by R. B. Schow
“As much as I appreciate your tactics—”
“I know, they’re brilliant.”
“Did you see the Uber driver’s face when you got into his car?” she laughed. “He’s going to have to take his KIA to the dump after your dirty ass stunk it up.”
Atlas started to laugh for the first time in a long time. Being with her was good. “I’m not going to say you look beautiful right now, but…you do. I mean, for real.”
“Stop,” she said, grinning.
“I’m going to,” he said, “but I’m also not going to.”
“No, you really need to.”
“After I get showered and cleaned up properly, we’ll pick up where we left off and you’ll like it, and then you will remember our last time together with fondness rather than distaste.”
“You want to place a bet on that?” she challenged. “Because my kitty’s in its own form of solitary confinement these days.”
“Maybe we’ll bust each other out.”
She turned, put her hands on her hips, and said, “You seriously look like Tom Hanks in Cast Away right before he left the island, but not so clean.”
“He was filthy,” he said.
“Exactly.”
When they finally saw the pilot walking to the plane, Cira smiled almost like she was relieved. Before boarding the jet, she pulled out her phone and started texting someone.
“Leopold?” he asked.
“I’m letting him know we’re on our way.”
“Be sure to let him know I’m on the clock. I want my minute-for-minute access to his detective or I’m not doing squat. I’ll sit on my hands and become his problem unless he agrees to that over the phone.”
“He will,” she assured him.
“I want to hear his voice. You tell him he needs to say the words.”
She looked up at him and frowned as if she understood already and that he was wasting his time and his breath reminding her.
“So, that’s a yes?” he asked.
“God, you’re annoying,” she said. “Of course, it’s a yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
LEOPOLD WENTWORTH
Leopold got the text and breathed a sigh of relief. He pressed Cira’s phone icon, automatically dialing the number. It rang only once before she picked up.
“Hey,” Cira said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. We’re going to clean up the mess that is Fabian Dicampli, but not now.”
“I assaulted him, Leopold,” she said.
“Physically?”
“Yes.”
A smile curled his lips. “Good,” he said. “I need to speak to Atlas.”
“Hang on,” she said.
A moment later, the gritty, mean voice came on the line. “It’s about time you called,” Atlas said.
Leopold wasn’t sure how he’d feel dragging Atlas’s ass out of the slammer again, but now that he was about to talk to him, he found he had a certain degree of confidence in the mission, something he didn’t have earlier.
“Atlas Hargrove,” he said warmly, “it’s good to talk to you again.”
“What took you so long?” he barked.
Backing away from the phone, Leopold cringed, not sure how to respond. “This was the first job I could bring you in on. I’m not sure if you noticed but everyone’s had their heads in the sand this last year. A pandemic, a contentious election, all kinds of lunacy associated with just about every single thing right down to the color of your skin and whether or not you’ll wear a freaking mask.”
“I heard about all that crap,” he said, “but my little girl doesn’t care about that.”
“That’s why I’m calling to tell you that I’m putting my detective on the job. Cira doesn’t need to remind me of our agreement, nor do you. I made you a promise and I intend to see it through until we find her.”
“I don’t want an ‘hours worked’ basis anymore, Leopold,” Atlas said. “I want your detective working on a ‘results oriented’ basis. You say you have the best detective in the game, well, I want more than just a picture this time.”
“You and I both want that. But as I said last time, if any of this was easy, you would have already found her.”
“I expect more from you.”
“Maybe she’s dug in somewhere off the grid, living in a commune or something, or maybe the people who have her are mountain people, or hill people, meaning no one sees them. This isn’t easy but I’m not phoning it in and neither is my detective.”
“St. Petersburg and Ukraine weren’t easy either, but I delivered.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m at your disposal, and I’ll deliver, but I want my daughter back, Leo.”
“I know that.”
“So, your detective needs to do better. He can’t just be some guy who rolls out of bed, scratches his ass then moseys off to work.”
“My guy is not like that.”
“We’ll see.”
“So we’re good then?” Leopold asked.
“We’ll see when the job is over,” Atlas replied. “But I will tell you this, the more I get pissed off at everything happening, the more of a mess I’m going to create.”
“I didn’t bring you and Kiera on to keep things clean,” Leopold said. “I brought you on because of your ability to get things done the messy, bloody way.”
“Is Kiera on this job, too?” he asked, perking up.
“She’s sitting next to me,” he replied.
“Finally, you’re telling me something that eases my mind. Tell her I said hello, and then tell her I feel her smiling.”
“Will do,” Leopold said. “Put Cira back on the phone please.”
“Hey,” Cira said after a second.
“How does he look?” Leopold asked.
“Like a Neanderthal. A little skinny and homeless-looking, but okay otherwise. Oh, and he’s bruised to hell from whatever dog shit sandwich Dicampli is making him eat.”
“Is it really that bad?” he asked.
“It looks like he stood in front of a pitching machine and took about a dozen baseballs to the body.”
