Chapter Twenty-Eight
Despite still being hurt, Rey insisted he drive, which of course meant we took his motorcycle. Normally I would be more than happy to participate in something that gave me a sense of freedom but I didn't want him to hurt more than he already was. When I hesitated to get on the back of the motorcycle, he shot me a glare that would wither any flower.
"I don't think..."
"Get on the bike willingly or I'll hog tie you and put you there myself."
"There's no reason to be forceful about it."
With more reluctance than I've ever done anything in my life, I got on the back of his bike. The only reaction I got as I gently wrapped my arms around his waist was his muscles tensing up. After he got accustomed to me being there, he pulled me tighter against him and let out a breath. This was going to be ok or at least I hoped it would.
I expected we'd go to the station or the courthouse or something since this was Dr. Seuss related but nope. He pulled into a bar downtown, a bar that was pretty much packed. The parking lot was almost full but we managed to find a space towards the back of the lot. I was wearing my own leather jacket and jean shorts. Not exactly my sexiest outfit but he said we weren't going to be out long. I wanted something that would be easy to switch out when we got back so I could go straight to bed. Hence the reason why I had on one of his tanks I'd snagged over the week and a pair of Converses.
"You know, if you told me we were going to a bar, I would've worn something different."
"What you're wearing is fine." He nuzzled the side of my throat before pulling back and offering me his hand. "We're not staying long and you're not drinking."
"Because I'm underage?"
"Because I said so."
"Just one glass of wine?" I held up a finger as I took his hand. "Come on, I think I deserve a little bit of alcohol."
"Let me think about that...no."
"You're such a downer."
He pulled open the door and I was instantly hit with the smell of stale peanuts and foamy beer. Even if I wanted a drink of dry wine, I highly doubted this was a place that served that kind of stuff. Rey led the way inside and through the crowd; several of the drunken patrons giving me looks I didn't reciprocate and Rey glared at them for. He was definitely keeping up with the overprotective manner he'd maintained for the past couple of days.
I wasn't surprised when I spotted a familiar pinstriped suit hunched over the bar.
Rey paused and pulled me forward, arching our linked hands above my head so I was walking in front of him instead of behind.
"Take the space next to him," he said. He didn't even have to whisper it was so loud in here.
I stepped up to the bar between Houston and the rather slutty girl sitting next to him. To my surprise, Rey didn't stay behind me like I thought he would but stood next to me so he was facing the girl and I was forced to face Houston.
"Have court again?" I quipped.
"You could say that." Houston glanced at me and smiled. "How are you feeling?"
"Rey's not letting me drink."
"Smart man considering you're underage. I highly doubt his handler approved the aiding in the delinquency of a minor."
"You make it sound as if I'm a child. In the eyes of the law, I'm considered an adult."
"Not enough of one to be drinking."
"You people do realize I used to drink all the time when I was at college." I flashed him a smile. "So, what's up? I was in the middle of relaxing."
He drank the last bit of whatever it was in his glass and slid off his stool. "Backroom."
"Seriously? You're going to drag me off into one of those already? Can't a girl get a dance first since you're not buying me a drink?"
Houston just rolled his eyes at my antics, like he'd been dealing with them forever. "I need your help and that's in the backroom. So yes. I'm dragging you into one of those already." He did a perfect imitation of my voice. When I still hesitated and turned a fraction in Rey's direction, Houston caught my eyes by ducking a little. "Don't worry about him. He'll be occupied for the time you're gone."
Like that was making me feel better. "Wow. I never knew his type were hookers."
Rey elbowed me from behind and I stumbled forward. Houston caught me, barely able to hide the grin forming on his face. "Come on."
Like I was being passed off, Houston took my hand, not threading his fingers around mine like Rey had but rather the "hold your parents' hand while crossing the street" type of handhold. We made our way through the door but not before I glanced back at Rey. He'd watched me go rather inconspicuously and when he caught my eye, he winked at me. In response I gave him a faint smile and let the door fall closed, sealing me in a sorta back hallway that led to the bathroom area, manager's office, and low and behold, the infamous backroom. Houston let go of my hand and knocked on the door all secret society like. An answering knock came back and then the door opened.
