PART 9
Insistent buzzing in his ear pulled Buck from his much-needed slumber. He groaned as he stretched a long arm from beneath the comforter and slapped the snooze button one more time. Monday. He had dreaded the arrival of this day since the argument with Chris on Friday.
Buck had spent the entire weekend trying to keep J.D.’s mind off Chris and the horrible position he’d left the boy in. Of course it wasn’t easy distracting him without being obvious he was trying to distract him, but Buck gave it his best shot. Nothing special, just the same ole routine, except more of it. They’d watched so much hockey his own teeth hurt, consumed enough pizza and beer to legitimately buy stock in Pizza Hut and Coors simply for the profit value alone.
J.D. seemed all right. Then again, once the kid got over his initial shock about something he could be damn good at hiding his feelings. Buck noticed he’d been almost jovial at times, his normal fun-loving self for the past two days. Yet Buck knew better. Despite the kid’s laughter and willingness to go along with whatever activity the older agent came up with, Buck could sense the sadness. Minute lapses of control reflected the deep hurt in the boy’s hazel eyes and threatened to break Buck’s heart.
Buck dragged his weary body from the comfort of his king-sized mattress and made his way to the shower. He closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the wall, leaning over slightly to let the warm water drench his hair.
Buck felt like a traitor. A part of him knew he should have punched Chris into the middle of next week and thrown his badge in his boss’ face on his way out. It kind of shocked him that he didn’t do just that. Wilmington sighed heavily as he soaped up his hair, letting the lather roll down his bare back, wondering what had stopped him.
Then again, he already knew. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he couldn’t help the feeling of relief that washed over him when he realized J.D. would no longer be involved with the Scorpions. He wouldn’t have to worry about where the kid was and who was shooting at him this time or be forced to watch him suffer if another one of those bullets found its mark.
Now he felt guilty. As much as he adored that boy and would move heaven and earth to keep him safe, he had no right to try and dictate J.D.’s future.
He sincerely hoped J.D. would understand Buck’s return to the team was in no way a slight against him or meant he agreed with Chris. Buck just needed some time to sort this out himself. Figure out the best move without going off half-cocked.
He shook his head, trying to break through the confusion of his own thoughts as he turned off the water and slid open the Plexiglas door. He dried off quickly and wrapped a fresh towel around his waist before making his way to the kitchen. Coffee – he really needed coffee. In fact he was craving it so much he imagined he could smell it brewing already.
He stopped and rubbed his eyes at the sight of the already steaming pot. The cold tiles of the kitchen floor sticking to his bare feet succeeding in waking him more than the shower had and he quickly stepped onto the warmth of the rug in front of the sink.
J.D. rarely drank coffee and Buck felt grateful the kid had actually remembered how to make it. Bless you, boy. He poured his cup almost to the rim, taking a tentative sip before shuffling back toward his bedroom.
Today was not going to be fun for any of them. He knew J.D. didn’t want to start over and Buck hated the thought of dealing with Chris and his bullshit. He glanced off the hallway into J.D.’s room and felt his heart sink.
"J.D. you all right?" Buck stepped into the doorway.
J.D. sat on the end of his bed, staring at a tv screen that wasn’t even on. He was already dressed, unusual for 7:00 a.m. He was also wearing khakis, a dark green corduroy button down that was actually tucked into his pants, the ever-present Nikes were replaced with a fairly new pair of hiking boots. Unusual attire for any time of the day or night for J.D.
"I can’t do this, Buck." The kid’s voice sounded fragile and soft as a newborn kitten’s cry. He stood up and walked toward Buck, bewildered eyes peering up through the dark bangs that fell in his face.
"Yeah, you can, son." Buck whispered, trying to project his own confidence into J.D. "You’ll be fine."
J.D. shook his head slowly. "I feel sick." J.D. lowered his eyes, but not before Buck caught a glimpse of the mistiness the kid tried to control.
"Look, I don’t know what Chris has a burr under his saddle about, but I promise I’ll talk to him. See what I can do to knock some sense in that hard head of his."
Buck tilted his head and grinned. "Now in the meantime, keep your chin up and do your job, J.D. You’re still an agent, still a servant of the public, that part ain’t changed."
J.D. nodded and absently bit the inside of his cheek, then wiped away any traces of his beginning tears.
Buck reached out and pulled at the collar of J.D.’s shirt. "Don’t you think you should break out the suit and tie? I know Butler’s a lot more anal about appearances than Chris."
"Like I give a damn. I ain’t wearing no monkey suit to work, hell, Butler better just be grateful I’m showing up at all."
Buck grinned at the kid’s spunk. Butler and his band of merry goons had no earthly idea what they were up against. Wilmington still bristled at the thought of J.D. having to answer to that anal retentive prick, but he knew Chris would never change his mind if J.D. refused to follow orders.
The older agent affectionately slapped J.D. on the shoulder and laughed. "Hang on, I’ll be dressed in a few minutes."
"Not today, Buck. I need the fresh air, clear my head, get psyched up for this, ok?"
"Sure, kid. I understand." Buck knew he didn’t hide the disappointment in his voice very well, but he did realize J.D.’s need to be alone. He knew how hard this was going to be for him. Almost as difficult as it was for Buck to watch.
"Give ‘em hell, son." Buck winked mischievously as J.D. edged past him and caught the faint smile play across the boy’s face.
"You too." J.D. turned and walked backwards a few steps before grabbing his helmet off the counter and heading out the door.
"Oh, I plan to, kid. I plan to." Buck grinned widely.
*******
J.D. sat astride his bike for another twenty minutes before going to his new office. He had taken the long way in, avoiding the interstate and giving himself a chance to think. Of course the only thing his mind latched onto was how much he didn’t want to work for Butler’s geek patrol.
He made his way through familiar hallways and friendly faces, yet he felt like a stranger. The new kid, under the microscope and the scrutiny of his new teammates. He told himself he had no reason to be nervous, but the fluttering in his belly belied his rationale.
