Sorry it's been so long guys, last week was a very long week! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and please let me know what you think :)
Still don't own, still make no money.
Chapter 16: Drowning
The night seemed to press down on Bobby Mercer as he walked towards the only real home he had ever known. The empty beer bottle he'd helped Johnny drain was still wrapped tight in the brown paper bag and hung from his left hand like a lead weight. He wanted to throw it at something, maybe one of the cars passing by carrying dry and warm occupants to their destination, or perhaps one of the many warm and cozy houses he passed as he walked through the wet icy streets.
He imagined these houses lining the streets were full of kids and parents being real families and going about their lives with no worries. No fear of a pervert breaking their hearts by stealing one of their kids, or crooked cops arresting one of them or taking their lives with bullets, or total strangers ripping their homes apart and dragging them each off into separate corners of the world. Bobby couldn't help but want to take some of his rage out on the walls separating these lucky families from the real world, from his world and his life.
It wasn't raining, exactly. There was a fine mist rising and falling in different directions in front of him, dancing to an unheard rhythm and frosting the metal lamp posts and street signs he passed. His exhaled breath seemed to join the dance of moist cold surrounding him. It wasn't rain, or sleet or snow, but it was icing over and left him feeling soaked through by the time he reached the corner down the street from his mother's home. He could see Jeremiah's car parked out in front, even from a block away, and that meant Jack was home. Hell, most of his brothers were there, waiting on his return; hoping he had some kind of news that could give them all hope. He knew this for a fact because he'd had the same hope that Johnny would have some kind of miracle answer for him, like he used to all of those years ago.
Instead of hope he'd found himself being sucked down in a deep fucking hole and he was about to drag his brothers down into that hole with him. He couldn't help but feel as if Jessup Winston was standing over a gab in the earth that was swallowing him up, dumping dirt in on top of him. The sorry son of a bitch was alive, and he was behind the dirty operation that had killed his mother, ruined his brother's business dealings more than once, nearly killed Jack, and had ripped Craig away from the protection of his home and family.
Bobby stood there, staring at the glow of the lights in the front window, it was dim, but every so often he could see a shadow moving, a faint difference in contrast and color. They were waiting and hoping, and he was going to disappoint them. He only had more problems to lie at their feet, no answers.
"Guess what guys; Jessup Winston is the son of a fucking gang lord, and the night he helped Macks blow up the warehouse he wasn't killed like we all thought. No, hell, he found some homeless shit and tossed his sorry ass into the fire to burn. He's alive and he's after our fucking family because Macks died with information that could be worth millions of dollars to him." Bobby spoke into the dark street as if he were practicing some long, rehearsed speech. "He probably would have let us be if it hadn't been for Macks dying on him like he did. Hell, Macks didn't even know he was trying to kill his own boss when he set Winston up, now if that ain't ironic." He forced a laugh as his grip on the beer bottle tightened. "Winston really liked us, thought we needed a fucking break, but he still let Macks fuck with us!" He yelled the words as the glass under the brown paper buckled under his rage and shattered. He thrust the bag hard into the street as shards of glass cut through the paper and sliced into the palm of his hand.
The sudden pain would normally have brought on a long string of four letter words that would have made any sailor proud; but at this very moment it filled Bobby Mercer with a strange feeling of warm calm. He looked at his hand and sucked in a deep breath. His chest was aching, and his mind was pulsing with a hard thudding. He didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do. His brain had been churning the information around in his head, trying to figure out a way to get close to Winston; some way of putting a bullet in his head. Hell, if he'd had a gun with him on the roof he probably would have done that.
The only problem was the man wasn't Jessup Winston, not anymore, and Bobby had no way of knowing where to find him. He knew how to find people, but his mind was tired and he was growing wearing of the fighting and struggling just to find a small bit of normalcy in his family and in his life. There was nothing to use to track Winston down, except for the bar that he liked to frequent, and even though that normally would have been enough for Bobby Mercer, somehow it seemed like so little at that moment. Johnny didn't know what name he was going by.
Jessup Winston had planned his demise well, taking on an identity that no one seemed to notice. Hell, it may have been a double life that he'd been living for years, a second name he'd already been using in other areas of his life that allowed him to slip out of Jessup Winston's life so easily. He may have lost his legitimate business dealings but he'd avoided jail, he'd managed to keep his life style, his money, and his hold over the criminal element. He had people under him like Harris. People so far up in the government that he was untouchable. Sweet was one thing, he was local, but Winston, hell, his dealings were nationwide. Johnny had checked into the connections Winston had and they reached as far as the west coast. How the hell could four brothers from Detroit fight against someone that big and powerful?
