Title: Hogwild
Author: Allykat D.
Rating: R (language, sexual situations, violence, and more language)
Keywords: MPJR/P/A
Summary: Jarod is consumed by a pretend when he becomes an outlaw biker to join a gang and expose a gun running ring. Raines' threat motivates Miss Parker to find Jarod, and when she does, it becomes a mission to rescue the man she once knew.
Spoilers: Pretender: Isle of the Haunted.
Thanks to: Lindsay for the transcript of the telephone conversation between Jarod and Miss Parker in IotH. And to the paramedics in the coffee shop for all their medical help and advice. It's good to get it right!
Author's note:
I had this posted, but took it down to redo it and ad a new scene. I think it flows better. Also, when I post to fanfiction.net, some of
the italics are being dropped. I have
no idea why. So to designate italics,
I've fallen back on my old habit of enclosing them in asterisks.
HOGWILD
Chapter One: Plans & Schemes
Phoenix, Arizona
Outside a faded green house, Juanito stepped out of the front door and smiled up at the tall, dark haired man whom he called his big brother.
"What are we going to do today?" he asked. Last week on their day, Jarod took him to the water park where he rode on big water slides and slid down manmade rivers in inner tubes. It had been great fun. Much of the time, Jarod seemed like a big kid to Juanito and not like the other grownups he knew. Jarod was fun.
Jarod reached over and mussed Juanito's dark hair. "How about a game of basketball," he suggested and held up the basketball he had tucked under one arm. "After that we'll go for a horseback ride in the desert. I met a rancher who has a nice pinto pony just for you."
Juanito's eyes lit up. "A pinto pony! That'd be cool." He had always wanted to be a cowboy. He followed Jarod down the cracked cement walk to the sidewalk.
Jarod and Juanito dribbled the basketball back and forth to one another as they walked toward the high school and the courts. Jarod had been a member of the Big Brothers group for several months now, and though he was a big brother to several boys, Juanito was his favorite. He'd come to Phoenix on a lead about his sister that he'd received over the Internet. The lead had turned out to be a false one, but he'd stayed in town anyway. Phoenix seemed an unlikely town for the Centre to search for him.
Two of Juanito's neighbors, young men who rode loud Harley Davidson motorcycles, sat on the edge of a sagging front porch and waved to Juanito and Jarod.
"Como esta, Juanito y Jarod?" one called. "Come and have cerveza with us, eh?" The invitation was made in good humor. They always offered, Jarod always declined. They even offered to teach him to ride their motorcycles. Jarod had to admit fascination with the machines, gleaming with chrome and meticulously maintained, their perfect condition in sharp contrast to the shabby house.
"I get to ride a pony!" Juanito called to them.
"How about a Harley?" the other called. "You'll get lots of chicks. Come on Jarod, surely you could use a few hot mommas hanging off your arm."
Jarod laughed and shook his head. "Last time I had a hot momma, she put me in handcuffs and pulled a gun on me."
"Sounds like my kind of woman!" one called and they both laughed. "Introduce us!"
Jarod figured he couldn't win that conversation, and kept walking.
The neighborhood where Juanito lived was not a good one, and to call it lower middle class might be too kind. The houses were ill kept and weeds had taken over most of the front lawns. Exteriors consisted of peeling paint, and the rusted skeletons of various vehicles on blocks littered the sidewalk curbs. A few owners had made attempts to clean up their houses with too-bright paint and new plants, but the blight of the area seemed to infect everything. Neither of them took note of a late model car, patches of bondo marred its chalky blue paint job, that slowly turned the corner a block away and cruised down the street. A window opened. Sunlight glinted off a gun barrel. Jarod turned and everything slowed down.
"Get down!" he screamed, his words drowned out by a barrage of gunfire.
Bullets shattered windows and ripped through the house's siding. The two men rose and tried to escape, both catching the impact of the bullets, their bodies convulsing in a macabre death dance before collapsing in a pool of blood. Jarod tackled Juanito, taking him down to the sidewalk and covering him with his body. A bullet clipped his upper arm, hot and painful, another nipped at his upper thigh. It seemed to go on forever.
