Hard Time - Debt Collector 8 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  She set her knife and fork down and took a sip of her drink.

  “I didn’t know about that. I swear. Eddie never mentioned it.”

  Eddie never mentioned it?

  She continued. “Listen, I know you’re angry. You have every right. I would be. I don’t expect you to understand or accept what I did back then, but you have to know, Jack, I was a very different person. Beatings were an everyday occurrence. I only had two options. Kill him or leave him. I knew if I left with you both he would have found me, so Eddie helped me to leave. He said he would watch out for you both.”

  Jack leaned back in his seat and frowned. Eddie hadn’t told him that. He studied her face looking for cracks in her demeanor but there were none.

  “Eddie knew all along?”

  She nodded.

  “He knew where you were?”

  “There wasn’t a day that went by I didn’t think about you or your sister.”

  Jack snorted. “Ah, isn’t that lovely. Well your good thoughts went to waste because they didn’t do us any good.” Jack shoved his plate away. He’d just lost his appetite. “And as for watching over us. Yeah, Eddie did that but not even he could be there for every beating.”

  “Jack, I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me now but…”

  Jack could feel his blood boiling inside him. He was used to dealing with difficult situations but this… this was right off the deep end. Liz nodded and attempted to reach over and touch his hand. Jack pulled it back. “Don’t.”

  She pulled her hand away and continued to eat.

  “How about you start by telling me where the hell you’ve been all these years and why after all this time you have decided to show your face.” Jack cast a fiery glance at Dalton. “Or let me guess, you’ve found God and this is some means of making amends?”

  “Jack,” Dalton interjected.

  “You’ve got a brother, Jack,” Liz blurted out.

  He looked at her and a smile danced on his lips. “Well isn’t that something. I assume he wasn’t just born yesterday by the looks of you. So do tell. Why did you feel the need to tell me now? Or did my brother talk you into it?”

  “Actually, he did. Somewhat.”

  Jack shook his head. “I figured you wouldn’t have been here of your own volition.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “No? Then how is it?”

  She glanced at Dalton and Jack followed her gaze. “Why do I get the sense you have known each other longer than three weeks?”

  Dalton put his drink down, pursed his lips and answered him. “I’ve known Liz for over fourteen years.”

  Jack ran a hand over his face. The revelations just kept coming. “Oh, now how about that. More secrets. More lies. And you call yourself a minister?”

  “I’m not exactly a minister.”

  “But you sell people on God, do you not?”

  “It’s part of my job. I never created the program at the mission.”

  Jack put his fork down and contemplated leaving. He was tired of listening to lies.

  “If it’s any consolation, John didn’t know I was your mother until recently.”

  “How recent?”

  She paused before replying, “A year ago.”

  Jack snorted and picked at the tablecloth.

  “I saw the news about Sheng Ping, and several other details that mentioned your name in the paper.”

  Dalton interjected. “She came by, asking a lot of questions. I said nothing, Jack, but when she showed me,” he motioned to the package in front of him. “Well, she asked me to not say anything to you.”

  He nodded unsure of what to believe.

  “So does my brother have a name?”

  “Noah.”

  “How old?”

  “Thirty-eight.”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a crinkled photo. She slipped it across the table. It was a photo of Liz and another man, a man that looked very similar to Jack in the face. Whereas Jack was six foot, muscular and had a thick head of hair, Noah had the height but not the build. He was thin as if he had neglected his body. He didn’t look unhealthy but he also didn’t look like he had a gym membership.

  “And where is he?”

  She hesitated before replying. “Honduras. Noah is in prison, Jack.”

  Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose and stifled a laugh. He couldn’t help find that amusing. “Good to see he’s following in his brother’s footsteps.”

  She didn’t look as if she found it funny.

  “And?”

  “Noah was on a missions trip.”

  He chuckled. “A missions trip? Okay, scratch the part about following in my footsteps.”

  Dalton rolled his eyes and took a hard chug on his bottle of beer. There was silence for a minute or two as if everyone was contemplating what to say next.

  “Anyway, he went down there with a group of friends and hooked up with some missions organization trying to make a difference.”

  Jack interrupted. “Make a difference. Man, has that line led people down the wrong road. But please go ahead.”

  Liz looked at Dalton as if trying to get guidance for whether to continue. He motioned to her and then glared at Jack.

  “Anyway, he was meant to return over three weeks ago.”

  “Ah, hence the reason you got in contact three weeks ago.” He motioned with a nod to Dalton. “So you weren’t lying,” Jack said with a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. “Continue.”

  “They have him in on some charge of attempting to leave Honduras with cocaine.”

  Jack stifled a laugh. “And you don’t think your boy loves to snort a little, right?”

  “Jack,” Dalton said in a manner that a close friend might if someone had overstepped the line.

  “Don’t Jack me. What the hell has that got to do with me? We all make choices. Hell, I’ve made some real doozies. In fact, I could tell you a few stories that would add more gray hairs to your head.”

