by Nico Rosso
The closer they drove to the lake, the more nervous Grant became. He shifted from one side of the car to the other to look out the window, and checked his phone every minute. She was sure there were no pursuers, on the road or in the air, but he still bent his neck to watch the sky for a mile. She tried to keep his manic energy from creeping into her. If he was headed for real trouble, it could be bad for her, as well. The Syndicate wouldn’t think twice about erasing a driver if they were willing to rub out one of their own. Her pistol remained close at her back.
She reassured herself with the idea that if they really wanted to make Grant disappear, they wouldn’t go through the trouble of having a day’s worth of meetings first. Unless they needed to debrief him for all his info before they didn’t need him anymore.
Grant’s tight voice announced, “Coming up on the left.” She pulled onto a country road that cut along a high hill. Below, the lake shined like polished steel under the gray clouds. Winter had tightened the land with cold, but the snow hadn’t arrived yet.
The properties spread out with acres between them. She turned off the road and onto a long paved driveway that snaked higher. They cleared a stand of pine trees and were presented by a three-story house built into the side of the hill. Clean glass, blond wood and polished concrete came together in modern angles that overlooked the lake and mountains beyond.
She pulled into a circular parking area at the second level of the house and came to a stop among three SUVs and one other sedan, each one with a driver standing nearby. “We’re a little early,” she told Grant.
He smiled, but it didn’t last. “Early is on time for these guys. Good job.” She saw the nerves still rattling him and fought to maintain her own calm. Without another word, he stepped out of the car and walked to the house. A white man in a suit inside the house opened the door for him and then he disappeared.
Brisk mountain air filled the car through the open side door. The chill needled her exposed skin, but the freshness was welcome. She got out of the car and moved around the side to close the passenger door. Each step released the scent of pine from dry needles under her boots.
It would’ve been a beautiful spot, except for the hard stares from the four other drivers. Three white men and one black man, all under the age of thirty-five and filling out their casual-yet-pressed clothes with able muscles. She could see from the way their arms hung that they were all concealing weapons. Pistols, at least. One of the men could’ve fit a submachine gun under his coat.
She gazed back at them. Not enough to challenge, but to state that she was not intimidated and belonged there as much as they did. The silent communication lasted only that long. The men turned back to their individual meditations, leaning against the sides or tailgates of their cars. She suppressed a secret laugh. These men wouldn’t be acting so casual if they really knew who she was. Hell, some of them might’ve been shooting at her not that long ago in an expensive San Jose neighborhood. Her face had remained hidden during that operation. After this, everyone would know. But that was just fine. She looked forward to the time when Seventh Syndicate men panicked every time they saw her coming.
Just like her first ancestor to come to California, she stood with a stick of dynamite in one hand and a match in the other. It was just a matter of time and opportunity until she lit the fuse.
Before she could blast it all apart, she spent her time imprinting the cars and men on her memory. The house’s location was recorded and put to the top of the list. Pictures would’ve been gold, but she knew taking her phone out now, even to look like she was casually bored, would spark suspicion. There were two trash cans at the edge of the driveway she was dying to dig through for more details, but she would have to leave that work to the bears and raccoons in the area.
She made her face a neutral mask and leaned on the front fender of the sedan to stare down at the lake. But she kept all the men in her peripheral vision. The house had a broad porch on the top floor. If anyone came out there to get a shot at her, she’d see them coming and could duck into the trees at the edge of the driveway. That cover would give her the best chance of surviving a pursuit. Sunset wasn’t for a couple hours, so she couldn’t rely on darkness hiding her. She’d have to fight her way off this hill.
More time passed. Boredom slouched the postures of the other drivers. A couple of them smoked. One did push-ups on the side of his car. She picked up a dry twig and rolled it between her fingers. Flaking bark made a landscape across the surface, tiny topography that she traced and discovered. If she’d been alone she would’ve used her knife to whittle one end into a point. But she didn’t really want to be alone up on this hill. This was a view to be shared. What would Arash think about it? She knew he’d driven the mountain pass, but she wasn’t sure if he’d ever ventured into the wilderness.
