At least I didn’t lose, he remembered thinking, and I was only in it for the paycheck, anyway.
From the expression on de Silva’s face, it was hard to tell his opinion. They’d done the customary fighter’s embrace after the ref had pulled them both to their feet after the air-horn had blasted. Mutual respect had been achieved and Wolf recalled having nothing but respect for the tough Brazilian, who had had more on the line than he did.
“Shit,” Reno said, as they made their way back to the dressing room. “You won that one, hands down. Those damn judges must have had their heads so far up their fucking asses they needed to cut holes in their stomachs to see out of.”
Wolf reached up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry I let you down, coach.”
Reno was silent for the rest of the walk and virtually all Wolf was thinking about at that point was getting under a shower to wash de Silva’s blood off of his body.
“I thought you won, too, boo,” Yolanda said as they continued toward the locker room.
“Yeah, well, win, lose, or draw,” Wolf said. “I still got the same amount of money.”
She’d been a little bit miffed when they wouldn’t let her into the locker room, but McNamara, Ms. Dolly, and Brenda quickly joined her in the hallway.
Wolf had wanted to leave right after showering and changing clothes. He felt like he’d been run over by a ten-ton truck. Mac, Ms. Dolly, and Brenda had elected to stay for the rest of the fights, with Wolf’s blessings, and he and Yolanda had taken Rideshare.com back to his apartment at the ranch even though Reno had offered to have Barbie drive them. It hadn’t been real late and the lights had been on in the house, but he didn’t know if Kasey had seen them arrive.
“If you and your friend want to come over to the house,” Kasey said. “I’m fixing some eggs and bacon.”
I guess she had seen us, all right, he thought.
He didn’t know whether to feel self-conscious or not. Kasey wasn’t exactly on the best terms with the P-Patrol.
“I appreciate the offer,” he said. “But I’m kind of sore. I think I’ll sleep in little bit more.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I did wake you, didn’t I?”
“Not a problem, Kasey. But did you have something other than inviting us to breakfast on your mind?”
Yolanda, who was wide awake at this point, effected an expression of total shock and surprise and mouthed, Wicked Witch of the East?
That was the informal nickname Ms. Dolly had given to Kasey after their last, less than cordial meeting.
“Yes.” Her voice was still tentative, unsure. “I was just wondering if you knew where dad was. He didn’t come home last night.”
Wolf surmised that Mac had spent the night in good company in Ms. Dolly and Brenda’s hotel room, but he didn’t say that, nor did he say that her father was a big boy. Instead, he asked if she wanted him to call around.
“I’m sure he’s okay,” she said. “But when I woke up this morning and saw he wasn’t here …”
The rest of her sentence trailed off. Wolf reflected on how much she’d changed in the last month. She’d gone from totally resenting him and blaming him for everything wrong in the world, to now coming to him like a worried little sister.
“Well,” he said. “It’s still kind of early. And I’m sure he would’ve called you if anything was wrong.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said. “But it’s just that … Well, Chad didn’t call me last night and nobody answered when I tried his cell. I’m kind of worried.”
She’d gone through a lot lately: the death of her fiancé and the financial problems with the business, and now this escalating new custody dispute. It was a heavy load for her to carry and Wolf didn’t want to make it any heavier.
“Let me see if I can get a hold of your dad,” Wolf said, feeling almost like he was helping to conceal a transgression or something. “I’ll get back to you.”
“Okay, thanks,” she said and hung up.
He tried to sit up a little more and felt the instantaneous bolt of pain along his abdominal wall. His arms and shoulders ached, too but it was a good pain. It meant that he’d taken most of his opponent’s blows on the arms and body instead of the head. But seconds later Yolanda’s finger traced along his cheek and he felt a sting there also, reminding him that he hadn’t blocked all of them.
“Does it hurt much?” she asked.
“Only when I laugh.”
“What did the Wicked Witch of the East want?”
Wolf chuckled and that hurt his stomach again.
“She’s worried about her father,” he said. “And don’t make me laugh.”
She ran her hand over his bare chest and shoulders.
“You’re gonna have some bruises here, boo.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he said, punching in McNamara’s cell phone number.
It went straight to voice mail.
Wolf tried the number again, with the same result. He looked at Yolonda.
“Don’t suppose I could persuade you to call Ms. Dolly to see if Mac’s with her,?”
“Maybe,” she said, pressing her naked body against him. “For a price.”
Wolf felt the sexual stirring in his groin and more than anything wanted to toss the cell phone onto the floor and get some morning delight.
“What’s the price?” he asked playfully.
“I’m still thinking about it but you’re gonna like it.” She disengaged her body from his and slipped from under the sheet. The movements rocked the mattress a bit and Wolf once again felt the effects of having been in a three-round fight where the rounds were five minutes long.
Seventeen minutes of hell, he thought, with a one-minute break in between minutes five and eleven.
Yolanda came back and sat on the bed, dialing. After a few rings, she smiled and said, “Hey, Ms. Dolly. How you doing?”
Wolf could hear a loud voice replete with a Texas twang. Apparently, Ms. Dolly didn’t like being woken up either. After about thirty seconds of conversation, Yolanda said, “Hold on,” and handed the phone to Wolf.
