Brant had his cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth as he composed a text message, taking puffs every so often. He was surprised that Chantel hadn't locked her phone, but maybe she was just that cocky that she didn't think anyone would catch her.
"What are you saying?" Kate asked him, trying to see. Falls and Stokes had taken Chantel to the station, which left them alone to flush out Norman.
"Well, based on their communication thus far," Brant said, tapping away at the keys on the phone, "it looks like they're having a bit of a thing."
"You sure?"
"Looks like it to me." He showed her, and Kate grimaced at the sight of the messages. He went back to typing, and she gave herself a shake.
"Okay, so you're gonna invite him for a...what exactly?"
"A shag."
"A shag. Alright," Kate conceded. He looked at her skeptical face and lowered his hands.
"What?" he asked. "You think he won't bite?"
"I just don't think you're the right person to try being sexy with a guy," she commented. He took another puff of his cigarette, thinking.
"You're right. I'll ask Nash."
"I'm standing right here," Kate said, affronted. "I know how to be sexy with men." He studied her, and she lifted a brow as she waited, crossing her arms. He couldn't help but think about it...what she'd do or say.
"Is that so?" he inquired, and she flushed slightly, looking away. Then she cleared her throat and held out her hand for the phone.
"Give it," she ordered. He handed it to her, seeing the lines of grief and anger and pain on her the more he studied her. He felt really bad that Delia had been killed. He wished he'd known about Turner sooner than later. He wished a lot of things.
"There," Kate said a moment later, showing him the message she composed. "How's that?" He read it, wondering if she'd ever sent someone a text like that. It made him clear his throat.
"Well," he said, nodding slowly, "I'd definitely hustle back for that."
"You think so?"
"Oh, yea."
"Will he get suspicious, though? I mean, he's on the run...she's gotta know that, so why would she want a rendezvous?"
"The thrill of being on the run? I dunno. You've given a meet up place far from here. He shouldn't connect it to us."
"Send it?" She sounded unsure, so he reached around her and hit send for her.
"Too late now," he said, putting out his cigarette finally. She sighed and gave the phone back to him. Then she ran a hand over her hair and looked exhausted. He figured the adrenaline was wearing off because his was. Without thinking much of it, he reached to pull her into a hug, and she let him.
"It's almost over, Kate," he said. "I promise." She hugged him tighter in response, and he couldn't help but press his lips against the side of her head. The phone vibrated in his hand, and they both pulled back slightly to read it together.
"He's in," Brant said, looking at her. "We got him."
"I just hope it's not a trick," Kate replied. The phone vibrated again, and they both looked once more only to yelp in unison. Brant clicked the phone off and shuddered heavily while Kate covered her face with her hands as if to rid the image from her mind that way.
"Unless he's a sick bastard, I don't think he'd send a photo like that if he didn't think he was talking to Chantel," he reasoned. Kate lowered her hands.
"What if it's a test? What if he wants a photo back?"
"Oh, God," Brant groaned.
"Here," Kate said, taking the phone back. "She might have some saved."
"Or just tell him he's gotta wait."
"That would make me feel suspicious, wouldn't you?"
Brant knew she was right, and he gestured for her to continue. She found something by her grimace and sent it a minute later. The phone vibrated seconds later.
"Oh, God he's disgusting," Kate said, tapping out another message.
"What are you saying back?"
"I said to hold that thought," Kate answered, grimacing again. "Ugh, I feel so...dirty." She gave him back the phone and went to walk it off. Brant put the phone in his pocket and then used his to call Nash and give him an update.
...
Porter and Stokes sat across from Chantel, who was sitting there with her hands folded on the table and wearing a very sultry smirk on her lips.
"So," Porter said, looking at her. "You've confessed to running an empire of trafficking for both drugs and women. What have you got to say for yourself?"
"Any one of you got a smoke?" she asked.
"No, and you can't smoke in here," Stokes retorted. He shifted in his chair. He shouldn't even be here with his injuries, but he had to finish this.
"Well," Chantel said, twisting her lips a little bit as she sat back in her chair finally. "I hope you didn't use my phone to contact Norman."
