Chapter 12: Taken
The entire house was in an uproar.
Currently, Hank wasn’t quite sure what the fuck had happened - only that Blackjack and the man he’d taken out that morning hadn’t returned, and Solomon was throwing a fucking fit. Despite the fact that his hands had long itched to close around the man’s throat for over a decade, Hank had long learned that he had to shove his own desires deep down.
Especially when he was working so close to the man himself.
It had taken him a remarkably short length of time to work his way into Solomon’s inner circle. Of course, he had the extensive information that Juliet had provided on his side as well, so he knew exactly what the bastard was looking for. It wasn’t hard to play the part - big, bad, stupid and mindlessly loyal. That was all Solomon required from his men.
He certainly had the big part down, and he was sure that Juliet might argue that he was plenty stupid a vast majority of the time. The thought was almost enough to make him smile - but the men he currently kept company with weren’t the best at smiling. They glowered and did their best to look like badasses all the time. Funny, considering Hank was pretty sure that he could best most of them in a fight.
There had, of course, been many fights. Hank was constantly having to prove himself - the fact didn’t surprise him. Men that worked for Solomon were always itching to get their hands dirty. He, on the other hand, was ready for all of this to be over. To get back to Juliet and give her the good news.
But that wasn’t going down today - or any time soon apparently. The guys had started to whisper that Solomon suffered a huge fucking blow today - something that could only serve to make him more paranoid. If the din from upstairs was any indication, the man was pissed as hell. Though every man that worked for him was bigger than the bastard, they were all terrified of him.
With good reason. Solomon had a bad habit of putting bullets through the heads of guys he didn’t like. Hank would have very much liked to return the favor, but the timing wasn’t right - among other things.
Just now, it sounded like Solomon was trying to bring the house down. A deafening crash from above made every man below jump a moment before Solomon bellowed a bevy of curses in both English and Spanish. About thirty minutes ago, Shawn, one of Blackjack’s right-hand men, had come in looking grim as a motherfucker. Of course, it had fallen to him to talk to Solomon and Hank’s hands fisted in tension as he wondered if the man would come back alive.
Hank could only imagine one thing that would rattle Solomon’s composure so hard: Something had happened to Blackjack.
Through both Juliet’s information and working with Solomon himself, Hank had come to know just how important Angus “Blackjack” Creed was to his organization. In the absence of his father’s financial support, Blackjack provided both moral and physical support to Solomon and his smaller distribution. He could get where the younger man couldn’t and do the few things he wasn’t willing to do. He was Solomon’s right-hand man - and one of his most trusted friends. Hank tried not to think about what it meant that one of your most trusted friends was a murderer and rapist. It only made him angrier.
But if something had happened to Blackjack, it meant one of two things: That Solomon would become twice as paranoid and almost impossible to pigeonhole into doing something that could get him caught, or he’d be vulnerable enough to do something stupid. Hank had to hope that it was the latter.
That would be the best option for Juliet.
“What the fuck happened? Where is he?” Hank glanced up at the ceiling overhead when another crash made the entire house quake. “I need answers. NOW!”
He was the only one here who could take any sort of satisfaction from Solomon’s distress. If he hadn’t had practice in similar situations, he might have given himself away. Instead, Hank merely sat on the couch, stone-faced, as he waited to be given his orders.
If there were any coming at all.
After another twenty minutes of Solomon trying to bring the house down, Shawn finally descended from the upper level. Blood trickled down his chin from where Solomon had obviously slugged him and he was limping, but Hank expected worse. His expression was both pissed and terrified, and he leaned against the banister at the end of the stairs for a long minute before finally speaking.
“Angus is fucking dead. Got shot in a convenience store on the East Side.”
The room went completely quiet as each and every man present absorbed the gravity of the statement and what it might mean. When Shawn continued, however, Hank was snatched from his contemplation to the present. “Birch, Towns, Jose. Solomon wants to see you upstairs.”
Hank’s alias for this particular operation was Elias Birch - a thug who had grown up on the South Side and occasionally indulged in drugs and prostitutes for his entertainment. Birch didn’t have shit to his name and thought that signing up with Solomon was a good way to pay the bills. He was the antithesis of Hank - but he still played the role like a fucking Oscar-award winner. It was either that, or make an idiotic mistake.
Without a word, he followed Towns and Jose upstairs. No doubt Solomon was in a mood, but when he called, you went. No questions asked. Hank swallowed his pride and girded his loins. He hadn’t been afforded very many face to face meetings with Solomon, but every one was a test of his patience. The little rat hadn’t changed one bit since he slung as a teen. If anything, he was more obnoxious and unhinged. Birch had only been called in for minor assignments that required pure muscle - but if Blackjack was dead, someone was going to move up.
