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Mike’s blood ran cold. “Who is this, and what the hell are you talking about?”
At the chilling tone of his voice, Mike could see all the squad leaders around the table immediately go on alert.
“This is Wendel. At the bar. Your girlfriend went out for a cigarette break, and I noticed a bunch of guys looking at her funny. When three of them followed her out, I decided it might be a good idea to tail them.”
Mike could hear the man’s voice shaking, and he knew things had to be bad. He figured it took a lot to rattle the big barkeep.
Wendel continued. “The biggest guy didn’t waste any time. He tackled her from behind. I was ready to dial 911, but Elle managed not only to get away, she sent the guy to the dirt.”
All well and fine, but Wendel had said, taken…
“The attacker got up fast and chased her. Grabbed her by the hair and slammed her face into a truck.” He quickly gave Mike all the details of her fight.
Mike wanted to roar his displeasure that someone had hurt Joe, and gloat that she’d turned the tables on a combatant, but he had to pay attention because clearly the rest was fucked up. Wendel was getting to the point, and he didn’t want to miss any details. As it was, Mike was already on his feet, ready to roll. As were his fellow team members.
Wendel’s voice was pained. “I thought it was all over, but one of the other guys who’d come out of the bar moved in from her rear and stuck a needle in her neck. She went down. They threw her in a trunk and drove away.”
“Details on the car,” Mike barked, moving toward the door with ten lethal operatives on his six.
“She’s an undercover cop, right?” the man asked instead of giving Mike the information he wanted. “I mean, I would have called the local blue, but I didn’t want to screw up anything you had going on.”
Mike knew the only way to get the man back on track was to give him affirmation. “Yeah. She’s undercover. Now what kind of car is it?”
“A white Chevy Malibu.” Wendel told him the license plate number.
“Thanks, Wendel,” Mike remembered to say as he pushed out the door. “You did good.” He went to hang up when Wendel’s voice stopped him.
“I also have the fourth guy still at the bar. My friends are making sure he doesn’t leave. Should I call the locals on him?”
“Hell, no,” Mike barked. “I’ll send some of my team to pick him up. Cisco?” he turned and looked at his friend.
“Whatever it is, you’ve got it,” Cisco replied.
Mike nodded his thanks. “Wendel, watch for squad leader Cisco Andera.”
“Will do.”
Mike disconnected this time. He’d wasted enough time talking with the bartender. He had his woman to rescue.
“Sitrep,” Mason growled, immediately coming up beside him as they got to the parking lot.
Mike stopped for a second.
Right.
He needed to fill the team in. Where was his head? Cisco didn’t even know where to go. “Joe was taken from the Local Moose where she works, by three men. I have names. We all know them from the shit they’ve pulled in all our jurisdictions: Benji Havastill, Chuck Banito, and Anthony Galici.”
There was a hiss from his team as he said the last name, because as bad as Benji and Chuck were, Anthony was a total piece of shit.
“Wait. Joe? So that’s her real name?” Mason asked astutely after digesting what Mike had said.
Mike wasn’t about to prevaricate. Joe’s cover be damned. “Yeah. And she’s undercover DEA,” Mike revealed. “She’s been working a drug ring the three perps are involved in that deals in xylazine-cut-fentanyl.”
“And you know this because…?” Mason left hanging.
“Because, if you remember what she told us at the quarries, her asshole boss wasn’t giving her the backup she needed, so she decided to fill me in on as many details as possible just in case she needed manpower behind her.”
“Which she does right now,” Talia stated from somewhere to his right. “So what do you have for us?”