"Why do you say that?" Porter asked, feeling nervous. That was exactly what Brant had done, and he and Kate were on their way to the rendezvous point with a team.
"Who do you think is playing who here?" Chantel asked, looking between them both. Her smirk grew wider.
"Wait," Stokes said, beginning to understand. "Nash..."
"Yup," Porter said, getting to his feet and scraping the chair back in his haste. He went outside of the room and went to call Brant. "Pick up, pick up, come on." He turned to look around him in case he was being watched.
"Leave a message," Brant's voicemail said, and Porter hung up. He tried again. Brant and Kate would be in the convoy heading to the rendezvous point by now.
"Come on, Brant," he said. "Pick up!"
...
"Piss off, Nash," Brant muttered as he ignored his phone again. They were almost to the rendezvous point, and he didn't want to hear questions about if he was going to kill Norman. He couldn't answer that right now. He felt his phone ping with messages over and over a moment later.
"Maybe he's trying to tell you something," Kate said, and Brant sighed heavily. Their armored truck rounded the last corner as he pulled his phone out to look at all the texts from Nash.
IT'S A TRAP, YOU BLOODY ARSEHOLE! PICK UP THE PHONE! the last text read—the ones before that being less blunt but to the point. Brant's head jerked up, and he moved to bang on the window to get the driver's attention when their truck was struck and suddenly sent flying in the air.
...
Stokes looked up when Porter came crashing back into the interrogation room. Chantel started to giggle at the stressed look on his face.
"No," Stokes said, understanding.
"Come on," Porter urged. "We gotta go."
...
Kate grunted and yelped and cried out in pain as she was sent tumbling and rolling as the truck rolled over and over before landing hard on its right side. She lay there breathing hard and feeling pain in her arm and already wounded side while listening to people outside freaking out. She was starting to think she wasn't going to make it out of this alive.
"Brant," she croaked. "Brant?!"
"F***," Brant groaned, shifting somewhere to her right. More curse words followed as he pushed himself up. The rest of the team began to stir a moment later except for one. Kate saw Brant checking the man's vitals and swearing again when he found none.
"Brant," Kate said again, and he made his way to her. His hand was on her face a moment later.
"You alright?" he asked, checking her over.
"I'm fine. Just my arm." She tilted her head, and he looked at it. She left out how her side was hurting. Hell, everything hurt...to the point she almost didn't feel it anymore.
"Nothing on the outside. Probably a sprain or something. Can you move it?"
"Yes."
"Not dislocated then. That's good. Alright, come on." He helped her up and made his way to the doors at the back.
"Wait," Kate said, grabbing his arm to stop him. "What if they're waiting to slaughter us when we open those?"
"Fair point," he answered. Screams and shouts could be heard outside still from people who witnessed what happened. He grabbed one of the shields from where it fell and held it in front of him before opening the back doors. Nothing happened, and Kate wondered just what was even going on.
"Come on," Brant urged, and she followed. They stood in the street, looking at everyone who was panicking, shouting, and filming them.
"You see him?" she asked.
"No, but he's here," Brant answered. "I can feel him."
"There," Kate said, seeing a person slink away down an alley. "That's him."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
The team behind them, minus one, was coming out one by one and groaning and coughing as they helped each other out. Brant grabbed a rifle and jogged after Norman with Kate on his heels.
...
Porter squealed his car onto the site and found the team he'd sent with Brant all sitting and getting evaluated by medics. There was one body bag, which did not make him feel good at all. He didn't see Brant or Kate anywhere. Stokes was looking too.
"Hey!" he shouted to the team leader after getting out of his car. "Where's Brant?!"
"He left."
"Left?!"
"Nobody saw him go," the leader added. Porter muttered under his breath as he scanned the area.
"Come on, Brant," he said. "Where the hell are you?"
...
Brant finally got a clear sight of Norman, and he fired a warning shot. Norman stopped in his tracks, putting his hands up. Brant growled slightly. So much for getting to shoot him in self-defense. Kate aimed her gun at him as well, and they approached him together.
"Turn around," Brant ordered, and Norman did. "You're under arrest."
