who was barely conscious.
"So if I tell you to kill someone you'll do it without a second thought?" Ruben asked, scrutinizing him closely.
"I wouldn't be much of a bodyguard if I can't kill a guy," Deeks said soberly. "Why don't you have one of your men help me get this guy in the trunk. You don't want to get your clothes dirty with this asshole. Tell them to bring some plastic. Don't want to get blood in the trunk of my new car."
"You're cold, dude," Ruben said quietly.
"Got that from the coldest bastard I ever knew. Good ol' Dad," Deeks said, his voice hard and edgy.
"I saw him hit you once," Ruben said. "I was outside your house with Ray when your dad dragged you out of the car. I think you were eight or nine."
Deeks just looked at him, his face rigid with anger and Ruben put his hands up and realized he didn't want to talk about it.
"I used to envy anybody with a dad until I saw that," he said.
"Yeah, well you were lucky not to have one," Deeks said honestly as he untied the last of Chaco's restraints.
The undercover cop slid unconscious to the floor as Ruben walked out into the hanger and called a couple of guys over. With their help, Deeks got Chaco in the small trunk of the coupe and slammed the lid. He kept his face blank as if throwing a beaten man in the trunk of his car was something he did everyday, and he could feel Ruben's eyes on him. He couldn't slip up now, so he gave his boss a curt nod of the head and slid into the driver's seat and revved the engine, shooting a small, tight grin at Ruben before he roared out of the hanger. Once clear, his body became flush with adrenalin and he choked out a curse, quickly pulling his phone, not sure whether to call Pete or Bates or both. His mind was racing as he wove down different streets, watching to see if he was being followed, paranoid more than he had ever been in his life.
"What's wrong, kid?" Pete asked quickly.
"The bastards beat the shit out of Chaco. I couldn't do anything, man. I couldn't do a damn thing. I just stood there, Pete. I just stood there and watched," the words rushing out as his emotions finally exploded.
"Get it together, Deeks," Pete ordered, and he could hear the anger and fear in his voice. "Tell me what's happening now."
"Cortez wanted him killed so I volunteered," he answered tonelessly.
"Where is he?" Pete asked.
"In the trunk," Deeks said, his voice breaking at the end.
"Were you followed?" Pete's voice was strong and confident and Deeks was grateful for that.
"No. Tell me what to do. Where do I take him? He's bad," Deeks said, his voice shaky as he desperately tried to maintain some level of control.
"You did good, kid. Just slow down and take a deep breath," Pete ordered. "Remember Max's bar? Take him there. I'll meet you with an ambulance."
Deeks thought his heart would pound right out of his chest as he did what Pete told him, worrying the entire time whether Chaco was strong enough to survive such a terrible beating. He hadn't moved when they put him in the trunk, just groaned softly once and gone silent. He'd been afraid to stop and check on him for fear he would be spotted and reported. Now, he was at least forty minutes away from where help waited, but he kept the car under the speed limit even though he wanted nothing more than to floor it. His hatred of Cortez and Solano filled him. They were vicious, violent men without conscience and he wanted to bring them to their knees.
He took shortcuts he'd learned from Rafferty and he longed to be back with that crazy, wonderful family. It seemed as if it had been months instead of days since he had talked quietly with Mick and Isabel over tamales or been taught a lesson in humility by Granny. He missed Raffy. They hadn't parted on the best of terms and now he understood why his partner had been so concerned for him. He almost wished he had listened to him, but he was in it now. Being just a plain old cop somehow seemed so innocent. Pure. Part of something bigger with lines plainly drawn. What he was doing now had no lines and nothing was plain and simple. He'd had to become a person he didn't like, a person who reminded him of someone he had spent most of his life trying to forget, a bastard who had taught him how to be an asshole and he laughed to think that it might just save his life.
He saw the ambulance waiting when he finally pulled into the deserted parking lot behind Max's bar. Pete was pacing and Bates was talking to Max, all of them moving quickly toward him as he jumped out of the car and popped the trunk. He stood back, afraid to find out if he was still alive or if his inaction had led to his death. Pete leaned over Chaco and felt for a pulse and Deeks held his breath, unable to say a word.
