Note from author: Both RHFan and Edgefire always make me smile with their reviews! Ha! You're brilliant, both of you! Thank you for reading and keeping TnT alive. Though I am swamped with work as most people are, I always have to find a way to continue the story. I hope you enjoy the ride, my friends. I hope it won't be too long before the next chapter. Pssst... no masks, yeah? :)

Caged: Reclamation

Chapter 25

The dispensary exuded the myriad but unmistakable scents of marijuana, pungent and sweet and skunky, a perfume instantly recognizable by most of these United States. The products were locally grown but also imported from various growers across the country. All legal, all legitimate. Téa listened patiently as the operator, Camilo, an enthusiastic young man averse to offers of college, diligent anyway, led her around the main room, sharing the medicinal qualities of the various strains they carried. He did mention, however, which ones gave the best high, and which ones were especially good for women with all their female pains and aches that hormonal havoc could cause. It wasn't offensive the way he delivered that information. Rather, he sounded particularly sensitive, like a man who grew up around women. Who cared.

Before they entered the back room, presumably where she'd be meeting with unhappy workers thanks to Los Muertos interference, Téa asked, "Who's here?"

From behind her, she sensed the movement of her guards, a hushed word or two. She wasn't herself, off her game, Camilo talking, his jaws bearing stubble, eyes bright with anticipation, lips slightly wet from a nervous tic. "Everybody," he said without mentioning names, an absence that Téa slid right over, "upset at all that's going on…"

She swallowed hard and blinked, working to pull herself together. She didn't know what derailed her but something did. She nodded, a pretense of comprehension. Right, everybody who cares is here, right, right… And without asking for it, without conscious effort, the soap scent from earlier rose in her head, the ordinary soapy smell wafting from Mark's body, "fresh laundry," bouncing in her head, bright shiny orange letters from a boxed bar of soap she'd seen in a local bodega. Hands slid across lathered skin in her mind, smiles breaking on two faceless faces in steam. Goddamnit. She took a breath and stilled her features, sinking into a place of not feeling anything, knowing she now wore an expression people took as tough, her "prosecutor" look, the look that set people on edge. Had to go there because she was… off balance.

Why?

Soap.

"Is Rolon Lopez here?" she asked.

"Yes, señora, in the back already."

"Anything I need to know that you haven't said?"

He paused. Looked around the empty shop, gazing briefly at the two guards in black near the front door, faces covered, packing absolutely. Though the place had been closed for the meeting, empty seemed the usual, in truth. They struggled these last weeks, Muertos pulling customers, bribing them away. In Spanish he said, "We want blood. We want your permission."

Sangre.

No pretending anymore who Téa was, who owned the shoes she had stepped into.

Tony had remained visibly exasperated at the short notice of this replacement for Mark, huffing as he exited the SUV. The place boasted a neon buzzing "Health Goods" sign in the darkened storefront window. Lanzo and Victor had gone ahead, entering the dispensary first to make sure it was safe for Téa. Rolon let everyone know the attendees were known and safe for Téa. Once the all-clear came through the two-way earpiece, Tony directed quietly but affirmatively that "Mark" hang back with him. As was protocol, the second half of the team would wait a few minutes to watch for sudden unannounced visitors to the meeting before joining the others. That was when there was another shift, Mark and Tony staying with Téa and the other team splitting up, one out front, one out in the alley in back. They just never knew when surprises would come their way.

As soon as the storefront door shut, as Téa entered the shop, Tony turned hard to Todd and snapped, "I don't know who you are-"

"You said you knew…like… who I was..."

Impatience overflowed at the smart-ass comment. "I don't know what game this is, but so fucking help me, I will kill you if you fuck anything up and La Reina gets hurt. Mark is professional and goddamn good at what he does. YOU… I got no idea if you have any knowledge on how to protect Téa, if you got ANY knowledge AT ALL!" He spoke in a harsh, heated whisper. "Rolon said to trust him but I don't trust anyone I haven't reviewed with my own eyes and ears."

