Hard Win (Michelle Angelique Avenging Angel Series 3)

by Jason Stanley

  “I’d like you to come in and meet my friend,” Michelle said.

  “Really, meeting your friends is a pretty big step. Are you sure we’re ready for such a public spectacle?”

  “Cut off the damned motor and come meet my friend,” Michelle said.

  Daryl turned the key. “Thanks for the invite. It’s nice to know more about your life. I’ve got to get to work so I can’t stay more than a minute.”

  They walked down the open walk along the front of the apartments. Michelle pulled her keys out of her purse.

  Nodding to the keys in Michelle’s hand, Daryl said, “I thought she was home.”

  “She is,” Michelle responded. “We just roll like that. I always let myself in. Of course I holler when I do. You know, in case she’s engaged in the living room.”

  Michelle used her key to let them into Deja’s apartment.

  “Yo Deja! I’ve got someone with me,” Michelle yelled.

  She closed the door behind Daryl. “That cool air feels good. I’m already hot just walking up from your car.”

  “Hey, girl, be right out!” Deja yelled from the bedroom.

  Michelle pulled Daryl into the living room. Looking around she thought about how the room accurately reflected Deja’s personality. Nothing matched and somehow the bright colors, mixed frames of family and friends covering one whole wall, a craft project that filled the coffee table, and the smell of fresh coffee all came together as a happy mixture of joyful emotions.

  Deja came in the room, snatched a black lace panty and bra set off the end table and tossed them back into the hall. Grinning, she held her hand out to shake.

  “Deja, this is Daryl. Daryl, Deja.”

  They shook hands.

  “You’re right, he is cute,” Deja said.

  “Cute? You said I was cute?” Daryl pitched his voice high, thrust a hip to the side, the fingertips of one hand on his chest, twisted the other hand in the air and mimed a gay queen in mock shock.

  “I said you were cute in a ruggedly handsome and powerful kind of way,” Michelle teased back.

  “In that case, thank you for the compliment,” he said, his voice returning to normal.

  “Can I bring you something to drink?” Deja asked.

  “I wish I could, but no. I need to go. I only wanted to come in to meet you. I’m glad I did.” Daryl gave Michelle a quick kiss on the lips along with a gentle squeeze. “I’ll catch up with you soon. Good to meet you Deja.” He let himself out the apartment.

  “He seems like a genuinely good guy,” Deja said.

  “Yup, he’ll make some woman a real good husband someday. Is everything ready?”

  “Yeah, the rental car is right outside, past the bushes by the bedroom patio. It’s a dark blue Camry. I took out the interior light so you can’t be seen when you open the door. The bag you gave me is in the trunk and the light is out of the trunk too. The light bulbs are in the glove box. Also, just in case, I wiped down the whole car before parking it here.” Deja said.

  Deja gave Michelle two separate keys. “This one is the car key, and this one is the room key. Shadow said she and the Captain use the room sometimes. She registered the room when the text came in from a burner phone saying he wanted to meet her tonight. She has the key the clerk gave her. She doesn’t know about the second key or have a clue there is anything going on but meeting a john.”

  The doorbell rang. Michelle checked the peep hole in the door. “It’s Nikky.” Both Deja and Michelle waited inside the door while Michelle watched out the peephole. Overloaded with bags of dinner, a briefcase and fountain drinks, Nikky looked like she accidentally leaned against the neighbor’s doorbell button while juggling her load. She kept leaning on it until the neighbor came to the door.

  “Hello, can I help you?” the young woman asked.

  Nikky turned to the woman. “Um no, I guess I accidentally leaned on your button.”

  Deja opened her door. “Hey, Nikky. Oh hey, Jenny,” she said to her neighbor. “Jenny this is Nikky, a lady I work with.” Nikky turned back to the young woman, attempting to say hello.

  Michelle stepped out into the hall, “Here Nikky, let me help you with those bags.”

  “Jenny, this is Michelle, another of the ladies we work with.”

