Chapter 49

A/N: Thank you to my lovely betas Chyrstis and Hunny!

Only one more chapter for this story!

XXX

"You realize this is a trap, right?" My stony look left him shrugging. "Just saying."

I knew I was heading into a trap, I wasn't an idiot. Some asshole named Hughes wanted a meeting, a meeting on a fucking boat, no less. A controlled environment where he would have all the power. It was a perfect place to attempt to kill me. Honestly, one would have to be a complete fool to think this wasn't a trap.

Hughes was apparently one of the others running for mayor. Aside from Winslow, he was the only one who had a real shot since only a few idiots would vote for the third parties. I supposed he believed the election was in the bag. I couldn't wait for the look on his face when he found out Winslow was still alive.

"I know. That's why you're going to be on standby with Julio." Aside from me, strangely enough, he was the best with the sniper rifle. All the pot he smoked had to have something to do with it.

"I still don't like it," Johnny said, his knee bouncing a mile a minute.

"Hey, I got this. Even dressed the part." I waved at my outfit. The Kevlar hoodie fit like a glove along with the joggers. The outfit was a prototype, supposedly bullet and fireproof. I wasn't eager to test it but I figured it would be a good idea, just in case. It still weirded me out that an Ultor rep had showed up at the church wanting to talk to about a sponsorship.

Imagine a better future, a brighter one, led by yours and ours. The guy had oozed slimey confidence and made me want to punch him. Or it could have been the fact that he was ogling me and slipped me his number. I barely refrained from punching him.

They were willing to pay good money for us to wear their clothing, but it rubbed me the wrong way. I could just imagine the little rich suburbanites wearing our colors pretending to be gangbangers. Gods, it'd be just like back home when a new rap album dropped.

Still, I'd talk to Jean-Baptiste later about it. Perhaps we could do something with this. After all, the gang needed more ways to launder money.

"You look like a hollywood ninja," he said when I played with the hood that had a connected facemask to it. I grumbled and gave him the finger, walking out of the room, my heels clanking on the stone floor. "Look at that, your ass disappeared," he called from behind me. I grumpily stomped out of the church, glaring at Julio who was sprawled on the steps, a joint on his fingers.

"You going to be okay shooting?"

"Don't worry, I got this mamí. This relaxes me, makes me real loose for those shots, as long as G-man doesn't wave some Gertrude Hawks in my face, I'm good to go."

"Gertrude Hawks?"

"It's this chocolate my cos sends me. That shit is amazing. They got this one dark chocolate pumpkin spice one that's shaped like pumpkins, and that shit is gone two seconds after I get it." He wore a dreamy look on his face as he talked about them. "Man, I cannot wait until October and all that good shit comes out. Going to be a basic bitch and pumpkin spice all that shit up in here."

He grinned. I rolled my eyes, pumpkin spice was horrible most of the time, they didn't even use real pumpkin. "Come on, you stoner, we got work to do." I twirled my keys as I walked over to Baby.

"We aren't taking that piece of shit," Johnny bitched as I got in.

"Yours is a two seater, mine is four."

"Yeah, four midgets maybe. It's a fucking clown car."

"Get in the fucking car," I snapped, rubbing the steering wheel in comfort. It was a damn good car and I fit in it just fine. Johnny grumbled under his breath the whole time as he pushed the seat back and folded himself in with dramatic flair. Julio took one look and climbed into the backseat via the trunk rather than fight with the seats and Johnny.

"You see this shit?" Johnny bitched, waving at his legs that weren't stretched all the way out. He sat more like he would at a desk rather than in a car, and his knees pressed against the console.

"Put your belt on," I snapped. He was starting to piss me off.

"What for? I'm fucking squished in this thing."

"Put on your belt and shut up, or I'll hit you so hard your balls will be bumps on your forehead," I snarled.

"You hit me and I'll punch your tit and given how little padding you got, it's going to hurt." I glared at him and opened my door so I could lean out. His look of confusion didn't last long since my bare foot connected with his skull.

