Operation Love, page 5
Grim flipped him off before she jogged down the stairs and straight for the woman.
He cursed under his breath as he followed behind her.
The woman tilted her head up, and the flickering light illuminated her face. “Jared?”
“Sorry, wrong person,” he said, but his heart skipped a beat.
Her scratchy voice hadn’t changed in nineteen years.
Francis ran the schedule for Ester. Who knew a pimp needed a scheduler?
Her frail hand reached out and grabbed his forearm. “I know it’s you. It’s your eyes. She always sold you by your eyes.” Her tongue slid across her cracked lips. “Are you still offering a service?”
He shoved the woman’s shoulder, and she stumbled back and fell to the ground. He didn’t make it a habit of harming older women, but it took everything in him not to pull his gun and put a bullet into her right there. He jumped into the SUV and wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel.
In the passenger seat, Grim rested her hand on his thigh. “Sold you…?”
How could he explain his adopted mother picked the best-looking teenage boys from the group homes and pimped them out? She’d sold him many times.
“I need a drink.”
Grim handed him the matchbook. His past would probably be at the bar also, but they needed answers. He threw the SUV into drive. Francis was still on the ground when his tires squealed out of the parking spot.
They drove in silence until he pulled up to the bar.
“I’m not sure why I didn’t think about your past. Chicago is big…Fuck, I’m sorry you had to face that woman.”
“South Side isn’t big. Many don’t get out, and I knew the second you mentioned the address I might have to deal with someone from my time here.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and gazed at the run-down bar.
Years ago, the place was a laundry mat. The owner had run an underground gambling ring in the back room. The large glass windows were filled in with discolored cinder blocks. He was sure the construction wasn’t to code, but many of the old parts of his hometown weren’t.
A large man stumbled out the front door and caught himself on the street sign. A stream of beer projected from his mouth.
He was older, but Casanova recognized him: Mr. Nelson, his junior high math teacher.
“Lucas is good,” Grim said. “We can find another way to get information.”
“Except answers might be behind the black door. Seeing her fucked with me for a second.”
“What’s going on?” Grim asked. “It’s a bar, and they will be open for a while longer. I’ve read your file. All it said was you were homeless, stole cars, and dealt drugs. Do you want to talk about it?”
He exhaled, relieved she didn’t know how dark it got for him.
“Fuck no.” He threw open the door, and the smoke from Mr. Nelson’s cigarette choked him.
Grim was next to him as he yanked open the flimsy door to the bar. Dr. Dre blasted from the jukebox next to the pool table. A woman lined up her shot while a man next to her glanced in their direction. Two women drank in the side booth. None of the bar stools were taken.
Behind the counter, a woman with pink hair popped the top of a beer bottle.
Grim slid up to the bar, and Casanova sat next to her.
The bartender’s tight white tank top had Clam Digger written across the front. “Are you two lost?”
He didn’t bother replying to her question. “She’ll have a Sprite and vodka. I’ll have a Jack straight-up three fingers.”
He hated bottom shelf whisky, but there was no chance they had a red or blue label behind the counter. Hell, the Jack probably was a knock off poured into the bottle.
She reached for a bottle of Smirnoff.
“You don’t happen to have Tito’s?” Grim asked.
The woman snorted and poured the cheap vodka into the glass. “A lot of South Side has gone through gentrification, but you won’t get that bougie shit here. You need to head down a few streets. My clientele comes to get drunk, not sip on a drink. As I said, you’re not from around here. Best you down this drink and leave.”
His old math teacher staggered into the bar and swayed before his ass hit the stool. “I’m ready for another one, Gigi.”
“You’re cut off. Already called your son to come get your ass.” She set their drinks down on the counter. “Fifteen dollars.”
Casanova grabbed the glass, ignoring the smudge on the side, and downed the whiskey. A burning sensation filled his throat, and he set the glass back down and pointed. The bartender gave him a raised brow before she poured him a decent amount into the glass.
Grim took a sip of her drink and scrunched her nose. “Are you Gigi? I was told you could help us.”
She snatched the bar towel off the counter and wiped down a glass. “I’m not a snitch.”
Her pink hair threw him for a second, but he recognized her freckles from when she’d pushed him down on the playground when she thought he’d stolen her rock.
“Come on, Goldilocks, I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”
She tossed the towel to the side and placed her hands on the counter. “Jared Dawson, holy shit. What the fuck? Rumor had it you got busted for murder.”
He wasn’t surprised by her statement. The night he finally escaped the clutches of Ester, a gunfight broke out, and a bloodbath was left in his wake. When he snuck out the back door, he’d hoped Ester was shot along with everyone else. He’d also taken the one thing she needed to keep the business running, and he was still the only one who knew where he hid the blackmail she had on the local politicians and law enforcement.
“Never took you for one to believe the stories on the street.”
Grim set her glass down. “How do you guys know each other?”
Gigi threw her head back and laughed. “In elementary school, Jared stole my pet rock.”
“Actually, Jay stole your rock, but you blamed me. All my brother wanted was a little attention.”
