Devil's Brigade (Trackdown Book 3)

by Michael A. Black

  Dealing from a position of strength, he thought, and smiled as he turned. Then the smile vanished as he saw Keller standing by the side of the trailer staring at him.

  “Who’d you call?” Keller asked.

  His expression was hard and he was clad in a sleeveless T-shirt and jeans. He wore no shoes. Cummins had been right about the plethora of tattoos. The ink scribble covered his upper arms, shoulders, chest, and neck along with the Freedom Brigade emblem on his forearm.

  “Call?” Cummins said, trying to buy himself a few extra seconds to figure out an answer.

  Even though he hadn’t eaten, he felt an unsettling in his stomach.

  “Why’d you sneak outta the house to make your call?” Keller took a few steps toward him.

  Cummins thought about backing up, even taking off at a run, but he knew the other man would catch him in a few strides. Besides, it would also make him look guilty.

  “I didn’t want to wake everybody up,” Cummins said, trying his best to return Keller’s baleful stare with one of his own but knew he was falling far short. Cummins desperately searched for an answer. Should he say he was calling a girlfriend or something?

  “How considerate. Now who’d you call?” Keller was within a foot or so of Cummins now and reached out and grabbed the phone.

  “Hey, give it back,” Cummins said. “Please,” he added as an afterthought and then regretted it. The bile did its customary rush up his esophagus and he turned and vomited.

  “What the hell?” Keller danced backward.

  Cummins recovered enough to straighten up.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Bad stomach.”

  Keller blew out a derisive sounding breath as he checked the phone.

  “This is a god damn burner, ain’t it?” he said.

  Cummins nodded. The sour taste was still in his mouth.

  Keller stared at the screen and his forehead wrinkled.

  “Whose number is this?” he asked.

  Cummins didn’t know if the big moron would be able to distinguish the New York City area code but he had to come up with something fast.

  “It’s a private number,” he said.

  “That ain’t what I fucking asked you, fat boy.”

  Fat boy? This cretin had no couth.

  “All right,” Cummins said, coming up with an idea. “It’s my ex-boss’s private line. I needed to talk to him.”

  “Talk to him?” Keller’s mouth drew back into a sneer. “At six o’clock in the morning?”

  Cummins licked his lips. Outwitting this idiot wouldn’t be too hard.

  “It’s nine o’clock on the East Coast.”

  Keller’s face eased a bit and he apparently took this calculation into consideration.

  “And what you need to talk to him about?”

  “Well,” Cummins said. “If you must know …” He was still searching for words when an idea struck him. “I was gonna ask him for some money. He still hasn’t paid me the entire sum of my severance agreement and with what you took from me yesterday, I’m in need of some funds.”

  Putting it all back on his greedy little self, Cummins thought.

  Keller dialed the number and listened.

  Cummins prayed that no one would answer it this time.

  After a few rings, Keller obviously got the voice mail command to leave a message. He terminated the call and tossed the phone back to Cummins.

  Fumbling the catch initially, Cummins managed to cradle the phone against his gut.

  Thank God I didn’t drop it, he thought.

  “Don’t make no more phone calls till I tell you it’s okay,” Keller said and headed back for the entrance.

  Something’s going on, Cummins thought. And I need to find out what it is.

  The McNamara Ranch

  Phoenix, Arizona

  After Wolf had finished showering and dressing, he heated up a cup of coffee in his microwave and went again to the window. A solitary figure was proceeding down the access road from the highway at a deliberate jog. Wolf discerned that it was Mac. After grabbing a bottle of water from his refrigerator, he went down the stairs and out to meet him. McNamara’s face was covered with sweat. Wolf tossed him the bottle and Mac grinned as he twisted it open.

  “I figured you’d be sleeping in this morning,” McNamara said after draining half the contents. “You forget you have a fight tonight?”

  “Couldn’t sleep,” Wolf said. “But I skipped the run.”

  McNamara took another long pull from the plastic bottle.

  “And what brings you out this early?” Wolf asked.