"Hey, man, welcome to nerd heaven." A tall young man greeted J.D. as he stepped into the door and took J.D.’s hand and shook it firmly. Of the three men and one woman under Butler’s authority, Doug Zinser was the only one who had ever actually talked to anyone outside the department’s tight knit little group. Apparently that still held true, since none of the others even moved forward to acknowledge J.D.’s presence, much less say hello.
Then again, Doug didn’t seem to fit in with the Butler’s crew either. They appeared to be cut from the same boring, straight-laced, suit and tie mold, all in their late 30s or older. Not that J.D. minded, heck, he was used to being the youngest since even the closest one in age to him on Team 7 was a good ten years his senior.
Zinser was probably only a couple of years older than J.D., but stood almost a foot taller and out weighed him by 50 pounds or more. His face appeared to be precisely chiseled into the features of a Greek god and even Buck admitted the guy could be some competition for the ladies in the building. Still, Doug was likeable, much too friendly and laid-back to belong with ‘Bug Up His Butt-ler’s’ gang. J.D. almost laughed out loud as he remembered Buck’s nickname for his new boss and knew he must have screwed up bad for Chris to turn him over to the anal retentive prick. Another one of Buck’s affectionate monikers for Jack Butler.
While the others were dressed in tailored suits, Doug had on khakis and a button-down shirt like J.D.’s. He had a tie, but it was already loosened from his neck and hung sideways. "Don’t worry, J.D." Doug leaned down and pretended to whisper, but made sure he was still loud enough to be heard. "They’re a little sensitive about being called that."
J.D. couldn’t control the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks, Doug."
J.D. stared in awe of the array of high tech computers and gadgets stored within the office and he wished he’d had access to these before. This department had been created to be support for the real agents, like Team 7, but they rarely graced them with a smile, much less help on a case. In fact, he never really knew what the hell this department was supposed to do. To simply exist as a buncha egotistical snobs was all he could ever figure out. He couldn’t wait to learn it all and then get the hell out of here.
The atmosphere hung thick with stifling control and obsessive order and made him long for the comfort and familiarity of the bullpen. He already missed joking with Buck and Vin and annoying the heck out of Ezra.
"Hey Bradley." Doug pulled out the older man’s name like a chant. "Get the kid a chair."
J.D. cringed into his heavy jacket as Brad Thorne and Suzane Thrasher glared at him like he was a cockroach invading the Sunday dinner table. He had a feeling Doug had made it his job to be the outcast and now he was guilty by association. Not that it mattered, these guys were notorious assholes anyway. Besides, this was only temporary. Please let this be very temporary.
"Come on, J.D., let’s set you up here." Doug pushed his way past Bradley and almost ran headlong into Charles Westerby, Butler’s right hand man. In more ways than one, according to Buck, who had noted once that Charles was a little ‘sweet in the britches, if you get my meaning, boy.’ J.D. realized he was still grinning like a Cheshire cat and Charles was not an amused camper.
"New recruits get the back cubicle, Douglas. You know that." Charles ignored J.D., focusing his words directly at Doug, the venom oozing from every fiber in Westerby’s being.
"Awww, don’t hate us ‘cause we’re smarter than you." Doug retorted as he ushered J.D. deeper into the bowels of hell.
J.D. didn’t laugh, but he made sure Charles saw the gleam of amusement shining in his eyes. He’d never cared much for Charles or Brad or Suzane anyway.
"John Dunne, come to my office, please." J.D. turned to look up into Butler’s condescending smile and his heart sank.
If this day gets any better, I’ll have to hire somebody to help me enjoy it. J.D. shook his head slightly, trying to exorcise Buck’s phrases out of his head. Damn, he missed his best friend’s hokey wisecracks so much he was involuntarily rehashing the old ones.
"Good luck." Doug whispered softly and disappeared, leaving J.D. alone to follow Butler.
"Sit down." Butler shut the door behind them and slowly made his way around his desk. "Glad to have you onboard, young man."
J.D. knew Butler hadn’t called him in here to praise his intelligence and prowess with a computer and wished the man would just spit out whatever it was sticking in his craw. God, Buck, you have warped me for life.
"I wanted you to be aware of my rules upfront, so there’ll be no misunderstandings later on." Butler’s plastered on smile never wavered as his tone changed from light to almost menacing.
"Team Seven has, shall we say, an unsavory reputation and Larabee is known to be a bit lenient with his men and their, penchant for doing their own thing."
J.D. sat in stunned silence as Butler’s fake grin stretched wider.
"I think it’s best you know I am not Chris Larabee. I am in charge of this department because I have more experience and more knowledge than the people under my command and my orders will not be questioned. I am a fair man, Mr. Dunne, but I am not known for my tolerance or forgiveness."
J.D. felt the blood pounding in his ears as his apprehension grew into unbridled anger. How dare Butler say these things? Compared to Chris, this moron was nothing more than a well-dressed, highly trained chimp.
"I realize you are accustomed to being hand-fed and coddled by the other members of Larabee’s squad, but I assure you that will not happen in my unit. You pull your own weight and do as you’re told and we’ll all get along splendidly!"
He watched as Butler’s thin lips continued to move, but J.D. was no longer paying much attention to anything except the screams of rage and protest in his own head. Hand-fed and coddled?!
J.D. felt the overwhelming urge to leap out of his seat and grab Butler by that butt-ugly tie and drag him across his overly-neat mahogany desk. J.D.’s body reflexively shifted in his seat, his still-healing gunshot wound protested the movement and reminded him of why those words had pissed him off. The nerve of that asshole. He knew Butler wasn't referring to anything specific, but it infuriated J.D. to even consider that if Butler thought damn near dying from a bullet wound followed by having tubes of every description known to mankind shoved into so many orifices that the doctors had to come up with new holes in order to accommodate them, was being coddled and hand-fed, well. . .J.D.'d be happy to hand-feed him his . . .
"…none of the flippant attitudes he allowed on his team will be tolerated in this department. Are you understanding this, Mr. Dunne?"
The words cut through his muddled brain and he didn’t try to stop the sarcastic tone that tumbled from his lips. "Yes, sir. Perfectly clear, sir."
J.D. felt the tremors racking his body and he fought hard to kept them in check. Fury burned a hole in his gut.
