Chapter 28
You do know how fucking unbelievable this is, don’t you, Serge?”
Jax glared at the screen, knowing that his expression had to be as fierce as his agent’s. The problem was that Serge’s deeply etched frown only confirmed that the astonishing news he’d conveyed was true. Jax sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. Glancing at Greg and Mac, who were both staring at him in apparent disbelief, he sighed again and turned back to Serge.
“Agent Stryker, for Commissioner McElroy’s edification, please start at the beginning. And yes, you may indicate that I charged you with the investigation.” Turning back to Mac, Jax said, “Before he begins, I acknowledge that I had a personal interest in pursuing this track. But damn, man, I can assure you never in a million years did I suspect this outcome. Little did I—”
Stryker interrupted. “Jax is right, Mac. I came to him when I began picking up information that required me to follow up. Neither of us expected the mother lode that I discovered. To recount—our team was dealing with the national repercussions of the gang war erupting in your city. We had tips that the big guys, specifically El Blanco, were involved. The surprise information we acquired was that they had signed on with the Padrones. My primary goal was to confirm that was true. As you know, Joaquin Blanco doesn’t wipe his ass in the morning unless an underling first used the fucking toilet paper and survived. The guy is paranoid beyond belief. And while he is everyone’s worst enemy, according to the lore, he is loyal to a fault to his friends. Which made the possible connection to the Padrones a hell of a lot more interesting to Jax and me.
“It didn’t take us long to discover the link between Manuel Ortiz and Blanco. They went back a long way—since they were badass kids terrorizing the streets of Tijuana. Apparently El Blanco has been supplying the Padrones for some time and wanted to help them get rid of the competition, particularly the Diablos. That was when they began sending fentanyl-laced H that the Padrones put on the street and blamed on the Diablos.” Serge stopped for a moment, then said, “That might have been the beginning and end of our investigation if I hadn’t picked up on some intriguing threads that bore following. It so happened that Jax had asked me to do a background check on Enrique Vega.” He grinned. “Always willing to help a buddy with his love life, I uncovered about what you’d expect from a charming Lothario who’d clawed his way out of the ghetto.” Serge’s smile faded into a frown. “Aside from the usual political shenanigans that both Jax and I were expecting, imagine my surprise to learn that while Joaquin Blanco and Ortiz were connected, the third member of their teenaged terrorizing gang was none other than Nicolas Garza. It’s worth noting that while Garza was always known as the leader of the twosome, he apparently never went anywhere without Enrique Vega, his golden boy buddy, tagging along after him.”
“Jesus fucking Christ! You gotta be fucking kidding!”
Jax leveled a hard stare at Greg Bannon. It was a toss-up as to who looked more shocked. His lieutenant or their Special Ops buddy McElroy, now the police commissioner. Shoving out another hard sigh, Jax nodded. “Yeah, that was my reaction, Greg. I’ll admit I was looking for dirt on Vega, something that would put a little shit on that Shinola shine of his, at least in the eyes of a particular VCU sergeant. But this? No, this was a gutshot.”
Jax wasn’t surprised when Mac, the most judicious of his former Special Ops team, was skeptical. “I presume you know that if there is a cartel connection to the Vega campaign, this is a goddamn fucking explosion that could trip the San Andreas fault.”
Jax sighed. “Yeah, Mac. That’s an understatement. But as I told Serge earlier, first things first. Having been connected to one of the most vicious Mexican cartel leaders in a past life is not necessarily a campaign killer. Knowing how adroit both Garza and Vega are, they could twist it to their advantage. Another example of the hideous past they had to overcome to get where they are today. Potentially, the association could make Vega even more of a folk hero.”
“You’re right, Jax.” Greg’s voice was as fierce as his expression. “I don’t have to tell you, man, we sure as shit better have proof before we release this. Dammit, Vega’s entire campaign is built around an anti-drug message. Not to mention an anti-trafficking plank, which is the other commodity El Blanco is known for.”
Serge broke in. “Unfortunately for the Vega for Victory campaign, today one of my most connected UCs confirmed that the connection between Garza and Vega and Joaquin Blanco didn’t end twenty years ago. Worse, there is preliminary evidence that El Blanco is not only supporting the Padrones, they’re also funding the Vega campaign.”