Ohhhh, Todd grunted softly, eyes down then up, giving a nod, lightbulb flashing. He'd been struck by Tony's furious grip of his arm back at the headquarters. He had in fact said, I know who you are, but clearly he meant… I know you ain't Mark. It wasn't a loud thing, but it had stunned him a little, an old reaction stirring, low level. Are you touching me? Are you fucking touching ME? Seeing Téa had taken over his brain, his entire self, so he spent no actual time on it but it was there. And now the tight grip suddenly made sense and he wanted to laugh at that dull throb of gall still stinging. Still the goddamn King, yeah? Is your hand on me? How dare you, sir, how dare YOU! The whole story had in fact NOT been explained to Tony. He was in the know, but not entirely. Rolon must have just said… it isn't Mark, pretend it is, details coming later. Well, haha on all of them, yeah?

Surprise!

With a sniff, Todd nodded, "Been cleared by Lopez."

"Does Téa know about this pretending shit?"

Todd shook his head, drawling, "Nah, she don't know and… prolly you ought'nt say anything 'bout it if you know what's good for ya." He scanned the small parking lot, getting a feel for the neighborhood. Saw graffiti, a run down shopping center across the street that matched the one they were at, gentrification not hitting this area yet. When he returned to the fuming man in front of him, he saw that Tony was about to unleash on him except in their earpieces they both heard, "All clear, TD talking, about to move to meeting room. Team 2, get in place."

"Copy," Tony spat into the hand-held radio. He narrowed his eyes at Todd, growling as they walked, "When this shit is over today, you, me, and Rolon are gonna talk, no goddamn mask, I need fucking information."

Todd wondered if Tony would know him if he pulled off the balaclava. He really didn't know how far Blanco's reputation stretched. He knew people knew of him… remembered how for years men of a certain look, clearly of a certain criminal background, would spot him in a crowd, in a restaurant, giving him a nod, stepping aside, making respectful room… even when he was with Téa and the kids. That prison still followed him had always horrified him but worse, the respect was a pit-in-his-stomach reminder that MK owned him. Over time though, later, even in Cuba, he used it as a gauge on his station in MK. The greater the deference to him, the higher he was in pecking order.

But sometimes he would go unnoticed, people he knew in the life not knowing his face, not recognizing him in public spaces. He didn't know if it was legitimate non-recognition or it was simply a refusal to recognize him.

Just didn't know.

"Sure, boss," Todd said in his intentionally gravelly, breathy voice, Tony giving one more narrow-eyed glance at him, his most-likely-pissed-off expression covered by his own balaclava.

The two men entered the store, Téa near the back, visible. She turned and studied the them as they approached her. Tony heard an all-clear from Victor in the alley behind the shop and then said in a harsh whisper, "I'm gonna go inside the back room with Téa while you stay out here-"

"I need to be with her," Todd said quietly, glancing casually at Tony, hoping Tony got that there was no choice in this.

Tony huffed though in stress and eyed Téa, cursing under his breath, "I… don't… know… YOU. Fuck if you're gonna be the only guy in there for her."

"Rolon is there, yeah? That makes… two... with her." He drew two fingers into a peace sign, looked at them, and then looked at Tony.

That ended it. Tony nodded, angrier than a cat in a bathtub, relenting because Camilo was opening the door. "Go...go!" he spat.

And he did as he was directed, Todd moving towards Téa as she followed Camilo into the back room while Tony remained in the store to watch for uninvited guests. He walked with a conscious effort to not limp, to not give away his one obvious vulnerability in pretending to be Mark, but truth was… he couldn't quite do it. It was there… and if anyone remembered, if anyone had thought anything of it as it related to Blanco… his cover could very well be blown. Especially here.

Where they likely ALL knew Blanco.

Thoughts of that vanished though as he got near Téa, close enough that if he reached out he could touch the reds, the orange, the greens of the silky dress, could place a warm hand on the small of her back, could grip her waist and pull her to him. He grunted silently and bit down, a hand drawn into a fist, the torture of staying hidden almost immediately more than he could bear. Téa's hair had grown long, her dark locks shimmering with new strands of gray he hadn't seen earlier. He swallowed noisily, imagining, knowing maybe, that he had given her those markers of stress. It was all he could do to not throw his arms around her, drag her away, and… run.