"I doubt you’ve had much experience in the ‘real world’, John, but you will learn quickly here or you’ll go back to asking other under-educated slobs if they’d like fries with that." Butler’s eyes narrowed as he tried to mimic Chris’ glare. "So don’t push me. I will not tolerate it."
If it weren’t for the sake of knowing Buck was trying his best to get him back in Chris’ good graces, he would have thrown his friend’s nickname, as well as his own clenched fist, straight in the man’s smug face right then. J.D. knew he had to get out of here soon before one of them ended up dead.
Oh God, Chris, what could I have possibly done to deserve this?
*******
Buck pulled his truck into the parking garage and parked it beside J.D.’s bike. Just like old times. Well, a man could pretend couldn’t he? Chris’ Ram loomed, dark and ominous from its spot and Buck felt a wave of anger rise into his throat at the mere sight of the vehicle. Dread pulled at his heart as he made his way to the elevators and tried to prepare himself to face this day.
Vin, Josiah and Ezra already occupied their respective desks as he stepped into the office and Buck quietly said a few hellos as he sat heavily in his own chair. The whole place reeked of uneasy stillness, none of them apparently in the mood for normal, before-work chitchat.
Chris’ door was closed, which suited Buck just fine. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to him anyway, but he so much as promised J.D. he would try. Later. When looking over at J.D.’s empty desk didn’t make him want to put both hands around Larabee’s neck and squeeze until the stubborn asshole passed out. Besides, they all knew the new guy was sitting in Chris’ office, being briefed and probably forewarned about them.
Buck let out a frustrated sigh, his head snapping to attention as Chris’ door opened and the fresh recruit practically bounded out the door.
Mike Pierce in any other circumstance might have been a potential friend, he’d always seemed quiet, reserved and likable enough. Of course he hadn’t been with Butler long enough to have been corrupted yet. That might be the only thing that saved his hide now.
Pierce grinned shyly as he sat down in J.D.’s chair and Buck’s back stiffened. Don’t touch a damn thing, mister. Not one damn thing. Buck knew this day was going to be tough, but until he saw the image of someone else sitting where J.D. belonged, he hadn’t realized how tough.
He glanced sideways at Ezra, the southerner glared at Pierce, his face cool with indifference, but his green eyes shining with agitation. Buck couldn’t see the other two men, but knew they weren’t happy with the new arrangements either.
Pierce spun the chair around to face Buck. "Mr. Wilmington, so glad to be working with you. All of you." Mike stood up and addressed them, his voice full of confidence his body couldn’t quite get a handle on. His hand trembled as he thrust an open palm toward Buck, quickly withdrawing it when Buck didn’t return the gesture.
"I can’t believe I’m really here!" Pierce grinned as he looked from one man to the other, desperately looking for a friendly face somewhere.
"Neither can we." Buck nodded toward the empty cubicle across the room. "Maybe you should move in over there."
"Mr. Larabee said to just put Dunne’s stuff in a box…" Pierce’s voice trailed as he shakily stood his ground.
"Touch anything and you’ll be wearing yer fingers on a chain." Buck couldn’t take it anymore and he stepped in front of Pierce in one smooth motion. Wilmington narrowed his eyes and stared down at the young man.
"He said you guys’d understand." Pierce squeaked.
Normally Buck would have felt sorry for the new kid, but the memory of the pain in J.D.’s eyes quickly pushed his sympathy out of reach. He watched as Pierce fumbled for more words as the slight quiver in his hands reached his upper lip. Buck knew he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit the sight warmed his soul by a few degrees.
"Not likely." Vin’s low voice held an underlying threat and Pierce swallowed hard, quickly glancing at Chris’ closed door, looking for reinforcement.
Buck felt the presence of the other men behind him and Josiah’s calming hand on his shoulder.
"I don’t think Pierce would mind moving over there." Josiah’s booming voice echoed through the silent office as he pointed his thumb at the far cubicle. "Sounds reasonable enough, doesn’t it, boy?"
Josiah smiled and winked and Pierce nodded his head, apparently wanting no part of starting out on their bad side. He must be smarter than he looked. Buck picked up the stack of files Chris had given Pierce and deposited them on the bare desk. At least the rookie would be out of his line of sight for the short time he’d be here.
"Buck?" Chris’ monotone set raw nerve endings further on edge and Buck turned slowly to face their leader as he framed the doorway to his office.
"Yes?" Buck smiled sweetly, but made sure Chris saw the fire of anger burning in his eyes.
"I asked Pierce to take *that* desk."
"*That* desk… is J.D.’s." Buck stated firmly as he stepped toward Larabee.
"Not anymore, Buck." Larabee leaned around Buck’s shoulder and addressed Pierce. "Mike, put your things back on your desk."
Buck could hear Pierce scrambling behind him, but his gaze never wavered from Chris’ steely blue eyes. How could he be so damn impassionate and cold about what he did to J.D.? Didn’t the kid mean a damn thing to him anymore?
"Out of sight, out of mind? Simple as that, right? Damn, Chris, someday you’ll have to let me in on how you do it." Buck could feel the blood rush to his cheeks as he absently tightened his hand into a fist, resisting the urge to release his rage on Chris’ face.
Buck lowered his voice to barely a whisper and hovered inches from Chris. "Guess you’re just a stronger man than I’ll ever be, pard."
Buck snatched the cell phone off his desk in mid-stride as he made his way to the exit door and shoved it wide. Damn it, he had lost his cool. He knew that Chris would push him, push them all to make his point, but Buck couldn't stay there and watch it happen. A stranger was using J.D.'s stuff, answering his phone, doing the job that boy loved so much, the job Chris took away from him. Buck jostled his keys absently in one palm until the elevator doors opened. He had a few things to take care of before he came back.
If he came back.
PART 10
Vin felt the turmoil as Buck stormed past them and out the door and watched the conflict play on his friends’ faces. He couldn’t recall ever seeing Josiah this confused and he knew exactly what Ezra was thinking - ‘stay or follow Buck’. Tanner knew because he was thinking the same thing.