  With a friendly smile, Michelle switched the bag of drinks to her left hand and shook Jenny’s hand. “Good to meet you Jenny.”

  Nikky also shook Jenny’s hand. “Sorry about leaning on your bell. Hope I didn’t disturb you.”

  “No not at all. Good to meet everyone,” Jenny replied and closed her door.

  Michelle, Deja and Nikky went inside Deja’s apartment.

  “Thank you, ladies. That pretty well established my alibi for the evening. I should be back in two to four hours,” Michelle went through the sliding glass bedroom door that went to an outside patio and the waiting car Deja left for her.

  * * *

  THWACK!

  The cricket bat smashed full force into the man’s forehead knocking him out cold.

  It had been a gamble to use the bat, but one Michelle felt worth the risk. If she missed, or he ducked, or any one of a thousand possibilities, the plan wouldn’t have worked. If worse came to worse, she would shoot him and dispose of the body where it could never be found. That was a worst case scenario which would create a lot of problems. Fortunately, she landed a perfect swing and knocked him out as he came through the door.

  In one rushed move, she dropped the bat and caught him before he crumpled all the way to the floor. At five feet, nine inches he wasn’t a big man, but he wasn’t small either. Hoisting him up into an over-the-shoulder carry would be best, but his head was bleeding too fast. Drops of blood would drip on the floor. She grabbed him from the back with his head slumped forward and the blood running down the front of his shirt. She dragged him across the floor.

  “Don’t forget to wipe out the drag marks before leaving.” Michelle said to herself. She had learned if she said it out loud she remembered it better.

  In the bathroom, she arranged him on his knees facing the closed shower door. Estimating where his head would hit, she cracked the plate glass with her gun. Using all of her strength she smashed his head through the crack, shattering the middle of the glass, leaving him with his neck deeply wedged in a large v shape formed by two remaining slabs of glass. One side had cut deeply into his neck and blood pumped out onto the floor and inside the shower floor.

  “Perfect.”

  Working quickly to avoid the pooling blood, she pulled his legs out behind him and took off his shoes. Then she pulled his pants down to his ankles with one leg partially down past his foot. She put the shoes on the floor at the end of the bed. It looked like he had stumbled while taking off his pants and fell headlong into the shower door.

  He bled out.

  The coroner would certainly make a record of the blunt force trauma to his forehead. That was why she used a cricket bat with a flat face. A baseball bat would leave a uniquely different shape in the skull. It needed to look like it could have happened when he hit the thick glass.

  Because he was a police captain there would be an investigation. Because it was Captain Baxter, the investigation wouldn’t be as careful as it should be. He was known to bully hookers for free sex, pawn off his work on others and do sloppy work when he actually ran a case. Overall, the rank and file, as well as the management at the precinct, generally disliked him. It looked like an accident while undressing for sex with a hooker. The department would want this closed up quickly and quietly.

  Michelle cleaned the room of all possible markers of what had happened. She made sure it was clean of her presence but not too clean for the type of hotel room it was. She had the burner phone that Baxter used to send the texts to Shadow. She covered it with the captain’s prints and put it into his jacket pocket. After she packed her bag and gave the room one last overview check she was ready to leave.

  She checked her watch: 8:37. Good she had plenty
of time. Shadow would show up around 9:00. That was the time her text said to be there.

  Shadow was smart enough to know she would be connected to the room and the texts. Sooner or later the police would know she was involved. She would probably call 911 when she first came into the room. It was the best way to keep her alibi solid. It started from being in the clinic earlier in the evening to showing up at the room. But in the long run, it didn’t matter if Shadow called the police when she discovered the body or simply left. She would be a credible witness either way.

  Michelle felt guilty about putting Shadow through this without her knowing what was going on. It was the only way to make it all work. She would have to do something special for Shadow later. It wouldn’t pay her back for all the trouble, but it would help.

  After returning to Deja’s apartment, Michelle, Nikky, and Deja went out for coffee. They chatted with the waitress, to make sure she would remember them, then talked into the night about their next moves.