"He's alive," Pete said, his voice raw with relief.
The four of them lifted him as gently as they could onto the gurney, but when the EMTs tried to strap him down, he came awake and cursed them, weakly trying to push them away, unable to see out of his badly swollen eyes.
"Tyler. It's Pete. You're safe, man. You're safe," he said. "We're taking you to the hospital."
"How?"
"Deeks got you out."
"No shit," he mumbled and then passed out.
He was quickly loaded into the ambulance, Pete jumping in to ride along with him after briefly squeezing Deeks' shoulder. Neither one said anything, but the look he got from Pete said everything he needed and he leaned heavily against the side of the car.
"You need a drink, kid," Bates said, putting a hand on his back and nudging him toward the back door to the bar.
Bates led him to a dark booth in the back and he slumped into the corner, the adrenalin in his body spent. Max came up and set a double shot of whiskey on the table in front of him, but he just eyed it, wondering if he should drink it.
"Drink it, Deeks," Max said softly. "It looks like you need it."
"Where are you staying now?" Bates asked gently as if he might scare him away.
"At Ruben's place in Santa Monica," he said, and downed the shot. "I'm his new confidant and bodyguard. Oh yeah, and glorified errand boy."
He could hear the sarcasm in his voice, but he didn't give a flying fuck how Bates took it. Bates and Max glanced at each other and then looked back at Deeks and said nothing. Not liking the silence, Deeks began to rant, pouring out the shit he had done, the shit he had heard, and the shit he'd had to watch.
"Did you see the shiny, fuckin' new car Ruben gave me?" His tone caustic and embittered. "Great perk accept for the fact I had to throw a fellow officer in the trunk after the assholes nearly beat him to death. Nice to be rewarded for letting your partner down, yeah?"
"You saved his life, Deeks," Bates said calmly. "And you didn't blow your cover."
"Yeah. Now they think I'm just like them. Nothing but a fuckin' animal," he snapped angrily. "Maybe that's what I am now."
"You done?" Bates finally asked. "Cause you're just talking bullshit now and we don't have time for it."
Deeks ran a hand down his jaw and around his mouth and then hung his head, trying desperately to find himself somewhere in all this.
"There was nothing else you could have done, Officer Deeks, and I think you know that," Max said calmly. "You came up with a solution on the fly and because of that, Detective Tyler is alive. So cut the crap about being like them. You're not even in the ball park."
"You're not just a bartender are you?" Deeks asked.
"My name is Max Stanton. Bates and I used to partner when we were detectives. I retired as a captain with LAPD. Worked Organized Crime and Vice. Before all that I worked undercover for a couple of years, so I know exactly how much anger and guilt you're dealing with right now, but you've still got a job to do."
"Yes sir," the man's experience surprising him, and calming him down a bit.
"They may want to know details about where you dumped Chaco," Bates said.
"I told them it would be better if they didn't know," Deeks said, the sarcasm gone.
"Smart, but if they change their mind, you'll need a good answer," Bates reasoned.
"Caught a case once where we found the body of our witness buried in the hills above Ojai on the edge of Los Padres National Forest," Max said. "Remote and difficult to get to. We only found it because the killer confessed."
"And it's far enough away to give you the rest of the day to deal with this," Bates added. "You're a little too close to the edge right now and you haven't had time to recover from your own injuries."
"I got a room upstairs you can crash in," Max offered. "I figure you can justify being gone four or five hours."
"Thanks."
"One more thing, kid" Bates said. "Purcell is being taken into custody by the Feds. His arrest will be on the evening news so Cortez will see it, and if he doesn't, make sure Borrega does. That should get Raul off your case until we can pull a raid."
"How long till that happens?" Deeks asked wearily.
"We need to know how far his distribution network reaches," Bates told him. "Street dealers, suppliers, as much as you can get."
"Gee, Bates, you make it sound so easy," Deeks' laugh was hollow, but the instructions helped him focus.