Ezra quickly made his decision and snatched his jacket off the chair, launching open the doors and retracing Buck’s steps into the hallway. Chris narrowed his eyes at their departure, then turned and strutted back into his office without uttering a word.
Ok, that was it.
Vin had just about enough of Chris' posturing and planned to put a stop to it right now. He knew the next time Larabee’s temper and self-righteous attitude might push Buck too far. Hell, if Chris kept this up, J.D. might be the first, but he wouldn’t be the only casualty on Team Seven. And Vin wasn’t going to let that happen, damn it.
Vin rushed forward and caught the door before it actually shut, then slammed it behind him and stopped in front of Chris’ desk.
"Don’t you knock?" Chris asked, his back still turned toward his friend.
"Wasn’t closed." Vin could hear the strain in his own voice and fought to keep his cool. He had never been one to get angry over office politics, never really gave a damn before, but right now he was royally pissed.
"You can close it on your way out then." Chris sat down in his chair and calmly gazed at Vin.
"Not ‘til I’ve had my say." Vin glared back at Larabee from across the cluttered desk. "We all know what yer doin’ and we got a pretty damn good idea why."
"By all means, tell me why I’m doin’ whatever it is you think I’m doin’." Chris leaned back in his chair, the egotistical grin on his face doing nothing to alleviate Vin’s growing anger.
"You know damn well I’m talkin’ about you gettin’ rid of J.D." Vin narrowed his eyes and lowered his head in direct line with Chris. "It’s not about J.D., it’s about your own need to be in control of everything."
"Control? Sure, Vin, whatever you say. Make sure you shut that door on the way out."
"I ain’t finished yet. I know you’re blaming yourself for J.D. nearly gettin’ killed, trying to pretend if he weren’t with us he’d be safe, but that just ain’t so, Chris."
Chris blinked slowly and pushed his face closer to Vin’s. "Are you finished now?"
Vin ignored the comment. "Larabee, would you stop being a damn stubborn fool and talk to me for a minute!" Vin lowered his voice, his tone reduced to a soft plea. "I know you wanna protect him, hell, we know you do the best you can to watch out for all of us, but you can’t. Not all the time."
Chris pushed his chair back as he stood up. Green eyes blazed with anger, but Vin could clearly see the hurt radiating through the cold stare. "I can this time. And I don’t need you or anybody else questioning my decisions. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly." Vin knew he’d struck a nerve, but he also knew when to back off. He hadn’t accomplished much at all, but at least he had made his feelings clear. He could only hope the team would survive long enough for him to get past Chris’ stubbornness and get J.D. back.
*******
Chris felt the reverberation of the door rattle his windows and he let out a heavy sigh. What did they know? What did any of them know? He was doing his best to keep his team together and try to catch a damn pyromaniac who liked to play with guns and thought murder and torture should be an Olympic sport.
Chris vigorously massaged the back of his neck with one hand and turned to look out onto the busy street. Sometimes he thought the mental aspects of this job would kill him before the long hours and the flying bullets ever would. Not that Chris didn’t enjoy his job, he did. He loved the danger, the excitement, the camaraderie, the only things that kept him from feeling empty anymore. Maybe, if things had worked out differently, if he and Sarah had been able to have more time together, if he had had time to mature as much in his head as he had in years, then he might have realized his mistakes before it had been too late. But that was a moot point now. It was for all of them.
Except J.D.
That kid didn’t belong with the likes of them. He was too young to be as screwed up or world weary as the other members of his team, the men he looked up to and emulated every damn move. J.D. was better than all of them put together. He had potential they’d all given up on long ago.
The kid simply wasn’t experienced enough to figure that out yet. Didn’t know how screwed up this choice of a career could get. He needed a kick in the pants to let him know this wasn’t all it was cracked up to be; that sometimes the risks were too great, the price too high and that normalcy was extremely underrated. Someday, when J.D. had a wife and kids, when he had a job he might just stand a chance coming home from every night, then he’d appreciate it. Then they all would. Until then he didn’t mind playing the bad guy if that’s what it took.
*******
J.D. had never been more bored or degraded in his young life. After his enlightening visit with Butler, he’d been given his ‘duties’ for the day. Which basically amounted to a cyber paper chase of the most mundane cases he could imagine. Yep, it didn’t get any better than this, he thought bitterly.
J.D. screamed silently and shut his eyes tight. The black dots dancing behind his eyelids unquestionably the most exciting thing happening in this office. This was all these people did all day long? No wonder they each had the personality of a swatted housefly. You’d have to be an idiot to actually choose to do this kind of brain-numbing crap.
He leaned his head forward, trying to stretch the taut muscles in his neck. Wonder what Buck and the others were doing right now? Ezra probably already had a lead on Monday and they were planning another raid. One he wouldn’t be a part of.
The agent let out a frustrated sigh and looked at his watch. Three minutes later than the last time he checked. I’m gonna die here. They’ll find my catatonic body, hands frozen on the keyboard, eyes glassy from boredom, rigormortis the only thing holding my head upright.
J.D. shifted in his seat and bounced his left leg up and down, producing a nice steady squeak from the flimsy office chair. Good, maybe this will annoy the hell out of whoever was within hearing range. J.D. tried to concentrate on searching for serial numbers, but his mind and his fingers drifted and he soon found the FBI profile of Slade Monday on his computer screen.
Ohhh, Buck was right - with a face like that he *should* shave his butt and walk backwards. J.D. grinned widely as his fingers flew along the keys providing access to files he’d never been privy to before, simply because of who he worked for now. He shuddered at that thought, but he had to admit this little perk was actually kinda fun.
Monday owned a huge sporting goods store just outside of Denver that boasted it had everything for the hunter. J.D. figured that was an understatement. Chris told them in their first briefing that it was pretty much a given that anything smuggled in or out filtered through that business, but the store had been searched a hundred times and nobody could find a damn thing incriminating.
