Michaels came forward, ready to knock Switch the fuck out for insulting him. Judge quickly yanked Switch up and out of the way of fire. “I suggest you shut up,” Judge advised.
Two patrol vehicles sped into the parking lot, coming to a screeching halt. Michaels had his badge high in the air, letting them know who he was. Judge stepped back and let Michaels handcuff their target and read him his rights. He patted him down thoroughly; made sure Switch had no drugs on him, and nothing hidden anywhere that he could use as a weapon against them later. Even checked in his boxer briefs. Switch yelped and cursed but Michaels didn’t give a fuck. Everything was done completely by the book, as God had instructed. While Judge loaded up their suspect, Michaels went back to the girlfriend.
“They’re going to arrest you.”
She immediately turned hysterical. “What! Why! I don’t even know what’s going on. I’ve been with Greg for eight months, he told me he got a great job in Rio and wanted me to go!” She hiccupped in between sobs. “Told me he wanted to marry me.”
Michaels holstered his weapon. Clarissa wasn’t a threat. Just a used and confused woman that had been taken advantage of. He gently put his hand on her shoulder, and she fell into him, crying loudly against him. Her small frame shook against his and he tried to find a place to put his hands. He ended up patting her back lightly. “All you have to do is tell them what happened. Tell the truth, everything you know, and I’m sure you’ll be cleared.”
“I’m so stupid.” She continued to cry. “I thought something was weird. Especially when he told me to bribe the clerk. But I thought he was still hiding from his ex-wife. He said she was stalking him.”
Michaels recognized the cop that was God’s friend. The man was big, filling out his dark blue uniform well. Sharp green eyes looked him up and down, then the woman still crying in his arms, before he finally spoke in a surprisingly soft tone. “Your Lieutenant gave me explicit instructions regarding the drugs. I’ll photograph them and then do what he specified.”
Michaels nodded his head. God has trusted this guy the entire time and he’s come through for them. Michaels had no reason not to believe him. Besides, he was glad he wouldn’t be responsible for transporting a quarter of a million dollars in coke back to Atlanta.
Michaels extricated himself from the girlfriend and let the two cops take her. They loosely cuffed her hands in front and she started to wail all over again. “Just tell them what you know. When you’re let go, make sure you have no further contact with him. Go on with your life. It might not seem like it but this is for the best. You almost married a convicted murderer and drug dealer.”
“Oh my god,” she whined, sniffling as they loaded her in the back seat of the patrol car.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“This is bullshit, man! Let me the fuck out of here!” Switch yelled from the back of the truck. They were on their way back to their hotel to pick up their belongings and decided to get back on the road to Atlanta tonight. They’d have to stop partway to rest but at least they’d be out of Miami.
“If you don’t shut the hell up, I’m gonna let the dog ride back there with you! He doesn’t like yelling,” Michaels threatened. Bookem barked and growled; the sound dreadfully scary in the confinement of the cab. The rest of the drive to the hotel was quiet.
Michaels went in to get their stuff while Judge notified God of their progress and let Bookem out to stretch in preparation for the five-hour drive up to Jacksonville. That would put them halfway, then only five more hours to Atlanta. Michaels threw the few items they had in the bathroom into their bags. Then his laptop and surveillance equipment. He also grabbed the food he’d purchased for breakfast, no reason to throw it away.
He picked up his phone and called one of the two IT geniuses. When Detective Murphy picked up he could hear him typing away on his computer. “Hey smarty-pants. I need a two-bedroom suite in Jacksonville. We’ll layover there around ten this morning.”
“Got it.” Was all the man said before he disconnected the call. By the time Michaels hefted both of their bags on his shoulders, and did one final quick scan, his phone buzzed with a notification.
“Staybridge Suites, Touchton Road Jacksonville, registered under your alias"
Michaels grinned. How the hell did those guys do that? Anything he needed was given to him, literally in an instant. Those two were absolutely indispensable to their team. On his way down the stairs he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A man on the far side of the ice machine. He had his back to him, so Michaels couldn’t see his face, but he wasn’t getting any ice. He had on dark jeans, and a black-and-white striped shirt. His neck and arms were tatted up. Michaels recognized the Bankhead gang sign on the back of his neck. This guy was from Atlanta. He looked over the railing at Judge, saw he was just putting Bookem back inside. He reached behind his back for his weapon but his hand was caught by someone who had snuck up behind him. Dropping the bag of groceries, he fought against the strong hold as the man at the ice machine closed in on him from the front. He could hear the loud roaring of Judge’s engine and then the squealing of tires. Michaels brought his foot up fast, kicking the approaching man in the gut as soon as he was close enough. With his one free arm, he threw three rapid elbows to the face of the man holding him from behind. He let go and stumbled back against the rail. Michaels didn’t wait for the guy to recover; he took off into the stairwell and down the short flight of stairs, bursting out the door into the parking lot. Judge’s passenger door was right there. He threw their bags in the back and jumped in the front. No sooner was he in, than the man he’d elbowed grabbed the truck’s door to keep Michaels from closing it. He must have been right on Michaels’ heels coming down the stairs.