“Honey,” Ms. Dolly said. “Why in the hell are you having that girl wake me up this early on a Sunday morning?”
“I thought you might want to join us at Church,” Wolf said.
“What?” After a few moments of silence, Wolf heard her throaty laugh. “Sugar, you’d better have a better reason than that or I’m gonna tan your backside next time I see you.”
“That’ll give me something to look forward to,” Wolf said. “But really, I need to talk to Mac. Is he there?”
“He sure is, snoring away. Or at least he was until all the commotion started. Here.”
McNamara’s gruff voice came on the line. “What the hell you want?”
“Kasey’s worried about you,” Wolf said.
“Huh?” Wolf heard him sigh. “What the hell’s the matter with that girl. I thought her mama raised her better than that.”
“She’s got a lot on her mind,” Wolf said, wondering how much to tell him.
Break it to him gently, he thought. But break it.
“She’s worried about you,” Wolf said. “And she’s also concerned about Chad. Apparently, he didn’t call her like he was supposed to and there’s no answer on that cell phone she gave him.”
McNamara groaned in disgust. “That no good piece of shit, Riley. I’m gonna have to kick his ass all the way up to his mouth the next time I see him.”
“Better get up and do your roadwork then,” Wolf said, trying to inject a bit of levity. “Or did you get enough of a workout in last night?”
That elicited a chuckle from McNamara.
“Someday, when you’re older,” he said. “I’ll tell you about last night.”
Wolf felt Yolanda’s body pressing against his again. Her hands began roaming over his bruised and battered body. Each pause, each squeeze, each caress, brought an exquisite mixture of pain and pleasure and his breathing quickened.
“You want me to call her and say you’ll get a hold of her later?” Wolf asked.
He silently hoped that he wouldn’t have to explain Mac’s whereabouts.
“No, hell,” McNamara said. “I better do it. Anyway, I want Kase to start researching that FROZ place and that dude we’re after. I got it all set up for us to fly up to that Bendover place tomorrow. All five of us. I’ll give you today to rest and recuperate since you fought one hell of a fight last night but then it’s back to business. We gotta get ready and pack, too.”
“Sounds good,” Wolf said as Yolanda’s hands continued their exploration.
He was about to say something more when she sat up and reached over to pluck her phone from his hand.
“He’ll call you back later, big boo daddy,” she said. “Right now we got some business of our own to attend to.” With that, she terminated the call. Dropping the phone, she smiled down at him from her dominant position.
It was a deliciously wicked smile.
“You asked about that price before,” she said. “I’m ready to collect.”
Summerlin Hotel
Just outside of Phoenix, Arizona
Soraces waited for Gunther to join him at the restaurant table. He’d told the maitre d’ that someone would be joining him and requested a table in the far side of the restaurant, away from the other tables. He’d slipped the man a twenty as he made this request. It was a lot of fun spending someone else’s money with carefree abandon. He laid another twenty on the table as the waitress was pouring his coffee from the carafe and he took delight in watching her dark eyes widen. She was young, pretty, and Hispanic—just the type he liked and she had eyes for the money, too.
Great fun, manipulating others, he thought. Especially the venal and the malleable.
He hoped that this guy Wolf would prove just as easy to manipulate.
But then again, he told himself. It’s all in how you bait the hook.
He did another assessment of the waitress’s breasts. Even through the cloth prison, he could tell they were substantial—again, just the way he liked them.
Perhaps he should get her number for later but that could wait. There was no sense rushing things. He was still setting up the pieces on the metaphorical chess board.
His food had just arrived and he was doing his customary pre-consumption meal ritual: cutting the toast into equally spaced quarters. He preferred to instill order into all things, including his meals as well as his plans of operation. It was the way things were built and allowed careful consideration of every facet.
So far the setup was proceeding as planned. After arriving yesterday, Soraces had checked into the luxury hotel and then gone over to get acquainted at the Bailey and Lugget Law Firm. Even though it had been a Saturday, one of the senior partners had met him there to welcome him. Obviously, his new employers, Fallotti and Von Dien, had a lot of clout. Not as much as Uncle Sam but the pay was better. Much better and he didn’t have to justify his actions in a report to some pencil-necked bureaucrat. And the array of tools he had to work with in this little excursion was sheer artistry.
Gunther entered the restaurant and came walking over to the table. He was a huge black man with a shaved head and this morning he was dressed in a tan polo shirt and brown Dockers.
A study in monochrome, Soraces thought and motioned for the waitress to bring a new cup and saucer.
The big man slid into a seat across from him and smiled appreciatively as the waitress poured the coffee and asked him if he needed a menu.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” Gunther said and reached for the sugar packets.
When the waitress had left, he leaned forward and asked, “What’s the status?”
“Everything’s on track,” Soraces said. He set the knife down and speared one of the squared-off pieces of toast with his fork.
“Meaning?”
“I’m all set at the law firm.” Soraces had ordered his eggs sunny side up and now dipped the toast into one of the yolks. “I’ll call him tomorrow and leave a message to set up an appointment this week.”
Gunther tore two packets open and dumped the contents into the dark liquid.
