And while P.J. didn’t think Juliet had been sent to Port Harbor to investigate him, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility either. However, he also had to concede that Juliet didn’t look the part. She didn’t have that desperate, coked out look of an informant, or the confident, smooth, swagger of a federal agent. Still, the huge possibility remained that Juliet Jones was not who she said she was. And P.J. meant to find out the truth because of what had happened to Tommy Two Times.
Two Times, a valued HSMC soldier, had gotten his road name because he had been a good earner. No matter what the job, TT had always managed to find a way to bring in about twice as much as the average take. Two Times had been blessed with good looks, a strong body, and a brilliant criminal mind. He had joined the Illinois chapter of the Saints, rose quickly in the organization and was about to be patched in as Sargent at Arms when he got pinched by the bureau. Now, Tommy Two Times, was doing ten to fifteen in a nine by twelve cell, courtesy of a blonde bombshell who had just happened to be a federal agent.
Lesson learned.
So P.J. did what he had always done when he needed information that was otherwise not readily available, he called his Uncle Jules. Jules was definitely the go-to guy when it came to ferreting out information that no one else could find. He was the magic man when it came to the dark web.
“Talk to me.” Jules answered the phone.
“Since when does it take you five rings to pick up?”
“Since your aunt has me out in the yard, doing domestic bullshit.”
“Don’t we got prospects for that?” P.J. laughed.
Jules grunted and P.J. could hear the flick of a lighter and the sound of his uncle inhaling. After a brief pause, Jules asked, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just want you to run a check for me.”
“You got a name?”
“I got a name but I’m pretty sure it’s bullshit.”
“What’s the name?”
“Juliet Jones.”
Jules let out a laugh. “Jones is like the fifth most common name in the United States, brother. As far as aliases go? Jones is slicker than snot on a doorknob. I run that, I’m gonna get about five hundred hits minimum. I’m good, but I ain’t that good. I need something else to go on.”
“I don’t have much else.” P.J. said.
“You think we need to put eyes on her?” Jules wanted to know.
“No. Not yet anyway.”
“What’s your interest here, brother?”
“It’s personal.” P.J. answered honestly.
“Yeah, well we all know how that can go.”
“I’m right there with you, man.” P.J. told him. “Can’t say the thought hadn’t crossed my mind that she might be working for the feds.”
“Always good to keep it real.” Jules said. Then he added after a slight pause, “Our ties in the bureau right now are tighter than a cat’s ass under water. If they sent someone out, I’m pretty confident we’d know about it.”
“Good to hear.” P.J. felt a small wave of relief wash over him. “My gut instinct is that she’s in trouble. I want to help her out if I can.”
“What makes you think she’s in trouble?”
“She blew into town from nowhere, man. Then she tried to buy a gun from me with false credentials.”
“What was the name on the license?” Jules asked as he took another hit off the joint that he was smoking. P.J. could hear the whir of the club’s computer system start up in the background.
“She took it back before I got a chance to see it.” P.J. was starting to feel like an idiot. He really had put in the call with nothing to go on.
“You’re getting’ rusty on me, brother.” Jules frowned over the phone lines. “See if you can get a look at that license. In the meantime, start writing down everything you know about her.”
“Like I said, I think anything I got on her is bullshit. Look man, sorry to waste your time. I realize now I got crap to go on and crap to give you.” P.J. was embarrassed. He should have known better.
“Yeah, I heard you, brother.” Jules affection for P.J. was evident in his voice. “I don’t think you heard me, though. I said write down the stuff you know about her. Observable shit like body piercings, tattoos, scars, or any defining marks. She got any friends in town? She go away weekends? Entertain any company? You’re right, brother, shit like licenses, plate numbers, even social security cards can be bought for a price. So, you got to go with what’s observable. Find that chink in her armor. Put down any small detail you can think of, and that’ll give me a start. Does this Juliet Jones chick got any ink?”
“Not that I can see.” P.J. said.
“So, you ain’t boning her yet?” Jules gave out a low whistle. “I’m impressed.”
“Yeah well…it’s not like that.” P. J. told him.
“Well, then what’s it like?” Jules persisted.
“She’s got this paranoia thing going on. I’d like to get to the bottom of it.”
“Yeah, well you know what they say about that.” Jules scoffed. “Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.
