Page 48 of Just Friends

“It was more of a ‘mind your own business’ time in history. Teachers sometimes put canned food in our backpacks, to appease their consciences I suppose. Anyway, after Dalton went to work at the garage at sixteen, he tried to keep us from stealing cause he could buy some food. Dalton was shooting a decent amount of meat. Unfortunately, by twelve, I’d gotten good at lifting stuff. Over the next few years, I fell in with some guys and learned how to pick locks, and it blurred from only trying to survive into taking whatever I wanted.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead, hoping this didn’t completely turn her off. Rebecca wrapped an arm around his middle and put her head on his chest.

“Sorry, my hair’s still wet.” She moved off him; he stopped her.

“It’s fine,” he whispered. “Stay.” Snuggling back against him, he exhaled. Her hand against his abdomen was the needed reassurance.

“Didn’t you already know Ben?”

“I ate dinner a lot at his house in elementary school. By high school, he was on the football team. We didn’t talk much because he couldn’t get caught up in my shit…. At seventeen, I was a juvenile delinquent about to slide headfirst into being an adult criminal. Like a bunch of dumbasses, we boosted a Mustang and went for a joyride, and of course,got caught. The other two guyswere already eighteen and ended up in jail. I was still a juvenile, so I escaped without a record. The police hauled me through the back into the jail, then over to the station, stuck me into an interrogation room, and Detective Hamblen came in. Didn’t know it, but he knew who I was. He’d arrested the old man a few times and heardhe’d died, and he was aware of the shit show I grew up in.” Weasel hadn’t thought about Hamblen in a while; he owed Hamblen everything.

“What happened?” Rebecca asked softly.

“Normally, you don’t take people into the jail before the station. But Hamblen wanted me to get a good view of what was waiting if I didn’t change. He said I could keep doing what I was doing and end up in jail or stop being an idiot and make something of myself.”

“He said that?”

“Oh yeah. Hamblen swore me all over the place. When I told him a kid where I was from couldn’t make anything of himself, Hamblen reallylit into me. He told me how he grew up, and it was bad…. Then he took an interest in me; in order to keep me out of juvenile lockup, he got me a deal where I had to get a job after school, which was at Dalton’s garage. He didn’t stop there and kept coming around making sure I was doing my school work, and talked to my teachers. At that point, Dalton was my guardian, and he was on my ass constantly…”

“Good,” Rebecca said.

Weasel laughed. “For the next year I wasn’t allowed to blink without permission. But, hey, whatever works, right? Now, what turned me on to police work, I went on several ride-alongs with both a uniform officer and Hamblen, and I loved it. And I looked around at Dalton, who’d worked hard and was then building his own business, and he had Cindy. Hamblen made something of himself. Then, there was Logan…”

“Your other brother?”

He nodded. “While we’d all stolen for survival initially, Logan ended up addicted to drugs and did it to support the habit. He’d run through Dalton’s patience and get tossed out, not for Dalton’s lack of trying to help.”

“Yeah,” Rebecca said. “Addictions are powerful…”

“Oh yeah. Dalton had finally bought an engagement ring for Cindy. When they’d married, he couldn’t afford one, and he’d promised her a diamond. Logan found it and hawked it for some ridiculously low price to get a fix.” Rebecca gasped. “I was in the academy when it happened…. Shit, babe, I got sidetracked. I’d compared the lives around me and knew I didn’t want to end up in jail or dead. I worked my ass off to graduate on time and took all of my community college credits in one year to get into the academy. After I became a patrol officer, I finished my bachelor’s in criminal justice to be a Detective one day.”

“And you did that.”

Weasel nodded. “That’s how a run-of-the-mill juvenile delinquent turns into an officer of the law.”

“Ever stop to think how incredible that story is?”

He shrugged. Tired of talking, he ran a hand over her hip and slid the nightshirt up her leg.

“What are you doing?” Rebecca giggled.

“The whole time you were in the shower, I sat here thinking about where I was going to put my mouth first.” She looked up at him with a surprised smile and pink blossoming across those pretty cheeks. He used the opportunity to kiss her until he couldn’t think.

Seventeen

Weasel could see his breath, but the adrenaline pumping meant he could strip to his skivvies and not feel a thing. He exhaled to calm his body; a clear mind and a steady hand were keys to a successful raid. Team A was comprised of himself, Ty, a Federal Agent, and a handful of swat members, clad in black and prepared for battle, would enter Shakers and apprehend Hartwell. Team B led by Agent Willem and a butt load of swat members were to take the shed by going through the woods that backed up to the property.

He tucked additional mags into his belt and double checked his bullet proof vest. The early December night showed a cloudless sky, but the stars were obscured by the neon glow emanating from down the road, which was another reason to shut this place and bring back the view of the night sky.

“Why does this shit always go down at night,” Dotson complained. They gathered at the command post set up down the street from Shakers; they were geared up and armed for war along with several Federal agents and a couple of dozen swat team members. Special Agent Bonnie Willem stared at Dotson for a beat; then looked to Weasel who shrugged. He didn’t know what to say about the rookie idiot that wouldn’t get him reported to HR, not that he cared.

“Cause the scum that runs meth operations and strip joints don’t stick to a nine to five, hard to believe,” Ty finally responded. Weasel refused to speak to Dotson unless it was necessary for the job. That was his way of ‘being nice.’

The security at the meth lab behind Shakers turned out to be motion detection cameras set up on all four corners. Duane Hartwell would get an alarm on his phone when they activated. They would activate them, no matter what. The plan sent two of their guys dressed in hoodies and masks through the woods on the south side of the property to take out all four cameras, hopefully bringing Hartwell out to investigate. If he didn’t come out, they’d go in after him and Team B would take the shed building simultaneously. After they apprehended Hartwell, swat would move in and round up the customers and employees.

Confirmation came over the radio that Duane was in his office inside.

They gave the order for the officers to proceed with the cameras. With the noise coming from inside the club, no one would hear their approach. But within a minute of the order, two large men barreled out of the club toward the shed. Neither of them was Duane. He’d sent goons to check it out. Two agents ambushed the men throwing them to the ground and cuffing them. Team A, in a silent coordinated motion, moved to the main building while team B moved on the other border of the property.

Weasel and Ty entered the strip club, subdued and zip tied two bouncers before they could sound an alarm, and went straight toward the offices to catch Duane by surprise. The music was blaring from the speakers with the world’s saddest looking strip show on stage while a handful of men sat and stared; no one noticed the two officer’s weapons drawn crossing the back of the room. The women performing swayed off beat to the music, and the things they were shaking had known better days. Weasel scanned the room only to identify any threats and kept a pace behind Ty.

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