Night Vipers

by Carolina Mac

  Tyler shrugged. “The date don’t matter does it? It’s all the same.”

  “The date is significant, in that, we don’t have long to prepare if we’re going to trial,” said Simic, “but I’m hoping you decide against that option. In my opinion, we should try talking to the DA in Santa Fe right away and see what his feelings are. We may be able to resolve this quickly and easily.”

  “Like how easily?” asked Tyler. “You said last time I was here that you think I should plead guilty and take a lesser sentence.”

  “Exactly right. You were listening. I’m impressed.”

  “What if I don’t want to go to jail at all?” asked Tyler. “Then what do I do?”

  “Then you shouldn’t have tried to kill your wife.” Simic’s voice was flat and he wasn’t smiling.

  “I was drunk and in a bad mood, I guess,” said Tyler. “It just happened. I hardly remember it.”

  Simic snapped at him. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, Tyler. There were witnesses, one of them being a Texas Ranger.”

  Tension crackled through the air and Jesse jumped in. “What’s your best advice for my brother, Mr. Simic?”

  “We should make an appointment with the DA in Santa Fe and talk to him as soon as possible. Once they’ve started their trial prep, there’s less chance of them listening to me trying to plead him down to a lesser charge.”

  “Do you think there’s a chance of pleading him down to a simple assault?” asked Jesse.

  Simic shook his head. “Possibly aggravated assault. If they went for that we might end up with a fine, six months in jail and six months or a year of probation. That’s if we were extremely lucky.”

  “I’m good with a fine,” said Tyler. “Don’t care how much it is.”

  Jesse glared when he heard the flippancy in Tyler’s voice.

  What the hell is wrong with Tyler?

  “Shall we make an appointment and fly up there tomorrow or Monday?” asked Simic.

  Tyler glanced at Jesse. “What do you think?”

  “I think you should listen to your attorney. You’re paying him for good advice.”

  “Okay,” said Tyler. “Make the call.”

  “My secretary will arrange the meeting and she’ll advise you as soon as it’s set up.” Simic stood up signifying the end of the appointment.

  2:00 p.m.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  FARRELL booked Florin Moffatt, then secured him in a cell in the lockup area to wait for his attorney. The little roach wasn’t talking and claimed he didn’t know Roy. This was one of those—he said—he said—things. No way to prove who was lying.

  I have pictures of Roy’s injuries and a hospital report but no way to prove it was Moffatt.

  I’ll find another way.

  3:00 p.m.

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  ANNIE was busy in her office reading financial reports from the CEO at Powell Corp. when Warren Radway called.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Powell, and in answer to the message you left, yes, I have heard from the DA’s office in Santa Fe. The trial date for your husband has been set for the second week in February.”

  “Thanks for letting me know,” said Annie. “Do you think it will go to trial?”

  “A colleague in the Santa Fe office informed me that Mr. Quantrall and his attorney have an appointment tomorrow at two o’clock to talk about pleading down to a lesser charge.”

  “Uh huh.” Annie’s heart pounded and she inhaled a gulp of oxygen. “I don’t want that to happen.”

  “I don’t know how you can stop it from happening, Mrs. Powell. Your husband has the right to try every legal avenue open to him.”

  “Okay, thanks, Warren. We’ll talk soon.”

  Annie called the airport and booked a flight. Then she put on a jacket and walked towards the barn.

  6:00 p.m.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  BLAINE and Farrell sat in the Chief’s office and went over the three Walmart parking lot layouts and the placement of manpower for the take-down of the Cobras. The rest of the crew were hyped and ready to go, putting in the wait time drinking coffee in the break room.

  “I rounded up as many bodies as I could spare,” said the Chief, “and the take-down boys will be on the clubhouse—no problem there.”

  “Don’t know how many Cobras will be in the clubhouse,” said Farrell, “because I don’t know how many members total are in the club. Ortiz in the gang squad told me the Cobras were on the small side. Maybe fifty members and growing, but that number might not have been up to date.”

