Kyle Kent is a 3-book series. Co-habit is the second book in the trilogy. To get a better grip of the story, I would recommend you check out the first book, Kyle Kent: Genesis here.
Now, we can sit back and enjoy a beautiful story.
Hours passed. The moon had its usual rendezvous with the night sky.
In a penthouse miles away, a phone call was made.
“The hour draws near. Get the children ready. When the time comes, bring them to the temple”.
* * *
After hours of questioning by the police, Ben ploughed his Chrysler straight home.
Nia Kent had taken some calming down but she still would not talk to him. That, more than anything else, made him mad at Kent. Grandma Kent looked composed but Wright could tell that she was just keeping a bold front for her granddaughter. She said Tommy’s parents had been notified and that the father was already on the way to Steel City. Wright could feel Kent fighting to gain control of the body but he wouldn’t let him. A man is only allowed to mess things up once.
Ben sped through Baum Boulevard and only slightly missed being pulled over by traffic cops. He parked haphazardly in front of his apartment building. Once in. he willed the elevator to go faster.
He literally kicked the door to his apartment open. He readied a hot bath, soaked himself for a half hour and silently mulled over the events of the day. He decided to call Bill Tagert.
For the fifteenth time that day, Ben described the fight and his attackers. When he mentioned the red head with the tattoos, Tagert interrupted him.
“Is he bad news?”
“Well, left alone, he’s not the brightest on the block. His rap sheet includes arson, burglary, several DUIs, assault with a deadly weapon and grand theft. He once had a 217 with a Jewish shop owner downtown. He has been in and out of jail since he was fifteen”. Tagert continued “However, he belongs to a larger crime body. They are a pretty tight bunch and an attack on him is an attack on the whole group. You don’t want to be in that kind of mess”.
“Where can I find them?” Wright asked. Tagert described a warehouse on Butler Street downtown.
“Ben, don’t try to do anything stupid”. District Attorney Bill Tagert warned.
Wright ended the call.
“I don’t have to try”.
* * *
The old warehouse was hidden behind a steel metal gate. Beyond the gate, a group of men worked hurriedly. They moved the wooden crates stacked against the wall of the warehouse into the truck parked in the center of the room. All the boxes were marked with the grinning bat logo that symbolized ErenCorp. Most of the crates contained pharmaceutical products that will pass a random police check. Five crates, however had contents that will send every last of these men to a very long vacation in a maximum security prison.
The men were not strangers to such jobs or prison. They moved containment of piedra, known as rock cocaine or crack to the uninitiated, on a fairly regular basis. They were all OGs, very dangerous men who had embraced mi vida colada, the crazy life.
Their supervisor had a band aid over his nose and his lower lip was considerably larger than the one above. These were testaments to a run-in with the wrong person earlier in the day.
“Ese, Careful with those crates”. He snapped as one of the men staggered under the weight of a crate.
The relative silence of the room was disturbed as the supervisor’s phone vibrated loudly.
“Esteban”. He said crisply as he picked up the call. The hair on his neck rose as he heard the voice on the other end.
“Are the packages ready for delivery?” The voice said coldly. When they’d first started their business arrangement, the voice used to send chills down Esteban’s spine and even though he had grown used to it by now, he still felt uneasy.
““No hay pedo, holmes. Everything’s cool. The trucks will be rolling out soon”. Esteban said. He pushed open a side door leading to an alley. He shivered lightly as the cold early night air hit him. “And what about our little agreement?”
“Stick to the terms of the deal. You will be rewarded as promised”.
“Good. Good”. Esteban replied but his interlocutor had already hung up. “So much for customer relations”. He muttered under his breath. But the truth was, though his creepy client paid well, Esteban could not wait to be done with him.
He looked past the line of trashcans along the alley into the stream of neon lights marking out Steel City. His posse gets a monthly package from patrons of those shops for protection but it was really payment for them to be left alone.
He moved to go back inside the warehouse but a very strong hand slammed him back against the wall. Hard.
“Where is the shipment headed?” A voice said against his ear. His breath smelled like onions and whiskey.
“You don’t want to mess with me, puto”. Esteban managed. His attacker had wrapped his hand around his neck and way squeezing tight.
“I’ll ask you on last time. Where is the truck going?”
Esteban could feel his vision clouding over. The supply of blood to his brain was being choked out. The crazy look on his attacker’s face said it all; he was ready to go all the way. It’s not worth it. He thought
“Washington Plaza”. Esteban coughed.
The pressure on his neck was reduced a little.
“The truck is headed to the ErenCorp building uptown near the Pittsburgh Marriot City Centre. Just opposite the Epiphany Catholic Church and the CONSOL Energy Centre.
“Good boy”. His attacker said calmly. “Now it’s sleepy time”.
The world darkened for Esteban once more as the flow of blood in his carotid artery was blocked.
* * *
One of the perks of being a Private Investigator is that your work is not confined to an office. You are your own office. Your brain works actively on a case twenty four seven and as such; you are your own mobile office.
Settled comfortably in his apartment, Ben placed a phone call to the Pittsburgh Police Department. Predictably, they refused to raid one of the biggest corporations in the city based on a private eye’s hunch.
Ben reverted to plan B.
Bill Tagert picked up the call at the second ring. He sounded tired and for a minute, Ben felt sorry that he had to compound the man’s already complicated situation. He mentioned what had transpired at the warehouse downtown, the shipment headed to ErenCorp and his phone call to the Police Department.
“There’s not much I can do right now, Ben. With the level of bureaucracy involved in this, the earliest action we can hope for will be by tomorrow”.
“Those kids might not have till daybreak. We have to go in now”.
“My hands are tied. Legally, there’s nothing I can do. Do you have anything in mind?”
Ben frowned as he said
“I need wake up a friend”.
“Then we go shopping”.