  “I couldn’t sleep neither,” McNamara said. “Figured I’d better get in shape for the next time I see that pecker, Riley. In case I have to beat the shit out of him.”

  Wolf figured Mac could do that whether he was in top shape or not. He was one of the toughest men Wolf had ever known.

  “How’s Kasey holding up?” Wolf asked.

  McNamara took another drink and shook his head.

  “As good as can be expected. We spent most of last night trying to find a good attorney look into this custody thing.”

  “Any prospects?”

  “A couple. She’s going to follow up with a few of them today. And you and me gotta go see Manny at ten-thirty.”

  “Manny? Oh yeah, he did say that he’s got something for us, didn’t he?”

  “Yep. Said it was real big and real lucrative. Right up our alley.”

  Wolf did some mental calculations. As he’d already figured, the money from his MMA fight tonight, win, lose, or draw, would put the company solidly in the black. A big case from Manny would definitely put them on the road to easy street unless some new expenses came along—like a high-priced attorney charging an arm and a leg for renegotiating a child-custody agreement.

  But Chad was way too important to both Kasey and Mac to be worried about any expenses. And the boy was important to Wolf as well. Although they shared no blood relationship, Wolf remembered Kasey’s castigating line that he was the son her father always wished he’d had. Things had gotten somewhat better between Wolf and her but there was still a ways to go. But little Chad was almost like a relative to him and referred to Wolf as “Uncle Steve.”

  Wolf wasn’t about to let anything happen to the boy but this whole custody thing was a morass with no easy egress. No matter how it turned out, somebody was going to get hurt and most likely it would be Chad.

  “You and Kasey are coming tonight, right?” Wolf said.

  “Hell, I’ll be in the first row,” McNamara said. “Don’t know about Kase. Have to see how she’s feeling.”

  Wolf almost responded with, Tell her to come and watch me get my ass kicked and she’ll want to be there but decided not to say anything.

  “You know what time’s Yolanda getting here?” McNamara asked.

  Wolf shook his head.

  “Well,” McNamara said. “I’m kinda hoping Ms. Dolly and Brenda might be coming along with her. There’s nothing like the P-Patrol to help take a man’s mind off his other problems.”

  Wolf said nothing, debating whether he should break the bad news to Mac now about the P-Patrol not coming.

  McNamara finished off the bottle, crinkled it up, and tossed it into the recycling garbage container. After dropping the lid, he smacked his hands together in a dusting gesture.

  “In the meantime, come on in the house and I’ll have Kasey rustle us up some breakfast,” he said.

  “She’s up?”

  “Yeah.” McNamara’s eyes moved to the asphalt surface of the driveway and he sighed. “Poor kid couldn’t sleep for worrying about Chad.”

  “Riley let him call her last night?”

  “He did. Chad says he’s fine and that daddy’s taking him on a trip.”

  “Well, maybe if she finds the right lawyer, he can slap him with a subpoena when they get back.”

  “She doesn’t want to tip her hand, for fear that Charlie’ll pull some kind of vanishing act. We d
ecided it’s best to not let on we’re planning on anything until the right time.” He glanced at his watch. “And let me know what time we got to be at the airport.”

  “She’s not coming,” Wolf blurted out. “I called and told Yolanda to cancel.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” Wolf said. “I told her that I didn’t want her to come in case this guy really kicks my ass tonight.”

  McNamara grinned. “You ain’t thinking that’s gonna happen, are you?”

  “Once you step into that octagon and they close the gate, anything can happen.”

  “A negative attitude like that’s gonna weigh you down some.”

  “Yeah, but it’s the only one I got, so it’ll have to do.”

  McNamara nodded and heaved another sigh. “You know, I’m kinda glad they ain’t coming. It’s gonna be a limited audience anyway, with all this social distancing bullshit going on and with that asshole, Charlie, on my mind, I’m not in the mood to be showing the P-Patrol around town right now.”

