Till Deceived Do We Part

Whenever Jake is short with someone, it means he’s at his end. He’s pushing his stress limit to the max. So, considering Zane is gone, I lied to him, Boris betrayed him, and me and Flint were squabbling yet again, and all he did was act short with us, I think he was managing well. But the wrinkles on his face, the deeper limp, and the empty glassy look in his eyes, gave away the reality it was bugging him more than he let off.

Jake had always been my mentor, my guide, my father, but at the precise moment, he was merely a boss, in a sense. There were no further relations regarding us, and that was due to me. He wouldn’t even meet my eyes, which stung horribly.

Hunter, Remington and Vachel were already seated when myself and Flint arrived. We separated as usual, myself taking the single chair, and Flint sitting next to Jake.

“The issues regarding Boris will be put aside for now. Before I get into the details on Palmer’s death, Vachel has found some information.” My interest piqued now, and I turned. Vachel, still looking like a stone statue, spoke.

“The tattoo on our victims right calf seems to be a serpent squeezing the life out of a small rabbit, or hare of some sort.” Classy. “The shading and colouring are done in a unique fashion, which led to me finding the tattoo artist. The location is in the folder.” My eyes glanced at the table, and sure enough, there lay a folder. My eyes turned back to Jake who was watching us all, his eyes taking everything in.

“I’ll go.” I finally said, when the silence became too much for even me to stand. Jake didn’t answer my statement, nor did he refute it, so I left it at that. If he wasn’t going to answer me, even though I can understand why he wouldn’t, I’m just going to answer myself. So I took his silence as an okay.

“And Palmer?” Flint finally asked, his eyes breaking the look Jake had been giving me.

“Three bombs had been rigged to his safe-home. Top of the lines one too, ones that usually leave a paper trail.”

“But they didn’t?” I asked, catching his use of words. If they had left a paper trail, Jake would have known about it already. Our base may be more isolated than the others, but we still knew when any of them bought weapons. Even if it was just a local street gang buying a bunch of machine guns to start a street war, we knew. If we didn’t, we’d end up walking into too many situations that would land our brains on the sidewalk. So the fact that we didn’t know, wasn’t at all good.

“No. However, Ramiro’s body was found in the West river.” Shit. Ramiro and I didn’t get along well, but then, who do I get along with? He believed women should be at home, cooking cleaning, and then preparing to entertain the men throughout the night. Needless to say, I disagreed strongly. Zane had to stop me from taking a knife to his... well, a certain organ men like.

Luckily, I didn’t have to deal with Ramiro too often. Why? Because I don’t do the weapon orders, and when I do, I usually take Zane along to soften the blow. Ramiro was a bomb maker, among other things. Usually when someone goes into that sort of field of work, they’re pro at everything. Not Ramiro. He could make bombs, hand guns, and a wicked machine gun, but nothing else. A gun with a scope? No way. A nice set of daggers, a grenade launcher? Not even close. Even though that factor would usually stop anyone from getting known, it didn’t stop Ramiro. For even though he only specialized in certain areas, he was the best at making bombs. That was his speciality, and though I hate him as a man, as a person, no one made better bombs than him. That was just fact. And he was dead. Someone really didn’t want to leave a trail.

“When?” Asked Flint, his voice quiet. He had been close to Ramiro, as close as an assassin can get with an outsider.

“The body was found early morning, but he was presumed to be killed three nights ago, according to the autopsy.”

“Okay, assuming they got the bombs before they killed him or after, doesn’t really matter, does that mean they held onto them? Or were the bombs set up early, and we just missed it? And how did they get past the guards?” I asked, the questions streaming through my head. Jake wasn’t the one to answer, though, Hunter was.

“I think we missed them. Palmer wasn’t a threat, but an opportunity. What better way to strike fear into someone than killing someone on high guard? If we found the bombs, the fear of knowing we could have died at any moment, would hit us. And if we didn’t? Well, we still get a strong lesson. On how they got them hooked up, I would either guess another betrayal, or they’re that good.”

“None of those guards would have betrayed me.” I glanced at Jake, to find his eyes set, and knew he was telling the truth. Guards always went personally through Jake, and if he said they didn’t, they didn’t. Even with the factor of Boris, I still trusted him in that area. I nodded and processed Hunter’s word. They were good, but even the best people didn’t pull something like that off without anyone knowing. A smile found my lips as I turned to Jake and Flint.

“Isaiah.” I said. At the name, Flint laughed where Jake scowled. Flint thought Isaiah was a hoot, always saying the funniest things. He wasn’t funny, just stupid. Jake thought of him as in incompetent idiot who really deserved a bullet to his temple, but technically, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Me? I thought of him the same way Jake thought of him, only I didn’t wish he would be dead. Isaiah may know too much for someone who did the occasional drugs and always gambled too much, but he didn’t blab information to innocents or bystanders or the police. Plus, he didn’t know much about our base. He knew the names of the tops and Jake, of course, since most street gangs do, but other than that, he didn’t know anything. I’m sure if he did, Jake would use that as an excuse to kill him.

Isaiah was somehow in with everyone. So that meant he knew a lot. I’ve gone for information from him a couple times, always checking it out somehow before acting, though. He may have never lied in the past, but there’s always a first for everything. Granted, I think anyone like him who is having their head smashed into a table and a gun shoved at their back, is going to tell the truth. But you can never be too careful.

“We don’t got too much more Jake, it’s worth a shot. Plus, I know he’s not the best contact to have, hell, I’m surprised he’s still alive with all of his debt, but we at least owe him a warning. If they killed Ramiro, he could be next.”

“Painful to say, but she’s right. Plus, I want Zane back, and Isaiah always knows something. We should have went to him sooner.” We really needed Zane back, my jaw wasn’t dropping in surprise anymore from Flint agreeing with me. The world was really getting messed up. “Think about it, Jake. Even if he doesn’t know anything too important, he must know some small tidbit that will lead us in the right direction. My idea? Me and Drake will head out to the tattoo guys place, beat the information out of him, then stop by Isaiah’s crib. Knowing him, tonight will be poker night. We’ll be quick, no more than ten minutes, then head back. No pit stops, no stops other than those. We know the risks.” Trying to get out of the base shouldn’t be this difficult. We never should be under this strict of lock down, we never should have to practically drop to our knees and beg to get out. This wasn’t right, and I was sick of it. I felt like a caged animal.

“Make it quick. I want hourly check ins.” Jake finally said, conceding to Flint.

Time to go, time to get out of the base... and when a caged animal gets lose, it usually kills something.