If Tomorrow Never Comes (10 page)

           
Jordan fought hard not to bite off the finger wagging an
inch from her nose.

           
Two stairs at a time, Jake descended four stories somehow
missing roller blades, a football, and a doll abandoned by careless
children.
  
In the four by four foyer,
angrily tossing aside a neglected bag of garbage he kicked a stroller blocking
double doors to assess the knob requiring a special technique to gain freedom,
minor incidents serving to exasperate his mood.
 

           
Entering the bright light, the boastful sunshine went
unnoticed, as did the people gaping at him from opened windows.
 
So preoccupied was he loudly uttering
colorful, explicit profanities proclaiming his frustrations, he never noticed
the pedestrians stopping in his wake.
 

           
Making matters worse, his attempts to open the car door
were fruitless.
 
Enraged, his foot came
hard against metal, the blow adding another dent to the multitude of
others.
 
      
Once
inside, he frantically searched his pockets for keys fearful he’d have to
return to hell to claim them.
 
In doing
so, he managed to crush his last pack of cigarettes leaving only one worth
lighting now hanging from his lips.
 
More
anxious than ever to light up, he punched the cigarette lighter, the sparks
flying in retaliation defining his mood.
 
It was then that he noticed the keys already in the ignition a sign he
was losing his mind.
 
Receiving the blunt
of his abuse, the engine protested with a groan, then a whine before spitting
and sputtering as he wildly pumped the accelerator and repeatedly twisted the
key.
  
Radio blaring, teeth gnawing on
the end of an unlit cigarette, with a squeal the Mustang finally sped away from
the curb.
  
A thoughtless move met by a
blaring horn and a volley of obscenities spilling from the mouth of another
driver who barely missed him, vulgarities that Jake matched all the way to the
precinct.

           
A bang from two palms swung wide the doors to the drug
enforcement agency.
 
Charging like a
bull, defying signs prohibiting smoking, Jake continued to puff on his
cigarette while covering the length of the hall.
 
Climbing the stairs to the second floor, he
marched down an aisle lined with desks.
 

           
Though smirks twitched his co-workers lips, no one lifted
their head, or ceased their activity.
 
Accustomed to his odious moods and aversion to rules and regulations, no
one dared to question Jake’s smoking.
 
     

           
As if his appearance alone commanded, a young, attractive
lad stationed behind a desk instantly stood and followed the giant of a
man.
 
Both disappeared inside an office,
the glass on the door boasting bold black letters identifying Jake's private
domain.

           
Typically watching his idol intently, Billy waited
patiently for Jake's temper to cool.
  
Jake was unaware that in many ways he reminded Billy of his father,
intelligent, strong, cunning, determined.
 
Decoding Jake’s features that said he had a plan, Billy sat across from
his hero, the first man in twenty-five years who meant anything to him, whose
very existence demanded respect and admiration.
 
While the hands on the clock ticked maddeningly, Billy’s thoughts
wandered down a dark, forbidden alley etched indelibly in his mind.

           
Raised by a single parent, Billy's mother never spoke of
his father.
 
Despite his curiosity, he
never dared to ask, not even when the monthly check arrived enabling her to
afford a meager apartment and sensible furnishings.
 
Working as a part time waiter allowed her
time to spend with him and the extra cash to grant the needs of an average
child.

           
It wasn't until his thirteenth birthday that the answers
he longed for turned his life inside out.
  
The day the stranger meeting, him at the door introduced himself as his
father, a handsome man whose demeanor and designer clothing spoke of wealth and
position.
 
The stranger did not waste
words or sugar coat the agreement made on the day of his birth, his arrival a
brutal reminder causing his mother visible distress and robbing her of all
coherent thought and mobility.
 
Suitcases
alongside a chair told Billy he had no say in the matter.
  
Like it or not, he was leaving to live with
his father until he turned twenty-one.

           
Forever he’d remember the candles on the cake melting his
heart instead of wax.
 
The beautifully
wrapped gift from his mother that he was not permitted to receive.
 
Reflections to this day came of his mothers’
gorgeous face turning pale and her normal wide smile becoming nothing more than
quivering lips as her breath taking blue eyes clouded over from pain.
 
A stunning woman whose model perfect figure
and features made her look ten years younger than she was, far from the image
of someone that would be abandoned by a man to raise a child alone.
 
Inseparable over the years, the love they
shared made it impossible for Billy to believe she would willingly agree to
such an arrangement.
 
Later, he learned
there were no choices when dealing with wealth and ruthless power.

           
Permitted no goodbyes, their stolen glances spoke of
mutual torture.
  
Billy would always
remember his mother standing at the door as he left her fingers balled into
tight fists at her sides, how she trembled, how anger flushed her face.
  
Never did he imagine from that day on they’d
only share a monthly phone call and a yearly visit on his birthday.
 
As his father intended, through the tides of
change they grew apart.
 
By his twenty-first
birthday, his mother had remarried, had two daughters, and had relocated on the
West coast.
 
Sorrowfully, long before
then, the calls and visits ceased.