The feeling only grew when he walked into the room and saw exactly who she was meeting.

Jesus fucking Christ…

This was no workers-comp-union-neighborhood-graffiti sorta shit. These weren't just unhappy Method Maker operators. Not one goddamn bit. He searched the room for Rolon and found him, locking eyes with him, blazing eyes saying… WHAT THE FUCK? Rolon, who did not wear a balaclava since he wasn't part of the security team, made no expression, simply gave a near-imperceptible nod, acknowledging the precariousness of the situation the two men were in, all for La Reina.

Téa had her head up as she marched into the makeshift conference room. It wasn't big, the room a storeroom at some point, stuff shoved to the sides, piled high, chairs brought in and scattered, no table, no space for one. She wasn't familiar with most of these faces but by the diverse look of each and every man, only men, she realized she just walked into a lion's den of sorts. It wasn't exactly an ambush though. She thinks the United Nations idea behind this meeting was mentioned at some point. Couldn't quite say it was earlier than a few minutes ago. Rolon's calm suggested it was known. She just hadn't moved it to the super-organized part of her brain. For some reason unknown to her.

Who's here?

Everybody who cares is here.

Indeed.

A few of her own were there but the rest were the leaders and lieutenants of all five allied gangs to MK. Some standing, some sitting. She smiled cooly and leaned back against a tall filing cabinet, occupying a spot as close to the proverbial head of the table as she could approximate. Mark had disappeared into the shadows of the room along with his good refreshing clean skin. She kept Rolon in her line of vision, understanding that it was actually Rolon who was keeping HER in HIS line of vision since he moved periodically depending who shifted, who stood, who sat. He stood next to an MK soldier who ran a nearby dispensary also being disrupted by Muertos. They spoke to each other, again his eyes constantly on her.

She looked at the crowd in front of her.

"Welcome," she said, smiling a Mona Lisa smile, "what can I do for you all today?"

And at that, the men got to their feet, all talking at once, pushing towards her like a swarm of hornets about to attack. Rolon moved fast, she saw. She put her hand up and wagged her fingers in a "bring it" motion, intending to encourage the talk, the yells, the calling out of their problems. She didn't try to quiet them. She listened. Nodded. Gazed at different men speaking before skipping to the next person.

The general complaint, expected...

Fucking Muertos need to be removed, our region needs to be retaken, and we're the ones to do it.

How to eliminate Los Muertos, WHO would eliminate them, seemed to be the main points of contention.

The swarm threw Todd back in time in an instant, suddenly in the underground club next to Pedro Moreno or in the yard at Statesville where prison politics pitted gangs against the other and he had to learn weaknesses and use them to systematically remove threats to MK dominance, where he had to forget he had love and a family…

He locked eyes with Rolon across the room once more and moved closer to a spitting-angry man who began inching towards Téa. Without a lot of thought, instinct rising up like a hiccup, Todd slammed his shoulder into the raging leader after he took one step too many towards Téa, hissing, "Back!"

The command and shove shocked the man, wide eyes landing on the masked bodyguard's cold ones. Todd recognized him now, knew him. Ciqala Cross, head of the burgeoning Native American gang, the Disciples, come to the region to reclaim lost lands and lost power. They spent time together, in the streets after Todd had gotten out of prison. Knocked back drinks together. Negotiated gambling and drug territories together. Ciqala did back off, dark stormy eyes taking in the immovability of the guard. He grunted a quiet, "da'fuck?" but then signaled to the others to cool themselves with a glance and settling hand gesture. The voices lowered, quiet coming.

Todd scanned the crowd and stepped away a couple of steps, but not leaving his position close to Téa. Close enough to touch.

Ciqala though… he kept looking at that guard with the light eyes that promised a lot of pain without saying a word to that effect. He rubbed his chest, that brick of a shoulder hitting him in a way that triggered a slew of non-specific memories and wonderment. Couldn't say why. Couldn't quite recall a specific memory exactly, just a rush of familiarity in it. No time though to muse on it because Téa Delgado stood straight up and started talking.