The salvo ceased. The unnatural silence that followed was punctuated by an odd barking laugh as the car sped away.
Jarod rolled over then sat up, and immediately collapsed back to the ground. Hot stabs of pain spiking up through his shoulder. His blood pooled onto the sidewalk, thick and red. He knew he needed medical attention, but his wounds were not mortal. He was worried about Juanito. The boy wasn't moving. Feeling a little dizzy, he looked over at Juanito. The boy's white jersey over his shoulder was stained bright red. Jarod's first instinct was to hold the boy, but his medical know-how inserted itself, warning him against immediately moving the boy without knowing the extent of the wounds. He felt for Juanito's pulse and found it weak and thready. People began to gather on the sidewalk around the target houses. A drive-by shooting was all too common in this area. These people all too familiar with mourning. A woman on the porch cried over one of the dead young men, the sound of her sorrow competing with the sounds of wailing sirens growing closer. Though a haze of pain, Jarod saw Juanito's mother run out of the house two doors down.
"Juanito! Juanito," she cried, her voice oddly far away. "Where is my son?" She pushed her way though the gathering crowd. "Oh, Juanito!" she cried when she saw them. "Holy mother of God."
Three police cruisers, two paramedic vans and an ambulance arrived. Revolving lights flashing over the crowd painting faces in reds and blues. As one policeman began to push back the crowd, another began roping off the crime scene and four paramedics jumped out of the van. A policeman pulled Juanito's mother away and tried to comfort her while the paramedics worked. Two paramedics tended Jarod. They give him oxygen, put him on a heart monitor, then lifted him to a backboard with c-collar and started an IV drip. Jarod moved his head and saw they did the same with Juanito, but they had started two IVs. That was good, he thought hazily, take care of the boy first.
"How are you feeling?" asked one paramedic, a young man with shaggy blonde hair. "How you doing? Can you breathe?"
"I've been shot through the upper chest," Jarod replied, voice hoarse. "I can breath okay, so I don't think I have a pneumothorax."
The paramedic looked up, surprise in his face. "You're a doctor."
"Not today," Jarod replied with a faint smile.
"Funny guy," the paramedic replied. "I like to see that in my patients."
They wheeled Jarod to one of the waiting ambulances. They had already loaded Juanito and through fading vision, Jarod watched it leave with a wail of sirens and flashing lights.
* * * *
One Week Later
Although only 8 in the morning, the day was already hot. Heat waves distorted distant gravestones and dying flowers. Overhead in a tree, cicadas sounded like thousands of tiny ratchets. Sweat plastered Jarod's t-shirt against his back, but he didn't notice this discomfort. The newly dug grave held his full attention. Fresh yellow flowers were already wilting. One life cut short too young. Nothing could bring him back. The sound of footsteps intruded upon his grief. His heart leapt, and he spun around, relieved to find a uniformed, motorcycle policeman walking up. The man removed his helmet, nodded and together they stood silently paying respects to Juanito.
"You're Jarod," the policeman finally broke the silence. "I just wanted to thank you for making a difference in Juanito's life." He held out a hand and they shook. "I'm Eduardo, Juanito's uncle. His father was my brother." His sigh was shaky. He cleared his throat and gestured to the headstone next to Juanito's. "That's my brother there. Like father like son. He caught a stray bullet during a rival gang shootout. I didn't think I'd be standing here again so soon, we buried him just last year." He swallowed and brushed at his eyes with the back of one hand.
"Juanito spoke a lot about you and his father," Jarod said. "You're his hero. He wants to be a policeman when he grows up."
"I wish I could have helped him. Now it's too late. I work a lot and Connie, Juanito's mother, is busy with the twins…." He shrugged. "She didn't have much time for Juanito, especially after my brother died. I live alone and have plenty of room so I offered Connie my house to get her away from the neighborhood, but she refused. Seems like this last incident convinced her. She's moving in tomorrow. Too late for Juanito."
"At least the twins have a chance," Jarod said. "He didn't deserve this. Two days before the drive-by, he mentioned those two next door. He said they were some kind of trouble. I should have listened. Maybe this could have been avoided."