"You ever wonder why things happen the way they do, Tom?" Norman asked, and Brant tried not to seethe inside at being called by his father's name.
"I don't."
"Not very open minded then, are you?"
"Just shut up and put your hands behind your back," Brant ordered.
"You didn't come here to arrest me, Tom," Norman went on, a glint in his eyes. "Did you?"
Brant's grip on the rifle tightened, but he didn't fire. Kate was watching him carefully.
"I want you to do it," Norman said now, walking slowly towards him.
"Stop moving!" Brant demanded. Norman stopped when his chest was pressed against the end of Brant's rifle.
"Do it," he whispered. "Blow me away, Tom. I know you want to."
"Brant," Kate said, sounding nervous. Brant held Norman's gaze, conveying a lot of different things to him.
"You wanna beat me up a little first?" Norman mocked. "Make yourself feel better? Go ahead. I want you to."
"Brant," Kate said again, but Brant was starting to see red around the edges of his vision. He wanted nothing more than to kill Norman as slowly as possible to make him suffer.
"Did you really think Chantel was running it all?" Norman scoffed. "She played her part well, and that was bringing you to me. She was a bonus." He nodded towards Kate, who looked stressed.
"You have the right to remain silent," Brant said now, "but if I were you, I'd keep talking. Gives me more things to lock you up for."
"I hope you said goodbye," Norman stated, a smirk growing on his lips. Brant caught sight of something in his peripheral, but he was too late.
...
"Move, move! Come on, come on!" Stokes was hollering as he and Porter pushed their way through the crowd, Stokes's cane long tossed aside at this point. The crowd had grown bigger since the accident, and it was annoying the hell out of him. They still couldn't find Brant or Kate, and Porter was trying not to feel worried. He saw an alley, and something in his gut told him to go down it.
"Let's go!" he shouted to Stokes, who saw and nodded. They hurried down it together (Stokes hobbling a bit), hoping to find what they were looking for and soon.
...
Kate had no time to even let out a yelp as the rope went around her neck from behind. She dropped her gun as she was yanked back against someone big and strong. She moved to stick her fingers between the rope and her neck to get some air, but it was too tight.
Norman chose this moment to attack Brant, who was distracted by her being choked. He went down but was back up, engaging into a battle with Norman. Kate tried to stomp the feet of her attacker but wasn't successful. She could feel herself craving air and getting stupid in the head. She tried to push backwards into them, but they wouldn't budge.
As she choked, she wondered what her brother would think or feel knowing she'd also died over here. She wondered if he would even care.
...
Brant was enraged. He punched Norman and got hit back in return. They crashed into boxes and items left scattered around. He knocked him down and got some kicks into him before getting tripped. Norman got on him fast when he was down, and Brant grabbed his pressure points by his elbows as he wrapped his hands around Brant's neck. Norman let go, and Brant kneed him in the stomach before throwing him off. He twisted to see Kate was still thrashing and trying to escape but failing to do so. He had to help her. Now.
"Ah!" he cried out when Norman smashed a pipe into his upper back. His injured arm was screaming at him. He was having a hard time focusing. He got hit again across the face, and he went down.
"Time to die, Tom," Norman said, standing over him. "See you in hell."
"Not. Bloody. Likely," Brant said back between wheezes, and he quickly pulled out his lucky gun from where it was tucked into the back of his pants and shot Norman right between the eyes.
...
Stokes didn't even hesitate as he stumbled upon the scene of chaos. Right after Brant shot Norman, he shot the man strangling Kate, and he fell down dead while Kate dropped to her knees gasping and coughing, her hand going to her throat instantly.
"Kate!" Porter called, dropping down next to her. "Kate, you okay? Can you hear me?"
She nodded, unable to speak, but then she croaked out: "Brant?"
"I got him," Stokes said, going over to where Brant was lying on the ground with his gun in his hand. Norman was dead next to him. "Brant, you good?"
"Peachy."
"Can you stand?"
"Sod off."
"I'll take that as a yes," Stokes muttered, turning away and holstering his gun since Porter had now cleared the scene. Kate was sitting now, massaging her neck and looking quite pale.
"Well," Porter said, looking at Brant now. "Next time, answer your bloody phone."
