Page 3 of Special Agent Murphy

Chapter two

Murphy hated stakeouts with a passion. He especially hated them when he had to put up with the female yapper they’d stuck him with for this investigation. He knew bloody well why Special Agent in Charge Edna Kale made him use a partner for this job. She hated his guts and was doing everything she could to get Murphy to quit.

If this was his persecution complex playing with his head, so be it. They hadn’t even given him a colleague from the main office, someone who knew how to behave like a pro. Instead they’d stuck him with a rookie. And as far as he’d determined, one who either had an in with Kale or someone higher.

The annoying woman looked to be about seventeen, played with her hair nervously and hadn’t shut up since they’d parked outside of the bar.

Blabberty blah, blah – on and on until he couldn’t think while her soft voice drilled into his patience, making him yearn for the double rye and coke that waited for him after work.

“I need to go to the restroom.” This time her words registered.

Thank God for small mercies. He’d get a few moments peace.

“So, go. Nothing’s happening. I haven’t seen Draper exit, have you?”

“No. Okay, I’ll head inside and act like a customer. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Hell, don’t rush back on my account. Take as long as you need.”

He ignored her silly chuckle and watched the slim body in tight jeans and a snug black leather jacket disappear through the double doors.

Inside Coopers, the sleazy place they were watching, was a man pictured on everyone’s most-wanted list. The creep had felonies for everything from larceny to aggravated assault.

Though they didn’t have enough evidence to book him, he looked good for the murder of the snitch they’d found dead recently. Playing footsies with his fellow Russians had taken him to a whole new level of crime.

It was the reason for the stakeout, to follow the bastard and see if he’d lead them to the major player, Vik Baranov. Something a rookie agent should be taking care of, not a ten-year veteran like himself.

Murphy rubbed the back of his neck and wondered why the hell he put up with the shit. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. A slight nine months earlier, he’d been everyone’s hero. They’d acknowledged his bravery with a medal and a special ceremony after he brought down one of the worst serial killers of the century.

But all the fanfare had disappeared after one stupid mistake, one dumb move trusting a partner with a gambling problem. Also, a family with two kids Murphy had grown to care about, and a wife with no earning power who needed her husband’s pension.

Agent Bruce Tarner had gone rogue, involved up to his eyeballs with the worst of humanity who’d shot him and almost killed Murphy while he’d tried to get Bruce away.

He still got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at his friend’s betrayal. Jesus, what men wouldn’t do to feed their habits.

You’d think he’d learn. All through his younger years, he’d been played for a chump more than he wanted to remember. Girlfriend’s he’d begin to trust eventually showed their worst qualities of jealousy and bad temper.

The last one having come on strong with her “I’m an innocent trying to have a relationship, but men are such morons” had turned out to be the worst of the lot. Pretty is as pretty does, and that bitch did pretty much every drug she could get her hands on.

Hid it from him by using medications from the doctor as the reason her pupils weren’t regular. Hid it until she began working on getting a discount for the crap from dealers he knew, dealers who let him know she was using his name.

Hell, he was no puritan. He’d admit to liking his one or two drinks at night, but he stayed miles away from that crazy mind-altering shit. From people who used it too. After that last breakup, he’d gone solo for months. Why give anyone else the chance to mess with his head again?

Deciding then that he needed a break from the seedy world he inhabited and backstabbing partners, he’d opted to use some vacation time. He took a long drive to Missouri to check up on his mother. Lately, she’d been pulling the good-son card – you don’t call, you never visit, yadda yadda.

Believing in tough love as a single mom after his dad died, her strong personality and type of mothering taught him his shit did stink just like everyone else’s, and he’d learned to believe it. Not that he’d ever doubted her affection, he’d just had to work harder to earn it.

Excitement had begun building when he saw her waiting for him on the steps of the farmhouse. Crazy but true, her opinion always did matter, and though he’d never admit to looking forward to being with her again, his heart had sped up and a sweet excitement had made him glad he’d come.

Rather than hug him like he’d kind of expected, she’d shocked him by staring up at the sky, her hands on her hips and grouched, “Bloody rain.”

Taken aback, even by her standards it had been a harsh welcome, he felt stunned. Disappointment hit hard. Though his training had kicked in, and he’d kept the expression on his face from changing, she must have sensed his shock.

Relenting, her attitude undergoing a swift about-turn, she’d grabbed him in a hard hug lasting a few seconds and then disappeared inside the house.

She’d remarried years after he’d moved out, and though he’d been guilted into paying that visit – never again. From now on, she’d have to come to his place. Her new farmer husband was a prick and worst of all, he was a dumb prick, which made the situation a hell of a lot worse. Shane caught himself several times before punching the idiot’s lights out.

Driving away a day earlier than he’d planned, he shrugged off his worry. If his mother was happy, who was he to get in her way.

Suddenly, coming back to earth, Murphy noticed the door to the bar being held open by a bunch of people fleeing. That’s when he saw the fight going on inside. And right smack dab in the middle of the skirmish was the yapper.

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