"Don't blame yourself. You're a brave man, Jarod.…?" the policeman left it a question.
"Phillips, "Jarod replied. It was the name he had been using since coming to Phoenix two months ago. "Jarod Phillips."
"You and Juanito just were in the wrong place at the wrong time." He crouched down and placed his hand on the gravestone. "Damn. The police report said you took two bullets when you shielded Juanito." Eduardo stood and gestured toward Jarod's arm still in a sling. "That's more than most would have done. You thought about Juanito first."
"Not that it did a lot of good." Jarod swallowed away the emotion that threatened to swamp him. He couldn't indulge in sorrow now. He had to think, had to come up with a plan. "Do they know who did it?"
"We have some ideas. The targets—those men on the porch—died at the scene. We have no living witnesses other than you."
"That was automatic gunfire I heard," Jarod said. "If I were to take a guess, I'd say it had been an MP5. Where do you find those types of weapons?"
"There are several sources in the city if one has the right connections. We believe one source is a motorcycle gang, but we haven't been able to prove anything. We've tried an investigation a year ago, but two officers turned up dead on the outskirts of town. Executed. Two bullets each through the head. Then the feds came in and took over, but nothing came of it. A few busts, small time dealers, but they didn't get the supplier."The policeman shifted and tucked his helmet under his arm. "The stash was said to be in a warehouse at the edge of the city. But when the feds got there, it'd been emptied."
"They'd been tipped off?" Jarod asked.
Eduardo nodded. "That's what a few of us suspect. It all points to someone in the department accepting a payoff, but cops are not willing to point a fingers at one another."
"Which motorcycle gang do you suspect?"
"There are several in the area. The Demons are the main suspects. Their leader is Crossfire. It's alleged that they supply guns to the street gangs, or at least they're one of the bigger suppliers. The two killed on the porch were informants."
Jarod's eyes narrowed. An idea began to bloom. "How does one become a biker?"
"It's more complicated than you'd think," Eduardo started out. "You have to have a Harley first, there is no substitute. You have to know someone, you have to hang with the bikers and then they have to accept you as one of them and then, maybe, you'll be asked to join--," Eduardo's voice trailed off, and he looked sharply at the taller man.
Jarod's expression hardened, his hands clenched at his thighs. "I need to become a biker."
"Wait a minute! No. *No!*", Eduardo repeated with more emphasis. "No way, man. What you're suggesting is crazy. Loco! Juanito's death hurts us all, and I'd like to go after those bastards, too. I'd like to blow them all to hell with their own guns, but that's not the way to do it. They'd see through someone like you in a blink."
"Every other way has failed," Jarod's voice was harsh, "and as you said, you may have a department leak."
"Look man, you don't have the look, you don't have the experience." Eduardo held out his hands as if pleading with Jarod to see reason. "You don't know what you're getting into."
"I've done this before. This will just take a bit more planning than usual."
"Don't tell me you're in law enforcement," Eduardo said.
"I pretended once," Jarod replied, his mind already jumping ahead, planning. This would be unlike anything he'd done before, not like the limping hitman, not like the safecracker. Not even the convict persona he assumed could give him a clue to what awaited him.
"Look Jarod, I know you're angry," Eduardo was saying."I'm angry, too. I've just come from Connie's house. She walks around the house, hour after hour, holding her babies and crying. We don't want another dead body."
"If there is one, it won't be mine. I need your help."
Eduardo sighed. "Why do I believe you? Madre de dios."
"Help me," Jarod whispered. "For Juanito."
Eduardo sighed and looked across the sea of gravestones, like so many dominos. "I have a friend named Martin, he lives locally and repairs motorcycles for the gangs. We've known each other for years, and used to ride together before I went into law enforcement. He owes me a few favors. I've kept him out of jail a time or two. I can't guarantee he'll help you, but he may be able to give us some information."
Jarod's smile was thin, and the hoarse anger in his voice sent a shiver down Eduardo's back. "I promise I'll bring to justice the man who killed Juanito." Or die trying, he added silently. And for the first time in his life Jarod felt an alien emotion creeping through him, trying to grasp him in a stranglehold. Later he would recognize it as doubt.
