Deadly Silence (Silence Jones Action Thrillers Series) by Erik Carter (fun to read .TXT) 📗

His undercover assignment had just amplified in intensity a hundred-fold. The long-term implications for the city of Pensacola, the police department and how they would respond. He thought of Lieutenant Tanner, and an immediate, nagging feeling pulled him toward the man.

And, of course, there was C.C. Already caught in the crossfire. Now caught in the middle of a full-out war.

Glover acknowledged the look of revelation on Jake’s face with a sneer. He pointed toward the entrance, the glow of light coming in from the parking lot. “That was Wesley Bowman you were with. You tracked them down. On your own.”

“That’s right. I knew something was up. I knew Kip Bowman wasn’t lying.”

“That gut instinct of yours…” A dark smile played on Glover’s lips. “You know, Loudmouth, you can be a real douche, but I’m impressed you could figure this out. That took initiative. Burton will be impressed too. That said … how about you get in on the ground floor? What do you say? Join us?”

Jake didn’t respond. His mind was still exploding.

The ramifications. How soon could he contact Tanner? What were the next moves?

How safe was C.C.?

Glover raised his eyebrows. “Well?” he said with a smirk. “Want to be a made man in Burton’s gang?”

“Hell no.”

Glover scoffed. “That’s both ballsy and spineless at the same time. How do you think Burton’s gonna respond to the news that you investigated what he was doing here in New Orleans and then didn’t join up when given the opportunity?”

“I don’t give a damn what he thinks.”

“Then we’ve reached an impasse.” Glover clicked his tongue. “And there’s a problem. A big one. You know what Burton’s done here.”

“I’m not a rat!”

No, Jake wasn’t a rat. He was a cop. The bizarre quasi-lie he’d just spouted with such conviction almost made him chuckle in spite of himself, in spite of the deadly serious situation he was in.

“How do I know you’re not? You seem awfully concerned about the poor little Bowman family. There’s only one way to make sure you keep your mouth shut.”

Glover reached toward his back, his holster.

Jake leapt upon him, not giving him a fraction of a second to retrieve the weapon. He grabbed the arm below the shoulder, forcing it back.

Glover threw a punch with his free hand, and the sneer of satisfaction on his face said that he’d wanted to do that for a long time.

The blow landed on Jake’s jaw. A wave of cold, electric pain, his teeth cracking against each other. He stumbled back.

This brief moment of separation was all the time Glover needed. He now had a small pistol pulled and aimed at Jake.

“It’s a damn shame, Loudmouth. I really thought you were coming around.”

There was no hesitation. Glover simply began to pull the trigger.

Jake’s nostrils flared, big breaths, preparing.

And, just like that, he was facing the end. He never had before. He’d been a cop for only a year, and while he’d seen more than a few scuffles, he’d never been in mortal danger. Before that, he’d been a teacher. He’d never been in any significant car accidents. He’d never had any severe illnesses.

This was unfamiliar territory for him.

And yet, there was no fear. Only a quick flash of C.C. Her smooth face. Blameless eyes, dark with long lashes. Black hair shining in the Florida sun.

Glover’s trigger finger tightened.

A sound behind them.

From the front of the store. A metallic click.

Another gun.

And a voice.

“That’s far enough, Glover.”

A familiar face took shape as a figure emerged from the shadows.

Charlie.

He had a pistol aimed at Glover.

Jake’s mind flashed on the mystery figure that had been trailing him that evening. Outside the Bowmans’ house. Here to the abandoned strip mall.

Charlie, dammit.

Jake had told the kid to get lost, that he was putting himself in danger continuing with this life. Jake’s paternal instincts chattered once more. But he could chastise Charlie later; for now he was just happy he’d saved his life.

Glover looked back and forth between Charlie and Jake. Trapped. Beaten. He slowly crouched down, put the gun on the floor, stood back up with his hands in the air.

Jake considered saying something to Charlie. Didn’t. Instead, to Glover he said, “All right. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Glover spat.

“To the Vortex.” Jake took his cellular phone from his pocket, held it up, displaying it. “See, I’m about to make a call. Nick Moretti’s gonna be so happy to hear that you got the fourteen thousand from the Bowmans a night earlier than promised. I mean, you and Burton were so concerned about impressing him, that’s gotta make you happy, right?” He gave Glover a smartass grin with very dark undertones. “Come on, before we head to the Vortex we need to stop by the hotel and have a look at that cash you’ve been hoarding.”

For the second time that hour, Jake sat on a vehicle’s bench seat. The one in the backside of Charlie’s ’85 Ford Taurus was just as grimy as the one in Wesley Bowman’s pickup, but it had a stronger odor, dust and rotten foam padding and pungent pine from the air freshener dancing from the rearview mirror.

Jake had his gun pointed at Glover, whose hands were on his knees, as directed.

Charlie was in the driver’s seat, and in the seat beside him was the briefcase they’d retrieved from Glover’s motel room.

Glover gave another look to the gun then he shook his head and turned to the window. “You dumbasses,” he said, eyes following the buildings zipping by outside. “Do you honestly think you can steal fifty grand from Burton?”

“I’m not stealing anything from him,” Jake said. “Fourteen thousand will get Moretti off the Bowmans’ backs, and thirty-two goes back to the family, pays back what you stole from them. You can keep the rest, what your two thugs yanked out of ATMs. Moretti will be satisfied, the Bowmans get their money, and you and Burton still end up cash positive. Gotta love a happy ending, am I right?”

Glover finally turned away from the window,