“At least I won’t have to worry about you two hooking up again.”
“That all depends on how he looks when he’s cleaned up,” she said suggestively, “and how much private time we have together.”
“Well, this is interesting,” Leopold said. He’d been joking when he teased her about being with Atlas, but he didn’t think that was still on the table.
He looked at Kiera and she was a stone-faced statue, barely even blinking. He waved a hand in front of her face and she didn’t respond. Was she asleep…with her eyes open?
“What do you even see in him?” Leopold finally asked. “The guy is a means to an end, a hammer, someone we call in to kill things.”
“Atlas and I both have something in common, Leopold,” she said. “We’re both tired of waiting for you. Unless there’s something else, we’re about to take off for El Paso. Be sure to text me a rendezvous point.”
“I’ll do that right away,” he said. “And Cira?”
“Yes?”
“If you and I weren’t working together, if I didn’t value who you are and what you do for me and those people we help, it would be different between us.”
“It could be better because of that, Leopold. That’s what you don’t understand. Strong bonds unite, they don’t divide.”
“I’ll see you in El Paso,” he said.
“Roger that,” she mumbled, instantly detached from the warmth and emotion of just a moment ago.
He hit the END button and frowned, facing forward. He hated keeping Cira at arm’s length when she clearly liked him, but he didn’t need more women around him. He needed hardened warriors. Being part of a vigilante assassination squad was a lonely life because other needs had to come before his personal needs, and in this case, today’s need was to rescue four innocents who were snatched up in broad daylight.
He turned to Kiera and she hadn’t moved. He looked at her a long time then he reached out and snapped his fingers in front of her face. Slowly, she turned and looked right at him. He shuddered inside, almost as if her gaze brought with it a sheet of ice that left him cold inside and nervous.
“Atlas said to tell you hello,” Leopold said. He waited for some emotion, anything to indicate that she registered what he was saying. She showed him nothing. “He said he can see you smiling inside.”
And that’s when she twitched. It was ever so small, just a little jump of the skin above her cheek. She blinked then turned away.
“You’re going to be ready to go when it’s go time, right?” he asked, suddenly worried that whatever they did to her, whatever Dr. Holland injected her with, had somehow rendered her into a detached state of being.
Slowly, she nodded her head, and then she closed her eyes and went to sleep, almost as if she was waiting to see if Atlas would be joining them or not.
“You’re so damn strange I don’t know what to do with you,” he said. She didn’t even move.
He finally felt the pressures of this entire op starting to weigh on him. His sleep schedule was a bit messed up, he was slightly hung-over, and now he was about to head into the field with his team, something he hadn’t done before. If he didn’t get his hands dirty, if he was one of those guys who pulled the trigger from behind the thick walls of his ivory tower, none of his team would respect him. So now he was going to get his hands dirty. He was going to be one of them just to see how it felt, to see if he could do it. First things first, he had to make good on his word. Picking up the phone, he dialed Scotty Chase, the detective he had on retainer.
“Leopold,” Scotty said after picking up. He sounded tired. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“It’s time,” Leopold said.
“We’re back on with Alabama Hargrove?” he asked with a yawn.
“I told you before that you’re working as long as Atlas is working, but that’s changed. This guy is a wrecking ball aimed in the right direction. He gets results. He wants you to get results, too. I need you to unleash your inner beast and find this girl.”
“I’ve never half-assed it before,” Scotty said, waking up but still sounding…off. “You can’t rush stakeouts or just beat information out of people. It’s delicate, Leopold. And patience is the order of the day.”
“The beauty about me is that I don’t have to care about that. The other beauty is I’m paying you, which makes me a client, your best one. I won’t tell you to work harder, or find her faster, not without compensation. So here it is, if you find her before Atlas is done doing what he needs to do, then I will send you an additional one hundred thousand dollars.”
“Jesus, Leopold,” Scotty said a little miffed. It sounded like he was getting out of bed. In his defense, it was early. “Why don’t you make it a million?”
“How about I make it fifty grand?” Leopold grumbled.
“It won’t matter,” Scotty said yawning again then accidentally burping. “I already said you can’t rush these things. But I will tell you this. I’ll work with the idea that I’m going to get that bonus.”
“You need money, Scotty,” Leopold said. “I have other people, folks who keep tabs on my team. You’re part of the team.”
“I would’ve told you that if you would have asked, Leopold.”
“What’s going on with you?”
“COVID put sugar in my gas tank, so to speak,” he said, attempting to sound awake. “And the one job I got to keep me afloat? Well, that went belly up and so now it’s just you and me.”
“What about your wife’s job?” he asked. Scotty laughed. Leopold offered him a single warning. “I had one hell of a night, Scotty.”
“I did as well, but that’s another story for another time. When do I get started? Because if I don’t get started now, I’m going to pass back out in my own stink.”