If it was him...that could provide him with some unique opportunity. That was, if he didn’t kill Solomon with his own hands first.
He, Towns and Jose headed up the stairs slowly. The house was old and the rotting wood always threatened to give out. Solomon liked to bitch that his father was still probably living in the lap of luxury somewhere while he was holed up in a sty. He had a million plans for his enterprise surpassing his father’s - and yet Caesar Aguiler still had three quarters of the city under his thumb.
Solomon had no idea just how soon his demise was - and it was Hank’s job to ensure things remained that way.
Despite the fact that ten guys were required to stay in the house around the clock, Solomon had commandeered the entire top floor for himself. One of the bedrooms was his and the other served as his office. Not that it mattered - they moved around a lot to ensure that he avoided police detection. At least, in theory.
When the three entered Solomon’s office, it was a wreck. He had knocked the few paintings from the wall and shattered a glass vase. His sister, perpetually at his side, cowered in a corner, covered in bruises, and the man himself stood before a window, looking out at the neighborhood below. For almost a full minute, he said nothing to any of them. When he finally turned, his expression was thunderous.
“I’m sure Shawn has already mentioned that we fucking lost Blackjack. Surely you can imagine I’m not pleased.” He uttered the words between clenched teeth, and Hank did his best not to stare right into Solomon’s dull, idiotic face. Whenever he did, he was faced with an urge to cave it in that was almost impossible to resist. “So we need to step it up. I’m putting you guys on a high priority task so I’m telling you and no one else: I want Juliet in my fucking lap within the next forty eight hours or there’s gonna be hell to pay.”
Immediately, Hank stiffened. “This doesn’t leave this room, alright?” Solomon continued, incensed, as he rounded the desk to stand before them. “They fucking found her. She was in that damned convenience store with two FBI hounds. Blackjack tried to grab her and the bitch shot him.”
“What?” Hank reacted without thinking. The word escaped long before he could stop it as panic curled into a tight, painful ball in his gut. What the hell had Juliet been doing out of the house? Simmons would never have let her step off the property, let alone come all the way to the city. What was she thinking? What was Simmons thinking?
“Fuck did you say?” All at once, Solomon was standing before him. He was a head taller, but far leaner, and, for once, Hank had no choice but to gaze into those beady eyes of his. He steeled himself inwardly, adopting a look of confused fear.
“I just meant ‘what the fuck?’ How could a little girl take down someone like Angus, you know?” He could only hope that the statement was enough to assuage the man before him. For what seemed like an eternity, Solomon merely stared him down. It might have made a lesser man quake in his boots but Hank just did his damndest not to knock the fucker down a few pegs.
Ultimately, however, Solomon backed off. “Don’t fucking know. Apparently the shopkeeper had a gun and she got a hold of it after Angus blew the idiot’s head off.” Hank found his chest swelling with pride. Thatta girl. It took everything in him to repress a triumphant grin. His Julie wasn’t a victim anymore. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight. “I’ve been lenient with you pendejos the past few weeks, but now I won’t be. I need the bitch here, and I need her here yesterday.”
“How we supposed to get her from the FBI, boss?” Jose had never been the brightest bulb of the bunch, and now his obvious intelligence was shining through. Under any other circumstances, the question might have earned him an insult. Solomon had clearly dealt with more than enough for one day. Without a word, he withdrew a revolver and shot the man cleanly in the head. Hank’s mouth tightened – as his stomach plummeted. He didn’t like any idiot crazy enough to fall in with Solomon Aguiler, but that certainly didn’t mean Jose deserved death.
Not like this. “Anybody else got any bright questions?” Solomon’s dark eyes blazed as he looked over the remaining two men. Somehow, Hank doubted he’d be so fucking bold if he was the one facing the barrel of a gun, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t his decision to make. Solomon Aguiler was going to face the full measure of the law - despite the fact that he deserved much worse.
Slowly, he shook his head. Next to him, Towns mimicked the motion with much more enthusiasm.
“Good. You,” He pointed at the man next to Hank, “Head downstairs and get someone to come up here and clean up this mess. You.” Hank was next, and his mouth twitched when Solomon addressed him. “We need to talk.”
Hank nodded curtly, watching Towns leave out of the corner of his eye. The smaller man closed the door behind him, leaving him and Solomon completely alone.
In a gesture that caught Hank completely off guard, Solomon knelt to pick up a chair he had kicked over only moments ago, righting it in a smooth motion. “Sit.”
