by Riley, A. M.
that and his new sombrero, he dressed as he always had. There were no logos
on the shirt, but he still wore the black pants with white topstitching, the
oversize shirt and shoes. The thick silver ring in his ear now had a large
diamond swinging from it and his bad skin seemed to have cleared up
somewhat.
What was different about him was his attitude. Freeway was now what he
had always dreamed of becoming. A truly evil motherfucker.
“I saw Betsy around,” I told him.
“'mano, you was right about that puta. She got all freaky on me. And not
in a cool way.” He gestured at Stan. “You know this ugly old cop, sí?”
I looked at Stan. I wondered if my eyes held the same shocky caution as
did his. “I've seen him around the station, yeah. How you doing, man?”
Stan wasn't dead. His blood smelled, surprisingly, just as stale and boring
as I would have expected. But it was warm and healthy and he had to know
that every undead soulless biker in the room was looking at him with lust.
“I've got a lot to discuss with Ozone,” he said to Freeway.
“Oh yeah, sure, man.” Freeway's cadre of bodyguards marched Stan
forward; Freeway turned at the kitchen door to give me a one-fingered salute
and a “See you later, homey. Glad to have you on board.”
I made to follow them, but at that point one of the guards noticed me
again and gave me another mind-bending punch to the head. “Go the fuck to
your room, bitch,” he said, as I crawled slowly back up the wall.
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Yes, sir. Can I do anything else for you, sir? Present my hairy ass for your
inspection, sir? A steel-toed boot connected with my behind and I realized that
the best course of action was to go back to Caballo's room. I didn't bother to
knock, but he didn't seem to care. He was deeply involved in something
between a woman's legs there on the bed.
I thought he was doing what men normally do there, but then I saw that
his mouth was fastened to her inner thigh and his throat was moving
rhythmically. My mouth watered at the smell, and my dick twitched at the
sight of his tight heinie sticking up in the air.
“Can I have some?” I asked.
Caballo withdrew slowly, licking his lips. “It's against the rules, man.”
“You shared last night.”
“That was a special treat. Courtesy of Ozone.”
“Talk about grabbing a man's short and curlies,” I said. “Ozone really has
you whipped.”
Caballo patted the woman's thigh. “Go on now,” he said. He helped her
stand, and, bizarrely courteous, helped her put her long shirtwaist dress back
on. He waited until she'd exited and he'd closed the door again before he said,
“Where have you been?”
“I thought I might take a walk, but the guards dissuaded me. And then I
saw a cop I used to know.”
“No shit?” Caballo reached for the table next to his bed and brought over a
box with weed and a tiny pipe in it.
“What's going on, man?”
“You know all you need to know. You ask too many questions. You sound
like a fed.”
The OMG have been hit by UC agents too many times not to be paranoid.
I'd had to take a lie detector before I'd patched into the Mongols, and the ATF
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crew who set up our identities had told me a PI had been hired by the Mongols
to do a background check on me as well.
“Well, if they haven't killed me for the busts last year, why would they kill
me now?”
“Ozone's first rule is this is the new brotherhood. Those old beefs, they
went with the old life. Remember, most of those guys got killed by a brother in
the end.”
I hadn't thought of it that way. “You know who did me?”
“Wouldn't tell you if I did. Ozone's second rule. You don't need to know
who did you, you just need to know that now you belong to us. This is big,
Adam. Good thing you're with us now. Ozone says we start with the one
percenters and then we go for the cops.”
“Another gang war? That's all this is? The Angels couldn't even take East
Los from the Mongols,” I said.
“The cops don't think so. That's why we've got LAPD on our side.”
Clearly, I had to find a way to get Stan alone. And maybe get a message to
Peter.
Caballo gave me a discerning look. “Just relax, man. You're still on
probation. And you got all eternity now to figure it out.” He lit his pipe, flame
hovering over it as he sucked half the bowl in on one long inhale. He offered it
to me, but I waved it off.
“I think I'm going to go drink some more of that shitty blood,” I said,
opening the door. “Catch you later.”
“Watch who you talk to, bro, and watch what you ask,” called Caballo as I
went. “Be a shame to have to dust your crazy ass.”
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Chapter Sixteen
I found Condor and a few former Mexican Mafia in the kitchen, drinking
the nasty blood. He'd been right; it didn't taste as bad the second time. The
occasional blood cow wandered through, stoned and half-naked, bumping into
counters and cabinet doors, all of them soft as melted cheese, with ghastly,
mealy skin and slack mouths, but still they held the gaze of every prospect as
they stumbled through the galley.
