Blood is Black in the Moonlight

  William J Manning

  Blood is Black in the Moonlight

  A Detective Devora Lobos novel

  Chapter 1

  Juarez, Mexico. 2005

  I’ve infiltrated the Vargas Cartel in Juarez. I rose through the ranks, killing people for them. Some of them bad, some of them good. I glance down at my forearm and see the black Santa Muerte tattoo. I’ve sunk too deep. Something is wrong; my handler should’ve pulled me out by now. He usually makes contact with me by now, but he’s been MIA. It’s been weeks since I heard from him, and he is not answering his cell. I’ve been trapped in this hell for two years living a life that is not mine. But today it’s going to end. I had to break protocol and contact HQ in Miami. Now three days later, Navy Seals and DEA are prepping for the assault to take down Juan Vargas. They’re positioned one block over. It’s time I wake from this nightmare and peel off the mask I been wearing.

  I march into the bathroom and slip on a Kevlar vest and my green T-shirt down over it. I tie my straight brown hair back into a ponytail, and pull out a baggie of my beloved white gold and sprinkle a bit on the edge of the sink. I fish a dollar out of my pocket, rolling it up into a straw and snort two lines. The coke hits my brain like a freight train. My heart thumps like war drums surges of adrenaline pump through my body like an electrical current I’m riding the lightning. I stare into the mirror, slapping the side of my head. “You’re not Cortana anymore. You’re not Cortana anymore. You are Special Agent Devora Lobos of the DEA.”

  This is a ritual I do after every undercover operation to surface from the abyss.

  Juan is a stupid son of a bitch. He bought a mansion in the middle of the city. He may as well placed a billboard on the top of his house, saying, a drug lord lives here.

  My cell pings with a text.

  Operation Sledge is commencing.

  Stepping out of the bathroom, I rack the slide on my black Sig Sauer P226. My handler bursts into the bedroom, carrying two gym bags filled to the brim with greenbacks.

  I train my gun on him. “Where the fuck have you been! I hiss. “I've been losing my shit, wondering where the hell you are. Do you realize it’s been fucking weeks since you made contact with me?”

  He drops the bags and puts his hands up. “Agent Lobos, I’m here to pull you out.”

  He’s lying, just like he lied about not letting me get too deep. Now I am a goddamn enforcer for the Vargas Cartel, probably on my way to capo.

  I grit my teeth. “Don’t bullshit me! All you care about is ripping off Juan.” I growl.

  He puts his hands up. “Easy, Lobos. We talked about this. When this operation was over, you know, where you and I go our separate ways with Juan’s money, remember?”

  My fingers tighten around the grip of the gun as I stare at this backstabbing motherfucker. “Yeah, I remember, but I thought it over and realized if we take this money, we will have a giant blinking target on our backs. We’ll be looking over our shoulders. That life won’t be worth a shit! I will have to send my family into hiding if I take this money. Plus, the shit they did to make this money: human trafficking, illegal arms dealing, and drug trafficking. If I take this money. If we take this money, we become them. We profited off their evil.”

  He shakes his head, tossing my half of the money at my feet. “You’re overthinking this, Devi. There’s enough evidence to put Juan Vargas away for an eternity.”

  I refuse to take my cut of thirty pieces of silver.

  “That’s why I’m still alive! Thanks to you, I barely recognize who the fuck I am anymore! When I close my eyes, all I see are dead faces staring up at me.”

  He smiles, pushing back his dirty blond hair. “Agent Lobos, you said you would do whatever it took to bring these people down… and you did. Now, it’s time you’re properly compensated for it.”

  My eyes swell with tears as I grit my teeth at him. “You son of a bitch.” I snarl. “I meant to undermine their organization, not blacken my fucking soul! Now because of you, these monsters are calling me boss, and I have money dripping with blood. I have murdered innocent people for these pricks for fuck sakes! We swore to bring these assholes down, not become them. You turned me into a goddamn monster, Jimmy!”