The front door of the house opened and all the drivers, including her, snapped alert. She dropped the stick and moved to stand by the rear passenger door. The first man out of the house was tall and white, with a fringe of hair around his mostly bald head. She didn’t recognize him, but memorized the pattern of gold rings on his fingers. He stooped into one of the SUVs and that driver whisked him off the property.
Grant was the second one out of the house. She was desperate to see the others who emerged, but she had to do her job and opened the car door for him. He was quickly into his seat and staring forward, ready to go. She got behind the wheel, feeling how his dour energy had transformed to his old upbeat self. Once they were away from the house and on the drive to the side road, he leaned forward with that smarmy grin. “There’s a really nice hotel here with incredible views of the lake. What do you say we go?”
“I can get you there and wait in the car.” She remained all business.
“Harsh.” He sat back and pulled out his phone. “It’s not just about me, you know. I’d give you a great time. A great time. Understand? Like you’d want to come back.”
“I’d be happy to come back, if you ever need a driver again.” He was on the edge of aggression and she had to tread carefully. “It’s what I’m best at.”
After grumbling, “We could change that,” he stared out the window. The sun sank below the clouds to skip along the peaks of the mountains. Gold light flickered against a deep black void. Stephanie navigated onto the highway north and Grant spoke up with another address. She put it in her nav and her memory.
The clouds lit on fire, then darkness took over the land as she and Grant slipped back toward Reno. Traffic thickened. At night, the cars were reduced to their headlights, forcing her to be extra diligent about tracking any potential tails. She maneuvered through the city while Grant remained quiet behind her. Spending the day on edge had burned through her energy and she rallied to stay alert. Dinner would help, but she had no idea what was next, or how long she’d have to pretend that she didn’t want to wring Grant’s neck until he gave up all the information on human trafficking.
They reached their destination and she moved the address lower on her mental list. It was a strip club. A wide, cracked parking lot spread in front of the low building. Flashing yellow lights surrounded the sign. The Gold Rush. The same lights lined the underside of the awning, drawing men to the front door. There was a decent flow of patrons, but not enough to facilitate a bouncer outside the front door. She imagined that the cover was taken and IDs checked just inside.
“Want to see the show?” Grant flashed a roll of cash from his jacket pocket. “I’ll cover your door charge, but I won’t pay for any of your lap dances.”
“I’d hate to cheat on my favorite ladies up in North Beach.” A night watching her friends dance would definitely beat another second spent with Grant. “Another time. Thanks.”
He clicked his tongue and shook his head with disappointment. “At least you’re a good driver. Stick close.” With a heavy sigh, he swept from the car. A few steps across the parking lot and his postur
e changed, bouncing higher with excitement.
The steel bands across her chest lifted when Grant disappeared into the club. She breathed and turned the ring on her finger. Of course there was a pay phone on the side of the strip club, but because she didn’t know how long Grant would be, she couldn’t risk getting caught on it.
She busied herself with her cell phone. No messages from Olesk. She tightened again, not knowing what was happening on the compound to the north. They were supposed to be working on the vans, but from the way Arash was sparking off of Thom, things could be very bloody by now.
The layout of Reno and the territory north was familiar enough to her now that she could speed back to the compound without looking at directions. But was she needed there? Arash wanted to join the gang, even if she didn’t want to believe he fit in there. He didn’t back down from Thom, but Arash seemed too smart to push things too far and jeopardize his position in the STR.
Scrolling through the false social media accounts she saw more mentions of peaches. She had so much to tell Frontier Justice. There was another access point in a fan fiction chat board where they used coded language, but even that was closed to her responding to her teammates until she could get a phone with no trace.