“Soon, my God, I hope,” said Condor, watching a particularly obese
woman, braless and scratching her armpits as she went. “Ozone said I ride
tonight with the Chupacabra, maybe I'll be full patch by morning.”
It had taken me a year to patch into the Mongols, and only because I'd
flown a huge quantity of cash to a bank in Juatulco for them, breaking a
number of national and international laws in the process. “How long you been
here?” I asked him.
He shook his head, tipping the carton of blood back to get the last pink
rivulet into his throat. “Months. I don't know. They don't keep time here, and
there's no way to go outside.”
“How long has Ozone been setting this up?” I asked.
Condor gave me a sharp look. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“Hard habit to break, I guess.” I tossed my empty carton into the recycling
bin. “You see those guys that came through?”
“No. I was minding my own business.” He was not liking me at all now.
He'd turned a shoulder to me, as if trying to avoid me. So I shut up and let an
uncomfortable silence settle over us instead. Thank God, at that moment,
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Freeway came breezing back in from the long hallway that led to the doctor's
labs.
“Mijo, you old bastard!” He licked his teeth. The fangs were still extended
and pink. They must be having a hell of a banquet somewhere in the bowels of
the building. I wondered how Stan was faring.
“Hey, Freeway, you have a phone I can use? My old lady is going to cut off
my balls if I don't call her.”
“That bitch with the tetorras,and nalga de angel? ” Freeway wiggled his
eyebrows at me. “Bet she ain't your bitch no more, 'mano. Woman like that you
/>
can't leave alone for long. But, sorry, I can't let you call anywhere.”
“How about I mail her a letter?”
“No way, man.”
“You give me a pen and paper, then, and maybe Ozone will let me mail a
letter later?”
Freeway rolled his eyes, grinning.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” asked Condor. “He told you, it
ain't allowed.”
Freeway's eyes narrowed and a muscle jumped at his temple. “Shut up,
nigga,” he said to Condor.
Condor froze. Muscles tense, breathing though his nose, he glared at
Freeway then, purposely, let it go. Merely shaking his head, as if at Freeway's
foolishness.
Freeway glowered. “Get him a pen and paper,” he snapped.
Condor looked sideways at me. “You kidding.”
“Gandul!” Freeway slapped Condor hard, upside the head and said, “You
do what I tell you, bitch.”
When the man had left the room I said to Freeway, “You're pushing it.”
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169
“Fuckers,” said Freeway. “Always thinking they know more than us. He's a
prospect, he needs to learn.”
When Condor came slinking back, I pocketed the items. “Thanks, man.”
I took a bathroom break, scribbled a short note in my own code to Peter. I
wrote another note to Alli, most of it bullshit with the word “dragon” worked in.
Just in case she did receive the note she'd know she was in danger.
I gave Freeway my missive to Alli, the woman who'd worked undercover as
my 'girlfriend' when I was a Mongol. Freeway, took the pen and paper, and
didn't seem to notice the torn edge at the bottom of the paper, and didn't ask
about the missing scrap.
I wasn't sure how I was going to get the note to Stan but, as it happened,
he was looking for me. Caballo, with a somber expression, came and fetched
me from the front room where I had been lounging about, pretending to be
lusting after blood cows when I was really waiting for a chance to see Stan if
and when he left by the front door.
Caballo, with a stern, worried manner, led me back to his room and pretty
much shoved me inside, closing me in.
“Thank God,” said Stan. He stood in the corner, totally incongruous in his
immaculate suit and tie. The man even had cuff links. Who the hell still has
cuff links? He tugged at the cuffs they held and said, “I only have a minute, but
I wanted to check in with you.”
“This isn't what it seems, Stan. They're holding me hostage.”
“Of course. I assumed you'd infiltrated them.”
“I guess that was the plan, but I'm immobile. I can't get out of here. Give
this to Peter.” And I passed him the note.
With a carefully neutral look, Stan sequestered the note in an inner
pocket. “Well, however you came here, it's important that you stay inside.”
“Why?”
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“Just get as much information as you can. It's too bad we can't get a wire
on you.”
“Are you fucking nuts? You do know what kind of people we're dealing
with here, don't you Stan?”
His eyes were cool. “Like you?”
“Let me ask you something. Did you know? That night you came over to
Peter's?”
“Of course not.”
I believed him. The man was cool as they come, but he was a lousy liar. All
honest men are. “Sorry, Stan, this whole thing makes me jumpier than hell.”
“I've got to go, Adam. I only just slipped away. There's an ATF takedown in
the works. Hang tight and be ready to break when they come. I'll let the senior
agents know you're inside.”
I nodded. I wanted out, is all, but he was right. “We won't need testimony
anyway,” I told him. “There's only one way to deal with these guys.”