"After you."
On the other side was a uniform who smiled at me. What was with these coppers and smiling at me? But that wasn't the beginning of it. The backroom looked like an extended closet and I was seriously starting to question everyone's sanity.
"Ms. De Sota?"
"That would be me."
"I'm Officer Robles. I'm supposed to hood you."
"Hood me? What does that mean?"
"That means..." he motioned towards a wheelchair I hadn't noticed before and a folded piece of black cloth sitting on the seat "...literally what it sounds like."
"So cloak and dagger?" I looked over at Houston who was standing next to me. "Where are we going?"
"Can't tell you. You'll know once we get there but until then, let Robles hood you."
"You do realize we're standing in a backroom, right? It doesn't really go anywhere..."
"Prohibition tunnels."
"Of course. Why didn't I think of that? I'm warning you, right now, Houston, if you're taking me off to be murdered, I'll haunt your ass."
"Duly noted."
I turned back to the uniform. "Go ahead."
He promptly motioned towards the wheelchair. "Have a seat."
"You know, I had someone tell me that once. Student assistant in my Biology lecture. He placed a whoopee cushion on the chair. Called it finals stress relief but I didn't think it was very funny."
"I can assure you, ma'am, there is no joke device on the seat. That would be inappropriate."
Just to make sure he was telling the truth, I went over and picked up the hood. There was nothing else and when I was satisfied, I sat down. Houston was trying really hard not to laugh and the uniform looked like he dealt with this all the time.
"Ok." I held out the hood. "Be gentle."
"I'll treat you as if you were a newborn."
The hood was slipped over my head and the uniform patted my shoulders. This was probably the strangest damn thing ever. Just as I was thinking that, the wheelchair started to move, neither forward nor backwards but in circles. The whole time, there was a scraping sound like metal against concrete.
"Oh—kay what the fuck is going on?"
I had a death grip on the armrests and I started to get dizzy. Maybe they forgot I'd just gotten over a head injury and by the time they were done, the startings of another headache was cropping up. We started rolling forward and I checked the urge to hang my head in my hands.
"I think I'm going to throw up."
"Try to hold it in for ten minutes," Houston said. "Then you'll be free and clear to throw up in a trashcan and not on us."
"Wow, you're so charming. No wonder you're married."
"Ha-ha. My career comes first."
"I've been hearing a lot of that recently." The consistency of the floor changed from cement to a bumpy. "Should I even ask why there are Prohibition tunnels leading from a bar to the police station or wherever it is you jokers are taking me?"
"Cops liked their booze too." I turned in Houston's direction and frowned. I know he couldn't see it but this time it was warranted.
"So you're telling me they would go to the speakeasies and then raid them?"
The uniform laughed. "She's got you there, Detective."
"That's because she's too smart for her own good." A hand landed on my shoulder, one I could only assume was Houston's. "The tunnels weren't discovered until about the seventies when they decided to put in a parking deck. They ran alongside several of tunnels and buildings the police used like the station, city hall, and a few other choice places. The city paid to refurbish the tunnels for when high profile prisoners and arrests had to be made. Sometimes they come in handy when we have an informant who is high profile as well. They go to the bar and a privileged officer, like Robles here, escorts them to where they need to go."
"And I get you as an addition. How nice."
"There are a few things you and I need to discuss in addition to you being introduced to the procedure. Reyes would've been the one to escort you through all of this but he has a seperate set of orders he needs to follow tonight."
That set me to worrying.
"Bump," the uniform interjected as he tipped me back a little and then lifted the back of the chair to accommodate the bump. "You taking over from here?"
"That would be correct," Houston said. "If Reyes gets antsy, tell him she'll be back in due time."
"Yes, sir." I heard his footsteps retreat which left me with Houston.