* * * *
The Centre, Blue Cove, Delaware
Lyle walked across the Centre's lobby and into the elevator on his way to his office. His thumb throbbed today more than usual, but he ignored it. As the elevator doors began to slide close, a hand slipped in and held them open. Raines walked in, pulling along his squeaking oxygen tank. The two were silent until the doors closed and the elevator started up.
"Lyle, we need to talk," Raines rasped, and inhaled deeply. "It's about your sister."
Lyle raised an eyebrow. "Tell me." It had been too quiet around the Centre. Jarod had dropped out of site. He had people working on it.
"I think something happened between her and Jarod at the island," Raines said.
The younger man hid his surprise. "What kind of something?"
"I think you should hear it for yourself," Raines said. "I've doubted her loyalties for some time. After the incident on the island and the airplane, I've had a team watching her, and her phone is tapped."
Lyle was impressed, but he knew he shouldn't be surprised. Raines was always one of the more devious employees of the Center; it was why he survived when others did not. It appeared his sister had underestimated him as well. The elevator doors opened on the level were Raine had taken over Parker Sr.'s office.
"Come with me," he said.
Lyle and Raines stepped out and two sweepers, who had been waiting, flanked them
"Is the muscle necessary," Lyle asked. Raines cast him a glance. With his pasty white skin, he reminded Lyle of a skeleton with eyeballs. He had a difficult time believing this man was his father.
"The walls have ears, Lyle, and I want to make certain what you're going to hear and see remains between us." He unlocked his office and allowed Lyle to precede him inside. The sweepers took up guard at the doors. Raines crossed his office to a television hooked up to a recorder. He slipped in a disk and took up the remote. Miss Parker in her house filled the screen. The phone rang and she picked it up.
**"What?" she said in her usual abrupt manner.**
**"So, what do you think they said?" **
Lyle jerked at the sound of Jarod's voice. Miss Parker spoke to him like it was an everyday occurrence. Like she was used to Jarod's calls.
**"The scrolls? **
**"I was hoping you had some answers, insights into the so-called prophesies," Jarod said.**
**"Those answers are somewhere in the ocean along with my – Do you think that there's any chance that he bailed for the right reasons, Jarod or -- or was his Geronimo another one of his lies?"**
Lyle had wondered the same thing.
**"I don't know, maybe it's time you gave yourself that gift he never gave you -- the truth," Jarod answered.**
**"I hope you find your mother," Miss Parker said.**
Here Raines put the tape on pause for a moment. "Clearly a sign that her efforts are not wholly for the Centre."
"Clearly," Lyle agreed. "Is there more?"
"Yes," Raines rasped. "It gets worse". He hit the play button.
**"And what about us?" Jarod asked.**
There was a note of hope, of longing in his voice that surprised Lyle. Jarod had feelings for Miss Parker. Now that was interesting. Completely unexpected.
**"You run, I chase, that choice was made for us a long time ago."**
Raines clicked off the recorder. "The rest is inconsequential."
What did his sister do with Jarod on that island? The thought of Miss Parker thawing out enough to have sex with Jarod, the lab rat, was almost nauseating. "Without evidence of this tape I would have had doubts. This makes a lot of things very clear."
"Do you think she's been letting him go intentionally?"
"Not up to now," Lyle replied. "But I can't say that will be the case in the future. I think this attraction is something that finally came to a head on that island, but if she feels more for him than she's letting on, then that explains her reluctance to hurt him. All it takes is a bullet in the knee and he's down. She hasn't been able to do that."
"I don't think she can be trusted."
"I agree, but I think we should do nothing for now. This can be used to our advantage," Lyle said, a plan coming to mind. "Let's keep up surveillance and I'll see what else I can find. She may be our carrot to dangle in front of Jarod, then we can remove her at the right time and take over." He crossed his arms and stared down at the surveillance tape. "I think the time for playing nice with Jarod is past."
"Very good, Lyle," Raines rasped and breathed. "I knew I could count on you."
"Of course," Lyle said and lifted an eyebrow. As if there had been any doubt. He was always loyal when it suited him.
End of Chapter One