"I know," she said quietly, "I get it. We're all being strangled by Los Muertos. They've infiltrated our neighborhoods, our livelihoods—"

"They're literally killing us," Mychal Cho said, leader of the Chinese Fifth Street organization.

"We gotta end 'em," Jonnie Grant snapped, local Posse member, "no uh-der way!" A lot of shouts in agreement followed, lasting a few minutes.

"We can't have a full out war," Téa said once the room hushed. "I won't have that kind of blood on my hands, I won't let you carry that."

In Spanish, Camilo demanded, "So what is your recommendation, Reina?"

There was a thread of sarcasm in his voice, getting Todd and Rolon both to snap eyes on him and everyone around him. To shift in their stance, just in case.

"Cripple their supplies," Téa said with a slight chuckle. Lifting a hand, she counted off her points, "They're completely dependent on Mexican heroin, Irish meth, local marijuana. Weapons are coming from Russia. Find the suppliers. Make things… difficult. Use everything you have to compromise the suppliers. All of them, all at once. The sudden drought will weaken them and allow all of you to move back in. Retaking what was yours. The suppliers will put them out of business. Not you. No blood spilled."

Todd dropped his head and smiled. He almost laughed aloud at her using his playbook.

Delgado… who'd a'thunk it?

"Oh what?" she said at the skepticism coming her way. "Not fast enough? Not easy enough? Still want blood?" Téa narrowed her eyes and started calling them by name. "Francisco, your cousin is a private eye for God's sake. Use him. Shelby, you have a police detective in your pocket. And Thomas… Mayor Napalotino is your brother and has been taking a cut of your business from the get-go. Every one of you has power to dig and cripple access to those suppliers. And if you can't, then maybe you have a heretofore unknown connection to Los Muertos. If you can't interrupt the supply, then maybe you're in on it."

Todd and Rolon locked eyes once again, a dead silence falling over the room like night. Divide and conquer was NOT Todd's playbook. He turned and studied Téa a moment. Unsure now of what she was doing.

The fuck? Suggesting insiders are bringing in Los Muertos? Purposefully? Intentionally? Or was it just a tactic? But to what end?

Smoothing her dress, she eyed each of the men in that room. "We are together on this. On lifting our members socially, economically, our families, our neighborhoods. That's what Method Makers does… and yet animals are running amok. I'm with you. The need for them to be ended. But not with YOUR blood. And spilling theirs will demand you spill YOURS. I won't have it. Method Makers is here to lift all of you, not end you. Find the suppliers and squeeze these bastards. They'll go back to the squalor from whence they came. Or maybe become a better buyer than Los Muertos. Unless… they are in fact what you want. Unless… YOU brought them here."

A low murmur spread through the crowd. A man in the back said aloud, "I gotta line on this. I'm in. They'll get desperate. They'll aim their hate outside. They'll fight the suppliers, not us."

Conversation started and Téa began talking to the leaders individually. Rolon slowly made his way to Todd. They watched the crowd like hawks.

Todd growled under his breath, "What's she doing, Lopez? They're gonna get suspicious of each other. Not good."

"I stopped applying what I know… to anything your wife does."

They heard serious talk, some disagreements, two on the verge of a fistfight that got held back thanks to Rolon, Todd moving again right next to Téa. Then the temperature normalized again and he saw Téa beaming, smiling. It could have been a coffee hour someplace but for the sheer weaponry in the room. Todd didn't like it. Couldn't believe the trust being given out like candy. Couldn't believe her comfort in this environment. She stood there as if hosting a Chamber of Commerce meeting in a cozy suburb. Todd watched every man trying to talk to Téa, looking each one in the eyes, evaluating each one, warning them.

And they felt it.

By the time Téa had met with every leader, coordinated a deadline to name and locate and possibly incapacitate the suppliers of the railroad so to speak, an invisible line of demarcation had been drawn not just around her but around the bodyguard. Todd had so loudly messaged his warning that these men maintain their cool AND respect that every one of them unconsciously kept a distance from Téa. And in that deference, eyes drifted surreptitiously to the masked bodyguard as they spoke to Téa. They quietly took him in, the way he stood with his arms down, light black jacket open, his gun an obvious bulge. The snake tattoo that didn't get covered all the way by the balaclava, a spitting venomous snake common among MK men. They tried to ignore the light eyes boring down at them. Tried to dismiss the black energy pushing back at them.