J.D. skimmed the list of offenses Monday was accused of and it made his skin crawl. He’d seen lots of felons who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as the rest of society, but this guy was enough to scare the bejesus out of anybody. It wasn’t so much that he had killed people, but more the way he had it done. People associated with Slade would disappear for weeks only to turn up lying in a ditch, missing at least one part of their anatomy, usually their head. One of his employees who had been helping the Feds try and catch Monday, was found with a wrought iron fence grate impaled through his throat. Burns and raw welts covered most of the man’s body, a not so subtle message for the next informant that thought he wanted to turn on his boss. Hell, Monday had even been suspected of having one of his own sons tied to the back bumper of a Rolls Royce and dragged until his neck snapped. Good Lord. It was like a mountain Mafia family with none of the warm fuzzies.
He scrolled down, continuing to read, somewhat out of morbid curiosity, but mainly he was looking for something that might help the guys catch this depraved son-of-a-bitch.
Monday seemed to be right in the thick of everything that went on, yet even the few times he’d been arrested the Feds could never make anything stick. One of his family members or associates would always end up taking the blame instead, seeing that no witnesses ever survived long enough to make it to the stand. Damn, this was not good.
J.D. shifted uncomfortably, the nearly healed wound in his side starting to itch and burn with a renewed fire as the incident flashed vividly in his head. He wished they’d known this stuff before they’d confronted Monday’s men in that warehouse. Chris might have been more careful, waited until back up arrived if he had realized what kind of degenerate he was dealing with. Then again, J.D. figured it was probably a good thing he himself hadn’t known beforehand or he might have hesitated just long enough to get Chris killed.
J.D. shuddered at the memory and willed it away. No use dwelling on things he couldn’t change. He’d just have to find out what he could so the guys would be more prepared the next time they met up with Monday’s gang.
"J.D.!" He jumped and reflexively clicked up another window, one with the actual work he was supposed to be doing, before he recognized Doug’s deep voice.
"Damn it, you scared the shit outta me!" J.D. let out a huge breath and waited for his heart to stop beating in his throat.
"Brad would have snitched on you in a New York minute, you’d better be careful."
"I don’t care. If I have to trace another grandpa’s missing .38 all day long I’m gonna make sure I find it so I can use it to shoot my bored brains out. How the hell do you stand this?"
"My dad, he used to be a beat cop, he tells me I’m still a wet behind the ears kid and I have to pay my dues. Says most of the top agents have to get their start doing the tedious shit, and then ends the lecture by telling me to ‘quit my bitching.’
J.D. grinned widely. Doug’s dad sounded like he’d get along great with Buck. "Does anything interesting ever happen here?"
"Sure, but Chuckie and his faithful followers get all the fun stuff." Doug shook his head sadly.
"Oh, man, this is the lowest of the low. No bombs, no arsons, no midnight warehouse busts complete with machine gun fire..." J.D. smiled at the joke, but deep down he was dead serious.
"Shhh, you know these geeks think they’re the ‘chosen ones’. Hell, they’d flood their Gucci loafers at the sound of a shell casing hitting the pavement, but *you*, damn, J.D., you’ve been smack dab in the middle of some serious shit."
J.D. blushed crimson at Doug’s words and the admiration evident in the older man’s voice.
"Really, man, I’m not kidding, you’re the ones who get the real action, the real glory, not this sitting in a stupid office ‘pretending to be important’ bull. We put the puzzle pieces together after the fact, but you guys are the ones putting your lives on the line in the first place." Doug’s eyes gleamed as he spoke and J.D. knew his new friend longed to be out of this place as much as he did.
"It was great." J.D. said softly, his thoughts drifting off to what he’d lost as a sudden rush of something damn close to homesickness made him nauseous.
"Boys, we don’t pay you to sit on your asses and gab like school girls." Bradley’s voice hovered in the air like a cloud of flies and J.D. let out a frustrated sigh. Damn, he hated this.
"Ohhh, I forgot, that’s what *you* get paid for, Bradley." Doug turned casually and smiled wickedly at Bradley.
"I thought he got paid for dressing like a school girl?" J.D. said in his best deadpan voice and looked questioningly at Doug.
Doug exploded in laughter and J.D. grinned broadly at Bradley’s feeble attempt at a deadly stare. He’d been glared at by Chris Larabee, any other attempt merely looked comical, especially the way Bradley tried to narrow his eyes into slits. He looked like one of those cartoon cats that’d just been conked on the head with a mallet.
Bradley’s face flushed a deep shade of pink and he turned quickly, his retreating footfalls echoing heavily on the linoleum floor. J.D. lost his battle to control his own laughter and joined in with Doug.
"That was priceless, man!" Doug gasped between fits of hysteria. "Damn, you do like to live dangerously! Of course you do know he’s going to rat on us now."
"Like a school girl." J.D. whispered and the two broke into laughter again. J.D. knew he was buying into a whole crap load of trouble, but right now he didn’t care. Hopefully, Butler would get severely pissed off and just send him back to Chris. There’d be hell to pay with Larabee, sure, but eventually he’d get over it. At least he’d be back on the team.
*******
Slade Monday hung up the phone, surprised at the calmness in his own voice as he told Garrett to wait. He had 4000 Micro-Uzi’s and 3000 M16s sitting in that basement ready to go, the money hanging in limbo until the delivery was made. Still, he didn’t have a choice. There was a team of Feds on his trail ready to rip open his throat like a pack of pit bulls if he made one wrong move. Monday knew he might be greedy, but he sure as hell wasn’t stupid. He could wait.
Sometimes he wondered why he hadn’t chosen to move his operation south of the border where business transactions were safer. There, a little under the table bribe or two could assure you a look the other way or a free ride out of jail, since the police weren’t too concerned with justice. Then again, he knew why. America was where the money was. Plenty of willing associates eager to make an easy buck, well, if you called risking arrest by the cops or death by rivals on the street easy. Not that it mattered to him. He would always have more help than he could ever need; if one died five more would be scrambling to take his place. This was his territory now and no damn police or Federal agents would ever take it from him. He had proved himself too clever for the likes of any of them and he certainly wasn’t going to throw it away now.