Leopold shook his head, completely disappointed. Keeping a grip on his temper, he asked, “Do you have enough money left over from the monthly retainer to bring your investigator back into the fold?”
“I’ll need some help on that.”
“I’m going to deposit another twenty-five grand into your account,” he said with a sigh. “I want him on the job. I’m not letting Atlas down this time.”
“Thanks, Leopold. I’ll get right on that.”
“Scotty?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“This shitty, tired-sounding version of you is giving me a giant softie. Whatever your problems are, they’ll be there for you when you return. For now, I wasn’t kidding when I said I want the best version of you.”
“And I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve never given you less than one hundred percent.”
“As soon as the banks open, I’ll transfer the money.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
He hung up and shook his head in disgust. What the hell else could go wrong? He really did run a team of amateurs. He turned and looked at Kiera, studying her. Her bald head was shaved clean, her posture was perfect, and she wasn’t even moving. If not for the pulsing of her carotid artery, he just might mistake her for a freaking statue.
His phone beeped, breaking his trance. He opened a text message from Richie, then looked down and saw a photo of the Audi performance sedan, a photo of the license plate number, and the parking spot number where the car was parked at El Paso International Airport. The rest of the text read: KEY IN WHEEL WELL UNDER DRIVER’S SIDE WHEEL. A second text came in. This one was of an alien head emoji. Leopold let out a much-needed chuckle.
He texted Richie a quick reply of thanks, then he checked his watch and realized he had enough time to take a power nap. Closing his eyes, he let the worries drift out of his mind, seeing only black space, hearing only silence.
Before he knew it, he had fallen into a deep sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Six
SCOTTY CHASE
Earlier that morning… Scotty Chase walked into the Rum Runner bar in Phoenix half drunk and fully pissed off. After dealing with an insufferable client who refused to pay for a job he spent the last three months slaving over, he was up to his eyes in debt with no chance of repayment. So now he was laying low and trying to take the edge off of what had turned out to be a very long, very painful losing streak.
He sat down at the bar, set a crisp twenty out in front of him, and gave a subtle wave to the bartender—a woman he vaguely recognized. She frowned when she saw him, which reminded him that he’d definitely been there recently. With the way he’d taken up drinking, almost like it was an Olympic sport, he couldn’t be sure where he’d been or whom he’d met.
“I will serve you again,” she said as she walked over, “but you can’t be doing coke in the bathroom.”
He looked around and said, “Are you sure that was me?”
“You’re Scotty the Hottie, right?” she asked, deadpan. He started to say something, but then she cut him off and said, “Yeah. It’s you. Last time you just sat there drinking beer after beer while staring at my tits.”
“Are you sure that was me? Because that doesn’t sound like me.”
“I’m positive,” she said.
“Holy cow,” he replied softly, “I’ve become a cliché.”
“You weren’t always one?”
“Not really. But if I sit here and tell you my troubles, I will only further my bad reputation. So can I have whatever’s on tap and I’ll stare at the TV and mind my own business?”
“No coke in the bathroom.”
“Jeez, I didn’t even know I did coke.”
“Yeah, well, you bought it in back, so maybe it was your first time. Either way, you were chopping lines on the toilet lid. Do you know how thick the piss fumes get in that bathroom? Dudes with spray spouts for peckers just hosing everything down like it’s their own home.”
“That’s disgusting,” Scotty said.
“This guy Bart—you don’t k
now him—well, he said he had kidney stones and was gonna piss them out before the night was over. That was his big introduction to me at the start of the night, like I give a single crap about his kidney stones.”
“Kidney stones are no joke,” he said, thinking he really needed to start drinking.
“Please stop interrupting me,” she said. “It’s rude.”
His eyebrows shot up but he raised both hands in surrender. Her willingness to serve him tonight was his only real hope at salvaging the day.
“Anyway, Bart drank like there was no tomorrow and we had to drag him out of here by his heels just before last call. When it came to his stones, though, we weren’t sure if it was mission accomplished for him or not. But then we saw the bathroom stall and it was like a toddler flung sticky yellow paint all over the walls. Do you know what we did when we saw all that piss?”
“Besides vomit and curse your job?” he asked, now just wanting a beer.
“Close,” she said, staring right at him. “We pulled you out of there because you were snorting lines on the toilet seat and having an argument with yourself.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he said, suddenly not feeling well.
“Yeah, Scotty the Hottie for sure.”
“So, yeah, whatever is on tap will be good.” He was dying to change the subject. She started to speak, but he held up a hand and said, “No coke and no gazing at the mammaries, I got it. Can I have that beer now? Please?”
She scrutinized him a long time, then she added, “And no fighting.”
“Did I pick a fight, too?” he asked.
She filled a glass with beer then handed it to him along with a cocktail napkin. “No, but I see a fight inside you wanting to get out. It’s in your eyes. You look like what guys who get into bar fights look like right before they go off.”
“If you want these eyes to settle, then you’d better get that beer ready.”