But it was impossible. The only other person they knew with that kind of force… well… he was dead, wasn't he?

When Téa left, walking through the crowd, out the door, out the storefront, Todd walked behind her. And the men made room… not so much for the diminutive yet absolutely powerful Téa Delgado, the Queen unquestionably, but also for that strange bodyguard that they knew if they crossed… that there would be a terribly familiar price to pay. Couldn't put their finger on how they knew this. Couldn't understand why they capitulated to his bullshit, but they did.

He eyed all of them as he walked past them. And each and every man stepped back at the undeniable threat he gave them.

Still a King, still that motherfucking unpredictable bastard from Statesville.

Try me.

When they climbed into the SUV, Téa said, "That went well, don't you think?"

Todd rubbed his face through the mask, hard. Breathed tightly, gritting his teeth. Tony had said "yes, think so," which only further lit Todd up. He turned in his seat, not enough to lay eyes on her but enough to catch her in his periphery, and said in that gravelly voice, one not like his own but certainly not like Mark's.

"Are you… insane?!"

Tony shot out an arm, actually punching Todd's chest, hard enough to make him grunt and throw a hand up to where that iron fist landed. "Show some respect!" Tony snapped.

Téa laughed and said with an unrevealing lilt, "Let him talk. I'm… interested."

"No, Reina," Tony said. "You don't need this one's opinion."

Todd had turned forward again, his leg bouncing, the rest of him a shaking bundle of repressed rage.

"You mean… Mark," Téa said.

"Yeah. Mark," Tony said softly.

Téa watched the upset guard, settling back in her seat. Curious. He didn't smell like clean fresh out-of-the-shower soapy-ness anymore. No, the scent was different, musky, a slightly animal quality to it that made its way over the seat, up her lap, into her lungs and right to the hot core between her legs. Well, well, well. He stretched his neck, rolling it slowly until it cracked. Another aggravated grunt. Curious. Mark…. had never shown such raw emotion. Never. Mark was cool, unflappable, as in Queen's Guard at Buckingham Palace cool.

Not today.

Curious.

Leaning forward, Téa planted her hand on his shoulder, squeezing through the black cotton jacket. Feeling how hot he was. How hard the muscle beneath. And his reaction.

Curious.

When Todd felt her hand on him, delicate but firm, a touch he knew intimately, her effort at calming him part of why he loved her, he stiffened. Held his breath. Eyes closing with the sheer torture of it. It took everything in him not to jump back over the seat, to shake her until she saw stars, and then drag her out of this fucking car... to run, run, run.

In Spanish, she purred, "What is wrong, my protector?"

Tony had turned and saw the hard stop in the guard. It struck him as strange. Some expert he was… shrinking at her? Losing control at her? There was a lot happening in that guy's head and it triggered red flags like crazy. He gripped the steering wheel. He was going to rip Rolon a new one for this and end the charade.

"Reina... leave him. He's got thinking to do. Don't you?!"

"Yeah," Todd rasped, shrugging away from Téa. Petulantly. Like a child. And he immediately regretted it because that was exactly what he did whenever Téa tried to comfort him in exactly the way she did now. Fuck. He couldn't be someone else for the life of him.

Fuck!

"I do want to know what you're upset about… Mark."

Todd tightened his lips, closing his eyes as he turned to the window, as if he could disappear, but Téa repeated her question. "Well? Tell me."

"Later… Reina," he said bitterly, his use of her nickname heavy with derision, heavy with a Spanish accent. He held his hand to his chest, expecting another punch at his brazen lack of appropriate respect.

Completely. Unable. To be. Someone else.

Téa chuckled lightly, unmoved by the guard, not giving two shits about what bothered him, dismissing everything.