  He glowers briefly and then drops his head and exhales in frustration. “I know. Which is why you deserve this money. Now pick up that goddamn bag and let’s get outta here.”

  “I don’t want it. Too much evil was done to earn it. Besides, I called in the cavalry.”

  His eyes widen, and his nostrils flare. “Are you fucking stupid! Why the hell did you do that?” he screams, grabbing a clump of his hair.

  “Because I am tired of this fucking hell. I just want to wake up.”

  His jaw spasms with fury. “Okay, I get it. You’ve been through hell but listen to me.” his voice goes soft. “We play this right, and we will get a big payday here.” He points at the bags, smiling. “All the work you put in, all the shit you been through, and you’re going to stand there and tell me; you don’t deserve all this cash? You help me, and I’ll help you. Now pick up that fucking bag and let’s go!”

  Fucking bastard is blindfolded by the almighty dollar, but I saw this shit coming the moment he saw Juan’s money storage. He was foaming at the mouth like a homeless man at the sight of free whiskey, but to be fair, we both were.

  “Jimmy, as your friend, I am telling you to leave the money.” The whole place explodes into gunfire. I glance out the window while watching him from my peripheral.

  DEA’s armored car plows into the gate, busting it open. A platoon of agents armed with HK rifles and semi-automatic shotguns charge into the courtyard gunning down Juan’s men. Blackhawks buzz overhead with Devgru fast-roping down to the roof.

  “Jimmy flings his hands out to his side, face screwed with disappointment. “Come on, Lobos, we gotta go! Don’t be such a fucking loser! We can live like royalty. You and your husband can live in the Bahamas like you always dreamed of.” He nods toward the stairs, grinning. “Come on. You don’t want to do this shit forever, do you? Wasting your life going after Narcos, do you?”

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to go with him and live like a queen and help my family with their debts. That being said, blood money generates more problems than solutions.

  I snap my head. “No, this money reeks of blood. Come on, you’re better than this, man.”

  He breaks into a fit of laughter. “I don’t fucking believe this shit! Now you’re the sword of justice! He extends his hands out to his side. “Newsflash, Devora, you are no different than those monsters out there. You’ve killed people. You’ve extorted people. You’ve trafficked meth and coke for them. Face it; you’ve dirtied your little angel wings.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re down in the shit with the rest of us. So take your hard-earned cash and let’s fucking go.”

  “You take the money, and I swear you won’t get to enjoy it. I will inform the CIA and our boss.”

  He flashes a venomous grin at me. “They won’t believe you. You’re a junkie. You’ve been so busy riding the white horse; you didn’t see I was using that as insurance in case you got a sudden attack of conscience. Long story short, they’re going to believe a sober superior over a coked-out agent who let herself fly too close to the sun. You burn me. You burn yourself.”

  My eyes narrow. “Then we’ll burn.”

  His smile slowly withers. “So that’s it, huh? One minute you’re Tony Montana, and now you’re all about the Law! He lets out a long sigh and glowers. “Well, I can’t have you snitching to the brass.” He whips out his gun and fires. The bullet slices the side of my head, knocking me to the floor. My head pulsates with pain, and
my ears are ringing. It was just a graze, but it still feels like a bat slammed against the side of my head. “Goddamn it! This is your fault, not mine! All you had to do was take your cut and walk. It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he sobs. “I thought you’d be smart and share in the spoils. I thought wrong.” he exhales. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have to pay some people I owe. I’m sorry, partner, I really didn’t want it to go this way.” His voice is muffled over the sound of bells ringing in my head.

  He starts walking away. I sit up, aiming my gun at him. “Please put the money down. Don’t make me do this,” I say, with tears streaming down my face.

  He whirls around with his gun, but I fire mine first, slamming several rounds into his lungs. He collapses to the floor with a harsh thud. Jimmy gasps for air as his face contorts in agony. A red mist spews from his mouth as he fights to breathe. I stand and lumber toward him, holding the side of my head. He grasps my pants leg, and he manages to strain out a few words. “My family. Danger. Needed…”

  He tried to kill me twice so he can go fuck himself.