  “Me either,” Wolf said, starting to feel the pre-fight jitters creeping up on him again. And he had a lot to do today before the reckoning. He hoped he’d be able to get it all in.

  “Of course,” McNamara said over his shoulder. “That’s always subject to change.”

  He flashed a sly grin.

  Wolf forced himself to grin back and thought, Isn’t everything?

  The Von Dien Winter Estate South

  Belize

  Soraces awoke framed between the two beautiful, brown maidens that had been supplied to him. One was the girl he’d been admiring yesterday. Both of them were caramel-colored honeys and had attended to his every whim, instruction, and desire. As soon as he’d agreed to the assignment, the lawyer had sent an employee to the hotel where Soraces had spent the previous night and picked up his luggage and personal items. Then this guest room suite had been made available, along with a burner phone, a laptop, a bowl of fruit, and the bikini-clad girls who waited on him hand and foot. He’d spent the rest of the day contacting some of his old wet-work guys to see if they were available for this new assignment. Luckily, most of them were: Lucas and Cortez, two of the best on-scene adjusters in the business, and Gunther, whose shadowing and enforcer skills were second to none. He decided on just using Gunther for the time being. By the time Fallotti came in to tell him that the special, temporary position had been created for Soraces at the Phoenix law firm of Bailey and Lugget, it was party time.

  “Mr. Von Dien’s private jet will be ready to fly you there tomorrow morning,” Fallotti had told him.

  Everything was falling into place nicely and Soraces knew he was going to take his sweet-ass time with this one. After all those years of being on a Company budget and having to justify every little expense on a DoD report form that was subsequently scrutinized by some pencil-pusher at Langley, it was nice going first class for a change.

  Welcome to the private sector, he thought.

  Soraces got up to urinate and threw some water on his face. It was relatively early and although he’d pretty much tried every variation with the two girls, he still had a few that he wanted to try again. He was semi-erect as he walked back into the bedroom and pulled back the fine linen sheet. The two girls stirred awake and one rolled onto her side. He grabbed the bondage rope and looped it around her wrists, pulling it taut against the metal framework of the headboard.

  “Por favor. Queremos dormer un poco mas,” one of them murmured.

  Soraces reached over and savagely grabbed her breast, pinching the brown nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She shrieked.

  Who did this little bitch think she was, denying him?

  “No dormas nada,” he smiled lecherously. “Quiero cingarlas otra vez. En siguida.”

  Just as the girl cried out from the cruel pressure, someone knocked on the door.

  Soraces released his hold on the girl and yelled he’d “be right there.” Then he leaned close to the girl and whispered, “Recuerda, perra, siempre tengo lo que quiero.”

  Remember, bitch, I always get what I want.

  He strode across the room in the nude, throwing open the door. Fallotti stood there wearing a bathrobe. His hair looked a bit disheveled. His eyes widened slightly as he saw Soraces’s state of excitement.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, smirking slightly. “But we’ll be needing you on site in Phoenix a little sooner than we expected. There’s been a new development.”

  “Oh?” Soraces figured it must have been important to get the lawyer out of bed at this relatively early hour.

  “Remember that ex-employee I mentioned?” Fallotti said. “Jack Cummins? He’s cropped up like a reoccurring case of the clap. He may be causing some problems.”

  “Is that so?”

  The lawyer’s mouth drew into a tight line. “Mr. Von Dien has an extreme dislike of loose ends.”

  Typical, Soraces thought. And also something to keep in mind. I’d better make sure I have my payment in hand before I deliver the goods.

  “We’d like you to find him and deal with him.”

  “Take him out?” Soraces asked. The thought of engineering another assassination was as good of an aphrodisiac as he could ask for.

  “Eventually, but not immediately. But he left a message claiming he has a way to get the item and made some demands. We don’t know if he’s bluffing but we can’t afford to take the chance.”

  “Not a problem,” Soraces said using his head to gesture toward the bedroom. “Just give me an hour or so to tie up a few loose ends of my own.”

  His grin was sardonic.