She settled back. Sighed and watched the trees pass her by. She felt Todd now. Not Blanco. Todd. Felt him in her blood. In her heartbeat. Mark's shrugging away her hand worked to bring back in total the remembrance of the soap. Lathered hands on her arms, white bubbles all over, a cheeky grin in the steam of their shower, his cock eager and reacting healthily to her own soapy hands. It wasn't the sex for sex's sake that had been seared into her with this memory, it was how open he had been that morning. It had been one of those "firsts" since he'd come home from Statesville that he wasn't desperate, that he wasn't fighting for normality. That morning he had been joyful, playful, pulling her into the shower away from the children, ages before she knew about MK. He had smiled so impishly, so plainly in love with her, eyes lit from inside, just enjoying who they had become. He was home. He had knocked his head back in the rainfall and just let her touch him, his entire body, his sensitive spots, his scars. He had just let himself be, and let her do to him whatever she wanted. It was blissful. Unforgettable. A rarity.

She didn't ask for that memory Mark's soap had triggered, and just the same, without calling them up, didn't ask for the tears stinging her eyes or the voice in her head.

I miss you, mí amor, mí vida. I miss you like nothing I have ever missed in my life.

She stayed quiet the rest of the way to Method Maker headquarters, watching the trees and other cars and the horizon lit with the orange of the sinking sun, the tears silently rolling down her cheeks. Said nothing as she left the SUV once there, as she climbed the flights to the top floor, as she slammed the door to her private apartment.

After everyone parked and exited the vehicles, Tony breathed to calm himself as he watched Téa disappear inside and head upstairs, clearly moody and unapproachable. The guards headed towards their designated security offices in the basement of the old farmhouse, tearing off masks and jackets, ready to have a debrief.

Except Tony grabbed Mark by the arm and barked at Rolon, demanding they meet in one of the private conference rooms on the second floor. When the three were in the room, he shut the door and locked it. He turned and noticed, aghast mind you, Mark's slamming down on a leather chair and throwing a boot up on the table, lounging back like he fucking owned the joint. He still wore the balaclava even though Tony and Rolon had removed theirs.

"Take it off, asshole," Tony growled. Turned to Rolon when Todd didn't do anything, just continued his panther-spread on the conference table and executive-style chair. "Jesus Christ! Lopez!"

Rolon shook his head at Todd and said softly, "He's gotta be in the know. Take it off."

Todd tilted his head like a dog, glaring at Tony, no idea why he felt the need to direct so much venom at the guy who only wanted to protect Téa, then bent forward and pulled off the mask, rubbed his hair, and looked up. And… he couldn't deny the satisfaction at seeing Tony.

Across the room, all the blood drained from the lead bodyguard's face, visibly, even against his olive-colored, tending to brown, skin. Yeah, he could feel it as he took in the sight of the man he'd punched, man-handled, cursed, name-called, and generally treated like shit. He plopped down on a chair, whispering hotly, "Jesus Christ... Blanco. MK… MK..." Suddenly his tongue didn't operate like it should have.

Todd sniffed and gazed coolly at dumbstruck Tony. He meant well. But lessons are still important. Especially because of Téa. He got to his feet and walked right up to the man, hearing Rolon groan softly in Spanish, "Come on, hermano… come on… he's got it figured out." Without any flair, Todd pulled his gun out of its holster, readied it, and pressed it to Tony's head, Tony breathing in shakily, his hands up, white-flagging it as best he could. "I didn't know it was you," he said in a near-whisper.

Todd bent close to Tony, the gun digging into the side of Tony's short black hair, scraping his scalp. "Yeah, I know," Blanco said in a voice that was purely his own. No rasp, no breathiness, just as much malevolence as he could muster for the sake of making a point. "I just wanna make sure that shit ain't ever happening again. You don't question me, you don't challenge me, you don't say shit to me. Understood, Antonio?"

All Tony could do was nod, sighing emptily, knowing it wasn't a fair fight and he would lose no matter what. He didn't know important facts and he had a job to do with an unknown who certainly looked like he could screw things up royally. Now he wondered… wait… Téa doesn't know? WHY? Not that he could ask. He sat still as death until he felt Todd pull the pistol back, reset the safety and place it back in the holster. Tony glared at Rolon who only shrugged, the thing out of his control. This was definitely Blanco's game. This was absolutely in line with everything he knew about him. Todd Manning, aka Blanco, was a real bastard and well… kind of crazy. And kind of brilliant too. It's why Pedro Moreno gave everything up to him.