"If you can access their computers, copy everything onto this flash drive and drop it here," Bates said. "Max will see that I get it."
"You sound in a hurry?" Deeks said, reading the lieutenant's anxiousness.
"A couple of naval officers OD'd on that stuff, and NCIS is threatening to take over the investigation," he replied, sounding pissed.
"What the hell is NCIS," Deeks asked, getting a little pissed himself, after all he'd been through.
"Naval Criminal Investigative Service," Bates informed him.
"Never heard of it," Deeks said. "Are they any good?"
"To hear them tell it, they're the best," Max cracked. "Met one of their agents once. Full of himself and stubborn as hell."
"If they take over, where does that leave me?" Deeks asked.
"They'll let me know and I'll pull you out," Bates promised. "But the Operations Manager promised to give us till the end of the week until they do."
"No pressure there," Deeks scoffed.
"Play it smart, Deeks," Bates said softly. "I don't need another undercover in the hospital."
"Or dead," Max said, holding his gaze.
"Not on my To-Do List, sir," Deeks said quietly as he slid out of the booth.
"Get some sleep, kid," Bates said firmly. "You did good today. Real good."
"Thanks, Bates," he replied.
"Call me lieutenant once in a while," he said with a smirk. "It'll make me feel good."
"Yes sir, Lieutenant Bates, sir," he said with a sudden smile.
"Not sure that was the respect he was looking for, son," Max said.
"I think he's been a smart ass since the day he was born," Bates laughed. "You wrap these assholes up, Deeks, and you can call me anything you want."
Deeks smiled widely at that, a few choice nicknames coming to mind as he followed Max upstairs. He was tired and the room was small and warm and the bed incredibly inviting. He barely listened to what Max was saying and was surprised by the man's quick clap on his shoulder as he left. Deeks sat down hard on the bed, his mind spinning as he pulled his phone to call Pete. He wouldn't be able to sleep without knowing how Chaco was doing.
"Hey Deeks," Pete said, his voice quite low.
"How is he?"
"The doc says he's gonna make it," he answered. "He's not as pretty as he used to be, but thanks to you he'll be able to go home to his family."
"I didn't know he had one," Deeks said.
"Yeah. He lives with his sister and her two kids," he replied. "They're here now. They wanted me to thank you."
Deeks didn't know what to say, so he remained silent, tears suddenly clouding his eyes as he recalled what Chaco had looked like when Solano was through with him. A fierce rush of rage filled him and he simply ended the call without another word and collapsed back on the bed, his fists tightly gripping the coverlet. He had never felt the urge to kill someone before, and the disquieting feeling scared him. He crawled up into the middle of the bed as his mind became numb, finally giving in to his desperate need for sleep.
...
Bates was still agitated almost an hour after returning from the hospital to check on Detective Tyler. This was one of the toughest parts of his job, and it had hit him especially hard, since he blamed himself for not getting Purcell out of the picture sooner. If he had, Ben Tyler might not be in the ICU. But it was the fact that he hadn't seen this coming that bothered him the most. Raul Cortez had caught him off guard and he had no excuse for that. With all that had happened with Deeks, he should have realized just how unpredictable and paranoid the man was. It was only because of Deeks' quick thinking that he didn't have another officer's funeral to plan. Now, he was about to meet with Hetty Lange's agents in hopes that his plan would keep Deeks safe until they could put these animals in prison for good.
"Lieutenant Bates? I'm Agent Callen," the intense looking man said as he entered. "This is Agent Renko. Hetty sends her regards. She filled us in."
"Gentleman, have a seat," Bates' welcome was a little tart and he saw the agent raise an eyebrow.
"Bad time?" Callen asked.
"Just came from the hospital," Bates sighed. "One of my undercovers on this case was beaten within an inch of his life. These bastards thought he could tell them where Purcell was. If I'd moved on this earlier..."
"Second guessing yourself?" Callen interrupted. "Never does any good in my experience."
"Yeah, you're right," Bates said, trying to shake off his bad mood. "What are you going to say you're charging him with?"
"Assaulting a Federal Agent," Callen said with a smirk.