His heart contracted at the mention of his brother. It had been twenty-two years since the day he’d snuck his brother on a bus to Florida with a wad of cash he got for stealing a car. He hoped his brother had made something of himself, but he hadn’t looked him up because he never knew what to say.
“You always looked out for your twin.” She leaned forward. “So, what brings you here after all these years? I know it’s not my liquor.”
“Sage Mason.”
Her shoulders tightened, and she shook her head. “Don’t know the name.”
Grim slammed her glass down on the counter. “We were shot at today.”
“Technically, I was shot at,” Casanova said. “You found it necessary to join in on the fun.”
“Okay, this idiot was almost killed,” Grim said, nodding at Casanova. “A car chased us through the streets of Chicago. I saw my former sister-in-law for the first time in years, and all I want is some info on my ex. Now, are you going to give me some good vodka and tell me what you know about the son of the bitch, or are we wasting our time?”
Gigi reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of Tito. “I kind of like you. Sage doesn’t come in here. I can’t be bought by a politician. Talk on the street is he’s running anything and everything illegal on the South Side. He’s flooding money into the hands of families that haven’t had it before. You have to be careful. Many will do anything to keep the money coming.”
Casanova pulled out his business card. He still hadn’t gotten accustomed to being in the private sector. He tossed it on the counter. “If you hear anything, call.”
Gigi scrunched her nose as she read the card. “Casanova? One name?”
“In the military, everyone gets call signs. I’m Grim, by the way. Any help you can give us, we’d appreciate it.”
Gigi filled his glass a third time. “I overheard two of my regulars talking about Sage hiring them to help with a shipment docking at the port tomorrow. Nobody said what it was, only they are making good money. Whenever Sage is in town, he also spends every Saturday morning at The Dirty Spoon Diner and afterward he slips into the basement for meetings.”
Casanova grabbed the bottle of Jack and filled his glass. He wanted to drink away the foul taste in his mouth because he had to visit the diner. “Weasel family still own it?”
Gigi’s eyes dimmed as she figured out why he didn’t want to go. “Yes. You know they considered you family.”
“Until Kate died.”
Grim squeezed his thigh, but he barely felt her touch as he mentally prepared himself to face the mother of the one girl he couldn’t save.
6
Grim
Grim ignored the dribble of syrup running down her chin as she shoved a second piece of the French toast in her mouth. She’d spotted the breakfast special when they’d entered the old school diner. Casanova had asked for the booth along the back wall. Neither of them wanted to sit with their back to the front door, so they were side by side.
Casanova and she had drunk a hell of a lot more than she was used to, but it seemed like she was the only one hung over. She opted for the special, which also included eggs, hash browns, toast, and instead of juice, she asked for a Coke and hoped it helped settle her stomach from her vodka intake. Gigi had let them pull the SUV into a side garage behind her bar, and then they had taken an Uber back to the hotel. This morning they caught another ride share back to the South Side and grabbed the SUV before they headed to the diner for breakfast.
Gigi was a hoot to talk to and told stories about Casanova, how he was the nerd in elementary school. The more they talked, the more he drank.
When they stumbled into the hotel neither of them changed before they both crashed on the king-size bed at the hotel. When he woke, he barely had a hair out of place. She felt like death rolled over her and gave her an extra kick, for fun.
A teen with sandy blonde hair walked over and filled her Coke. When she glanced up to say thanks, their eyes locked. The teen’s eyes were baby blue speckled with a hint of teal, just like Casanova’s. She had always thought his eyes were so unique. What were the chances of this girl having the same color?
Casanova hadn’t stopped staring at the counter where a woman with gray hair was hunched over writing.
“This is so good.” She pointed to the French toast. “How often are they on the menu?”
The teen smiled. “Not often enough. They’re expensive, so I don’t get to have them very often. Sometimes the chef sneaks me a piece on my way out.”
Casanova shifted, pulled out his wallet, and grabbed a hundred-dollar bill. “Now, you can have them more often.”
“I can’t take this.” She kept her hand held out.
“Sure, you can. Is George still the chef?”
She shook her head, her sandy blonde ponytail bouncing. “No, he retired about five years ago, and his son took over. But George does come in to make sure Billy is making his creations right.”
The woman from the counter walked over and placed her hand on the teen’s shoulder. Her nametag read Sandy. “Why don’t you go check on Richter’s order? You know how grumpy he gets if his food sits too long.”
Sandy plucked the hundred-dollar bill from the girl’s fingers. Grim shifted to grab it from the woman, but Casanova gripped her leg.
Sandy shoved the bill in the girl’s pocket. “Now, you keep that for yourself. Hide it before you go home.”
Tears shined in the girl’s eyes as she darted for the back, and Sandy slid into the seat across from them.
Casanova and the woman stared at each other. Grim shifted in the seat, not sure if she should start the conversation. So she didn’t blurt something out, she took another fork full of French toast.
“Twenty-two years, six months, and four days, I’ve waited for you to walk through that door,” Sandy said. “Harold told me you would never come back and at times I thought he was right. I worried you died the night of the shooting, but nobody found your body.”