  “And you’ve eliminated a few since then,” said the Chief. “Dead and injured, maybe ten or twelve out of the picture.”

  Farrell nodded. “Annie helped me out a couple of nights.”

  The Chief smiled.

  8:00 p.m.

  Santa Fe. New Mexico.

  ANNIE and Luc rented a Jeep in the airport terminal and drove to Mill Antiques. She parked out front in her designated spot and they climbed the outside staircase to her apartment above the store.

  “I’m happy you do this, cher. It’s the right thing for you and makes me more calm in here.” He pointed at his heart.

  Annie smiled.

  “Let’s ditch our luggage and walk across the road for dinner and a couple of cold ones.”

  “Oui.”

  8:45 p.m.

  Walmart Plaza. Southeast Austin.

  BLAINE was in position along with everybody else on the team and they were ready for action. Chief Calhoun and Travis were with Blaine in his truck. Earbuds and mics for communication. Vests and weapons. All they had to do was wait until the gang showed up and take them down.

  The waiting was the worst part.

  His cell rang and the sound of it ripped through the tension in the air. He let go the breath he was holding and answered. “Hi, Kim.”

  “Hi, yourself. Are you okay? You sound stressed.”

  “Umm… waiting in a parking lot for… something.”

  Kim giggled. “That’s vague. And you can’t talk right now?”

  “I’m with Chief Calhoun.”

  “Police business. Okay, I’ll let you get back to it.”

  “Call you tomorrow. I promise.”

  Calhoun grinned. “You blaming me for neglecting your girlfriend?”

  Blaine chuckled. “Yeah. Like that.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Friday, January 20th.

  12:15 a.m.

  Night Shift.

  Walmart Plaza. Southeast Austin.

  THE wait time for the Cobras had been so long, the men were beginning to tire and starting to lose their focus. Darkness had fallen and with the onset of night had come a cold wind, but no rain so far.

  Blaine and the Chief sat in Blaine’s truck, drowning in strong coffee. The overhead security lights dotted throughout the parking area had come on and from their position they had a clear visual of the front of the store.

  Shoppers were coming and going and no Harley rumblings to interrupt—business as usual so far. Blaine checked every few minutes with the other locations and they were the same. No action.

  “Think the boys might have picked up false information?” asked Calhoun.

  Blaine shrugged. “Could be, but I don’t think the Cobras had any idea the clubhouse was tagged. Sweeping before every meeting is pretty much the norm for all clubs and once that’s done they feel pretty secure. My boys are better than that. The gangers wouldn’t find the tag.”

  Farrell spoke in Blaine’s ear so suddenly, he jumped. “We got company.”

  “Good,” said Blaine, “we’re ready here too.”

  12:30 a.m.

  Rollingwood Area. Austin.

  FARRELL alerted his team and it was a go. He spoke into his mic. “We’ve got six riders entering the parking area. Make sure they’re wearing the Cobra cut before you make a move on them.”

  “Copy that,” said Luke. “Yep, they just passed
my position and that’s affirmative. The snakes are here.”

  “Everybody move in,” said Farrell. “Don’t give them a chance to park and get off their bikes. Surround them and take them down.”

  Farrell and Carlos rolled out from behind the dumpster where they were hiding and roared between the rows of parked cars. The Cobras had entered the parking lot from the other side of the building that Luke and Fletcher were watching.

  Billy and Cody caught up and between the six of them they squeezed the gangers between two rows of parked vehicles.

  Farrell levelled a shotgun at the six riders in front of him and hollered, “Throw down your weapons and get off the bikes. Down on your knees and put your hands on your heads. “Do it now.”

  It took a minute for the six Cobras to realize they were surrounded and there was no way out for them. They tossed an assortment of guns and knives onto the pavement, got off their bikes and followed Farrell’s instructions—dropped to their knees and put their hands on their heads. They knew the drill. They’d probably been arrested before.

  “We ain’t done nothing,” hollered one.