Normally a game of hide and seek with the government’s paid flunkies was part of the fun, hell, he loved messing with their heads almost as much as he loved the financial rewards. Only this group was getting on his nerves severely. Slade was used to the rookies and the stupid wanna-be agents that were usually sent his way, they were a nuisance, but hardly a threat. Now they’d turned his business over to a new team, who always seem to come out on top, one famous to not only the Feds, but to every businessman like himself. Flattering really that they thought it would take the "Magnificent Seven" to bring him in.
Monday had learned too late that this wasn’t any ordinary team of ATF agents. He’d heard of them, never figured there was much to the rumors until they had cost him close to a million dollars on that raid a month or so ago. He had underestimated them then, but that wouldn’t happen again. Oh, well, it was more fun this way. It would only be a matter of time before their special little team would be brought to their knees just like every other joker who tried to mess with his livelihood. Hell, he even had one of them inside his tight-knit group already. Some fancy dressing fellow with a distinctive accent and a smart-ass attitude.
Funnier still was the fact the guy had no idea he’d been made. Monday made sure his men fed him just enough of the truth to have him stick around until he found a suitable use for the little snitch. Then they would all see who was or wasn’t magnificent.
Monday laughed softly as he leaned backward in his plush office chair and stared out the bulletproof glass that overlooked his backyard. His 12-year-old son took another plunge off the short diving board and waved to him to watch again. That one was going to be a real asset. Like his older sister.
He prided himself on the devotion of his offspring, even if it sometimes had to take a tragic turn for them to understand the penalties of crossing him. Monday made sure he was surrounded by family, either related through blood or through the more binding tie of money. He’d learned a hard lesson about putting blind trust in those who tried to hide behind his name. Blood might just be thicker than water, but neither held a candle to cold, hard cash. At least he had three other children who had learned from their brother’s mistake. Pity, but it was a damn fine lesson for them all. Well worth the tears he had shed burying his eldest son because now he wouldn’t have to doubt his remaining children’s loyalties to him or to the business they would someday take over. Joseph and William were his forever, and Grace, well, she’d always been a chip off the ole block.
Monday smiled at the thought of his only daughter. She was only 26 and already had developed her father’s keen business sense and ability to do anything it took to get the job done. She’d tortured a man to death before she turned 21. Some idiot undercover agent who made the mistake of thinking her wide eyes and innocent smile meant she was harmless.
Hardly.
Slade knew she had only done it to make Daddy sit up and pay attention, to prove her worth to the family. Oh, and that she did! But Monday knew she also had felt the rush that taking a man’s life brought, the god-like feeling of power and control when you held another’s fate solely in your hands. He’d figured Grace would get off on it the same as he always had, and in that he hadn’t been disappointed. Certainly no hint of remorse ever showed itself, unlike her twin brother. Perfect example of good twin, evil twin – too bad for Gregory that he had just happened to develop his mother’s conscience.
Monday watched Joseph take another running leap into the clear water and laughed to himself. He knew whatever he decided he’d make sure Grace got to teach the current undercover pig a few new tricks he could tell his grandchildren horror stories about. If, of course, he lived through one of his daughter’s ‘lessons.’ She was by far a more accomplished master of inflicting misery than he could ever have dreamed.
Slade grinned to himself as he beamed with pride. "That’s my girl."
PART 11
It had only been two weeks since J.D.’s transfer and each day Buck watched the kid retreat further and further behind a wall of false bravado. The normally exuberant, self-confident and loving young man spiraled toward depression as he hid himself away from the guys and, for the last few days, even from Buck.
Wilmington sighed heavily as he pushed open the door to his condo, greeted by the now familiar sight of his roommate’s slumped form in the recliner, his work clothes loosened but still on as his sock feet dangled from the arm of the chair. J.D. didn’t even turn around when he heard the door click shut.
Buck made his way to the living room, pushing aside J.D.’s discarded shoes and waiting for the inevitable question. The same one the darn kid had asked everyday since Chris let him go. The same question Buck still didn’t have an answer to because he hadn’t had the stomach to talk to Chris about bringing J.D. back.
"Hey, kid, tough day?" Buck patted J.D.’s outstretched legs as he passed on his way to the couch.
"Same ole." J.D. shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to the television.
Buck wondered why J.D. hadn’t asked this time. Had he given up on him already? Had he given up on himself and just didn’t care anymore? His heart sank as he looked into J.D.’s pain-filled eyes and he silently cursed Chris a new asshole.
"I still ain’t got a chance to ask him, J.D." Buck tried to explain anyway. "It ain’t like Chris and I have been on the best of terms lately. Hell, we barely speak to each other anymore."
"I don’t want you choosin’ sides, Buck. He’s your friend too, I understand that."
"Just be patient, son, he’ll come around." Buck smiled, or tried to, but J.D. shot him a sideways glance that let him know he wasn’t buying his load of bull this time.
"I don’t know if I can wait for him to change his mind. I can’t do this much longer, Buck. I just ain’t cut out to be an office geek."
Buck felt the desperation behind J.D.’s words and it tore at his heart. He understood. God, he understood. Just from the times he’d been laid up himself for whatever reasons he couldn’t wait to get back into the action and J.D. seemed to be more restless. Poor kid. J.D. thrived on the chaos and the camaraderie more than anybody he’d ever known. Neither of which Butler or his crew could ever give him even if they wanted to.
"Just a while longer, J.D. Please? I have a feeling once Chris wraps up this case he’s gonna turn back into a real human again." Buck gave the kid his best lop-sided grin, hoping to convince both of them his words were true. "At least ‘til we catch Monday, ok?"
"I’ll try. I’d rather be backin’ you guys up instead of searching databases though."
"I know, but you’re helpin’, more ‘n you know. I still can’t believe the shit they don’t think they need to share with us."
"Butler really hates you guys." J.D. grinned briefly then his eyes glazed over and he retreated back into his melancholy mood. "Now he gets to hate me up close."
"Mutant." Anybody that could hate J.D. had to be some sort of alien who probably liked to kick puppies and gave out rocks at Halloween.
"Speaking of which…" J.D. swung his legs off the chair arm and grabbed a small stack of papers off the coffee table. "Make sure you give these to Ezra before he meets with Monday again."