"Alright, spill," I said. "The anticipation is killing me."
"Tell me what the hell is going on between you and Gutierrez."
"Currently nothing but I have a feeling you're not talking about currently."
"I've asked him several times but each time he's dodged the subject." He stopped rolling me and whipped the hood off my head. I blinked and looked around, finding we were inside a different closet. "So now I'm asking you."
"What makes you think I'll tell you anything?" I looked in the direction his voice came from the last time he spoke. I couldn't really see since it was pitch black in our cozy closet. "He's your partner, if..." A light was flipped on and I slammed my eyes closed. "Ow! Did you miss the memo about my recovering head injury? You're just trying to bring it back."
"I want you to trust me enough to tell me the truth." He crouched down in front of me. "I would think I've earned at least that."
"I'm not supposed to trust cops."
"But you trust Reyes. What's one more in your repertoire?"
"It means life or death. I trust the gangster side of Rey, not the cop side. I know he'd sell me out in a second to save his own hide. I'm not stupid in thinking otherwise."
"I'm not just your handler, Elina. I'm also your sponsor. If you don't want to trust the cop part of me, that's fine. I completely understand. But try to trust the sponsor part of me because I've been where you are."
I started picking at the armrest, not really in the mood to talk about this. "Yeah? What was your drug of choice?"
He sighed, almost as if he was expecting me to ask that question. "When I was in high school, I was in a car accident. I wasn't really hurt, just whiplash and a seatbelt bruise. But my passenger wasn't as lucky. We were out at a party; the swim team just won regionals. I was the designated driver and true to my word, I stayed sober. My best friend, however, was completely plastered and forgot to buckle himself in. Another one of our drunk classmates slammed into the back of us while we were stopped at a red light. My best friend went through the windshield and when he landed he severed his spinal cord. Died instantly. My classmate, who was a girl, was paralyzed from the waist down and has part of her steering wheel still in her chest."
I wasn't exactly sure what to say to that except, "I'm sorry."
"I've dealt with it. But to answer your question, my drug of choice became the same as yours after the pain killer prescription ran out. Cocaine. I barely remember the last half of my senior year of high school."
I scoffed, a little tear filled. "I remember everything I ever did while I was high and then some." I chewed on my bottom lip, knowing in order to tell him what exactly Jorge and I meant to each other, or at least what he meant to me, I would need to divulge the full truth. "What you're asking...I don't think you're ready to hear. Even though it's my story to tell, I can't tell you any of it without consequences."
"I don't understand..."
"I made a promise to someone eighteen months ago, someone who did a lot for me even though he barely knew me. I can't renege on him. It would put his life in danger as well as mine."
"Who? Gutierrez?"
"No." I shook my head carefully, maintaining contact. "It's a little higher up than that."
"How high?"
"I believe he is new to the position, six months maybe." Houston's expression went from disbelief to chilly in a matter of seconds. I continued so he would understand part of it. "He was the detective in charge of the raid that night, the one and only night I was arrested. It was the first night I started trusting cops, the only reason I started trusting cops. If you want the truth about what happened..."
"I didn't ask you about that night. I want to know what's going on between you and my partner."
"They're one and the same, Houston. You won't understand any of it unless you know how it started. And I can't tell you and Jorge won't. So in order to get the answers you want, you have to ask the right question to the right person."
"Then tell me what happened that night."
"That's something you're not ready to hear, not if you still look at Bradford Jimenez like he was a human being. Because he wasn't. He was a monster of the worst kind."
He looked me over carefully. "Alright. I'll see what I can do."
"Read over the file, read between the lines, and you just might find what you're looking for." We both stood up at the same time. "Now. Where are we?"
He reached behind him and opened the door. A very sterile lit up hallway stretched in both directions as I stuck my head out.
"Am I in hell? A bright, white hell? It even smells god awful."
"This way," Houston said while chuckling. "You'll get used to the smell."
"I doubt it. I seriously doubt it."