Bobby Mercer wasn't normally one to back down from a fight, but he was starting to feel like he was drowning in an ocean, separated from the rest of his family by the fact that he was the oldest and he was supposed to have the answers. He would have to leave Jack's fate in the hands of Bradford, Green and Johnson. If his brother was going to get out of a murder charge, it was in their hands, Bobby had no way of helping because Harris was after his ass too, and that ate at his insides like an infestation. He was supposed to be the one who fixed shit with his family. He was the oldest; he was the big brother to all of them.
Except Craig, hell, he was more than a brother to Craig. Craig was his, but it seemed he'd lost him too. He prayed that Bradford and Green had both been able to find out something about where his baby brother had been taken. He didn't understand how Children's Services could allow Harris to influence them so easily. If he couldn't get him back soon, he wanted to at least see him, and be able to tell him that everything was going to be okay. Even if he knew deep down it was a lie, he had to say it to the kid. Craig was probably falling apart by now. He wondered if he had eaten dinner. What the hell was he going through; he didn't have the medication that he needed to make it through a normal day. How would he manage to sleep that night? Bobby had planned on getting him exhausted by bed time, but that was out of his hands now. Too much shit was out of his hands now. He had not control over his family and it was driving him crazy. He didn't like not having the control.
Bobby stared at the lights of home for a half a heartbeat longer before dragging his feet along with him towards it. He needed to let his brothers know about Jessup Winston being the next ghost to rise from the dead. He needed to get their opinions and their ideas; maybe it was the only way to get his mind clear and on the right track. One thing that he had learned in the recent weeks was that as a family the Mercers did better when they thought shit through together. He was sure that somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear Evelyn Mercer saying something along the same line, something about brothers being there to support you and back you up. Until recently Bobby Mercer thought he was the one that had to hold all of his brothers up; that he had to be the one to do all of the supporting and backing up. If it hadn't been for his brothers though, he wasn't sure he would have had the strength to make it past all of the barriers that had been thrown in their way recently.
At some point it all had to end, and until then, Bobby Mercer was determined to keep fighting. He was going to keep fighting for what was his; his family and their freedom was all that mattered to him right then. They all had worked too damn hard for it to be ripped out from under them now. One way or another, his brothers were going to get past this and survive as a family, even if it killed him.
The air felt thick and heavy when Bobby stepped through the front door. The weight of the silence was enough to drown in and Bobby hated it. He slammed the door hard to make sure he could still hear. The sound of chairs scrapping against the floor in the dining room eased his nerves slightly, at least until he looked up and to see Jack's expectant eyes rounding the doorway to the entrance hall from the kitchen, as if his little brother was sure he was going to have all of the answers to get them all out of the mess they were in.
"Well?" Angel was the one who spoke from just behind Jack.
"Well, my day just keeps getting better and better." Bobby walked up to Jack and he gave him a quick hug and pat on his shoulder. "You doin' okay Jackie? You survived a few hours with no damage, right?" He tried to sound as if he were being his normal asshole self, but he had been worried, more than he'd ever dare to let anyone else be aware. He was the oldest, and despite learning to let his brothers bare part of the burdens with him, he still had that nagging need to project himself as impenetrable. Nothing could faze him, and the need for that appearance was written all over Jack's face right then.
Bobby quickly clutched his fist at his side, trying to hide the bloody cut in his palm under his fingers. The pain was minimal, but the blood was there, and he knew his brothers would make too big of a deal out of it if they noticed.
"I'm fine." Jack spoke quietly, his eyes fixed on Bobby. "I have a hearing." His words seemed strained as he explained that he would have to face an attorney from the D.A's office, as well as a judge, to determine if there was enough evidence against Jack Mercer to press the matter further. "Bradford claims with Johnson and Green's statements that there's no case." He sounded as if he needed some kind of validation from his big brother.
Bobby forced one of his smart assed smiles, trying to think of something off the top of his head that could cut some of the tension in the air surrounded his little brother. "Hell Jack, you ain't got anything to worry about. I'm sure if you suck enough cocks on the way to the courthouse you'll get out of this mess." He could have smacked himself in the back of the head the second the words escaped his mouth. Hell, he had been trying to cut back on the gay jokes the past few days, he figured it was the least he could do for the brother that had saved his life, but it was so damn hard.
Jack's eyes narrowed. "That ain't funny Bobby." His voice felt like steel on Bobby's ears.
"Come on man; don't start that shit with him, not now." Jeremiah spoke from next to Angel, who was leaning against the wall next to Jack. "We need to get serious here Bobby. What the hell did you find out, anything that will help us out?"