The wad of cash Grant had shown her could keep him in the club for hours. With the sun down, she lost track of the progress of time. The artificial flashing yellow lights continued. It could be three in the morning or nine o’clock at night. The parking lot grew busier. Her watch told her it was just after six in the evening.
But it was late enough for the three men nearing her car to be weaving on drunken legs. They were white, with gym bodies and expensive sneakers. Extra loud laughs barked into the night, interspersed with joking insults. They jostled each other and staggered when knocked into. One of them, wearing a throwback football jersey for a long-retired player from a team in another state, was quick to punch the others in the shoulder whenever they touched him. His friend in the leather jacket brushed off the blows, but the man in the quilted puffer set his jaw and made a fist at the football jersey guy.
Football jersey guy lunged like he was coming after the man in the puffer, making him flinch and stumble backward into Stephanie’s car. The other two men laughed mockingly. She took a long breath to stay steady. When Puffer Jacket saw the car was occupied, he put his hands out. “Sorry, sorry,” he slurred. His eyes widened when he really looked at her. “Let me make sure I didn’t dent anything.”
“It’s no problem.” She waved him off. “You guys have a great evening.”
“We can’t just leave you out here alone. We’ll walk you to the door.” Football Jersey stepped closer to her closed window.
“I’m staying right where I am, thanks.” After this day with Grant, her patience was as thin as a garrote.
Leather Jacket spoke up. “You’re not dancing tonight?”
“Not tonight, sorry.” All three men now crowded next to her door. “But there are plenty of lovely ladies just inside.”
Puffer Jacket propped his elbow on the roof of the car. “None of them are going to be as pretty as you.” He smiled like he was the nicest guy in the world.
“What about a private dance?” Football Jersey dug a stack of bills from his front pocket. “I’ll pay for it.”
“My boss wouldn’t like that.” She tried to keep her voice firm and even. “I’m already on the clock.” Flashing her pistol was an option, but these fools would probably be so pissed by her rejection that they’d tell whoever was running security inside.
Leather Jacket waved off her words. “We won’t tell him. It’ll be your side hustle and you’ll make some cash.” He, too, had a handful of bills. Mostly ones. She also spotted a folding knife clipped to the interior of his jeans’ pocket. “Dance out here. I can beatbox.”
“Yeah!” Puffer Jacket lit up like he loved the idea. “He’ll beatbox.”
The three men would not let up. Football Jersey knocked on the window slowly. “Fine. Don’t do it for the cash. Do it to get back at Daddy. You all have daddy issues, right?”
She threw the door open, slamming its edge into the side of Puffer Jacket’s face. He reeled to the side and knocked into Football Jersey. The two men stumbled far enough that she could open the door completely and step out to face the man in the leather jacket.
Shock quickly turned to rage on his face. “What the hell is your problem, you psycho bi—” She stopped his last word with a slap across his face. He winced and blinked, surprised. Then he made a fist and swung at her.
She sidestepped and kicked him quickly in the shin, then the side of the knee. He buckled to the ground with a yelp. By then, Football Jersey had righted himself and came at her, arms outstretched like he was going to wrap her up.
Ducking under his attempt, she drove the heel of her hand up beneath his chin. Her body shook with the impact against the larger man. His head snapped back and his momentum carried him into the side of Grant’s sedan. Football Jersey coughed and braced himself on the fender. She slid close and jabbed her fist quickly into his armpit. He screamed out and his arm locked to his side.
While spinning to see if either of the other men were coming, she felt the cell phone in the back pocket of Football Jersey’s jeans. She wanted it, but she had to wait as Puffer Jacket leaped at her, shoulder first. He still held a hand over his forehead where the car door had opened a small cut. She released all the tension that had been building throughout the day in a whipping kick that caught him in the stomach. Gasping, he lurched forward and all his momentum carried him into Football Jersey’s back.
She was thrown off balance by the kick and skidded sideways next to the two men. She gathered herself enough to grab Football Jersey’s phone and slip it into her jacket pocket before separating from them and letting the two tangle to the ground.