“I thought you said that this one was time sensitive?” Gunther brought the cup to his lips and sipped.
“Is that sweet enough for you?” Soraces said, placing the toast into his mouth.
“Hot, sweet, and black. Just like me.”
Soraces’s mouth formed a lips-only smile as he masticated. When he’d finished chewing, he set the fork down, wiped the edges of his mouth with the linen napkin, and then drank from his own coffee cup.
“It is time-sensitive,” he said. “But only to a degree. I expressed urgency on my initial call to you because one of our employers was hovering about listening. It was all about the image.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’ve changed much since you officially left the Agency.”
Soraces picked up the fork and speared another fragment of toast. “As far as the call, I want it to be during regular business hours. One thing we don’t want is to appear either over-anxious or the least bit suspicious.”
Gunther savored more of the coffee. “Wouldn’t it be quicker to just abduct the guy and force him to give up whatever the hell it is our employer’s looking for?”
Again, Soraces didn’t answer until he’d finished chewing.
“That’s been tried twice already,” he said. “Both times this fellow’s proved very formidable. Ex-Ranger, and his partner’s ex-Special Forces.”
Gunther’s bald head gleamed under the florescent lights as it moved up and down with a slight nod.
“So we’re up against a couple of tough pros,” he said.
“Exactly. And remember, this isn’t Kabul or Baghdad or Mogadishu. Our employer also wants this matter kept on a low-key basis. We’re to use finesse if at all possible.”
Gunther shrugged. “Well, I ain’t complaining. Like you say, this place is a hell of a lot better than some Third World shithole.”
“Precisely.” Soraces raised an eyebrow. “Additionally, we don’t know where our quarry’s stashed the item.”
Gunter set the cup down and seemed about to speak when the waitress appeared again, smiling brightly, and set the hot plate down on the table in front of him.
“Do you need anything else?” she asked, her eyes drifting down to the spot where he’d laid the twenty.
“We’ll let you know,” Soraces said.
As she left Gunther was already smearing a layer of strawberry jelly over his toast. After quickly glancing around, he leaned forward again and said in a subdued tone, “What is this item we’re looking for again?”
Soraces dipped another of the cut squares into the now depleted yolk.
“A bandito,” he said. “A plaster statue of a Mexican bandito.”
Gunther shoveled some of the food into his mouth.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Soraces shook his head.
“You bringing in anybody else on this?” Gunther asked.
“I reached out to a couple others.” Soraces wiped his mouth again with the napkin. “I have them on stand-by in case we need them.”
“So what do you want me to do in the meantime?” Gunther said.
“Just sit tight for the time being.” Soraces speared the last bit of egg white and then used the final square of toast to blot the final remnants of the yolk. The plate looked almost immaculate now, almost totally devoid of bread crumbs. “Just be ready to shadow the guy and take him out if and when I tell you.”
Former Fort Lemand
Southern Arizona
Cummins was stirred awake by Keller’s boot kicking the edge of the metallic bunk in the room. Morning sunlight shone through the window and Cummins managed to sit up.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Time to get up, fat boy,” Keller said. “We let you sleep past revelry because we got in a little late.” He tossed a plastic buck
et down on the tiled floor. “The latrine’s down the hall at the other end but Sergeant Smith and his lady love are using it now, so if you have to go, use the bucket and dump it when the latrine’s clear.”
Keller turned to go but stopped at the open door and pointed down to Cummins’s suitcase under the bed. “Oh, I suggest if you have a change of clothes in that bag there, you make use of them. You all are gonna see the colonel after mess. That’s in fifteen minutes. They’re holding it for you.”
After mess, Cummins thought. What the hell kind of rag-tag outfit had he gotten sucked into?
Last night, after they’d parked all three vehicles, Keller had escorted Cummins and the others to one of the buildings adjacent to the Quonset huts. Unlike the standard army billets he’d seen pictures of at such places as Fort Polk, these had been sectioned off into individual rooms inside the structure. Each room had a window, which was without a screen and standing open, which was a good thing considering the desert environment. A couple of large fans had been set in the hallway and rotated with clamorous monotony but Cummins had been so exhausted he almost welcomed the unceasing noise as he tried to sleep.
He got up and closed the door after Keller had gone, making sure not to slam it. The last thing he wanted was to provoke the big stooge.
Captain Keller …
Yeah, Cummins thought. Definitely officer material.
He quickly urinated into the plastic bucket and set it aside. After placing his suitcase on the bed, he opened it and assembled a presentable pair of dark slacks and a loose-fitting short-sleeve shirt. After finding his dopp bag he removed the special eye drops and dumped a few drops into each eye to lubricate the extended-wear contacts. His cheeks felt rough with beard growth but that would have to wait until he found a decent water supply. Then he stripped out of his old garments and rolled them into his laundry bag, keeping on the same pair of underwear. Although both he and his underclothes were getting more than just a little ripe, there was no sense changing those until after he’d had a chance to shower.
If the showers even worked around here. Last night when they were given access to a washroom they were admonished to flush the toilet by using the bucket of standing water beside the bowl.
Devil's Brigade (Trackdown Book 3) Page 15