  “Yeah, and you ain’t gonna do nothing tonight,” said Farrell. “Carlos, call for the bus. Billy and Cody, get these guys cuffed. “Lukey, you and Fletch search the saddlebags and see what you come up with. Bag it all.”

  “Copy that, boss,” said Luke.

  BLAINE heard the rumble in the distance as he listened to Farrell talk to the crew at the other location. Farrell said, “All done here, bro. Waiting on the bus to take them in. No shots fired.”

  “Fantastic, call for a flatbed for their bikes.”

  “Copy that.”

  From his vantage point, Blaine watched four bikes turn off the main road into the parking lot and following close behind the bikes were a black SUV and a white windowless van that looked like a rental.

  Blaine eyed the van and said, “Shit, Chief, how many girls are they hoping to get?”

  The Chief shook his head. “They’re prepared for more than two or three. I wonder if Georgie is with this bunch?”

  “Let’s go find out,” said Travis.

  Blaine had his hand on the gearshift when Farrell spoke in his ear and startled him.

  “Sending help your way.”

  “Copy that,” said Blaine. He cranked up the big diesel and roared down the row following the bikers. The Cobras had parked close enough to the store entrance that they could see people going in and coming out.

  They’d pick young girls in pairs or in threes—always girls alone with no adult or male—and follow them to their vehicles. When no other shoppers were looking, they’d scoop them into a vehicle and be gone—elapsed time—a couple of minutes.

  Blaine found a spot two rows over and using the row of parked vehicles for cover, hopped out of the truck and moved closer. In the two or three minutes that had passed, the gangers were already following two young girls down one of the rows.

  “Travis, go around and get behind them.”

  Travis nodded, reversed direction and jogged a couple of rows past where the gangers were headed.

  Not noticing the gangers behind them, the girls reached their vehicle—a lime green Kia—talking and laughing and holding tight to their shopping bags. The four Cobras closed in and physically grabbed the girls.

  The girls screamed, dropped their bags and tried to fight off the punks who had hold of them. Blaine and Travis moved in on the run with weapons drawn.

  “Let go of the girls,” Blaine hollered. “Do it now.”

  One of the Cobras laughed. “We ain’t letting these ones go. We got orders.”

  Travis closed in from behind, his Sig in his hand. “Let them go. Get down on your knees, hands on your heads.”

  “Can’t do it. Boss is here testing us.”

  “You’d rather die than disappoint your boss?” asked Blaine.

  “Guess so.”

  Billy and Cody came roaring in on their bikes at that moment, saw the little cluster between the rows and followed the action.

  And they weren’t the only ones joining in. Georgie Deleon and his new right hand got out of the black SUV with the tinted windows and sauntered towards the group.

  “Get away from my boys, Super. You be sorry.” He flicked the release on the knife in his hand and the blade snapped out with a click.

  That’s all Blaine needed. He pulled the trigger.

  Bang.

  Georgie Deleon’s brains splattered all over the new VP standing next to him and decorated the windshield of a silver Lexus in the row behind them.

  Blaine turned to the four who wouldn’t let go of the girls and said, “Okay, who’s next?”

  Seeing their esteemed leader lying on the asphalt with half his head missing, they raised their hands and didn’t put up a fight.

  Travis, Billy and Cody cuffed the gangers and sat them on the pavement while they waited for the bus to transport them to headquarters.

  When that was done, Blaine left Billy watching the prisoners and sent Travis and Cody one row over to the SUV Georgie Deleon had arrived in and the white van parked next to it. “Anybody in those two vehicles, arrest them as accessories and send them in the bus to the lockup with the rest,” said Blaine.”

  “Copy that,” said Cody.

  While they waited for the medical examiner to arrive for Deleon’s corpse, Blaine and the Chief took statements from the girls, wrote down their contact information, and sent them home.

  The Chief ambled over when Doctor Simon came to process the body. “Evening, Mort. Hope we didn’t interrupt your sleep.”