  “They’re going to kill him.”

  “What, for drug trafficking? Come on. He’ll be out in no time with a good lawyer. And that can be sped up by flashing some green. I’m sure you have money stashed away, right?”

  Both of them looked at him.

  “What? You want me to bail him out? I mean I have money but not that much, and I don’t think it’s going cut it down there. The government is corrupt.”

  “I don’t want you to bail him out. I want you to get him out.”

  Jack laughed, leaning back in his chair. “And how do you suppose I do that?”

  There was silence between the two of them and then it sank in.

  Jack narrowed his eyes, and cleared his throat. “You want me to help him escape?”

  Four - Gambler’s Heart

  Fifteen minutes later, Jack entered a hotel. He left them slack-jawed and staring out an open front door. After hearing what his mother had in mind, he didn’t even let her finish the conversation. It was ludicrous. He upped and left without even thanking Dalton. He might be stupid enough to take on dangerous jobs for clients but breaking people out of prison was where he drew the line. The thought of going anywhere near a U.S. prison was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat but Danlí, the toughest prison in Honduras? That had him running for the hills.

  No amount of money could convince him.

  Nope, whatever his brother had got himself into, he would have to fix that shit himself. Dalton had tried to persuade him to stay at his home, but he needed his space. His mind was in overdrive and the last thing he wanted was to have him droning in his ear about families sticking together. Where was she when he needed her?

  He planned on booking into the DoubleTree in the downtown. It was a short walk from Dalton’s place. He could have stayed at any hotel but after his first visit he thought an upgrade was in order. The moment he entered the warm lobby, the staff on duty and guests stared at him as if he would steal or cause trouble.

&n
bsp; “I need a room for the night.”

  The gentleman behind the desk eyed him over the rim of his glasses. “Let me check that for you, sir.”

  He tapped away on his keyboard then made a face.

  “Um, I’m afraid we are all booked up. Sorry.”

  Jack shook his head. “Come on, you must have one room.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Right, well, I’ll just take a seat over here and wait until someone cancels or leaves.”

  Jack strolled towards an upscale restaurant. In the reception area, everything was gleaming. His eyes scanned the highly polished floors, granite counters and gold-trimmed luggage carts. No money had been spared.

  “Um, sir, you can’t go in there. Only guests.”

  Jack ignored him and entered the restaurant and made a beeline for the bar. A hot girl dressed in a waistcoat and white shirt was cleaning glasses when he approached.

  “A double bourbon.”

  The concierge caught up with him. “Excuse me, sir. I will need you to vacate the premises.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is for guests only.”

  Jack took a seat on a bar stool and turned his back to him. “Well, I will be a guest, real soon.”

  He straightened himself, trying to appear bigger than he was. “Look, I don’t want to call security.”

  “Security?” Jack turned and fished out a bunch of money. “How much do you need? Is this enough?” He tossed down four hundred-dollar bills. By the look on his face even the sight of money would not convince this guy. “What, my money not green enough?”

  He caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the bottles of spirits. Sure, he looked as though he’d been dragged through a bush backwards. His hair was in a state, his beard out of control and he hadn’t changed his shirt in three days. There was still a mustard stain on the lapel.

  “Listen, I’m asking you to leave.”

  “And I’m asking you to fuck off.”

  With that said, the man walked away and Jack tapped the bar with his knuckles. “Let’s get that drink.”

  The bartender looked hesitant but not wanting to knock heads, she pulled over a shot glass and filled it. Jack was about to scoop it up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked ahead in the mirror and saw a beefy security guard.

  “Okay, fella, time to head out.”

  “Sure, let me have my drink.”

  “No, it’s time to leave.”

  Jack picked it up and tossed it back, he shrugged the man’s hand off his shoulder and then asked the lady to fill it up again.

  “I said it’s time to leave.”

  Now on any other day, under any other conditions he would have obliged but he was in no mood for dealing with a snooty concierge or a wannabe officer.

  “Give me ten minutes and I’ll head out.”

  He placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder and in one smooth motion, Jack spun and locked his arm around the security guard’s back causing him to lean forward in pain. He could have kicked his feet out from underneath him but in the position he had him in, it wasn’t required. He wasn’t looking to disable the guy, just keep him at arm’s length.

  The concierge tried to intervene. “I’m calling the cops.”

  “No need. He’s with me.”

  Right then, across the room came the familiar voice of his mother. She was standing at the entrance to the restaurant.

  “Ma’am, I must—”

  “I have a room and he’s a guest. I apologize, he lost his father today.”

  Jack’s eyebrow shot up and he released his grip on the guard and let him slip down to the ground. The concierge’s eyes darted back and forth between them, unsure of what to say or do.

  Liz walked over and handed the clerk a hundred-dollar bill. “For your trouble.”

  He looked as if he was about to say something but instead just observed as she took a hold of Jack’s arm and guided him away.