"Sure thing, arsehole," Brant retorted.
"Chantel?" Kate rasped.
"She'll be going away for a long time," Porter advised.
"Elijah?"
Porter looked at Stokes, who grimaced slightly.
"We don't know yet," Stokes answered for him. "We've sent all info to our contact there, but we haven't heard anything at this point."
"Okay. Agent Novak?"
"Haven't picked her up yet, but we're still looking," Porter answered.
"Got her," Stokes said, looking at the new message that just came in. "They caught her trying to cross the border to fly out in France."
"Good," Porter said. "It's all done and over with." He reached to give Stokes's shoulder a shake, and then he went back towards the accident scene. Stokes moved away a bit, sensing that Kate and Brant needed a moment.
...
"Are you okay?" Kate asked, sounding terrible. Her throat was aching badly. Brant nodded.
"Are you?" he countered.
"I will be."
"I know it's not the ending you wanted, but at least we got him," Brant stated. She didn't say anything, just closed her eyes and tried to feel something about seeing Norman's dead body. She couldn't. All she felt was sorrow over the loss of Delia. She met Brant's eyes, and she could see that he didn't know how to help her feel better. She wasn't looking for him to. She just wanted comfort. She moved to sit next to him on the ground, resting her head on his shoulder while he put an arm around her. That's where they were when the medics finally arrived.
A Few Days Later
Kate was fidgeting with her pant pocket as she stood outside the closed door. She knew she looked like hell, but she couldn't change that. She was going over what she wanted to say, what her new therapist had helped her to figure out to say, when Leon opened the door and saw her there.
"Kate," he said, stunned and aghast. "Are you okay?!"
"No," she confessed. "I'm not." She knew the bruise on her neck was bad, and from the way Leon was massaging his, she figured he was experiencing the pain as well via their connection. She was sure feeling his emotional pain.
"I'm so sorry," she said to him. "I really am. I...I thought I'd bring her home. I really did." She started to cry, and her brother pulled her into an embrace.
"I'm sorry for saying what I did," he replied. "I was just really upset and angry."
"I know."
"You did all you could. I know that. It's not your fault."
"But it is. I wasn't fast enough..."
"I should have never let her date that asshole," Leon said firmly. "So it's my fault."
Kate closed her eyes and wondered if they'd ever get over the guilt and self-blame. She hoped so. Delia wouldn't want them to feel that way. She knew that.
"Thank you," Leon said now, making Kate pull back and look at him.
"For what?"
"For trying. For coming home in one piece. For not letting me push you away with my anger."
"You're my brother," she said, touching his face. "I'm not going anywhere." He gave a sad smile.
"Come on," he said. "Come in and have some coffee."
"Okay."
"Smoke?" he offered, and she shook her head.
"No, thanks," she said, closing his door behind her. "I quit."
...
Brant held the pack of cigarettes in his hand as he stood on his balcony. Saying goodbye to Kate had been hard. He wished things had been different, but they weren't. He had to accept that.
"Hey," Porter said from behind him in his living room. "You taking a smoke break or are we getting back to this new case?" They'd wrapped up the trafficking one, which ended with many girls and women being found and freed. The second mole had apparently been Hughes, who Turner had killed to do damage control. It wasn't clear why Hughes had protected Delia unless she'd grown a moral compass at the last minute, and perhaps that was the other reason she got killed. The whole thing had been a bloody mess, but it was over now, and Brant was relieved. They all were. Porter had let Kate's boss know, so he hoped she knew the outcome of everything too. He hoped that she felt some sense of satisfaction that despite losing Delia, their work hadn't been in vain. The last piece was finding Elijah, and last Brant had heard, there was a good lead to follow to get him.
As for him, he was beginning to realize he needed to let go of his ghosts and live life. How he was going to achieve that, he wasn't sure, but he was definitely going to try.
"Brant, come on," Porter said impatiently.
Brant tapped the pack of cigarettes on the railing in front of him before tossing it into the air, watching it fall to the ground below and scattering everywhere upon impact.
It was a small step towards a bigger change, one that Brant knew he needed and would eventually get to. When he was ready.