Buck shook his head. "Nope, you give ‘em to him tonight. We’re all meetin’ at the Saloon at 7:30 and I promised the guys I’d get you there."
J.D.’s head lifted, his eyes shining a bit brighter before clouding again. "I don’t know, Buck, it’s been a hell of a long week and I probably need to just go to bed…"
"It’s Friday night, J.D. Since when do you come home and crash on a weekend?" Buck asked knowing full well they both knew when J.D.’s routine had changed. Since Chris had embarrassed him in front of the whole department; since Butler had made him feel like a wad of old gum stuck to his shoe. They’d both changed his kid. Made him into something quickly turning unrecognizable and damn it all to hell, Buck wasn’t going to let go of him without a fight. He hoped seeing the guys would lift his spirits, make him realize they weren’t rejecting him and that they missed him almost as much as Buck did. That they all still wanted him – even Chris.
"C’mon J.D., Inez’s been buggin’ the stew out of me to bring you in so she can see for herself that you’re all right." Buck stood and waited for J.D. to follow.
J.D. didn’t move, just looked at Buck, his eyes peering up solemnly from underneath the ever present lock of hair. "Chris gonna be there?"
"I sincerely doubt it." Buck hoped he wasn’t assuming too much. Truth was Chris hadn’t been in the Saloon since J.D. got shot and he didn’t expect the man to get a sudden urge for beer and company tonight either.
J.D. let out a deep breath and let Buck pull him to his feet. "Ok, just for a while. ‘Sides, I miss those special nachos Inez makes."
Buck grinned and slapped J.D. on the back. He might not be able to solve everything tonight, but this was a good start.
*******
J.D. laughed again at another of Buck’s outrageous, and likely embellished, conquest stories while soaking up just being one of the gang again. Something he’d been in too short supply of lately and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his friends. Well, he had, but he’d kept those feelings under tight wraps, afraid to dwell on his loneliness, afraid if he thought about it too much he’d just end up shoving Butler and Bradley and Charles up each other’s butts.
He glanced around at his former teammates, yet a wave of uneasiness still nagged at him that Ezra wasn’t among them. J.D. had hoped to talk to the undercover agent before his meeting with Slade Monday, but the guys said there’d been a change in plans and he’d be meeting with the low-life tonight instead of in the morning. Chris had kept Ezra late, wanting to go over the buy one more time.
Another beer appeared in front of him, followed by soft hands gripping his shoulders. He turned and smiled up at Inez.
"Thanks, Inez."
She placed a light kiss near his eye. "It is so good to see you."
Buck leaned back in his chair and grabbed her hand as she started past. "Now Inez, you done told him that about 15 times already tonight. You gonna give the boy a complex."
"Or a wet dream." Vin muttered over his beer mug and J.D. felt the heat rising to his face. He looked up quickly, hoping Inez hadn’t heard that. If she had, she didn’t let on.
"I don’t mind." J.D. turned to gloat at Buck, enjoying for once the sensation of having the upper hand over him with a woman.
Buck let out a long sigh as Inez shook her head and made her way back toward the kitchen. "Hell, she’s gonna give me a complex."
He listened to his friends contentedly, their familiar banter like a balm that soothed his ragged soul. J.D. grabbed a soggy chip from the nearly depleted pile of nachos in front of him. Yep, he’d definitely missed this, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were strained. He had no doubts of their friendship, but the occasional sympathetic glances his way made him a little uncomfortable. He couldn’t put his finger on it, except it seemed like they were a little overeager, trying too hard to make him feel like he still belonged.
"Hey, J.D., ain’t that your friend over there?"
He broke out of his thoughts and followed Nathan’s gaze. Doug Zinser stood ordering from the bar and a sense of relief washed over J.D. He didn't know why exactly, but it seemed like he'd spotted an ally, an excuse to take a break and clear his head from these paranoid thoughts. "Yeah. Hey, Dougie!" J.D. called out to him, but Doug didn’t turn around.
"Go see if he wants to join us, kid." Vin nudged him in the ribs and Buck slid out his chair to let him past.
"Hey man." J.D. grinned as he maneuvered his way past patrons and tables to put his arm on the larger man’s shoulder.
"J.D.! Glad you could make happy hour for once." Doug handed J.D. his beer and motioned for the bartender to send him another one.
J.D. felt a twinge of guilt, remembering Doug had already invited him about five times to join him and his friends some night after work, but J.D had always had some excuse not to make it.
"Why don’t you come sit with us, Buck’s on his third round and his lies get more colorful with every beer."
Doug peered around J.D. and shook his head. "Nah, you belong with your friends, I belong with the less savory crowd." Doug tipped his beer toward the back and J.D. caught sight of Brad and Suzane looking their way.
"Ah, hell, Dougie, like you belong with those pompous jerks."
"Well, you’ve got a point there, I guess I should take my first excuse to get away from them, huh?"
"C’mon then." J.D. popped the top off his beer and turned just in time to see Mike Pierce slide into the seat next to Buck.
J.D. stopped. He wanted to go back to his friends, wanted to march right up and sit down like he still belonged there. Except a part of him didn’t believe he did. Not anymore.
"J.D.?"
Doug’s voice sounded distant through the rush of blood swirling inside his skull and his feet refused to move him forward. He couldn’t do it. Too many emotions still flowed near the surface. J.D. locked eyes with Buck, his friend shooting him a desperate look that begged him to join them anyway. Maybe Buck needed to feel like everything was all right, didn’t want him to feel left out, but he just couldn’t.
Doug shook him by the shoulder. "J.D., what’s wrong?"
"Nothing, let’s stay here." J.D. turned quickly, nearly bumping into his friend’s chest as he pushed his way back to the bar and sat down before his weak knees refused to hold him up any longer. Doug plopped down beside him.
"Sorry." J.D. whispered, hoping Doug wouldn’t ask him to elaborate.
"No big deal, the bar’s fine with me."
"Apparently you like it better than our table, Douglas."
J.D. felt the same icy chill run through his veins that had usually preceded a swift and painful rap on the knuckles from Sister Mary Margaret in third grade. Only this time Bradley’s voice created waves of loathing instead of fear.