Leather Jacket watched his friends go down with red, watery eyes. That hateful gaze snapped to her and he came on strong, despite the limp. She tried to reposition herself to avoid the attack, but Football Jersey reached out and grabbed her ankle.
A fist from Leather Jacket flew close and she could only lean to get away. The blow grazed her shoulder, adding to the anger that boiled through her from being gripped by Football Jersey. She twisted, throwing her elbow into Leather Jacket’s jaw. He hit the ground hard, barely conscious.
She gritted her teeth, raised her free foot up and smashed the heel of her boot down on Football Jersey’s wrist. Bones broke and he screamed. Puffer Jacket kicked away from Football Jersey and rose to his feet on wobbly legs. He sneered and pulled the folding knife from his pocket. The blade flicked out and glinted in the flashing yellow lights of the strip club.
The man was reckless, weaving the knife back and forth in front of him as if it intimidated her. She channeled her emotions to focus on the danger before her. He was a few paces away; she could time his attack if she had to. She smiled with malice and drew her own knife. A push of a lever brought the spring-loaded blade out the front with a secure snap.
The fight drained out of the man and he lowered his knife while staring at hers.
“I thought you wanted to dance.” She took a step toward him.
He bolted without a second glance at his friends on the ground. She retracted the blade on her knife and held it in a shaking hand. Adrenaline bounced with electric-white flares through her. A figure walked toward her across the parking lot, silhouetted against the flashing lights. She prepared herself for another conflict.
But it was Grant, grinning like he’d just won a prize. “You told me you just drove.”
“For money,” she explained. She moved to the rear of the car and opened the door for him. He got in and she stepped around Football Jersey and Leather Jacket to climb back behind the wheel. “I did this for free.”
Grant chuckled and craned his neck to look down at the fallen men. “I wish I’d seen the w
hole thing.” Relief threaded through her. He probably hadn’t seen her pocket Football Jersey’s phone. “Get us out of here. Your day’s done. We’re meeting Olesk back at the garage.” He leaned forward with a business card between his fingers. She took it and put it in her jacket without looking. Grant asked, “You ever hear of the Seventh Syndicate?”
“I have,” she responded evenly. They were the bastards she wanted.
“When you outgrow Olesk, which should be soon...” Grant sat back and spread his arms out along the top edge of the seat. “Give me a call for some real work.”
She patted her pocket and saluted him with a nod. “Thank you.” He smiled with self-satisfaction and stared out into the city night as they pulled out of the parking lot. But she knew he wouldn’t be grinning smugly if he knew the stolen cell phone was in her other pocket, and that she was one step closer to lighting the fuse.
Chapter Eleven
They were losing their light and Arash was losing his patience. After finalizing the cages for human cargo in the vans, they’d moved on to modifying the engines. The excitement and satisfaction he usually felt while upgrading a car was completely bleached away by the intent behind these builds. Hector, Thom and Ellie didn’t seem to care, and it was insane. Every time Arash had to go inside the vans, or even look into the cargo area, he imagined the terror of whoever was going to be trapped in there.
Marcos’s conscience got him killed. Arash suppressed his disgust and anger to act like he was just in it for the money. But by doing that, he was only building pressure inside himself, and he knew he would crack.
He installed an aftermarket air intake kit on one of the vans while Hector and Thom wrapped up their work doing the same on the other. The sun split the clouds for one minute of relief, then fell behind the mountains. A whole day had passed and Stephanie hadn’t returned. Not knowing where she was or what was happening with her amplified his edginess. Ellie hadn’t relayed any information. It was as if Stephanie had never existed. He kept eyeing the cars and motorcycles scattered around the compound. Any of them could speed him into the city to search for her. But Arash was trapped in the growing darkness, as if it was him chained to the bench seat in the van. His work light cast hard shadows, making him shift constantly to inspect his work.
