A Broken Woman

Chapter 5

5

I woke with my mouth tasting of coconut-flavored bile. The bedsheets didn’t feel right, though the room was vaguely familiar. The front of my shirt was damp.

“Diana?” I called. Where was she?

“Feeling better?” Ciara stepped in and flicked on the overhead lamp, sending steely shards of light through my eye sockets.

I squinted in the glare. “Oh f**k. Tell me I didn’t do anything too stupid.”

“You mean like yelling at our newest resident and puking in the bathtub? Yeah, a little.”

“s**t. I’m sorry.” I rubbed my temples, trying to get the explosions of pain to stop.

“No worries.” Ciara sat next to me on the bed and offered a glass filled with something red. “Here, have some of my hangover remedy.”

I took a sip. It was thicker than it looked, but it didn’t taste bad. “What’s in it?”

“Spicy V8, raw egg, parsley, and a dash of lemon juice. You’ll want to drink a lot of water too. That much alcohol will dehydrate you.”

“Thanks. You’re a good friend.”

“You’re a good friend, too, usually.”

“But not lately.”

She shrugged. “You’ve been in a slump. I get it.”

“I…I haven’t been myself since Conor…” I was surprised by my openness. I hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with my feelings of late, other than rage.

“Can’t blame you there. After I was attacked a couple years ago, I had a lot of PTSD. Even now, sometimes I feel triggered looking at my misshapen eye and jaw. The doctors saved my life, but I couldn’t afford a reconstructive surgeon.”

I felt guilty. I’d experienced a similar attack on my high school graduation night. But I had supportive parents with good insurance. Ciara didn’t have anybody but her friends in the trans community.

“You look good, Ciara. Really.”

She blushed. “I don’t, but thanks.”

We sat there as the silence grew awkward. “I should head back to my place. My real place. Thanks for helping me out.” I gave her a hug and handed her the empty glass.

“That’s what family’s for. And if you need to talk, you got my number.”

“I do. And I know where you live.”

She laughed, and it sounded like sunshine. “You off to capture more bad guys?”

I let out a deep sigh. “I got fired this morning. So, no.”

“For being trans?”

“No, for being a drunken bitch.”

“You need money?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m good. Just need to get my s**t together.”

I grabbed my utility belt and vest and followed Ciara to the front door. The sun was riding the horizon, painting the clouds with red, orange, and lavender. How long had I been asleep?

“Take care of yourself, Jinx. Maybe you should look into getting some—”

I cut her off with a gesture. “Don’t say it. I know. I need help. When I’m ready, I’ll…I don’t know. I guess I’ll talk to someone.”

After a final hug, I walked wearily to the Charger and drove up two streets to the Bunker. A black SUV sat parked in front of the house. With the light bar on top, it looked like a police vehicle. But the gold lettering on the side read Viper Fugitive Recovery.

“Shit.” I pulled under my carport and walked down the driveway toward my visitor.

A white guy I recognized as Paul “Deez” Dzundza climbed out of the SUV. I had a vague memory of a recent text conversation with him, though the details escaped me.

Deez stood six-eight, a walking wall of muscle. Even in the fading light, I could see the scar on his neck from when he’d taken a bullet for me three years earlier when we worked together on Conor’s crew.

“I’s getting worried.” His voice was a gentle rumble. “I thought we said seven.”

I glanced at my watch. It was seven thirty-five. “Sorry. Traffic.”

“No worries.” A wave of sadness washed over me when he wrapped me in a tender bear hug. I hadn’t seen him since Conor’s funeral.

“How’s it going, Deez?”

He released me and met my gaze. “Good. How you holding up, girl?”

I shrugged. “Same s**t. Different day. How’s Tommy Boy?”

“That kid of mine won’t quit growing. Just turned twenty-five. He’s an inch taller than me now.”

“Twenty-five? s**t. Guess that makes you…”

“Old as the hills.” His eyes watered. “We’ve missed you, kid.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Sorry about Assurity. That wasn’t my doing. I’d never steal work from you. You know that, right?”

“I know.” My headache started hammering a little harder behind my eyes.

“I’d love to have you on the team again.”

Memories of the day he got shot gutted me with guilt. “Thanks for the offer, but you know, I got my own thing going.”

“Well, listen, I have a job I think might be right up your alley.”

“Deez, Sadie gave me the boot. She doesn’t want me anywhere near her cases.”

“This isn’t Assurity. It’s Pima Bail Bonds in Scottsdale.”

“Pima? They didn’t want anything to do with me after I got outed a few years ago.”

“I know, but this case is different. I’ve already talked to Maurice about it. He’s cool with you taking it.”

I narrowed my gaze at him. “Why?”

“It’s the James Fitzgerald murder case. You familiar with it?”

“That preacher? The one that got his d**k cut off in the sleazy motel? Why does Maurice want me to take the case?”

Deez hesitated a moment. “The client’s transgender like you.”

I eye-rolled hard. “Oh, I get it. Maurice will hire me if I’m putting away one of my own. Is that it? Well, you can tell Maurice Begay that I won’t be his Judas, all right?”

Deez put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not like that. From what I’m told, this client got roughed up pretty bad in lockup before she was bailed out. Put her in with the men.”

My stomach turned. Recent changes in DOC policy dictated that transgender prisoners be housed based on their assigned s*x at birth, even those who had had gender confirmation surgery. Many had been assaulted as a result, and one had died. Lawsuits had been filed, but so far, DOC hadn’t blinked.

“s**t, Deez, and you want me to put her back in that hellhole?”

“No, but who better to safely return this woman to custody and get her bail reset but someone like you?”

“What’d she do?”

“Charged with first-degree murder for allegedly killing Brother James Fitzgerald.”

I shook my head. “That f*****g street preacher who showed up at schools, saying women deserved to be r***d and calling for queer people to be put to death? We should give her a medal, not lock her up.”

“I don’t disagree. Nevertheless, she jumped bail. I had Tommy Boy and Rodeo on it, but they hit a brick wall. Pearson’s a member of an all-girl biker g**g up north. They’re not giving her up.”

“Not my problem.”

“Think about it, Jinx. If you don’t take it, Maurice will assign the job to someone else, someone who isn’t afraid to get rough.”

“How long before the bond is forfeit?”

“Little over a week. You could ask for double the standard rate. Maurice’ll pay it. Bail’s at three hundred thousand. That’d be a sweet sixty grand for you.”

I thought about it, then shook my head. “I appreciate you thinking of me, man, but I can’t do it. Maurice had his chance to hire me a few years ago. If the only reason he wants me now is to go after one of my own, he can go to hell.”

“I understand.” Deez shook my hand and clapped me on the back. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Take care of yourself, Jinx. You’re family to Tommy and me.”

“Likewise.” I trudged back down my driveway.

“Hey!” he called from inside his SUV.

I turned. “Yeah?”

“Let’s get a drink sometime.”

“Yeah. I’ll call you.” I wouldn’t. Too many f****d-up memories.

Inside the house, Diana jumped up and nearly bowled me over. “Hey, baby! How’s my girl?”

I filled her bowls with kibble and water, then plopped down in front of the TV, looking for something on Netflix to help me unplug. Nothing looked interesting.

I pulled out my phone. My best friend, Becca Alvarez, had left a message asking me to call her. No doubt she was worried about me too. Like I needed anyone else’s pity.

I tossed the phone aside, opened the other bottle of tequila, and settled in to binge-watch Dexter. Something satisfying about watching assholes get what they deserve.