           
Military school, martial arts, fencing, and sharp
shooting consumed his life, each challenge a new honor, worthless
accomplishments when he had no one to share them with, so cold and meaningless
was his relationship with his father.
 
In
time, Billy accepted his choices, either succumb to his father's wishes or face
the brutal consequences. Today, what mattered most, he’d forgiven the mother
who had forsaken him, a delicate sweet women he realized she could never have
fought such a force.

           
Made strong and brave by the course of his life, Billy
dared to defy his fathers’ will by accepting a position on the Chicago Police
Force.
 
In less than a year, shortly
after the death of Jake’s best friend, he proved himself worthy of a commission
as a DEA officer under Jake's command.
 
It took two long years to gain Morgan's trust and confidence and for
some unexplainable reason that meant more to Billy than anything, he'd
accomplished.

           
Habitually rubbing his beard whenever he was deep in
thought, Jake paced the dark, gloomy office littered with books; papers piled
on a marred metal desk, a wastebasket overflowing with scraps of idea's, and
plans.
  
Hell would freeze over before
Jake would allow anyone access to his private domain, whether to clean it or
otherwise.
 
Billy was the only
exception.
 

           
 
At last, Jake
acknowledged the lad who made him wonder why someone as handsome, astute, and
brave would waste his youth on drug enforcement, in his opinion, a losing
battle.
 
Tall, extremely well built, with
dark skin, black hair, pale blue eyes, and a rogue's smile capable of melting
any female's heart, Billy could make a fortune as a gigolo Jake often
chuckled.
  
So why would he waste his
attributes on a life of hell?
 

           
Oh, Jake tried hard not to like Billy.
 
The kid was nothing more than a damn,
hotheaded hero who one day would be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
 
It would not matter that Billy could out
draw, out shoot, out fight anyone he knew, with the exception of himself, of
course.
 
What worried Jake was
unquestionably the day would come when the young fool would make a rash
decision.
 
Nevertheless, Jake admired
Billy’s guts. The kid had literally knocked himself out to earn his favor, and
as days passed, despite the pain of wounds festering now and then, Jake shoved
aside memories of John.
 
Today was one of
his weaker days.

           
Staring at his young sidekick, reflections skipped over
Jake's mind of the day Billy prevented him from killing a prisoner by wedging
his body between them ready and very willing to take him on unless he backed
down. Never before did someone dare to interfere with his methods of justice, a
confrontation that proved Billy to be a respected, valued partner, until now.
        
 

           
His new plans did not include Billy.
 
Paranoia had set in.
 
Jake knew disaster lurked and didn’t want
Billy involved.
 
Working alone was imperative.
 
He was beginning to suspect a spy within the
agency.
 
After days of mulling over the
last raid, plaguing uncertainties made him wonder why Scorpio was present and
why there was a convenient escape hatch.
 

           
Unable to stand Jake's pacing another minute, Billy dared
to ask, “What is it, pops?
 
What's on
your mind?
 
Tell me, for God's
sake.”
 

           
“I'm putting you in charge of the men.
 
Figuring this mess out is going to take some
time.
 
Until I can come up with a plan,
I'm laying off Scorpio.
 
I'm tired and
need a break.
 
Hopefully, a leave of
absence will clear my thoughts.
 
The next
time I won't fail.”

           
Struck immobile let alone speechless, Billy's mouth
seemed to dangle on hinges.
  
Having
known Jake long enough, he was certain his hero hadn’t lost his marbles.
 
There was something up his sleeve; Jake never
took time off, never.
  
Pushing for
answers now would only prove futile. Wisely, Billy decided to bide his time
until Jake came clean.
 
“Yes, sir, what
should I tell the men?”

 
         
“Have
them continue the stake outs, keep their eyes and ears open.
 
Any information, pass on to me
immediately.
 
I'll be in and out of the
office.”
 
Withdrawing his pager from the
desk drawer, Jake clipped it onto his belt.
 
Moving to the door, he held it open, Billy's signal to leave.
 

           
Billy was several feet away before Jake's voice stopped
him.
 
“Be careful, kid.
 
Don't get too hot headed.”
 
It was there, in the exchange of their
knowing smiles that defined their uncommon bond.

           
Offering up a quick salute, “Got it, pops,” Billy said
with a wise-ass smirk.
 

           
Jake’s stern look striking those behind their desks made
them shrivel.
 
No one could believe what
Jake allowed Billy to get away with.
 

CHAPTER
11

           
No fat, old, woman was going to
stand in her way, Jordan fumed.
 
The instant
she heard the unmistakable clatter of Jake's car drift away, with a stature of
purpose, sauntering to the apartment door she wrenched it open.
 
Before a limb crossed the threshold, a
faintly menacing tone from behind halting her brought her erect.

           
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,
my dear,” an all too familiar voice warned. The old woman’s hand was
surprisingly steady, her eye's round as quarters, uncommonly hard.
 
A dark expression flashing across her face said
she was not at all amused with Jordan's intentions.
 
A bright color came to Jordan’s face as if
she was a misbehaved child.