Bobby turned and maneuvered his legs around the doorway to the living room. "You all might as well sit your asses down now." He called back to them when he realized no one was following him.
Bobby dropped down into the red chair closest to the foyer and the front door. He felt a little better knowing he was close to an easy escape route, just in case he ran his mouth again. He was sure Jack was ready to punch him. Hell, he understood why. Jack was expecting an easy answer, and what he'd gotten, basically, was a confirmation that the whole mess was beyond his older brother's grasp. He hated letting Jack down that way, hell, he hated letting his whole family down that way, and it caused a pain in his gut that he had never really felt before.
Bobby Mercer had always been driven by the desire to never let another human being hurt him again. Having his family safe kept him from hurting. Having his family happy kept him from hurting. Having the strength, and some control over being able to keep his family whole and happy was all that he asked of God, it really was. Somehow at that moment he felt as if his family was being ripped apart, and God had let him down horribly. He felt an anger building inside, an anger focused towards the God his mother had felt so close to.
It had been a challenge for Bobby to allow his self to believe in a God that was so damn cruel. He didn't understand how God could take an innocent child and plunge them into a living hell. He'd seen too many kids being beaten on a daily basis, by foster parents, or real parents, or family members that were supposed to be taking care of them. Kids being abused by the people that they were supposed to be able to trust, hell, Bobby had been one of those kids. Of course as soon as he was old enough to fight back he was a juvenile delinquent. He knew his brothers had all suffered similarly in the foster care system. Sure, not all homes were bad, but there were those out there that, until they were found, continued to cycle innocent kids through their doors, subjecting them to anything from being locked in a closet for hours to being beaten and abused.
Bobby had sworn that no one in his family, none of his brothers, would ever be touched or threatened in the ways they had been as children. He had made that promise to each of them as they became a part of his family. If he didn't say it to their face, he promised it to them in his mind, and he had, so far, managed to keep that promise, even when it seemed to be impossible.
Now as he looked into the eyes of the three brothers in front of him, he could picture how they had looked years before, younger and frightened. Fear, that's what he'd never wanted to see in their eyes again, and this was the first real fear he'd seen in any of them in recent weeks. Sure, they had been afraid when they dealt with Sweet, and with Macks, but at the time, they had all felt they could beat it, at least once they knew Jack was going to survive his injuries. Now it looked as if they all felt the same defeat that was eating away at Bobby's resolve. They were all tired and worn down.
As Bobby stared into their waiting gazes, the knowledge that someone had managed to force his brothers to give up, to make them feel this way fueled the anger that was growing in him. Hell, no one was going to control his family like this. His brothers had refused to give him enough control that he could manipulate them like this, why the hell were they allowing some ass hole like Winston, or Harris to do it?
Bobby sucked in a deep breath. "Okay, we got some heavy shit to deal with. But we're gonna deal with it." He looked at Jack, suddenly feeling some kind of energy deep within, rising up and tingling at every nerve in his body. "You ain't fucking going to jail. I'll shoot the first fucker who tries to put cuffs on you again, you got that? I know people and places where you'll be safe if it comes to that Jack." He nodded his head as his mind started working full speed and he came out of the funky haze he'd been drifting in since he spoke with Johnny. He looked from Jack to Jeremiah, and then to Angel. "We need to find Jessup Winston and find out what the fuck he wants from us."
"Jessup Winston is dead Bobby." Angel gave Bobby a pointed glare while he dropped into the couch next to Jack.
"Yeah, well, I thought so too, but when I seen him tonight he was breathing pretty damn good for a dead man." Bobby met Angel's eyes and tried to hold back the fury that was raging inside.
"You saw him." It was Jeremiah who spoke while Angel processed the words Bobby had fired at him.
"Yeah, little brother, I saw him." Bobby leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees but keeping his bleeding hand down out of view.
"You looked him in the face and you are sure it was Winston?" Jeremiah slid down onto the coffee table, leaning towards his brother, looking nervous, scared and almost thrilled at the same time.
"Well, no, not right in the face. I was on the roof." Bobby leaned forward a little more, closer to Jeremiah.
Jeremiah grimaced as if he were in pain. "A roof; you seen him from a roof?" He looked as if he wanted to reach out and knock the shit out of his older brother. "What the fuck Bobby, you can't be sure it was Jessup Winston then, you have no idea what the hell you're talking about…." He started a nonstop tirade of angry words, as if he was unable to hold in his own frustration and anger.