The woman’s lip trembled as she reached for Casanova’s hand.
Grim inched toward the edge of the seat to give them space, but Casanova draped his arm around her and pulled her to his side.
“I’m so sorry, Sandy. It was my job to protect her. And I let you down.”
“You were just a kid yourself at the time. Kate was a troubled teen, and Harold and I took in enough foster kids over the years to spot drug addictions. Our home was supposed to be a safe place and all the kids we fostered over the years were like sons and daughters to me. Some we’ve helped and they flourished and some we couldn’t help. You were a teen at the time. Nobody expected you to save her. She had to do that on her own, but she didn’t want to. Harold and I are partially to blame. I think we had seven kids in the house during the time she stayed with us, but the diner was struggling, so we spent our time here.” Sandy dabbed her eye with a napkin from the table. “You never saw the bad side of her. Jared, you were a good kid, looked out for everyone, but nobody watched your back. I really wish Harold and I could have gotten you out of that hell hole, but she ran this city.”
Casanova leaned forward. “Rumor on the streets says Sage Mason has control of South Side now.”
Sandy’s eyes darted to the door and then back to him. “He’s a leech. No other way to explain it, but I can’t afford to get on his bad side. He acts like he’s running things, but someone else is pulling the strings. Nobody can figure out what they want with the South Side.”
The door to the diner opened. Sage walked in wearing black pants and a white shirt.
Grim tugged her baseball cap down. She’d thrown it on before they’d left the hotel. In time, she would confront her ex, but she planned to wait for the perfect moment.
He slid into the table near the front window, and two men in jeans and t-shirts sat across from him. The blonde teen went over to the table and poured the water. The man closest to the edge of the bench reached out and grabbed her ass.
“Motherfucker,” Grim muttered.
“You’ll blow your cover,” Casanova reminded her. He turned back to Sandy. “What is he doing in the basement?”
Sandy let out a long breath. “Harold rented it out to the Nelson brothers a few years back. It helps bring in extra money. The Nelson brothers started showing up with Sage more and more to the diner. They store large boxes down there. Jared, you have to understand, it costs a lot of money to keep helping all these kids.”
Casanova crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not judging you, but I need to go down there. I think I know why he’s really using the basement.”
She tugged a blue bracelet with a key off her wrist and dropped it on the table. “He’ll go down to the basement when he finishes his breakfast. I can have Billy delay his food.”
Grim sat back, regarding the woman. She had bags under her eyes. “The blonde waitress. What’s her name?”
“It’s her eyes, right? Her twin brother has the same ones. When I first saw her, I thought she was Jared’s daughter, but later on, I figured out she was his sister. Jena Dawson and her brother Jacob pick up shifts here at night and on weekends.”
“Where is her brother now?” Casanova asked.
“He’s watching their younger sister Jasmin. When Jena gets off Jacob will come in and take the next shift.”
“Fuck! I want to go talk to her, but we need to get into the basement, and we can’t have him seeing you. Where do they live? Maybe I can meet with them on Sunday.”
She leaned forward. “For a while, she stayed with us, but your mother is out of jail, and they’re under her roof. She’d left town for years after she dropped you boys off at the fire station. About five years ago she returned with the twins and a baby. Your siblings bust their butt to put food on the table for their little sister.”
Casanova pushed his card across the table. “Text me all the information I need. I won’t leave town until I meet with her. If I go to her now, it could possibly blow my cover. Grim and I need to take Sage down.”
“Harold would love to see you before you leave town.” She patted Casanova’s hand. “And I’ll give you the stuff Kate hid in her room. It will give you a different point of view of the past.”
She slid out of the booth and headed for the counter.
Grim grabbed the key from the table and stood. Casanova was next to her, and she kept her back to the front of the room. His hand rested on her side as she stepped through the employee-only door.
“Come this way.” Casanova led her down a side hall to another door. He tugged it open and nudged her forward.
The first wood step creaked. She pulled out her cellphone and clicked the flashlight button.
“I’m sure this is a scene from one of the serial documentaries we watched. You’re going to lead me into a basement, tie me up, and kill me.” She didn’t like dark spaces.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Casanova clicked the flashlight button and held up his phone. Stacks of wooden crates filled the small area. Casanova pried the top of the box near them open and pushed the shredded paper to the side. Assault rifles. She took a quick picture before he closed the lid.
“We can take him down with this,” she said.
“Yes, but we need to see how much he’s entangled in the bigger picture. We need to cut off the snake’s head. There’s a tunnel in the back of this room. Kate and I would sneak down here when we were younger. It’s a perfect way to move guns under the city.”
The light in the room flicked on, and he grabbed her arm. “Move.”
He tugged her to the back of the small cellar and hunched down behind the containers.
Footsteps thudded against the wood stairs.
“See, boss, we got everything down here,” a man said from out of sight.
“How long before you have it all distributed? I’m bringing more in tonight.”
Casanova crawled a couple of feet from her and flipped the lock on a small door. When he tugged it open, it creaked.
She eyed Sage between the boxes, but he was still locked in conversation with the two local lackeys.