"I did not have the time to get the details to you, Ton'. Sorry. I thought maybe...Blanco…would be invisible, like a fuckin' spirito, that he would be quiet in his pretending to be Mark. Which he was NOT!" He stared at Todd reclining again on the executive chair, staring back at Rolon.

"I didn't know just how off the fuckin' rails my WIFE had gone. I was a little… flustered."

"FLUSTERED?" Rolon shook his head.

"Flustered. Like a bird in a shitstorm. Divide and conquer? The fuck, Rolon!" He had sat up and slammed a fist on the table. "All those bastards out there are gonna be looking at each other and not at the goddamn suppliers! WHAT?! WHAT IS SHE DOING?!"

Tony and Rolon both shook their heads.

"Don't know," Rolon hissed. "It's new to me."

Todd sat back and smoothed his beard in aggravation, rubbed his hair and picked up the balaclava again. Thinking. Playing with it, stretching it, lost in thought.

"She is… angry," Tony said softly. "Maybe that's her plan. Maybe she wants all the gangs to kill each other off."

Rolon sighed thickly… and gazed at Todd who had lifted his eyes to Rolon. Sounded about right. Total revenge. Wipe the region clean of ALL the gangs. It was hard to make that a reality, in truth. It was an impossible goal, in fuckin' truth. As long as Americans wanted illicit drugs and guns and gambling, there would be suppliers of the goods. It was just a matter of who had the most toys, who had the most power, who controlled access to the most suppliers of the goods. Owning the rail lines was how it was all controlled. Todd spent years negotiating with those suppliers, playing games with the proverbial railroads… the gangs themselves. Suppliers couldn't get to buyers without middle men. MK lorded over as many middle men as possible by using carrots of money, legitimacy. It wasn't complicated.

So what was Téa doing?

The minutes ticked past and the room's automatic lights flipped on as night began to come on, dusk bringing a grayness to the sky.

"Téa has locked herself away in the upstairs apartment. Not going home tonight, I think. Leaving those kids with Viki, Jedediah," Rolon said.

"People watch the house, yeah?" Todd asked.

"Oh yeah, Posse, some old MK soldiers."

"Who stays here to make sure she's okay… locked up there in her tower with her long Rapunzel hair."

"Team members," Tony said. "We watch her. We switch off. She ain't never alone, Blanco."

What went unsaid… that Blanco had left her alone. He hmm'd, nodding. "So who's on tonight?"

Tony rolled his eyes, "Mark… Victor. We also have night staff that monitors campus video."

"I'm Mark then… so I'll stay. Tell old Vic to stay home."

Tony quirked at that. "Victor has to be here! Without him she's got no real—"

"No real...what?"

That coldness, deadness, held Tony still. He wasn't supposed to challenge the King. His shoulders slumped. "The mask?" he finally choked out. "When Mark is here… it's off."

"Well it's not gonna be off tonight. I'll watch her. I gotta talk to her."

"So that's it… you gonna get killed when she realize who you are," Rolon said sharply. "She will cap you and I can't say it ain't deserv-ed."

Tony began to get a picture of the WHY.

"Nah...she won't. Mark is perfectly safe with his mask on. Where are these… guys... on night staff?"

"Basement offices," Tony grumped. "A couple of men monitoring the cameras, a couple outside."

"Nobody else inside?"

"Nope, lady's say-so," Rolon said. "When she's in residence, everyone leaves at 7:00 p.m.- ohhh shit. Lucia's birthday party is tonight. Maybe she won't stay then."

"Kick everyone out now. It's after five. End of business day somewhere," Todd said. "Lemme see about getting her home… tonight."

Rolon threw his hands up, giving up. "I have spent YEARS protecting YOU from your own shit. I ain't doing it tonight. You're on your own. If you die, you die, and it's on YOU. Tony, let's go. Leave this fucker to his fuckery."

The two men stood and headed to the door, one last look on the reclining King, his eyes on his fingernails, thoughts definitely not on them.

They left him behind… and the lights flickered off because there was only a ghost in the room.

To be continued….