Page 1 of Mimosa (Murphy's Pub #2)
Chapter One
Santiago Aguilar, or Sonny, to most that knew him, sat in the meeting room of the old pet food factory while Frank paced back and forth, eyeing some of the members while plain ignoring others. That was his way.
The leader of the organization they called the BBC, or Blue Badge Cartel, Franklyn Monroe had a big chip on his shoulder and a bigger power hunger than anyone Sonny had ever known.
“We’ve got the fences, got most of the pimps. They all have to kick up to us, especially if we’re providing the whores.”
Sonny wanted to roll his eyes, but refrained, knowing if Frank saw it, he’d single Sonny out for punishment. The worst would be getting kicked out of the BBC, but there were others, lesser punishments, that were much more brutal.
“Any word on that group?” he asked generally to the entire room.
There were thirty members so far, thirty main members, anyway. Those that worked for the cartel were in the hundreds.
Two of the members raised their hands, including Marion, who was one of the most unfortunate looking women he’d ever seen. She had a crooked nose and deep, deep wrinkles, even though she was only forty. Her life had been spent in the police department by day and in the bars, drinking and heavily smoking, by night.
“Frank, they’re small-time. A job a year. Sure, they get good payouts, but we can make an arrangement with them like we have the pimps and others. Kick it upstairs and go on as usual.”
Frank’s thin lips spread wide. “I like that. Do you think they will?”
“They don’t have a choice unless they want to move their stolen goods over state lines to fence them. We could make their daily lives hell. They have a bar that makes all its money on the weekends. We could go in, shut them down, and after two weekends like that, they’d likely fold.”
More smiling from the man, and the others around the room clapped and laughed as soon as they saw Frank’s reaction. If he’d not made any, they wouldn’t have either. Taking all their cues from him, that was the gist of the organization.
“Alright then, well, we’ll set up a meeting with them sometime in the next month. I’ll think on who’s gonna go to it. What’s next?”
The meeting went on for over an hour, then drinks were served in the front of the building while Frank accepted handshakes, pats on the back, and the admiration of the members. It was like they had to kiss the ring of their new emperor.
Sonny hung back with his friend, Sandy. Sonny and Sandy, yeah, they got teased relentlessly. “Are you going to see Taran?” Sandy asked, keeping his voice low as his eyes scanned the room.
“Tomorrow morning. I’m having coffee with him and Camp.”
“This is getting serious, Sonny. They’re ruining more lives.”
“It’s been bad. All those young women and men they’ve forced into prostitution? Isn’t that bad enough?”
“That’s why we’re here, Sonny.”
Sonny didn’t want to argue with his friend and the only person in the room who thought the way he did. “I know. Sorry. This is all just getting to me.”
“Me too. If we don’t bust them soon, I don’t know how much longer I can be undercover.”
Sonny felt the same way. They’d heard all of it, seen the trafficking, but had yet to get close enough to the top of the cartel to see things that would send the perpetrators up for life. That’s what they deserved, life behind bars with the other murderers, traffickers and drug dealers.
Frank took out a gun he’d recently purchased and waved for those in the room to follow him. They’d set up a shooting gallery where the bagging line of the factory had been, and he shot a circle around the heart of the silhouette target.
All his minions cheered like he’d taken down Hitler himself and Sonny felt a retching begin in his throat that he quickly swallowed away.
The next morning, he met Taran in a busy coffee shop near the lumber yard north of Denver. Men in overalls and stained jeans sat around discussing the price of corn and politics as he and the two feds spoke in whispers about the threats of the BBC.
“He’s going after Murphy’s Pub?” Taran asked, and he had more than a lawful interest in the pub. His boyfriend worked there. They’d met when Taran started the case, and had only gotten closer.
“They didn’t say the name outright. Of course, they wouldn’t. They know the law, which is the point. He’ll send out the people that are closest to him. I mean, he barely trusts any of us. What’s less trustworthy than a dirty cop? He’s not stupid.”
Camp nodded and added another heaping spoon of sugar into his decaf. “This is giving me an ulcer.”
“You’re not alone. Sandy is getting sick over it. The people we’re supposed to be fighting the hardest, and they’re joining them. It’s a lot.”
“A handful of dirty cops is one thing,” Taran said, and his shocking blue eyes were clouded with sorrow. The man was beautiful, and it was no wonder that he and the magnificent looking Cosmo had gotten together. “This kind of thing is unthinkable.”
All the men that worked at the pub were magnificent, although Sonny had obsessed over one of the pictures Taran had given him more than the others.
“Hey, Camp, any word from your higher ups on the plans?”
“Not until we get some concrete evidence. We’re going for RICO.”
“I love fucking feds,” Sonny spat. “You have to cross all your Ts to the point that the case goes cold. Get these mother fuckers or I will. I can still go through IA channels to get them on the local cases.”
“Don’t threaten us,” Taran warned. “We’ll get them, and we don’t have buddies here to cover up for them.”
“Sure. There are feds in this cartel too. How do you even know how many high-up friends they have in your offices?”
Camp actually laughed, and Sonny knew he was trying to break up the anger. “We’ll all get collars on this case soon enough. Stop measuring dicks, boys.”
“I told Murphy that I’d bring you to meet him. When can you swing by?”
“They’re being watched, so I have to be told to get over there. I should be able to go this week. I’m talking to Marion later today, letting her know I’m in the neighborhood and gay, so I can ease in and not be suspicious.”
“Fine. I’ll let Murphy know you have to be told what to do by your bosses.”
“Like you all don’t?”
“Guys,” Camp pleaded. “Stop. We’re on the same side.”
Sonny stood from the table and hissed, “Bust them. Soon. Or we will.”
The folder on the seat of his car was calling to him and he opened it to the partial file on those bartenders of Murphy’s Pub. Flipping through, he stopped on the one they called Mims.
His dark eyes, luscious lips, tiny frame…the guy was beautiful. There was so much behind those eyes, sadness being the glaring emotion he exuded. Sonny had read everything about him, right down to the fact his family had disowned him because he told them he was gay.
Now Ali Bajwa dated older men, in desperate search of a daddy figure to take the place of the father who’d tossed him aside. Rich older men, but one day, when the investigation was concluded, Sonny hoped that maybe he could change the mind of the man called Mims.
Maybe.