  I yank my leg away from him, and his hand goes limp.

  Resting in a wooden chair, I stare at his body in a trance watching the blood pool under his body.

  Lighting up a smoke, I exhale a cloud across the room. I glance over at Jimmy. “You stupid son of a bitch.”

  Jimmy was more bent than I expected. However, he always had a gambling problem that caused friction in his marriage. Based on his last words, his gambling finally drove him to self-destruction. My career in the DEA is probably over. Not that would be a loss because, after this OP, I’m done. I gazed too deep into the abyss this time.

  I run my trembling hands through my hair, tears stream down my face. My foot slams into the bag, sending it gliding across the floor. “Fuck!” I sink to the ground, sobbing.

  The Seal team busts through the door training their rifles on me. “Get on the ground now and hands behind…”

  “Easy there, GI Joe. That’s my agent.” A man in a red T-shirt and a TAC vest kneels in front of me. “Agent Lobos, are you alright?” The Assistant Special Agent in Charge says.

  It was such a relief to hear my real name again. It’s time to wake up.

  “Yeah.” I touch the side of my head. “He just grazed me, sir.”

  He examines my head. “Christ! You got an angel watching over you, girl.”

  I don’t know about an angel, but the devil is a possibility.

  My jaw clenches. “I guess CIA is going to sweep all the shit I done under the rug?”

  “Yes, you know the drill. Lobos, stop kicking the shit out of yourself. You did what you had to do to survive. It wasn’t pretty, but you got the job done. The Vargas Cartel is shut down thanks to you.” he takes a sip of water. “Wish we could have taken Juan Vargas alive, but the dumb fuck pulled an AK on the Seals.”

  The thing about the drug cartel is when one goes down, another emerges to take its place. As long as you still have Americans willing to snort and smoke that shit, you will never stop the drug trade.

  “I murdered people for the Cartel. Juan was getting suspicious of me, and I put the scent of a rat on this 18-year-old kid… his name was Chris Santiago.” I lower my head. “They stuffed him in an oil drum and burned him alive. I murdered that kid, Tanner.”

  “Lobos, You did what you had to do to stay alive. Besides, that kid was going to end up dead anyway considering the track he was on.”

  My boss shrugging off this kid’s death makes the bile swirl in my gut.

  “What about Chris’s family? I mean, his parents adored me, and their son looked up to me like some big sister.”

  “You know the rules, Lobos; we don’t interact with criminal’s families once the Op is over.”

  I glower at him. “So that’s it? His mother and father are left in the dark about what happened to their child?”

  “Lobos, you’re a UC operative, not a grief counselor. Besides, the CIA and the DEA can’t risk you blowing your cover to appease your guilty conscience.”

  A flash of that kid’s bright smile enters my mind. “So just like that, Chris Santiago is just another notch on the CIA’s belt.”

  He sighs and rubs his brow. “Lobos, you have been living with these pieces of shit for two years. Living and breathing their diseased existence. So after the debriefing, I am putting you on paid vacation.”

  I had plans to help that kid, but I murdered him. My hands are stained with his blood, another casualty, in the futile war on drugs. “We knew Jimmy was dirty”—he stares at his body in disgust—“we discovered he owed a ton of gambling debt to the Triads. If he didn’t pay them back, they’d kill his wife and kid. However, his family was dead before he even had a chance to collect the money. We found them dead in a hotel with their throats cut… even the goddamn kid.”

  “So you knew he was dirty all along, and you put me with him anyway? What the fuck, Tanner?”

  “I’m sorry, Lobos, I wanted to inform you, but the CIA said its best we not run the risk of you tipping him off. Plus, they had no way of knowing you weren’t dirty.”

  I would ask why he didn’t come to us with this, but it’s obvious. The Triads told him no cops. That also explains his last words.

  I put out my cigarette on the floor and put it in a baggie. Leave no trace Cartels have people on their payroll to do DNA tests.

