Chapter Four

"What the hell happened?" Peña shouted. "Why did you two feel the need to blow up every piece of evidence that could have helped us?"

Jack's head was screaming, and Marcus' head wasn't faring well, either. The ice pack Jack held to his temple was easing the swelling, but not removing the incessant throbbing. Marcus' left eye was swollen shut, black and purple bruising clearly visible under the gauze that resided over his stitches.

"Look, Peña," Jack started, "like I told you when I woke up, there was a bomb on the boat, okay? It was no one's fault. We didn't do shit. It was that asshole Villegos."

"The problem is, the brass needs to pin the blame on someone, and that someone just happens to be you two, who were the only members of Charlie, save for Drago, that survived the explosion. No one else saw what happened, so it's falling on your shoulders."

"That's bullshit, Peña, and you know it!" Marcus exclaimed, leaping out of the chair. Jack's head pounded even more at Marcus' outburst, and he clenched his eyelids shut to try to drown out the light. "If Gillespie had stuck to protocol, we wouldn't be here, trying to save your ass from a demotion."

"Watch it, Hill," Peña said coldly.

"Watch my ass go out the door." Marcus strode to the door and slammed it on the way out. Peña was ready to implode when Jack, with his eyes still shut tight, spoke.

"Allison, I'll take the blame."

"The hell you will. Marcus was the team leader."

"Yeah, but the brass will expect this kind of shit from me. Keep Marcus' record clear. I can afford a suspension, anyway. My head's killing me."

"Fine. Here's what I'll do. I'll recommend to the Chief of Operations that you receive a one-week suspension with pay. In the meantime, just sit in that shithole trailer of yours until you hear from us."

"What about Marcus?"

"He'll remain on the case. If he needs you for anything, I'll revoke the suspension, citing lack of adequate manpower. Sound all right to you?"

"Sure. Why are you being so nice about this?"

"Because you already have a head injury."

-----

Jack's trailer swayed, signaling Marcus' arrival. The door swung open, Marcus entering with two cups of coffee and a small bag of doughnuts. Jack sat up, setting his melted ice pack on the counter next to his bed. The goose egg was dying down, but the burn marks on his face were still healing. The doctors said he was lucky not to have had facial lacerations, but that his being topside was probably the reason for it.

"Whatever," he'd said. "As long as it doesn't get in the way of my good looks." The doctors had frowned and put him on the outpatient list immediately.

"Man, why'd you take the fall for this shit?" Marcus asked, setting down a cup of coffee and tossing Jack a glazed.

"They're used to it by now," Jack said. "Besides, you tarnished your badge enough by bringing me on."

"Yeah, guess I did." Marcus took a bite of his grape jelly-filled, and swallowed it with a swig of his mocha. "So how do you think that shit went down?"

"Far as I can tell, the DEA was obviously given a bad lead," Jack said, lighting up a cigarette. "Did you get the informant's name out of Peña?"

"Yeah. You ain't gonna believe this shit. Said her name was Daniels." Jack coughed.

"As in Agent Daniels?"

"One and the same."

Agent Daniels, as they'd known her, was the lead agent for Narcotics Assessment Reconnaissance and Control, or NARC. It had turned up in their investigation that Agent Daniels was in fact The Enforcer, the main distributor of Liquid Soul.

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