Bobby pulled back, looking at Jeremiah's eyes, though he was lost on the words spilling out of him. His brother's eyes looked hollow somehow. Either Jeremiah was taking the events of their day worse than he'd expected or there was more shit going on with him than Bobby knew. The man thought about it as Jeremiah continued to ramble on about dead men staying dead and gangsters leaving the Mercer family the fuck alone. It was the word 'family' that stabbed at Bobby. Hell, Jeremiah's family was not limited to only his brothers. He had a wife and two daughters to deal with and worry about. All of the pressure of being sucked into the problems of his brothers couldn't be making his life any easier.
Bobby waited until it seemed Jeremiah was fairly empty of any more words before he drew in a deep breath. "I seen him up close Jerry. Telescopes tend to give a damn good view." He kept his voice calm, seeing the tension in his brothers take a hard hold. "Look, Johnny did some digging and he found out a few things. You ready to listen yet or do you need some more time to throw another tantrum?" He kept his focus on Jerry.
Jeremiah's shoulders slumped. "I need to call Camille." The words sounded forced.
"You okay Jerr'?" Bobby asked quietly, knowing his brother too well to believe everything was okay, no matter how Jeremiah might answer him.
"Yeah, man, I'll be fine. I just have to tell my wife, again, that I'm gonna be hanging around here for the night, again." Jerry disappeared into the dining room.
Jack and Angel both made themselves comfortable on the couch. Jack seemed to be soaking everything in, but he still looked scared. Angel looked the same as Bobby felt, pissed.
When Jeremiah returned several minutes later, Bobby sucked in a deep breath and shared with his brothers the story that Johnny had told him just a short time before, on the roof of the building his father had once owned.
Bobby shared with them how Jessup Winston had been inherited the life and riches of a notorious gang lord father that he barely knew. How it had put him in charge of an operation that ran drugs and prostitution rings across the entire country. He had been Sweet's boss, though Sweet didn't know it. Jessup Winston had found that the best way to keep the law off of his back was to let them believe he was a small time crook, a bored millionaire with legitimate businesses that liked to dabble in some unlawful business for excitement. It kept him anonymous to all, the men who worked for him and the law who was coming after him.
"So, what name is he going by now?" Angel asked.
Bobby sucked a deep breath. "Don't know." He muttered.
"If he was operating this nationwide mafia in an anonymous manner, then how the hell does Johnny know who he is? How the hell did Johnny know where he would be tonight?" Angel pushed, his voice holding sarcasm. He still didn't believe any of it was possible.
"He couldn't tell me much about how he found out." Bobby shook his head. "Some guy who comes into the bar did some jobs for Sweet before, he overheard phone conversations and Johnny was able to track a few things down. I don't know how Johnny knows half the shit he knows and I don't care. He's never wrong about the shit he tells me."
Angel shook his head slowly. "I don't like this. I don't like it at all."
"Look, we got one thing on our side. Jessup Winston liked us." Bobby laughed quietly but not for long. He closed his eyes and tried to think out loud. "Maybe we can get close to him, talk to him and find out what the fuck he's after."
"Get close to him? He's the one tearing the shit out of our family and you think you can talk to him?" Angel cried out.
"He tried to warn us." Jeremiah stood and paced the floor slowly. "The night Macks blew up my fucking future, Winston tried to warn us." He reminded them of the message Winston had left on his phone. "He didn't want us dead."
"No, he didn't want Macks dead, he didn't give a rat's ass about us; he just wanted to keep Macks clean and under his control." Angel spoke too loud. "We didn't trust Winston before and there was a reason for that."
Bobby nodded his head. "I should have put a bullet in his brain when I wanted to, I know that." He finally looked at Angel. "I didn't and now we got this shit to deal with. I know that. I've been thinking about that Angel." He couldn't hold his anger in. "You don't have to throw that in my face now."
Angel's expression changed slightly. "I ain't throwin' nothing in your face big brother. Hell, if I recall, I was one of the people who talked you out of offin' the fucker." He stood and walked up to Jeremiah, stopping his pacing abruptly. "Would you stop the walking? It's getting on my nerves."
There was quiet for what seemed an eternity, as each of the men seemed caught in their own cycle of thought.
"What about Craig? Did anyone find anything out about where the hell he is right now?" Bobby asked once the air started growing thick around him again. He knew lingering on Winston would do no one any good at the moment. Yes, they would have to deal with the man, but not at that moment, and he wanted to know what was going on with his kid. He needed to know how soon he would be able to see him and get him home.
Bobby looked at Jack for a long moment and then up to Angel and Jeremiah. "What the hell is going on with Craig? What is it?" He wanted to stand but the creases that seemed to cross over Jeremiah's eyes and brow told him the news wasn't good and he'd probably be better off to remain seated.