  Fourteen: Next Step

  “DEE-LIMM-AA,” DEJA DRAGGED the word out.

  Laughing, Michelle said, “Goddammit, Deja, I’m serious. It is a dilemma. Your making me laugh about it won’t make it go away.”

  “Yeah, but you won’t be so serious either,” Deja said.

  Nikky rocked back and forth in an old style upholstered platform rocker that had possibly seen better years. “Where did this chair come from?”

  “Don’t make fun of my gram’s rocker,” Deja said. “That chair holds a lot of wonderful memories for me.”

  The friends, comfortably ensconced in Deja’s living room, discussed their next step. Michelle picked up the last cracker with cheese and salami off the tray on the coffee table. Most often, crackers and cheese were Deja’s idea of cooking.

  “We’ve been over all of that already,” Michelle said. “The question is who goes? Both of you want to go. That won’t work. Someone has to stay here to run things. With all the girls shook up over Little-T’s murder, one of us has to keep a lid on things.”

  Deja unfolded her legs from her corner of the bright floral print couch, picked up the empty tray and went into the kitchen. She rummaged around in the refrigerator. “Anybody want something to drink while I’m up?”

  “No I’m good,” Nikky said.

  “Me too,” Michelle said.

  “They would be most comfortable with you here,” Nikky said to Michelle.

  “Maybe, but I’m the one who has to go after Jack-Move. On your own, either of you two would, well, you’d get hurt. The girls are used to seeing both of you around. Sorry Deja, but I think Nikky is better suited for coming with me to take care of this asshole. Plus, you tend to keep a higher profile so the girls will see more of you than if Nikky stayed.”

  Deja retuned with the tray full of more crackers, cheese and salami. “You may be right, but that doesn’t mean I like it. Right now, I wish I knew how to use a gun because I’d sure like to put that bastard down like the dirty dog he is.”

  “Are you saying you’ll stay?” Michelle asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll stay,” Deja said.

  “It’s settled then. We’ll be on the first flight out to Houston in the morning. While we’re flying out, I need you to go talk to Jelena and her girls. Learn as much about Fast Eddie as you can. Where they stay, their cars, everything you can learn. And, Deja, it’s not glamorous like busting a cap in that asshole Jack-Move, but without you doing your part here, we can’t do ours there.

  “Yeah, yeah, I hoid it before.” Deja did her best Groucho Marks imitation, waggling her eyebrows and flicking ash off an imaginary cigar. “Just be sure you bring your asses back safe.”

  Fifteen: Slaves!

  “THIS IS NICE HOUSE, many bedrooms and four bathrooms with three showers.” Jelena swung her hand around loosely pointing at the house. “We never have so many bathrooms for eleven womans. Which bedroom will you take?” Jelena asked.

  “I won’t live here with you,” Deja responded

  “That is too bad. I like you. It would be nice to live with you here. So which bedroom does Michelle take?”

  One of the women standing in the living room said something in Russian. Jelena responded with a short sentence and shook her head.

  A couple of the women looked at Deja, “No?” they asked.

  Deja pointed to herself and shook her head. “No, I won’t live here. Michelle won’t live here either. We all have our own place. This house is for you and the rest of your crew.” They weren’t a crew, but she didn’t know what to call them. She started calling them Jelena’s crew and had come to think of them that way.

  “What do you mean, only for our crew? Who will keep us from running away? Who will make us do our sit ups and keep our body sexy.”

  “What?!”

  “Who—”

  “I heard you. It’s just . . . How many of you plan on leaving?”

  “None of us. We like it here and are loving the house.”

  “If you don’t plan on going, then why do you talk about running away?” Deja asked.

  A voice called from the kitchen, was answered, and a couple more women came in, all talking in Russian and asking Jelena questions.

  “Jelena!” Deja raised her voice above the chatter in the room. “Answer my question. Are you planning on leaving?”

  The chatter stopped.

  “We are not allowed to leave. In Russia our pimp always keep watch on us. In Houston we always have a person watch us. If we try to run away it is bad beating.”