"Say something smart and next hit will be with my shoe on." I rearranged myself, slamming the door closed and threw it into drive. He rubbed his jaw and glared at me.

"Next time do it with a skirt on at least," he drawled seductively, chuckling when my face flamed with embarrassment. "Man, how do you fuck when you get embarrassed from every sexual thing?"

"Fuck you."

XXX

"Yo, why is it all these politicians are always pasty fuckers?" Julio asked as he looked through the scope. "Like, look at that guy, I could spot him in the dark."

"Shit, you ain't kidding." Johnny chuckled. "Still, he's not as bright as Ang's hair." He watched as she walked up the gangplank marveling like always that she didn't get those heels of hers caught on something or slip. He scanned the rest of the boat, but only saw the same three people that Julio saw.

"Hey." The kid seemed more nervous than usual, his foot tapping fast enough that Johnny wondered if the kid had been doing uppers.

"What, you see something?" He swung his binoculars in the direction the kid faced.

"Nah, just like-"

"Spit it out."

"Is, like she the boss now or something? You and her have been doing all the shit but you're always looking to her, so what's going on?"

Johnny shrugged and scanned the shoreline. He wasn't sure what the hell was going on with leadership anymore. Him and Ang had a better lockdown than Julius ever had, and people liked them better.

Well, everyone loved Johnny Gat. Who wouldn't?

Ang though, she was harder to like. She wasn't the soft, giggling, smiling type of girl that often ran with the gang and won hearts and dicks. She seemed to have little care of who liked her, who didn't, and strangely enough, that shit always won their kind over. Julius just had the words and bravado but he didn't do shit like the two of them did. They were on the front line, risking themselves, not holed up in the church all the time. It never bothered him before, but losing Lin and then Ang being butchered by that doc made him look at it differently. He figured after they rescued him, they'd have a sit down and discuss Julius' place in the gang and their new way forward. Him and Ang had ideas.

"We'll talk about that later," Johnny said ruffling the kid's hair. He raised the binoculars back to his eyes, scanning the shore line, his eyes caught the flashing lights of a berry pulling up. "What the fuck?" His brain refused to connect the dots at first, slowing down, as if trying to save himself. His body, however, was moving on instinct, already propelling him forward, his hand on his knife, the gun would be too loud and would put Ang at risk.

"What the shit?"

"Watch the boss, I got shit to do!" Johnny called back to the very confused Julio. His brain, now in sync with his body, just repeated the same thing over and over again.

I FUCKED A COP.

XXX

It had been years since Troy had been behind the wheel of a police cruiser, but people still acted like a bunch of morons when he hit the lights. Something about the flashing triggered people's inner dumbass mode and it always slowed him down more than normal. At least that's what it felt like.

No one at the station had blinked an eye when he showed up in uniform and took a cruiser. Why would they? He looked like one of the crew. He beat down the part of him that was annoyed that he fit in more with the police than the Saints, reminding himself yet again, that it had always been temporary.

He shook off the thoughts as he pulled up to the church, surprised to see absolutely no Saints hanging around.

The place was a ghost town.

In a way it was good no one was around while he was like this; after all, they'd be more likely to shoot first and ask questions never, but it was unnatural to be this quiet.

He hadn't wanted to come here, the quiet magnifying how bad an idea this was. He didn't know what else to do, however, as Ang's tracker showed her in the middle of the ocean and she wasn't home. He didn't know how or when she learned about it. The church was his only hope of finding her.

He unsnapped his gun, keeping his hand on it as he walked through the church, the silence unnerving him. For five years, this place had never been quiet, even in the dead of night there was always something going on. Sweat pooled under his hat as he moved through the sweltering church towards Dex's usual room. He figured he could find one of Dex's rosters. She always stuck to the schedule, unlike others. Hopefully, he'd be able to grab her and get them the hell out of the city before shit got even more fucked. Dex's workbench was a mess, like someone had ripped it apart, papers, drawers, everything was askew.