"Not far from the truth," Bates huffed out. "Beat up my rookie undercover. That's how we got into this mess."
"You're using a rookie undercover to take down a major drug dealer?" Renko asked, his baffled expression mirrored by Callen.
"Wasn't supposed to happen that way, but that's how it worked out," Bates grumbled defensively.
"How's he handling it?" Callen asked.
"My detective in ICU would be dead if it weren't for him," Bates said, becoming unhappy with all the questions. "Now let's do this so he can find the evidence we need to get this killer drug off the streets and put these bastards in jail."
"The news crew up to speed on this?" Renko asked as they followed Bates out.
"They're waiting for us at the rear of the building," Bates said.
"And they know all this is fake?" Callen asked.
"I could probably get Purcell to take a swing at me," Renko laughed. "I can be pretty obnoxious when I want to be."
"Remind me again why Hetty partnered me with you?" Callen asked.
"She thought you needed someone with a sense of humor," he quipped.
"You two done?" Bates growled. "The rookie cop and his partner saved the entire news crew's butts during the recent riots. The station was happy to help."
"Your undercover isn't even a detective?" Renko asked.
"Not yet," Bates said.
Bates found it hard to contain himself when he saw a federal tactical squad walk Purcell out of the holding cell. He briefly considered Agent Renko's idea to get the detective to hit him, but Purcell wasn't worth their time. He had enough charges pending to put the asshole away for some time, maybe even more once they brought down Cortez. Another federal agent dressed in a suit and tie walked out ahead of them as they exited the nondescript back entrance. Callen and Renko hung back and he turned to question why.
"We do a lot of undercover work ourselves for the Office of Special Projects," Callen informed him and Bates understood. "Helping a fellow undercover officer is our pleasure, but we also need you to read us in on what's happening with this investigation."
Bates nodded and turned to watch the black woman reporter who had stood up so valiantly in the face of rioters and for his rookie cop. She played her role perfectly, yelling out questions to the suit and tie agent, while her crew started filming. She appeared to force him to stop and give her the nature of the charges against Purcell, the reserved agent revealing that he would be tried in another venue and if convicted, sent away for a very long time. The cameraman had no trouble getting a full face shot of a glowering Purcell to seal the deal as he was hustled into the back of a black SUV. Bates let out a long sigh as they pulled away, knowing Deeks would make sure Ruben Borrega saw the story on the evening news. Now he could only hope they could make their case before these two agents from NCIS took over their case.
...
When Deeks returned to Borrega's place on the beach the sun was low in the sky, and the clouds on the horizon glowed a soft orange, which he paused to appreciate before he had to go in. Checking his clothing, he assured himself the small amount of blood and the dirt he had dusted over his pants hadn't brushed away on the drive over. He'd left a streak of blood on his shirt and neck and allowed some dirt to remain under his fingernails, wanting Ruben to see he had finished the job. He was in control now, the four hours of sleep helping to calm his nerves, and the bar itself giving him a safe haven to relieve the tension he'd been carrying. Max had let him know that their ruse about Purcell being taken into custody by federal agents would be playing on the nightly news and he needed to decide what reaction to play. He took a last look back at the silver Corvette, its once seductive shininess now tarnished by memories of Chaco's battered body stuffed in the trunk. He wondered if that image would ever leave his mind as he trudged up the stairs to the front door. He found Krista in the kitchen and Ruben was nowhere to be seen, and he could only hope the man would be around when the seven o'clock news aired.
"Ruben gone?" He asked softly as he entered.
"He's in the bedroom. Imani's with him," she said as she walked up and put a hand on his chest.
"Who's Imani?"
"The tall black girl," she said and kissed him, her tongue darting between his lips.
She was a sexy thing, and her hands moved up under his black T-shirt and over his abdomen and then around to the small of his back, one hand slipping inside his pants.
"You seem quite interested in my butt," he whispered against her ear.
"And what are you interested in?" Her voice so silky and soft you could get lost in the sound of it.
"I'm hungry," he said abruptly and pushed her away, noticing the brief flare of disappointment in her blue grey eyes.