  “Stuff it, Randy,” said the doc and the Chief had a good laugh.

  The Chief’s cell rang, and he stepped away to answer. He tuned to Blaine and said, the take-down team arrested everybody in the clubhouse, and the third Walmart was a bust.”

  “Maybe they intended to go there after this one,” said Blaine. “Don’t matter. I think we got them all.”

  “Good job, son. You can drop me at home. It’s past my bedtime.”

  4:00 a.m.

  IHOP. Austin.

  AFTER Blaine dropped the Chief off, he took the crew to the IHOP for breakfast before they headed home to sleep. Always after a big bust, they were hyped, and caffeine would only add to it. Didn’t matter. Blaine was happy when his men were happy.

  “Thanks for the call,” said Travis. “Didn’t know what the hell I was going to do until Monday. Appreciate being part of the take-down.”

  “When I talked to you this morning, I didn’t even know we were doing this,” said Blaine. “Good to have you back, Travis.”

  A tired looking server stood next to the table and took all their orders and refilled their coffee cups.

  “Lots of paperwork to do tomorrow, guys,” said Blaine. “Get it out of the way before the weekend. We’ve got heavy shit coming our way next week.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Friday, January 20th.

  7:00 a.m.

  Mill Antiques. Santa Fe. New Mexico.

  ANNIE rolled over and took Luc in her arms. Short on words, but not short on his love for her, they’d always been together in a way, from the first day she’d rescued him and his brother, Marc, in Bridge City.

  Luc had never wanted anyone to know about them—she was the boss, rich, powerful and gorgeous—and he was nothing—not in Annie’s eyes, but in the way he thought about himself. Raised in the bayou, Luc was people-shy and backward in his ways. He and his brother Marc were talented musicians, but neither one of them had ever read a note or been given a lesson. They spoke Cajun French and struggled with everyday English. They worked hard on the ranch and considered Coulter-Ross their home.

  He’d always stayed in the background, all through Annie’s marriages and the ups and downs of her life, because that’s the way he’d wanted it. He felt differently now. Maybe maturity had hit him in his late twenties, maybe not, but it was time for them to be together.

  “What time is the a
ppointment, cher?”

  “Not yet. It’s early.”

  “I love to be here with you.”

  “I have business. Will you be bored waiting for me?”

  “Non. While I wait, I make a song in my head.”

  Annie smiled. “Marc will be happy if you write a new song.” She stroked his hair and sat on the side of the bed. “I’ll make coffee, then I have to shower and get dressed.”

  Luc nodded and pushed back the covers. Tall, strong and tanned, his coppery skin glistened in the morning sun as he reached for his boxers. He followed Annie to the kitchen, sat down at the little wooden table and watched her make the coffee.

  “I’ll run across to the deli and get us something for breakfast. I don’t have any food here.”

  “I go while you take your shower, cher. Tell me what you want.”

  “Just a bagel with cream cheese. You get whatever you want. They have excellent baked goods there.”

  8:00 a.m.

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  Day Shift.

  BLAINE started the meeting by tapping the end of his pen on his yellow pad. That meant ‘shut up and listen’ and the boys usually did. “Lil will be meeting with the State Comptroller this morning to see what she can find out about Theriault’s role in the management of State funds. Rob will go with her.”

  Rob nodded.

  “Lukey and Fletch will handle paperwork until Travis and I pay a visit to the traffickers’ place of business. After that, they may have surveillance to do. Depends how our visit goes.”

  Travis grinned.

  “And as y’all can see, Travis is back with us on the day shift because he got his ass fired from his cushy job at Coulter-Ross.”

  Travis flushed a little and stared at his coffee mug.

  “Jesse is in Santa Fe today, but as soon as he gets back, he’ll start questioning the Cobras one by one to see if any of them will spill what they know about the connection to the sex traffickers. That may take him well into next week, but I’m thinking with the threat of Deleon removed, the younger gangers might want to get out of jail and start over.”