Jax ran his hands though his hair, tousling it more than usual. He managed to keep the fervor out of his voice. “The problem is, even with the information from Serge’s UC, we don’t have proof. But Greg is correct. I don’t have to tell you that we need one thousand percent unassailable proof before we go public with this accusation.”
“How good is your UC, Serge?” Mac’s query spoke to the efficacy of Jax’s claim.
Serge didn’t pull his punches. “As connected as they come, Mac, in that it is Jose Rodriguez, one of Jax’s guys on the Somalian squad. Only problem is that all of Jose’s information is second and third hand. It’s apparently common knowledge among the higher ups in the cartel, but Jose has never seen either Vega or Garza with anyone in the cartel.”
Max was quiet, then said thoughtfully, “Hmm, it would seem that we need our own plant in the Vega campaign. Someone who could provide unassailable proof that the campaign leaders have ties to the fucking cartel.” He pinned a hard gaze on Jax and added, “Of course it would have to be someone close enough to the campaign and its leaders, not to mention smart enough to unearth what has to be the most well-kept secret since Jimmy Hoffa’s burial site.”
Jax held up his hands and shook his head. “Forget it, Mac. She’s not an option. To begin with, Viviana will never believe that her superhero has feet of clay, much less this. No, she will simply think her jealous lover is trying to muddy up a competitor. And I have to admit I’ve given her cause to mistrust my judgment.”
Not able to stay seated, Jax strode to the cabinet and made a production of retrieving a bottle of Glenmorangie and three glasses. After he plunked them on the table in front of Greg and Mac and sank back onto his chair, he nodded to the screen. “Hope you have access to some good booze, Serge. I don’t know about you, but in my mind, this conversation requires the best.”
For several long moments, Jax sipped on the potent alcohol, trying to reconcile his tumultuous feelings. On one level, he admitted he was glad that his rival was unsavory, although unsavory didn’t begin to describe the potential connection Serge had uncovered. At the same time, he knew Viviana would never believe this bombshell was anything other than an outrageous attempt on his part to discredit a rival. Moreover, the fact that Vega was involved in the very criminal activities Viviana had spent her life fighting was too hideous a coincidence. It made her participation a non-starter.
“I know what you’re thinking, Jax. Given Viviana’s background, this is almost too cruel a cut.” Serge was sympathetic. “But man, if it’s true—and we all know damn well it is, we can’t keep her in the dark.” Serge breathed out a hard sigh. “Besides, Jax, what does it say about Vega that he would take advantage of Viviana’s past like this? Knowing that she understandably has a blind spot when it comes to the issues that nearly destroyed her life, it’s clear he played on that insecurity to win her allegiance.”
For the first time since Serge unveiled his findings, Jax allowed himself to feel the anger roiling in his gut. The more he acknowledged the perfidy of Vega’s actions, particularly the way he’d played on Viviana’s painful past, the more his fury flared. Eying his friend on the screen, he said softly, his voice rife with danger, “What does it say about him, Serge? That he is the biggest goddamned charlatan that ever walked this earth. In addition, he is a dead man walking.”
****
Viviana glanced at her phone and sniffed. Turning to Mick, she said, “Well, well. It appears that the king has spoken and our presence is required after all. They must need someone to make the coffee.”
As angry as she was that Jax had dismissed her and sent her back to work with Mick picking up the loose ends of their investigation, Viviana couldn’t help but be glad that he wanted her and Mick to come to his office ASAP. She’d known from his steely expression and non-committal response to her inquisition that something big was up. That he’d relegated her and Mick to the bench while ordering Greg to meet him in his office had both infuriated her and confirmed the importance of Serge’s information. What she couldn’t understand was why Jax had refused to throw her a bone. Jesus, she knew he had Serge working on the cartel connection. That was hardly news. They’d learned as much talking to Carlos and other Diablos members. Hell, Manuel Ortega had confirmed the Padrones were connected to the cartel without admitting a damn thing.