This couldn’t be good. Hank sank stiffly into the chair as Solomon rounded his desk to take his own seat. Solomon gazed at him for a long beat, his expression unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was low. “How long you been with us, Elias?”
Hank shrugged. “Few months, give or take. Joined up after your Dad bitched out. Figured it’d be smarter to join up with young blood.”
His answer made Solomon smirk. “You chose right. This city will be ours in a few months. My Dad doesn’t know how to innovate. He’s stuck in the past. He might have the upper hand now but when I get Juliet back…” He trailed off, his hands clutching the edge of the desk until his knuckles whitened. Hank did his best not to imagine the pain those hands had inflicted on Juliet over the years as rage churned silently in his gut. “I don’t care how you do it...I don’t care if those motherfucking FBI cunts gotta eat some dirt. I want her back. Do you think you can do that for me, Birch?”
If it were up to Hank, he would have shot the fucker between the eyes at that moment. Like hell he was promising to deliver Juliet back into the arms of the man who had all but ruined her life. But he wasn’t supposed to be Hank. He was supposed to be Elias Birch...and Birch wanted nothing more than to rise through the ranks.”
“I can do that, Sir.”
“Good.” Solomon’s smile was cruel. “And when you get hold of her, don’t be afraid to have a little fun with her. By the time you bring her back here, I want her to be glad to see my fucking face.”
Hank was across the table in a fraction of a second. It was if his body had taken over, shoving his brain into a chair in the back of the room to watch. How dare this fucker talk about Juliet like that. Hadn’t he done enough? Had he broken her, hurt her and fucked with her enough for a goddamned lifetime? For a split second, he forgot his mission - that he was supposed to bring the man in unharmed. That he was supposed to set him up to incriminate himself. In that moment, all Hank wanted was to wring his fucking neck and by God, he would have satisfaction.
At least, that’s what he planned. If there was anyone who knew how quickly plans could go awry, it was Hank...and this one did just that.
Before his hands could get anywhere near Solomon’s throat, he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. “Get the fuck back in that chair, cabron.”
Far from looking surprised, Solomon wore an expression of supreme satisfaction. “Right now, or I’ll send you to join our dear departed Jose.” Hank hesitated for only the moment it took to glare at Solomon with all the hatred that he possessed. Then, slowly, he sank back into the chair. “That’s a good fucking little FBI pendejo.” Solomon hissed, making Hank stiffen in his chair.
How the hell did Solomon know who he was? Besides this little slip, he’d been careful as hell. If anything, the man should want to kill him for attempting his life. “That’s right, I know who you are. I had Blackjack check into all the new guys before he caught a bullet and your story was the only one that didn’t check out, asshole.” He leaned over the table, all but pressing the still-warm barrel of the gun against Hank’s temple. “I’m sure you’ve guessed by now that I don’t care who the fuck you are. You’re going to help me get my Juliet back, and then we’re gonna toss you in a river somewhere.”
Hank snarled, resisting the urge to go for the bastard again. “I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about. I ain’t no agent.”
“Aren’t you?” Solomon spat, his gaze narrowing. “You’re not Hank Compton? Head of the detail that’s protecting my little fucking flower?”
Shit. Shit. He didn’t work to hide the horror on his face, and Solomon’s grin confirmed that alone had given him away quite nicely. “That’s right. I know all about you, cabron. Nice little FBI rat singing your praises. Tell me, you enjoy her nice, hot little holes? Cause they belong to me, motherfucker.” The gun pressed into Hank’s temple hard enough to leave a bruise, but that didn’t keep him from staring down the deranged man before him. He hadn’t seen Juliet in months but he still talked about her like she was an object.
Like she belonged to him.
Hank’s cover might have been blown, but he’d rather die than help this fucker get his hands on Juliet. “Shoot me.” He seethed, all but shaking with rage. “I’ll take a bullet before I’ll do a fucking thing to help you.”
This was the man who’d killed his sister. The man who meant to cage Juliet for the rest of her life. He wasn’t going to bow down to this fucking monster.
“Oh we’re not going to shoot you yet.” Solomon reassured him, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’ve got plans for you, pendejo, and they involve you alive. If only for a little while.”
Hank said nothing when five guys burst into the room to restrain him. He didn’t fight, knowing that he had little chance of taking them all down, in addition to the men populating the rooms on the floor below. For the first time in the history of his working with the government, someone had ratted him out.
Ratted Juliet out.
And now he could do nothing to help her.
**
The cabin was a flurry of activity. Even three days after the incident at the convenience store, there were still five agents in the house and eight surrounding - one of which was Simmons himself. Bosh was sent to the hospital the moment Simmons arrived and he had announced, with no small amount of ire, that the man wouldn’t be coming back.