"There's some left over Pad Thai," she said, pouting slightly which made him smile at the act she was putting on.
"Heat it up for me," He told her as he made his way to the sideboard and poured himself a drink.
He found he was angry, her transparent act of actually caring about him, growing old. He wasn't in the mood and he could tell she sensed that. She silently watched him as the Pad Thai heated in the microwave, her face solemn, but unable to keep the curiosity from her eyes.
"You want to ask me something?" He asked, swirling the whiskey in his glass, aware it wouldn't be smart to get drunk tonight.
"You're weird," she said.
"A good weird or a weirdo?" He laughed.
"You give off an odd vibe," she remarked as she took the plate of Pad Thai to the table. "I can't figure you out."
"Why do you want to figure me out?" Cautious now as he sat down and began to eat.
"I like you," she said as she sat down opposite him, tucking one leg underneath her. "But I don't think you're who you're trying to be."
"What the fuck does that mean?" His guard was immediately up, unsure why she had told him that.
"Like I told you before. You're not like them," she said. "But you're trying to be and that makes me sad."
"Bullshit," he snapped. "You're a high class hooker told to act like you give a fuck."
"That's not true," he said angrily.
"Which part?" He snapped out as he shoved his dinner away. "Being a hooker or giving a fuck?"
"Why are you being so mean?" She asked quietly, her face serious and her eyes full of questions. "Did something happen today?"
"I had to kill a man," he said, playing his part just as she was. "Tends to put me in a bad mood."
"Shit."
Her eyes were wide as she got up and took a step back, her mask slipping as she stared at him.
"Not so different from them now, am I?" He said softly.
He got up and walked out to the deck, the low clouds on the horizon now edging toward purple. The soft wash of the continuous waves was comforting, but he was still edgy after her comment and surprised by her intuitiveness. How could he fool men like Ruben and Cortez, but not this woman? He had underestimated her and he could only hope she hadn't mentioned her suspicions to Ruben.
He felt her presence behind him and then her hands on his shoulders, one crawling up into his hair, massaging away the tension tightening his neck.
"I've survived this life by reading men," she said softly, wrapping an arm around his waist. "You all play roles, even with women like me. I'm not sure why you bother. Maybe it's a machismo thing. Be careful tonight. Ruben's been drinking and he's real mean when he's drunk."
He turned around to face her, brushing her long bangs away from her face, his dirty hands stark against her ivory skin. Her lips were pale and he couldn't resist, his mouth capturing them, kissing her hungrily as his hand tugged the pink shirt off her shoulder. He pulled her close, his mouth now at the base of her neck as he tore roughly at the buttons on her shirt. He wasn't gentle, his sudden need surprising him, but he gave into his want, and her heard her laugh. Opening her shirt to expose her bare breasts, he yanked her close as his mouth closed over one, his dirty fingers tightening around it, making her gasp.
"Maybe you are like them," she whispered and the chill of her words shocked him and he pushed himself away.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, disgusted with himself. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," she said, as she came to him, lightly touching his cheek and kissing him softly. "We make an odd pair, don't we? Both of us playing at being something we really don't want to be."
"What would you be if you hadn't become a call girl?" He asked, holding her gently now.
"You'll laugh," she said.
"Promise I won't," he said.
"I wanted to be an artist," he said shyly. "I studied at USC for a couple of years, but my dad lost his job and we couldn't afford the tuition any longer. I tried to find a job, but the only thing that paid well was doing this. I discovered I liked sex better than being a starving artist."
"Were you good at it?" He asked as she shoved the leather jacket off his shoulders.
"Sex or art?"
"I think you're messing with me," he said as she tossed the jacket on a chair and ran her hand up under his shirt.
"What about you?" She asked, her hands slowly stroking his back. "What did you want to be?"
Her question made him recall his conversation with Pete the day he had instructed him about creating an alias. He was now living that lie he had created and wondered how much of what she had told him about herself was true.
"I had no options," he said bitterly and started to leave, but she grabbed a hold of his T-shirt and held him.