  Office of Emmanuel Sutter

  Bail Bondsman

  Phoenix, Arizona

  Wolf and McNamara walked into Manny’s office and Mac set the box of donuts down on top of the big desk. It looked fairly orderly for a change and Wolf asked him if he was trying to turn over a new leaf.

  The big bail bondsman shot him a wry look.

  “Not hardly,” he said. “I’m going to be interviewing some girls for a secretarial position and I wanted them to know that I expect things to be kept organized and neat.”

  “A secretary?” McNamara said. “Where’s she going to sit?”

  “We got some room over there,” Manny said as he tore open the donut box. “Sherman can move his desk over that way a little.”

  With the mention of his undesirable nickname, Freddie turned to give the finger to his uncle’s broad back.

  “Hey,” Manny said. “I seen that.”

  Freddie looked startled and quickly rotated his chair around and pretended to be immersed in his paperwork. Wolf noticed that Manny had a small, circular mirror set up on the edge of his desk. Wolf figured it was either to make sure he looked ultra-presentable for the prospective secretaries or it was Manny’s way of having eye’s in the back of his head to keep tabs on his nephew.

  Never a dull moment around here, Wolf thought.

  Manny removed a chocolate donut and bit into it, then emitted a grunt of satisfaction as he masticated.

  “Hey, Sherman, put us on a pot of coffee, would ya?” Manny said.

  Freddie rolled his eyes, stood, and went to the coffee maker.

  “Remember you’re supposed to be watching your sugar,” Freddie said as he moved into the washroom with the pot and closed the door.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Manny said, leaning back in his chair and taking another bite. “Sneaky little Judas prick reports everything I fucking eat to his mother, who then relays it to my damn wife.”

  “Maybe he wouldn’t if you didn’t ride him all the time,” Wolf said.

  “Huh?” Manny’s mouth gaped exposing some half-chewed pieces of donut. “I treat him like a prince.”

  “Prince Sherman?”

  Manny snorted a laugh and then went into a coughing fit, pounding the palm of his non-donut-holding hand on the desk top. Finally, after a good ten seconds, he leaned over and spat the half-chewed donut onto the waste basket.

/>   “God damn, Wolfman,” he said. “You damn near make be bust a gut every time you come in here.”

  “It’s a gift,” Wolf said.

  “Yeah,” Manny said, leaning forward to peruse the remaining selection of donuts. “So what brings you guys in today?”

  “You mentioned something about a job for us yesterday?” McNamara said.

  “Oh, yeah.” Manny bit off another hunk, chewed a few times, and then shoved the rest of the donut into his mouth, pausing momentarily to lick the ends of his fingers. He shoved his enormous body away from the desk and pulled open one of the side drawers.

  “You know,” he said, sorting through a stack of papers, “with all these damn states loosening up the bail bonds laws, things are getting tighter and tighter. Pretty soon I’ll be hiring you guys to start making repossessions on all these damn houses and cars I took as collateral.”

  “Is that what this big case you mentioned is?’ McNamara asked.

  Manny was still sorting through some files.

  “Nah, this one’s a straight-up fugitive case but it could be a little bit tricky. Gangbanger asshole I bonded out for a PCS case skipped out on me to the tune of a hundred and fifty large.” He reached over with his right hand and pulled another donut out of the box. This one was tan colored with a coating of white and red decorations on the top. “His poor old mama supposedly put up her house and his sister put up her car as collateral. Now, I either gotta get the punk back in jail or start the proceedings to take the old lady’s house and sista’s car, neither of which I originally thought were in particularly good shape, bedsides being in the shitty part of town. But that ain’t all.” He paused to take a huge bite.

  “A hundred and fifty large.” McNamara emitted a low whistle. “That’s a pretty high bond.”

  “You ain’t shitting, it is.” Manny shifted his bite of the new donut to his cheek and then yelled out, “Where’s the god damn coffee?”

  Wolf heard the toilet flush inside the washroom and Freddie emerged carrying the filled coffee pot. He went to the coffee maker, removed a filter, and began filling it with grounds.