"I reckon from your familiarity with this room, you are the undercover officer." Troy just about jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice. He didn't know the old man sitting at the table in the corner that Dex usually rested his eyes at.

"Who the fuck are you? Colonel Sanders?"

"I see the wit of this gang is universal," the old man said with a sigh, relaxing in his chair, as he played with a phone, presumably texting someone as his thumbs moved at a rapid pace. "Tell me, did little Angelique set out to find the stupidest gang or did she just strike gold with yours?" Troy's hand tightened on his gun. He didn't know who this man was and how he knew Ang, but about him just rubbed him the wrong way. "Monsieur Johnson, though I highly doubt that is your real name, I humbly request you remove your hand from your gun."

"Who are you?" Troy repeated through clenched teeth, his hand not moving. His eyes burned as the old man snapped a photo of him. "What the fuck?" he snapped as spots dotted his vision.

"Now, I know, I look like a kindly old man, but I assure you, this here cane is loaded with enough buck to take down a gator, much less what you've been defiling little Angelique with. Given her current mood, I'm sure she would approve," he said as he put down his phone and tapped his cane on the table, his eyes and smile cold. No, cold wasn't the word for it. This was death without any of the passion that most had. This man could kill him and continue on selling chicken without even caring.

"How do you know Ang?" he asked as he let his hand dangle down and tried to subtly move away from the blast range.

"Angelique," the man said firmly. Troy pursed his lips, fighting the urge to argue with the guy. Of course, her name was Angelique, but over her time in the gang she had shortened it. The silence grew and thickened before the dinging of a phone broke it. The old man looked at his phone, tsk-ing before looking at him again. "Have a seat Monsieur Bradshaw, we have business to discuss."

The world tilted under him, his heart spurting in shock as his breath froze in his lungs, his mouth flapping like a fish's as he tried to muster a protest or anything. "How?" he managed to choke out.

"This city's law enforcement is appallingly easy to bribe, I didn't even have to make it into four digits," he said as he shook his head. He motioned to the stool behind Troy for him to sit, his hand resting on the cane again. "Now, we have ourselves quite a quandary here, I'm quite frankly at a loss as to what to do with you."

"How about I leave and we forget this happened?" Troy suggested glibly. The old man unsettled him, to say the least. Given the man's age, Troy figured he was one of her father's associates, which meant he probably had no problem with gruesome murder. The scene from the files flashed in front of his eyes again. Whichever of her parents had done it, they had managed to keep the guy alive for hours. He could only imagine the ideas this guy would come up with.

"You realize that Angelique wants you dead, do you not?"

No, no he didn't. The idea shocked him. Sure, they had their ups and downs, but killing him? He was glad he was sitting down. "I don't understand," he said dumbly. He had figured that if he found her, he would just pass off the look and uniform as undercover and then tell her the truth later. Just get her safe first and worry about the rest when she wasn't armed. She couldn't be that mad about him standing her up, could she?

"Come on, it's a waste for a nice piece of ass to rot away in a prison, plus, think of all that money." Troy paled as his voice came out of the man's phone. "I throw her in the loony bin with her sister. I got her locked up there right now. Figure you know a judge that'd 302 her until she agrees to do what she's told."

"Oh Christ," he muttered in horror.

"I fear the Lord will not save you from the wrath of a Capulet. Looking at her extracurricular activities, especially her murder of an individual named Price, it should be obvious that avoiding little Angelique would be the best for your health." The man stroked his beard. "I'm sure you realize by now, since you pulled her parents' files from the lovely, yet inept, FBI, that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." The man chuckled. "Bless their hearts, they tried so hard to pin down the pair of them, only to fail more often than Wiley," he said, seeming to be talking more to himself than Troy.

"Does everyone know?" he asked past the lump in his throat.

"I fear not. Angelique was quite insistent on not revealing your treachery, in fact, her and Monsieur Gat went at it like cats and dogs." He shook his head. "I fear embarrassment and shame kept her from opening her mouth." He tutted.