"You think?" J.D.’s tone dripped sarcasm and a feral smile creased his face as he turned to face Bradley and Charles.
Charles leaned on the counter beside him and whispered in J.D.’s ear. "I think, you should go back to your low-life friends who collectively share an IQ well below the retarded level."
The buzzing in his ears reached a crescendo and J.D. felt the burn of the alcohol in his veins and his body surging with adrenaline. He turned swiftly, grabbing the lapels of Charles’ jacket and shoving him roughly into the bar, J.D.’s arm pulled back and using every ounce of self-restraint he had to keep his fist from crashing into Westerby’s face.
"Those ‘low-lives’ over there do your fuckin’ dirty work every damn day, you weasel-eyed little pimple." J.D. kept his voice low, but the rage came through loud and clear to anyone close enough to hear. "Things you’d wet your pants and go home to suck on your momma if you ever had to face, so I think you need to look up ‘man’ in the dictionary and find out what one is ‘cause you sure ain’t never seen one in the mirror."
J.D. could hear hushed whispers throughout the restaurant, even heard his name being called out behind him, but he didn’t turn around. Didn’t dare take his eyes off the sniveling face in front of him. Right now Westerby’s terrified eyes satisfied him more than a punch to that smug mouth ever could. The stupid shit was afraid of him. J.D. could literally feel him shaking under his grip. He let his arm finish its arc, smiling when Charles flinched, then gently slapped Westerby on the cheek before turning him loose.
Westerby scrambled upright, straightening his rumpled jacket and trying to gain back some ounce of respect in the situation.
"You don’t know who the hell you’re dealing with, Dunne." Bradley took a step forward in his friend’s defense, yet he remained out of reach and his voice shook so badly he reminded J.D. of a scared five-year-old.
Of course J.D. realized there would be hell to pay now. Both Bradley and Charles were too damn close to Butler for this to get swept under the rug, even if it wasn’t on government property or during working hours. Oh, well, he’d hung his own ass out to dry, but right now he didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything except getting out of here.
J.D. gave them his best ‘go to hell’ smirk and headed for the door. If anyone followed him or gawked as he left, he didn’t know about it, his need to breathe in the crisp night air the only thing on his mind. Lights assaulted his eyes and the steady beat of live bands drifted from each side of the street as he made his way to the parking lot. He’d wait for Buck out here, away from the noise and the confusion. He desperately needed to clear his head and give his heart a chance to find its normal rhythm again. J.D. climbed on the edge of the truck bed and sat down, leaning his back against the cab. God, he hated getting that angry, that close to losing control.
He heard the crunch of footsteps on loose pavement as someone approached the vehicle. Buck. He recognized the sound of his friend’s easy stride from several feet away; besides, he’d been expecting him any moment. J.D. turned his head and caught Buck’s gaze as he stopped in front of him.
"Guess I caused a scene, huh?" J.D. sighed heavily, ready to face the consequences.
"Nah, now I could show you how to trash a joint sometime." Buck’s eyes twinkled in the faint light, but there was no mistaking that they held nothing but compassion. No hint of judgment, not one ounce of anything but understanding and acceptance and J.D.’s heart clenched. He knew he deserved to have his ass chewed over that little display and Buck’s reassurance only added to his guilt.
"Oh, I’m sure Butler will consider it a capital offense." J.D. turned his gaze back to the night sky.
"Well, you scared wittle Charwie, I suspect he’s called the cops on his cell phone already."
J.D. hadn’t thought of that and his breath caught in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut. He wouldn’t put it past him. "Oh, man."
Buck chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, I’m sure he and his little pals will just plot their attack Monday morning. You remember Revenge of the Nerds, right?"
J.D. let out a bitter laugh then winced and dropped his head in his hands. "How’d everything get so screwed up, Buck? Everything was just great, then ‘bang’, it’s over. Hell, I don’t get the rug pulled from under my feet, I get it drenched in gasoline and set on fire."
"It ain’t that bad, J.D. You ain’t lost your friends, hell, you ain’t never gonna get rid of me no matter what happens."
"Gee, thanks." J.D. grinned, trying to joke his way out of the tears he felt stinging in his eyes. He already knew Buck was permanent; a friend, a brother that time or distance would never diminish. Still, having him say it when J.D. was so near breaking point wasn’t exactly fair and he fought to keep his emotions in check.
Buck smiled broadly and cupped J.D.’s neck in his hand and squeezed gently. "You ain’t lost Chris either, even though you might not believe that now."
"How am I supposed to believe it, Buck? The guys look at me like I’m a charity case and Chris, hell, Chris won’t even look at me at all."
"Chris is dealing with his demons, son. And the rest of the guys just don’t know what to say. They’re caught in the middle and it’s tearing ‘em up too, J.D., I promise you that."
J.D. felt lighter, like maybe he wasn’t as much of an outsider as he’d made himself out to be. At least the guys still cared. "Really?"
"Yeah, really. They’re all moping around like they’re lost or something. You shoulda seen Ezra and Josiah when the new guy tried to move your stuff."
"He took my desk?" J.D. hadn’t even considered that. He didn’t know why, but he just hadn’t thought about his desk with someone else’s things on it, someone else answering his phone, someone else being able to look to his left and see his best friend three feet away.
"Well, he sits there. I wouldn’t exactly say he’s taken it since all your crap is still pinned to the wall and your collection of gadgets are still cluttering up the top of the desk."
J.D. didn’t know why that revelation had taken him by surprise. It’s not like he didn’t know that Chris had already replaced him. It was just seeing Pierce sit with his friends like he belonged and now imagining him at his computer, doing the job he loved, backing up his friends, tended to shove J.D.’s nose right smack dab into a reality he’d tried to avoid. Desperation filled his heart and he slipped off the side of truck and onto the pavement.
"Let’s go home, Buck."
"Sure, kid." Buck patted him on the back softly as he landed and J.D. dropped his head so Buck wouldn’t see how upset he was. He didn’t want to break it to his best friend that apparently Chris had already made up his mind about who he did or didn’t want on his team, and there wasn’t much left for J.D. to do about it.
TBC in Part 12