Juliet was far from innocent. She knew that this was all her fault. If she hadn’t insisted on going out, then Bosh would never have gotten hurt...and Crowley would still be alive.
Juliet now spent most of her time in her room. Thankfully, Simmons hadn’t been cruel enough to add insult to injury. The fact that she’d been indirectly responsible for a man’s death was punishment enough. That, and apparently, the shopkeeper had died as well.
As well as Angus “Blackjack” Creed.
Juliet found no consolation in his death, however. There was too much collateral damage for her to even begin celebrating. Despite the fact that she hadn’t thought highly of Crowley, she shed a few tears for him, as well as for the shopkeeper she hadn’t even known. The man has saved her life, and she’d never be able to thank him.
She barely had a moment’s privacy now. There was always a man posted outside her open door, and shifts overlapped so there was no chance of her having even a single second alone. Besides dealing with the death of an agent, Simmons was also coming to grips with the fact that an attempt had been made on Juliet in broad daylight. Obviously, Solomon didn’t give two shits that the FBI was protecting her. He was willing to do whatever it took to get her back.
Which meant that her detail had to be tripled.
Juliet couldn’t blame Simmons for being mad at her. She’d deliberately left the cabin without his permission and put herself and other agents in danger. Of course, at the time, Juliet had never even begun to consider that Blackjack or anyone for that matter would stumble upon her. The city was huge and no one ever led her to believe that Solomon was combing every fucking building in sight for her.
She would hope Hank would tell her if things ever got that serious.
Speaking of Hank...she hadn’t heard anything about him from Simmons now for almost two weeks. When she tried, tentatively, to ask for information, the elder man told her that her privileges had been revoked when she put herself in danger. Though she supposed she couldn’t blame him for his decision, that didn’t stop her from cursing him behind his back.
Of course Hank would be away when something like this happened to her. While everyone around Juliet assured that she’d acted both admirably and in self-defense, she had huddled in the corner of her room the afternoon after she returned to the cabin, remembering the crazed look in Blackjack’s eyes as he came towards her. She had nightmares soon after, and when she woke, it took her a few moments panicked tension to remember that Hank wasn’t there.
A few days later, Juliet was at the point of begging for information on him. She couldn’t remember just when Hank’s life became more important than her own, but the writing was on the wall. She’d had a close encounter with Solomon’s right-hand man and all she wanted to know was that Hank was still safe.
Her worry kept her up at night. Of course, the agents roaming the woods around the house didn’t make anything easier. Every hour, on the hour, flashlights shone into her window and an agent peeked in on her. Simmons’ hushed voice from the living room seemed to drone on and on ad infinitum, and when she finally fell asleep, her slumber was restless and filled with dreams that made her toss and turn.
At least until she was abruptly woken around three in the morning.
“Juliet. Wake up.” When the coverlet was snatched from her, she started awake with a gasp. Simmons stood over her, his expression grave. He was still dressed in the suit she’d seen him in earlier that day, his hair mussed. “Pack your things. We’re changing locations.”
It took Juliet a few half-awake moments to realize what he said, but once she did, her eyes widened in shock. “We’re leaving? Right now?” That couldn’t bode well. Who the hell stole away in the middle of the night with a posse of thirteen protecting them?
“Yes, now. You’ve got twenty minutes to pack your things then Hicks will escort you to the car.” With that curt order, he turned on his heel to leave.
“Simmons, wait!” Juliet grabbed for his hand. When she caught two of his fingers, she held them, tightly, uncaring of who might see. “What happened? Where are we going?” She hesitated a beat before continuing. “Does Hank know we’re changing locations?”
Simmons mouth drew into a tight line. Taking a gentle, but firm hold of her wrist, he slipped his hand from her grasp. “No questions, Juliet. Just get ready.”
Almost immediately, her heart was in her throat. Juliet didn’t like the way Simmons looked at her when she mentioned Hank. If something had happened to him...She rose from the bed and rushed for her bedroom door, only to be blocked by the tall, skinny form of Hicks, the agent currently on duty. “Hicks, let me go, I need to speak to Simmons.”
“You need to pack your things.” Unlike Crowley and Bosh, this man was immune to her charms. He was nothing more than a stern vessel for Simmons orders, and he had proved many times in the past three days that she was nothing more than an inconvenience for him. “Right now.”
Juliet swallowed the lump that rose in her throat, turning angrily back to her room. Now wasn’t the time for her to lose her head. As long as she did what Simmons said now, there would always be time to demand answers later. And she would demand them. If something had gone wrong with Hank there was no way the man was keeping her in the dark.