"You trying to give my mom a run for the guilt trip champion?" Troy snapped, starting to get angry. He didn't need some old man he didn't even know trotting out his sins. "Look, you don't want me to find Ang, I'll find her on my own. She's in too fucking deep and she's going to get hurt," he said, getting out of his chair and glaring at the man. Anger, shame, and worry tore at him. So much of this was his fault, he didn't plan as well as he could have, and too many people were going to get hurt. He had to do damage control now and this old fart was in his way. "And you know what, I don't give a shit what you have me saying, I had to cover my ass, and what's her name," he snapped his fingers trying to recall the bitch's name, "Babette belongs locked away, abandoning her kid sister for her next fix," he said as he stormed out. He'd find Johnny and through Johnny he'd find Ang, he just knew it.

"What a strange young man," Jean-Baptiste said to himself as he went back to his work, making a note to talk to Angelique about him later.

XXX

Johnny always heard the phrase seeing red, but never experienced it first hand. Now he understood it completely. His anger burned white-hot like a blowtorch to his brain. It wasn't about the fucking. Nah, he had fucked a lot of people. It was the intimacy, the friendship, the shit he shared with someone he cared about. He wasn't sure who he was more pissed at, himself or Troy. He wanted to be wrong, so badly, but the look on Troy's face as he approached him, that guilty flash before that bored 'I've seen it all' facade of his crashed down, told him all.

"You motherfucker," Johnny growled as his fist connected Troy's face, preventing him from saying whatever he was going to say. "I get now why she didn't tell me who the narc was," he yelled as he punched him again.

"Johnny let me explain-" Troy tried to get out before his breath was stolen by a fist to a stomach.

"You didn't just fuck the gang, you fucked me. Jesus, I fucking cared for you," Johnny growled. "But don't worry, I won't stab you in the back."

The look of shock on Troy's face was one he'd relish forever as he sunk his knife in his stomach.

Unfortunately, his moment was ruined as the two of them toppled over, a wave of heat and sound washing over them.

XXX

Light brighter than the sun seared into my eyes before the world went dark. I screamed as blinding pain shot through my body, or I assumed I screamed as air moved out of my lungs. But I couldn't hear a sound. Not the talking of that pasty fat fuck, the whistling of that annoying bodyguard, or even the cries of the stupid fucking seagulls that never shut up. Why were they quiet?

The air was overcome with the scent of smoke, copper, and strangely bacon, the normal sewage smell of stagnant water nowhere to be found. There was a sense of weightlessness forever before there wasn't. I was crashing into the ground, the smack echoing throughout my body, making me cold.

No, wait.

I was pretty sure that the ground couldn't suddenly engulf me, stealing my breath. Nothing could have prepared me for the taste of this city's shitty water. Thick as syrup, dragging me down to its depths fully intending to unite me with Ursula.

I struggled to breathe, then not to as water filled my mouth, gagging me, not helping the situation. I struggled not to struggle, to fight my natural instincts to flail like a fucking moron. Up was down and down was up, I couldn't figure out where I was going. I screamed again and felt the bubbles flow past my face. I had been swimming downwards in my attempt to come up like the idiot I was. I struggled to go upwards to follow those bubbles to the surface. Bittersweet air flowed into my lungs, tainted by the smoke. The coppery scent returned, filling my nose, and coating my mouth. All I could taste was pennies and it was somehow worse than the water. I raised my hand to my face to try to clear my eyes, needing to find the source of that smell to get rid of it and screamed in agony.

It hurt.

Every movement hurt.

My fingers hurt as I touched my face that didn't feel like my face. It felt like raw hamburger.

Why does it feel like raw hamburger? Why domy fingers feel like sticks? Why can't I see? I was tired. So, very tired. I kicked my useless legs up, getting myself to float on my back. Babette had taught me how to float when I was little, I just needed to float so I could rest, but my body didn't want to move. Nothing wanted to work.

I just wanted to rest. Just sleep a little.

Just for a while.