  He crosses his arms. “Jimmy’s gambling addiction finally done him in.”

  “Yeah, I told the fucker to get some help, but he wouldn’t listen. Typical addict in denial—“I wince in pain—“did we ever find the assholes who killed his family?”

  “We don’t know who the killer was, and even if we did, he’s likely back in China by now. But you need medical attention, so turn around and be arrested. You know the drill. You have to look like one of these pieces of shit.”

  Most people dread being put in handcuffs, not me. I welcomed it. It was a sign the assignment was over, and I can go back home to Miami, to my husband.

  ***

  A few days later, I’m sitting at a small Chinese restaurant in Miami, waiting for my boss and sipping a cup of low quality coffee. It tastes like the cheap mud water they gave us in the Army. The place is not very big it has ten tables at the most, and dirty red carpet. I’ve been shedding tears all night. I haven’t slept at all. Feels like I’m wandering through a fog. All I can see are the faces of the people I’ve shot in cold blood without hesitation and Chris’s confused fear-stricken face as they were dumping gas on him. His cries still echo in my mind, and the smell of his flesh crackling in the fire stain my senses.

  It wasn’t me! Devi, tell them it wasn’t me! Please!

  I wanted to gun all of those assholes down and save that kid. But I would’ve just blown my cover, and ended up in an oil drum right next to him. However, that would’ve probably have been better than the pain I feel right now.

  My boss sits down at the table. “Alright, let’s get your debriefing done, then we can get you on your vacation”— his brow furrows—“hey, what’s wrong?”

  Breaking down into tears, my head falls in my hands. “I am sorry, Tanner. But I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Okay, I understand. No more undercover work then. There is a slot on the Doctor Shoppers’ task force I can put you on. It’s local, and it’s not undercover.”

  “No, you’re not hearing me. I am done with the DEA.”

  His eyes widen. “What! But you worked so hard to get here.” His voice full of shock.

  Clasping my hands over my head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it anymore after this last one. The shit I’ve done keeps replaying in my head. I can still hear the screams of that Chris Santiago.”

  “Jesus Christ, you’re going to throw away your career over a two-bit drug slinging punk?”

  I place my badge on the table and push it to him. “I won’t be a part of an organization that sweeps the death of kids under the rug.”

  He stares at the
badge and sighs. “Alright, Lobos. I just hate it; I’m losing one of my best agents. But if this what you want, then I will email you the resignation forms.”

  I don’t care if he hates it; I can’t do this anymore. I don’t have another one left in me.

  He leans back in the chair, with concern in his eyes. “So, what are you going to do if you’re not DEA anymore?”

  I lay the money down for my cup of coffee. “I’ll find something to do.” I grab my black leather coat off the back of my chair and leave putting that life behind me.

  Chapter 2

  14 years later, Tampa, FL.

  Our clothes are wadded up and strewed across my bedroom floor, along with a crumpled condom wrapper on the nightstand. I gulp scotch from the bottle on my nightstand and douse my cigarette in an overflowing ashtray with butts sticking up like outreached arms. The man in my bed is a lean 20-year-old college student with short coal-black hair and a fair complexion. I met him two months ago at a Tampa Comic-Con doing a security detail. I admired his courage to ask me out despite me decked out in that intimidating SWAT gear. So we exchanged each other’s phone numbers. I think he’s a good kid, but I can already tell he is the sort who falls hard, and to be honest, I can feel myself falling for him, but I have to get a hold of that shit because I will just end up hurting him.

  He smirks at me, reaching under the sheets, between my legs massaging me. My knees clench together as his fingers slip inside. “Somebody wants to go for round two,” I giggle.

  He flashes a mischievous smile. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

  I grip his large instrument while slipping my tongue into his mouth. “You’re hard as a rock down there. Time to soften you up again. Now get me another condom, you blue-eyed nympho.”

  He gazes into my eyes, smiling. “Do you think we could ever be more than just fuck buddies?”