When we shook hands I think we both were having the same grim
thoughts. Stan looked grave. And then he left.
Caballo shut the door behind himself and turned to me with spooked eyes.
“You jackass, what are you doing?”
“It's a former cop thing,” I said. “You know, bitching about the old boss…”
“Shut up.”
There was a tentative tapping at the door and Caballo jumped out of his
skin. I went to the door and opened it cautiously.
“Hola?” Freeway's eyes rolled back and forth, scanning the hallway. “You
dudes let me score some weed, maybe?”
* * * * *
“I don't have nothin' 'gainst you niggers, I just think it's crazy to expect La
Eme to work side by side with anybody. Those ese are loca, man.”
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“I don't want war,” said Caballo. “And if we had a vote, most the brothers
would say the same. It's stupid. We can't fight in the sun and all they have to
do is wait till daylight and set the place on fire.”
“La Eme are getting tired of Ozone too.” Freeway offered the glowing doobie
to me and when I declined, passed it to Caballo. “He has a plan for everything.
He forgets to consult anyone else.”
Caballo looked worried. He shook his head, inhaling deeply.
Freeway had always been wise in his alliances, I thought. If he was
worried and seeking to ally himself with Caballo and his friends, then things
must be shakier than they appeared even to me. “How many soldiers are loyal
to Ozone?” I asked him.
“I don't know, 'mano. I only know there's more recruits every day. I
brought fifty back from the border.”
“Were they willing or drafted?” I asked him.
His face acquired a sly expression. “They're willing now, mijo. And most
those…they don't know shit but that they need blood. They'll do whatever
Ozone tells them.”
“Because he's the source of the blood,” I said, thoughtfully.
“That's the way it is, 'mano,” said Freeway, philosophical. “Look at you.”
Yes, I thought. Look at me.
“Those men can't fight worth shit,” said Caballo. “I talked to one dude.
He's a farmer, man. He don't understand nothing here.”
“Put a gun in his hand he'll fight okay,” I said.
Freeway squinted at me through marijuana smoke. “And Ozone has a
shitload of guns, man. I should know, I ran them to him.”
“This ain't good,” said Caballo. “This ain't good at all.”
* * * * *
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As long as I didn't try to leave the “compound,” I seemed to have the run
of the place. We fucked and drank blood and watched others fuck and drink
blood. Time passed. Maybe two days, maybe more. I became lulled by the
cessation of need. Happily cosseted, fat and numb. I hardly thought about
Peter at all.
Fuck, who am I kidding? Every time I drank a carton of blood I thought of
him. Every time I shut my eyes. All I had to think about was an army of
vampires getting set to take over the city and the fact that the last time I'd seen
Peter he was ordering my ass to get out of town.
I hadn't had much time to compose, and there hadn't been much room on
the little scrap of paper I'd used, but I'd said what I could.
Held captive in a vampire en
clave. Stan will clarify. Miss you. Sorry. Love,
A.
As soon as Stan had pocketed the thing and disappeared out of the
compound, I'd started to worry about that last word. Now all I could do was
obsess over Peter's possible reaction.
In one of the bathrooms, I did find temporary distraction: a collection of
paperbacks, seeming all on the subject of vampires. I took a couple of them
back to the cubicle I shared with Caballo one night and when he came in from
wherever it was they went after sundown, he found me underlining and turning
over corners in a well-thumbed copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula.
“Mmm.” First his hands, then his hardened cock, pressed into my
backside. “What are you doing?”
“Reading.” I shifted. Caballo was stimulating my hole through the boxers I
wore and blood surged into my cock as he did so.
His mouth was cold and dry against the back of my neck. The rest of his
body gave off tremendous heat. I knew from experience, now, that we became
as hot as furnaces directly after “feeding” so Caballo must have eaten recently.
I hated to think where, or from whom.
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173
I also knew from experience that he wouldn't be able to think about
anything but getting his rocks off for at least half an hour, so I slid the book
under the pillow and rolled over, saving my questions until later. Caballo's
hungry tongue filled my mouth.
* * * * *
Later, sluicing off in the shower, I said, “We can't eat but we still need to
piss?” Caballo stood at the urinal doing exactly that. “Why is that?” I asked
him.
He shook his head. There was a full-length mirror above the urinals but
neither of our reflections showed in them. I could see the soap I held floating
around in the air and an occasional dollop of foam, seeming to manifest from
the steam before it slid to the tiles and vanished down the drain. “The doctor
might be able to tell you,” said Caballo, buttoning his 501's with agile fingers.
“I've been trying to talk to her, but I can't leave the front building,” I said.
