Control by Penny Blakely

Author:Penny Blakely [Blakely, Penny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-20T04:00:00+00:00

—NOAH—

“YOU NERVOUS, man?”

“Nah, bro, how could I be nervous when we got Indiana fucking Jones on the case?”

“Ha! Good thing the building’s only supposed to be lightly guarded, then.”

Noah stares out of the passenger window of the armored SUV and ignores the raucous laughter from the vice cops in the backseat. He never could be so casual when it comes to going on ops. It feels callous, especially when the entire van is suited up in tactical gear and Noah’s sidearm is tucked in its holster. He wouldn’t say that he’s nervous, exactly, but laughing on the way to a potential gunfight just seems like bad luck.

It’s pretty typical for vice to trivialize a raid, to make it sound like it’s some sort of stupid video game and not real life. They thrive off of misplaced machismo. If you couldn’t at least give the appearance of being tough, you probably wouldn’t last long in vice.

Noah should know. An image of his father filters, unwanted, into his mind, and he pushes it away.

“Hey Encyclopedia Brown! Is that a real gun?” comes a voice from the backseat.

Noah’s jaw ticks. “Wanna find out?” he asks sardonically.

“Knock off the grab-ass,” the gruff commanding officer grunts from beside him in the driver’s seat.

The voices in the back suddenly grow quiet, and Noah smiles to himself. He can’t help but be reminded of his old man—he’s pretty sure he’d heard that exact phrase shouted at him hundreds of times, above the din of him and his siblings messing around.

“Sorry about that, Agent,” the older man says. “They’re young, they get all pumped up before an op. You know how it is.”

Noah shoots him a smile. “Weren’t we all like that at twenty-five?”

“I was far worse,” the C.O. says, slapping the steering wheel and laughing loudly, and Noah chuckles too, despite the lingering tension.

This isn’t Noah’s op; he’s tagging along because this organization they’re about to bust is hiding their cocaine in antique Ming dynasty vases. The cocaine is vice’s problem. Noah is there because they’re also dealing in antiquities. If everything goes right tonight, he’ll be able to recover all the pottery and repatriate it.

“Fifty bucks says he’s never shot it,” someone whispers in the backseat.

Noah returns his gaze to the passenger side window, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in exasperation as they drive.

When they pull up at the nondescript warehouse, the team silently exits the car under cover of nightfall and prepares to sweep the building.

Noah draws his pistol and makes to follow when he’s stopped by a gnarled hand on his shoulder.

“These boys are a well-oiled machine,” says the C.O. “Why don’t you hang back with me and let them do what they do best, son.”

Noah bristles. “I’m more than capable of clearing a building,” he argues.

“As long as you’re on my team, I’m your C.O. and you’ll follow my orders,” the man hisses.

“If I’m on the team, then let me be on the team,” Noah shoots back, irritated.

“My team,” the C.O. grits out through clenched teeth, “is doing their job to get hard drugs off the streets.

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