  “That’s not how it works here. I spent some money on this house and the hotel before. I’ll have to spend more on clothes and whatever it takes to set you up. You owe me for all of that. Nikky’ll keep track of the money. I don’t know how it’ll work out for your regular bills like rent. Since all the other girls have their own places, this is a first for us.”

  “Do you mean, all of your womans come to work free? They choose it? Nobody owns them?”

  “Oh hell no! You didn’t ask me if we own our women.”

  Deja did a lot of neck rolling, hands on hips, and finger wagging to help her make her point. “No fucking way! We don’t own nobody. Nobody owns nobody. How can you even ask that?”

  “Don’t you and Michelle own us since you took us from Jack-Move?” Jelena quietly asked.

  “Fuck no! Absolutely not. Don’t nobody own you. Did you think we would be slave owners? Black women in America? Really? Shit, you can’t be serious. We could never be slave owners, never. We just couldn’t. Oh sweet baby Jesus, no.” Deja stopped and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Look Jelena, you and all of your crew are free to leave any time. If you want to go, go. We don’t hold nobody who doesn’t want to work for us.”

  Jelena translated the last conversation and was rewarded with a dozen questions and excited conversations. A woman ran to the stairs and yelled. Three more women came down to join the conversation.

  “You mean I, we, all womans, can leave now. Right now?”

  “Sure, if that’s what you want. But one thing you should know. If you walk out, you’re on your own, and you won’t be working our streets. Nobody who isn’t our employee works our streets.”

  “If I leave right now, what happens?” Jelena asked.

  “You go. That’s it. I’ll call the store and have them deliver one less bed. Then of course I’ll be fucked because I don’t speak any Russian. But you’re free to go if you want.”

  “I can leave the house to go to the store and not be punished.”

  “Okay. Sit down here.” Deja patted the cushion next to her. “Do you have any coffee?”

  “Da.” Jelena said something in Russian and two women headed into the kitchen, the rest found a place to sit or stand around the room. Nine attentive faces focused on Deja.

  “You and the rest of the women are employees. That’s it. You’ll work the streets once everything is set up. Nikky will work with you on how to make your payments every day. You’re expected to work
on a regular basis. Like a normal job, if someone doesn’t show up for work they’ll be given the boot.”

  “What is the boot you give them? Do you make them wear boots when they work?”

  “What? No. Getting the boot means they’re fired. They’re kicked to the curb. And—”

  “Who kicks them on the curb?”

  “No, nobody kicks them. That also means they’re fired. If they get strung out on drugs they’ll be fired. If they try to cheat on the money, Nikky’ll find out and they’ll be fired. If they go to the store, well, hell, it’s your money. We don’t care. You show up for work when and where we tell you to and we’re all happy.”

  Jelena jumped up and hugged Deja. “I believe you are telling me truth. Any of us are free to go.”

  “That’s what I said. Everybody is always free to go. Everybody works for us because they want to. So what’ll it be? Are you guys in or out? Stay or go? I don’t need to know right now, but in a day or two you have to make a decision.”

  Jelena translated and chaos erupted. Excited conversations in Russian bounced around the room. Heads nodded and smiles seemed contagious.

  Jelena waved her hand around the room. “For us there isn’t much choice. Not really. We cannot have a regular job where they need the green card. The INS will come. If we can keep our money, this is the best job we can have. Maybe we can find a rich man to marry. That is only reason for us to leave. I tell you now, we all stay.”

  “That’s good news. Both Michelle and Nikky will be happy to hear it.”

  “I have question?” Jelena asked.

  “Shoot.”

  “If Michelle is boss, and you are boss, what is Nikky?”

  “Yeah, I can see how that’s confusing. First, we are row dogs, and —”

  “What is row dog? I hear men say ugly woman is dog. You are not ugly dog.” Jelena said.

  Deja laughed. “Row dog is what we call our very best friends. It’s like men in prison who are on death row, they will be together until they die. For us, when someone is our row dog, they are our friend for life. Michelle, Nikky and me are row dogs.”