  “Come on, son, let’s go.”

  Regardless of how he felt about her, he was grateful that she stepped in when she had. At the rate he was going he was liable to end up seeing the inside of a jail cell. As they exited the internal restaurant she led him outside the hotel.

  “I thought you bought a room?”

  “I lied,” she said.

  He shook his head.

  “Where we going?”

  “You need a place for the evening, right?”

  Several pedestrians walked by them, a cab pulled up and asked them if they needed a ride. Liz waved the cabbie away.

  “I can find my own room.”

  “I’m sure you can but I don’t live far from here and well, I think there are a few things you might want to see before you write me off.”

  They walked a short distance to a paid parking lot and approached a black BMW sedan. It looked brand-new. She eyed him checking it out as she got in the driver’s side. The interior was leather and it was kitted out with all the typical features to be found in the high-priced 7 Series model.

  They drove for about thirty minutes to the west side of L.A. to a place called Pacific Palisades. It was an affluent neighborhood close to Santa Monica State Beach. As they pulled up to the breathtaking property, he wondered what his mother did for a living. The three-story home with balconies on every level looked as if it was made for a large family or someone extremely wealthy. She pressed a button on a device attached to the sun visor and one of three garage doors opened and she eased in the vehicle.

  Once inside the home, Jack took in the sight of the dark walnut wood floors, high-end marble and tile kitchen and soaring cathedral ceilings.

  “Who else lives here?”

  “Just me on this lower floor, Noah and his girlfriend are on the second. We are considering renting out some of the upper level. Perhaps you’d like to stay?”

  He shook his head as he continued to browse. “I’ve never been one for settling down.”

  She tossed the keys on a counter and a white and gray cat came into the room. She took a second to greet it before heading into the kitchen and opening the balcony doors. Every room looked relaxing. The walls were an off-white, along with the furniture. The smell of the Pacific Ocean drifted in, along with the sound of waves and people enjoying the beach.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Water’s fine.”

  He walked out onto the balcony and took in the sight of it all. Outside, a clear blue sky, barely a cloud in sight, kissed a glistening ocean. Surfers rode the waves, while families sunbathed and others splashed around in the shallow waters. He walked back in and spotted a photo of Liz and Noah on a side table. She returned holding a clear glass and handed it to him.

  “That was taken a year ago.”

  “In Florida?”

  She frowned. “That’s right.”

  “I know the location. I lived there for a while.”

  Thoughts of Isabel rushed back in and he placed the frame back down. In the photo Liz was drinking an orange juice. Noah looked different, as if he had packed on more weight and muscle.

  “So, you married?”

  “I was. It didn’t last.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look as if you are hurting for money.”

  “No,” she gazed around the room taking stock of her possessions, perhaps considering their value.

  “Must be nice.”

  She smiled. “Come, let’s sit in the living room.”

  She led him through to an equally beautiful room that had an alcove with two striped chairs, and a small rosewood table. The table was stacked with six books all to do with home décor and positive thinking.

  “What do you do for a living?” Jack asked, sipping at his drink.

  “Real estate.”

  He pursed his lips. “Um, doing well?”

  “You could say so.”

  “And Noah?”

  “Noah got involved in real estate for a while but it wasn’t his thing. He dabbl
ed for a while in owning his own surf shop but got restless when he hit his thirties. He was always talking about making a difference in the world. You know, adding depth to his life. Doing something that helped others.”

  “So he found religion?”

  “What, because he went on a mission?” She scoffed. “Noah is far from the religious type. You don’t need religion to do good to others, I’m sure you know, right, Jack?”

  He wasn’t sure what she was implying but he kind of figured that Dalton had been running off at the mouth again, no doubt filling her in on what he was up to from time to time.

  Jack looked out the window, in the reflection he could see his mother staring at him. He hadn’t considered what it must have been like for her. To finally meet the son she had left behind so many years ago.

  “Tell me about you,” she leaned forward a little and set her glass down then brought her hands together as if interested.

  He scoffed. “What part do you want to know? The bad part, or the bad part?”

  She smiled. “Can’t all be bad.”

  “Depends who you talk to.”

  Liz gnawed at her lip. “Wait here a second, I want to show you something.”

  She left the room and Jack glanced at the magazines before looking outside. Beyond the window a neighbor was watering his flowerbed. A grandfather clock ticked quietly in the background. There was peacefulness to the place and though he didn’t know her, he was glad she had found a smidgen of happiness after what she had been through.

  About five minutes later Liz returned holding a shoebox in her hand. She set it on her lap and removed the top and then handed him several piles of old photos. As Jack thumbed through them he noticed that many were of her and Eddie Carmine.

  “Those were taken before you were born. He was a good man, Eddie, kindhearted.”

  “Did he ever tell you what he did for a living?” Jack asked.

  “Of course, why do you think he visited Los Angeles?”