"Want to see my etchings?" She laughed lightly as she pulled him to her and ran her tongue along his bottom lip.
"Are they as beautiful as your tits?" He asked, the dark depths of his alias growing as she moved her body against him.
She smiled and began to undo his belt, but the sound of his name being shouted from the living room stopped her, and he felt the instant tension in her body. Ruben stood swaying slightly, Imani on her knees beside him, her hair gripped in his fist.
"Get the fuck in here, Marty," he shouted. "Let's trade whores."
Deeks froze at the slur of his words, his mouth dry as memories assailed him. The man was dangerously drunk and he wondered what had set him off. He walked inside, but Krista didn't move.
"Looks like you started the party early, man," Deeks said lightly, hoping to defuse the situation. "What's the occasion?"
"Which do you like more, Deeks?" He asked loudly. "Killing people or fucking?"
"You're drunk," he said, wary of the man, and very concerned about how this would play out.
"And you're a fuckin' killer," he spewed out as he released Imani and went to the sideboard and poured another drink.
"It needed to be done, so I did it," Deeks said sharply. "You got a problem with that? Raul didn't."
Ruben glared at him, his mouth sneering before he downed a shot of bourbon, throwing the glass aside as he stumbled out onto the deck. Deeks noticed that Krista was hastily putting on her shirt, but Ruben got to her and ripped it away, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her back inside.
"Let her go, Ruben," Deeks demanded.
"I own her ass, Deeks. I own yours too, remember?" He said, as Krista cringed beside him.
"You sound like Raul," Deeks said. "But you're better than him."
"Am I?"
He punched Krista hard in the stomach and she cried out, collapsing to her knees. Ruben never took his eyes off of Deeks, defiant and sick with pride. Smiling as he yanked her head back, he raised his fist to hit her again, but never got the chance as Deeks took two long strides toward him and hit him as hard as he could, knocking him to the ground. He tried to get up, but Deeks hit him where he lay, and he passed out. He reached for Krista, lifting her gently to her feet and she sagged in his arms, trying to catch her breath as tears streaked her makeup.
"You and Imani get dressed and get the hell out of here," he ordered.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and he could see real concern there, which surprised him. She reached up and touched his face and then seemed to come back to herself, quickly wiping her tears before picking up her torn shirt and slipping it on.
"I can't believe you did that," she said as Imani pulled on her arm, wanting to leave. "That was crazy, Marty. He'll get you for that."
"Just go, okay," he said. "I'll take care of things here."
"Thank you," she said quietly, and then looked at him quite seriously. "Get out while you can, or they'll kill you eventually."
He watched them go, unsure what he would do next or how this might affect his assignment, but he wasn't sorry. The man was as violent as the rest of them, and he had reacted without a second thought. This assignment had forced him to watch Chaco brutally beaten, but watching someone abuse a woman was the one thing he couldn't allow himself to accept.
Wanting a distraction as he waited for Ruben to regain consciousness, he turned on the television to the station that would carry Purcell's arrest. He had watched almost half the broadcast before he heard a low moan from Ruben, and then mumbled curses as the man struggled to get to his feet. Deeks didn't even turn around as the screen filled with the reporter's face he and Vernon had rescued all those months ago. He remembered her hitting on him at the hospital and he smiled inwardly as he recalled bantering with his partner afterwards. That night seemed like a lifetime ago.
"What the hell happened?" Ruben asked as he stumbled over and collapsed into one of the chairs.
"A few things," Deeks said calmly as he lowered the volume. "You're a mean drunk, for one. You hit Krista, so I hit you. But most important, if I can direct your sorry ass to the TV, the Feds just arrested Detective Purcell for assaulting a federal officer."
"No fucking shit?" Ruben said, holding a hand over his darkening black eye.
"Would I lie to you, boss?"
"Why the fuck did you hit me?" His voice dark with anger.
"You're lucky I didn't shoot you, man," he said, a warning plain in his tone. "I shot my dad for beating my mom one too many times, so shooting you ain't gonna be that tough. Remember, I'm a killer. Just like you said."
...
...