It’s November in Chicago. Still healing from an encounter with the Corn Flakes Killer, Lieutenant Michelle “Mickey” Rooney and her partner, Sam Tanner, head out into the snowy night to investigate four seemingly unrelated drug killings. They appear to be run-of-the-mill drug deals gone bad…until witnesses at one of the crime scenes report that they saw the shooting. And they have overheard the name of the killer: Esteban Fernandez.
Mickey and the Chicago PD notify the Federal authorities, thanks to a new Federal APB on Fernandez. Fernandez has been declared a threat to National Security, and all movements are to be reported.
Justice Security has been given a government contract: find Esteban Fernandez and stop him. Bring him in for trial if possible, but stop him. When word reaches them that Fernandez is in Chicago, Joey Justice, his partners, and their FBI liaison, Marcus Moore, move quickly to the Windy City, and they take over the investigation.
They also take over Mickey Rooney and Sam Tanner, and draft them into the biggest crime case in Chicago’s history…a crime case that Mickey will never be allowed to talk about.
Action, humor, and a two-night-romance for Mickey and Marcus…find out what happens when Justice Security takes on insane Mexican drug cartel leader, Esteban Fernandez, in the Windy City! Read T. M. Bilderback’s eighth Justice Security story, inspired by the classic song performed by Paper Lace, The Night Chicago Died!
Genre: FICTION / SuspenseThis is the eighth story in the Justice Security series.
This story has already been translated into Spanish, Portuguese, French, and Italian.
Tim "Skanky" Sanders danced from foot to foot, waiting for his supplier to show up. It was a cold, windy night for early November, and snow was forecast for overnight…three inches. Not really worth mentioning for Chicago, but Skanky came from a city further south, and wasn't used to Chicago winters. Even after five years, Skanky was having trouble keeping warm.
Jesus Christ, when is he coming? thought Skanky to himself. He said ten. Ten PM, and it's five past now! I got people waiting for some new shit, and this damn street corner is damn cold!
Tim Sanders sold things. Meth, heroin, coke, pot, uppers, downers, oxys, hydros, Xanax, Valiums, over-the-counter cold medicines (for the do-it-yourselfers), even aspirin, if somebody wanted it. Skanky didn't care. He was everybody's street dealer. Sometimes, he sold to cops, and he sold to them at a fair price. It kept him from getting busted.
Sanders got the nickname "Skanky" from his days selling in Hooker Hollow in that southern city. Hooker Hollow was really Third Street on any map, but city locals called it Hooker Hollow because of the business conducted there. The hookers along Hooker Hollow all bought their shit from Sanders, but they all agreed that he was too "skanky" to have sex with…unless they needed what Sanders had and were a little short of money. Then, they'd pay Skanky with a quick blowjob or a fast roll in the hay, depending on the cost of what they needed. Sometimes, what the hookers wanted was a little more expensive than what the hookers had to offer, so Skanky came up with another idea. Customers of the hookers often talked about things during pillow talk…things that could be used. Sold, even.
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French
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Already translated.
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Italian
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Already translated.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
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