Twenty minutes later she was hauling two suitcases of her things along with her guitar into the chilly night air. Both Hicks and another agent accompanied her down the steps and into the idling car, where Simmons was waiting. When she slid inside, he was on the phone, speaking in a hushed voice.
“I want a copy of that video in my hands the moment we arrive. Not a second later. Jesus Christ, when did this happen?”
Though she did her best to pretend she wasn’t listening, Juliet felt her heart drop. Something had happened. “We need to contain this. Question the rest of the department. You handle it from your side and I’ll deal with mine. We have to find out if it ended with Crowley.”
If what ended with Crowley? “I’ll call you when we arrive. Yes, Sir. This is a complete clusterfuck. I’m on it.” The moment Simmons hung up, he cursed again, shoving his phone into his pocket a moment before drawing his hands down over his face. The man looked as exhausted as Juliet felt, but she didn’t dare say a word. Not when things were so uncertain. She had no idea where she was going, no idea where Hank was, and, apparently, something significant enough to upset Simmons had happened. It occurred to Juliet in that moment that she had never really seen Simmons lose his temper. The man had a knack for keeping his cool when everyone else was falling apart.
Whatever had driven them from the cabin must be pretty damn bad.
They drove in silence for almost an hour before Simmons spoke again. “You and Hank...you were involved.”
Juliet was too preoccupied to be very concerned that Simmons knew that she and Hank were sleeping together. She merely nodded, afraid to look over at the older man lest he stop speaking. “Juliet, you, more than anyone else, know how dangerous this line of work can be. And you know Hank was fully aware of what he was walking into.”
Her chest tightened and, for a few seconds, Juliet forgot how to breathe. No. No, no, no. “What’s going on, Simmons?” She found herself whispering hoarsely. “What happened?”
He exhaled a long breath. “Crowley. Apparently, he was feeding information to Solomon...at least, he was before he was killed. We’re not sure if he was the only leak or if this is indicative of a deeper problem.” Juliet’s eyes widened in horror.
Crowley might have been a jealous bastard, but she had never imagined him capable of leaking information to Solomon. How long did he plan on letting her imagine she was safe before dropping the curtain on her? Had he planned on simply handing her over and betraying the FBI? Betraying Simmons?
It was almost enough to make her regret grieving for him. She stared down at her hands where they were clenched in her lap. Had Crowley intended for her to be taken in that convenience store? If that was the case, then things must have gone horribly wrong. “You can understand why we have to change locations,” Simmons went on in a low tone, “We have to ensure your security, and make sure this leak is contained.”
Juliet nodded stiffly, ready to thank him for the information he’d imparted on her. At least, until he continued, his voice tightening. “I think you should also know that Hank has been compromised.”
Somehow, Juliet managed to swallow the scream that welled in her throat, even as her heart twisted violently. “Compromised?” The word escaped her in the barest disbelieving whisper.
“We’re not sure of the exact details yet, but I’ll be working on it as soon as we get where we’re going. We’ll do everything we can to get him back.”
Dear God, they knew who Hank was. All those months of infiltration - of coming back beat up and bruised - had been for nothing. If Solomon had discovered Hank’s identity, Juliet couldn’t imagine him doing anything but putting a bullet in his head. The Aguiler family had never had the healthy fear of authority that seemed to permeate the rest of the drug world. They knew they were untouchable and liked to flaunt that power - Solomon most of all.
She wanted to cling to Simmons - to demand that he do something to help Hank now, but if there was anything that her years with the Aguilers had taught her, it was that losing her head would help her little.
“Let me help.” At her demand, Simmons looked to her warily. “All the info I’ve given you has been valid so far, right? Let me help you get him back. I want to be involved.”
“Juliet,” Simmons ran a hand through his hair brusquely. “You’ve been very helpful, but now the game has changed. If Solomon has an agent, we have to tread more carefully.”
“I know that!” Juliet’s words came out far sharper than she’d planned and Simmons’ eyes narrowed in warning. She forced herself to take a deep breath before trying again. “I know, Simmons.” Shoving her pride down deep, she continued in a pleading tone. “If you know that Hank and I were involved, then you know I can’t just sit here idle if Solomon has him. I want to help.”
Simmons merely leaned back against the seat, rubbing at the bridge of his nose where a headache no doubt brewed. “Let’s figure out the demands first, ok? I can’t promise you anything.”
Juliet merely nodded before drawing her knees to her chest in an attempt to still her racing heart. He had Hank. Her Hank. After all she had done to escape Solomon, he always found a way to keep her heart in a cage.
Even if she wasn’t.