Walking into Jax’s office, she’d expected to see Serge on the monitors but was surprised to see Commissioner McElroy sitting across from Greg. The expressions on all their faces, particularly Jax’s narrowed gaze, confirmed the oncoming discussion was a serious one. Not surprisingly, her stomach flipped uneasily. She had a moment of dread that someone else had been killed, which would explain their solemnity but not Jax’s shutting her out of the discussion.
He rose to his feet and met her gaze as he walked toward her. Putting his hand on her arm, he led her to the chair next to him. As he seated her, he motioned for Mick to sit beside Greg. Nodding to the monitors, he indicated that Serge should speak.
For the next several minutes while listening to Serge’s calm recital, Viviana acknowledged that it was becoming harder and harder to breathe. On one hand, it didn’t make sense that her lungs were shutting down, given that Serge was speaking in short, declarative sentences as though he were recounting expected mission details and not the hideous tale he was explicating that was tearing her world apart and ripping a hole in her heart. Mick’s surprised gasps were the only reaction to Serge’s calm recital from the serious men at the table. As she tried to absorb what Serge was saying, Viviana became aware that Jax was holding her hand and pressing his knee against her thigh, confirming his presence. After what seemed like a lifetime, she realized that Serge had stopped talking and Jax was speaking to her. Holding a glass of water in front of her, his voice was soft, solicitous. “Here, darlin’, drink this.”
Viviana stared at the glass, then knocked it out of his hand. The glass shattered as it hit the floor with a splintering crash. The sound galvanized her. It gave her the energy she needed to rise to her feet. Clinging to the edge of the table, she met Jax’s troubled gaze. The concern in his eyes shot a mass of steel to her spine. She was gratified that her voice was as calm as it was, given that her fury made it almost impossible to speak.
With an effort, she spit out the words. “You goddamned . . . fucking . . . son of a bitch. How dare you?” Hanging on to the table, she glared at him. “You . . . you . . . couldn’t stand the fact that another man had a chance to capture me? Even knowing that was impossible? Even knowing that would never happen, Jax? The fact that he’s as compelling as he is made it necessary to dishonor him? To destroy him?” Viviana hated that her shaking legs made it barely possible to stand and that her voice was so shrill she didn’t recognize it as hers. She tried to act normal and not like a crazy person, but seeing the pain in Jax’s eyes, she couldn’t stop railing at him. She backed up, spurred by her rage. “But to choose the very issues that have ruled my life to destroy him? Was that necessary, Jax? Just in case I may have found him attractive? May have been tempted by his charisma, his passion for the issues we both cared about? That we are fighting for?”
His voice was low, comforting. “Viviana, sweetheart, come here. Let me hold you.”
She stepped back, then fiercely shook her head. “Never. Do you hear me? Never again.”
****
Viviana didn’t know how long she crouched on the floor, hanging on to the rim of the toilet. The vile liquid choking her, making it impossible to cry or continue yelling at Jax, had long ago been deposited in the toilet. She didn’t try to stand, knowing it was impossible. Leaning back against the walls of the metal stall, a hideous thought struck her. She refused to believe that Serge was correct. That Enrique was the evil man he was describing. But the troublesome signals, the strange coincidences flashed through her mind. Trying to crush the fleeting memories, the images that refused to be crushed, she managed to stand. Leaving the stall, she leaned against the nearest sink, horrified at the woman she saw reflected in the mirror. Refusing to take on the men in the other room looking like she did, she washed her face and brushed the hair off her stark-white face. Knowing that Jax was waiting for her in the hallway gave her the strength to leave the comforting confines.
When she stumbled toward Jax’s office, she saw him waiting in the doorway where she’d known he would be. Hanging on to his arm, she walked into the room and glared at Serge’s image on the monitor. His troubled expression mirrored the other men’s. Only Jax’s arm around her made it possible for her to ask the question burning in her throat.
“Serge, do you have pictures of Joaquin? And his . . . his cohorts?”
Serge nodded in response, then flashed a series of photos on the screen. A piercing wail Viviana didn’t recognize as hers shattered the tense silence. She would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Jax’s strong arms that held her next to him as he whispered that he had her and would never let her go.