Chapter Twenty-Two

Eagle

When the hood was yanked off, Eagle blinked against the blinding light.

Once his eyes adjusted, he found the room was empty of any kind of furniture except for a couple of mattresses on a bare, faded floor. The windows were caked with dirt and it smelled like cigarette smoke.

Eagle turned his eyes to the man who’d taken off his hood.

The guy was bald with a mustache and goatee, dark eyes, a bad attitude, and a handgun in his fist. The other guy in the room had slicked blond hair, a gut hanging over his belt, and sagging pants on his large frame, he also held a handgun pointed straight at Eagle.

“What’s your name?” the one with the goatee said, and Eagle decided this was the boss, or at least the thug thought he was the boss.

“Eagle.”

The guy blinked, and Saggy Pants laughed nervously.

“Like the bird?”

“Exactly.”

“What kind of name is that?” Goatee said, pulling a hand down the hair on his chin, and then jerked his head at Saggy Pants.

“It’s a code name.”

Saggy Pants stepped up and started removing Eagle’s gear, yanking it off and dropping it on the floor. They couldn’t get his vest off without uncuffing him, and Saggy Pants didn’t seem to want to go that route. Eagle didn’t blame the guy. He outweighed each of them by eighty pounds or more of muscle.

“Where are the boys?”

Goatee squinted at him. “What boys?”

“Tyler, John, and Cliff.”

The man jerked in surprise and then something calculating swam in his mud-colored eyes.

“You know them?” Goatee spit on the floor.

“No, but I’m smart enough to know that one, if not all of them, don’t want any part of this,” Eagle said flatly and stared down Goatee until he looked away.

“Sticks, go get John and Tyler.”

Saggy Pants aka Sticks left the room, and Eagle glanced slowly around. There didn’t seem like a lot of Goatee’s gang up here nor around this room, but he couldn’t be sure that the guy didn’t have a building full of thugs.

The perp glared at him. “Why are you here instead of the cops?”

“We’re here to help out.”

“You’re getting in the way of something I need.”

“Not sorry.” Eagle squinted. “Where’s Cliff Carson?”

“Dead.”

A gasp from the doorway drew Eagle’s gaze and he found Tyler and John standing in the doorway with Sticks behind them with the ever-present gun.

“You said he was okay!” Tyler choked out, tears streaming down his face. John, standing silent next to Tyler, elbowed his brother hard in the ribs.

“Fucking suck it up, you fucking sissy,” John sneered, and Tyler gulped, trying to stop crying.

“It’s going to be okay,” Eagle said to Tyler.

“Don’t talk to him,” John snarled and shoved Tyler further into the room.

The boy’s wide blue eyes were filled with fear.

“What’s the plan?” John said, coming to stand next to Goatee.

“You got a soft spot for him,” Goatee said to Eagle.

The man was smarter than Eagle had given him credit for.

“I need you to get into the Richards’ Eatery, open up the safe in the cellar beneath the main room, and get me my fucking drugs back.”

Goatee pulled a phone from his pocket and tossed it to Sticks, who stepped up and tucked the phone into Eagle’s back pocket.

“What are your drugs doing in that restaurant?” Eagle asked, ignoring Sticks.

“That fucker Kenneth stole them from me, and I want back what’s mine.”

“So, you’ve been using kids to do your dirty work?”

“Yeah.” The man laughed. “And now I’m going to use you.”

“No,” Eagle said.

“You want to rethink that?”

“No.”

Goatee studied him and then lifted his gun and shot John point blank in the head.

Tyler screamed and John fell backward with a thud. Tyler’s horrified gaze watched the blood seeping from his brother’s bullet wound onto the stained wood floor.

“John!” Tyler fell to the floor with a sound like a wounded animal. The boy shook his brother and pushed on his chest as if giving CPR. Sobs ripped from Tyler’s throat and Eagle’s heart ached for the boy.

“Get the fuck up!” Goatee reached down and grabbed Tyler by his hair and yanked him up.

“The next one goes in his head,” Goatee said and pointed the gun at Tyler’s head. “What’s your answer now?”

“I’ll get them, on one condition,” Eagle said, his teeth clenched.

“What’s that?”

“The drugs in exchange for Tyler.”

Goatee smirked with a huff. “That’s not a fair trade, my man. Tyler isn’t worth the shit on the bottom of my shoes. So yeah, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Eagle always knew when someone was lying to him. Goatee had every intention of killing Tyler, drugs or no drugs.

“If you harm one hair on his head, you won’t get your drugs, and I’ll take pleasure in making you gag on your own blood as I kill you,” Eagle promised, holding the man’s gaze for a long time.

Goatee laughed, but this time it was a nervous sound.

“Stand up.”

Sticks stepped behind Eagle and Goatee backed up, holding Tyler in front of him with the gun pointed under Tyler’s chin, putting distance between him and Eagle. It was a good thing the guy had backed up. If he’d stayed close, Eagle would have snapped both his and Stick’s necks.

Goatee waved the gun at him and then toward the door. “Get going. You have one hour.”

“The floor from the bomb isn’t cleared out, and there are structure beams covering that section. I can’t do it in one hour.”

“Well, you better figure out a way or else.” The man put the gun back beneath Tyler’s chin.

“You want your fucking drugs or not?” Eagle growled.

Goatee thought about that for a second. “How long will it take?”

“Give me until tomorrow and I’ll have your shit.” Eagle stalked to the door and then spun. Sticks stumbled back and away.

Eagle shot the leader a flat look. “Don’t forget our deal.”

“Call the number in that phone when you have it,” Goatee sneered.

Eagle turned to gaze into Tyler’s ravaged, tear-stained face. The boy was in shock. God knows what they’d been doing to him, and Eagle was going to take pleasure in crushing every single one of them.

He held Tyler’s eyes across the distance.

“I will be back,” he said before the hood was put over his head again and he was shoved toward the doorway.

The last thing he heard was Tyler’s choking sob.