Micah

 

Agent Brumfield called me the next morning, bright and early, while I was fixing breakfast for me and Kaci. Kaci and I had spent another night together, with her practically moving from the guest room into mine. I'd never had the same woman in my bed twice, let alone three times, and the giddiness of it was going to my head.

 

So, when my phone rang and I didn't recognize the number, I decided to just take my chances. Even if it was a telemarketer, I was more than happy to run the risk. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

 

“Micah Marlow?” Agent Brumfield asked.

 

“This is he.”

 

“We met the other night, Avery Brumfield from the Bureau? Did I catch you at a bad time?”

 

My heart sped up, and my mouth went dry with instant nerves. This might be my chance, I realized. I could put things right with this phone call, especially if she was the one initiating the contact. Maybe, just maybe, we'd get a second chance at this.

 

“No, no,” I said as I scrambled the eggs in my skillet and went to flip the bacon in the other. “What can I do for you this morning, Agent?”

 

“I got a call from a colleague in a local agency out in Elmwood who was looking for some assistance. I was wondering if, through your contacts with our mutual interest, you might know something about it.”

 

Elmwood was a local suburb, about twenty miles outside the city. I knew the Thunder Kings had interests out there, and had sunk a lot of time and money into securing their territory, to the point where I'd actually had to order my boys to steer clear of it in order to avoid an even wider turf war.

 

About that time, Kaci came padding into the kitchen on bare feet, wearing just one of my old Sturgis tee shirts. It was so huge it nearly swallowed her, and, for some reason, the sight of her in it nearly made want to do the same.

 

“Elmwood?” I asked, my eyes focused on the little vixen I'd taken in. “I'm familiar with the town. How can I help?”

 

“Who is that?” Kaci mouthed at me as she picked an almost-done piece of bacon out of the skillet. I nearly slapped her hand with my spatula, but she was too fast.

 

“Brumfield,” I mouthed back.

 

“ . . . is trafficking narcotics, heroin to be exact, in there. Big players, and my buddy isn't getting any leads on his end. So, he asked me to reach out to my CI's, my criminal informants, to see if I could shake some information from the trees. While you're not one exactly, I just thought . . .”

 

“Brumfield?” Kaci mouthed back. She made a “well?” motion with her hand.

 

“One second,” I said. “Someone just walked into the room.” I put the phone against my shoulder, muffling the receiver.

 

“What does she want?” Kaci whispered.

 

I explained to her what was going on, the short version.

 

“And do you know?”

 

I nodded. I knew. Of course I knew. Everyone knew.

 

“Tell her,” Kaci said. “Fucking tell her, Micah, and get us back in on this thing.”

 

It broke down like this:

 

The Russian mafia was heavy into drugs, and that would make Efraim a prime candidate for helping anyone moving drugs in and out of the metro area. And, if I knew my Thunder Kings, they were responsible for the sudden influx. One, they wouldn't allow anyone else to traffic on their turf. And, two, they had zero qualms about moving that kind of shit.

 

But, there was still that unwritten code bikers followed, about not snitching, even on rivals. You never involved the cops, not on purpose at least. At the same time, though, I needed to prove I was reliable to Agent Brumfield. I needed to show her that I had value, and that I could help her bring the Bear down.

 

Kaci narrowed her eyes. “You fucking tell her, or I will. What would Gov do?”

 

I sighed and rolled my eyes, then put the phone back to my ear. “Tell your friend to look into the Thunder Kings. They're an outlaw biker gang in the area, big on meth and H, and they're probably what he's looking for.”

 

She didn't respond for a moment, but I had the feeling she was writing the info down.

 

“Good to know,” she said.

 

“Now give me the phone,” Kaci said, clapping one handed at me as she chewed the last bite of bacon. “I wanna talk to her while you finish up breakfast.”

 

I grumbled and shook my head before hanging my phone over to the little wisp of a woman. Maybe having a brassy, half-crazy woman around the house wasn't such a good idea after all.

 

# # #

Kaci

 

It took some convincing, but I finally got Agent Brumfield to meet with us again. This time in a less formal setting, and closer to Micah's home. We met at a little Starbucks in a nearby shopping center, some place we wouldn't know anyone from the city.

 

“Alright,” Brumfield said as she sat down with her plain black coffee that was so at odds with the half-fat mocha frappucino I'd ordered for myself. “Talk.”

 

Micah nodded. “Okay. I wasn't completely honest before.”

 

Avery snorted and kept her eyes focused on Micah like he might bite her if she looked away. “Yeah. I know. And your little tip this morning wasn't exactly the first indication, either.”

 

He shrugged and gave her a little grin, trying to be charming with her. “Okay, my associates and I have been stealing from Efraim Petrov, not doing business like I said before. We've been knocking over shipments of guns for the last year or so and moving them through our channels.”

 

I hadn't exactly expected him to be that blunt, and from the look on Agent Brumfield's face, I don't think she did either. She looked like she couldn't decide if she was going to burst out laughing or arrest him on the spot.

 

“Okay,” she said after a moment, nodding. “Okay,” she said again. “How long, again?”

 

“Maybe a year or more,” he said with a shrug. “We got some pretty good ones, too.”

 

“Funnily enough,” the agent said as she sat back in her chair, “you're probably doing more good than harm, overall. Not that the courts would see it that way, I think. But, there's irony that I think you might appreciate.”

 

Micah laughed and shook his head, disbelievingly. “What do you mean, 'more good than harm?'“

 

“Exactly that. Efraim is a gun smuggler, you see. He was before, and still is one now. Most of his business interests lay in sending guns overseas to different groups, destabilizing countries. He's responsible for things that would make even Kim Jong Un blush. West Africa, Central America, Mexico. Hell, the Sinaloa Cartel probably has the Bear on speed dial. Your thefts are cutting into his bottom line, which means you're hurting him where we can't. Not yet, at least.”

 

“Not yet?” I asked, leaning forward. “Does that mean you're trying?”

 

The agent held back a grin from her lips, but I could see it in her eyes. “We're trying right now, yes. But, we've needed someone on the inside that he'd talk to, so we could get evidence. A recording, you understand, otherwise it won't hold up in court.”

 

“But I'm not on the inside,” Micah said.

 

“Of course not. But, you're enough of a thorn, he'd still want to talk to you, wouldn't he?”

 

“Guess so,” he replied as he drummed his fingers on the table. “I mean, I'd want to talk to the guy pissing in my cereal, if I were in his shoes.”

 

“Exactly,” she said. “You'd have to wear a wire, and you'd have to get a meeting with Petrov. But, we could get you the protection you want, if you go through it. Legal and physical, if we need to.”

 

This was it. This was the chance we needed. I reached over and put my hand on Micah's, squeezed it tight for support.

 

He entwined his fingers in mine, glanced down at them, then at me. He nodded when he saw my eyes.

 

“I'm game, if it means we can protect the ones we care about,” he said after a moment, his eyes still on mine. He turned back to the Agent Brumfield. “I'll do it. I'll wear a wire.”