by Autumn Piper
Telling him I couldn’t go around in the same two outfits during my entire visit seemed like a pretty bad idea. “I’m sorry.” It sounded so small, so useless, in the face of all the trouble I’d caused him, intentional or not.
At last he looked down from the ceiling, but it was like he looked through me, or maybe wished he could. Did he hate me? My heart sunk. We’d been so close, for a time, back in Sedona. Before I screwed things up. Dammit.
“I’ve got to be the stupidest man alive.”
The door behind him bumped and then shoved inward. Mitch stepped aside as young Tino walked in, looking from me to Mitch and back again. I could nearly see the wheels turning in Mitch’s head. His mouth half-opened. He must be formulating some story to explain what he, the “new guy” was doing in the ladies’ room with the broad who was supposed to be Keen’s woman.
I laughed my meanest laugh. “You got that right. I mean, how can you end up in the ladies’ room? Can’t you read?”
Tino cracked up and said something in Spanish to “Miguel”. I didn’t catch it all, but I definitely heard “estupido”. His eyes had never left my upper body. Apparently, Tino approved of my new outfit: skintight Brittania jeans and a slinky top which fastened behind my neck, leaving my shoulders bare. At the time, it had seemed a fitting ensemble for clubbing and drug-running, but under Tino’s gaze it felt entirely too revealing. As he stared, he continued to speak to Mitch. His tone was short and autocratic, his words spoken quickly. I gleaned something about a meeting Miguel was supposed to be attending, with Rico and Keen.
Mitch looked appropriately embarrassed and then skulked out.
He paused in the doorway, though, and waited to make sure Tino left the restroom too.
Chapter 18
I left the ladies’ room intent on downing another of Ramón’s wonderful concoctions. Maybe when I’d relaxed, I could figure out how to fix things with Mitch. But did I want to fix things with him? Just this morning, I’d avoided calling him because I didn’t want another confrontation.
“Tell me,” Tino said from his hiding place in the shadows near the end of the hallway, grabbing my arm, “Señorita.” He pulled me up against him, looking down into my eyes. “What is your relationship with Miguel?”
“Relationship?” Could he feel my heart pounding against his chest? Hopefully he’d think it was from attraction, not fear.
“The bouncer tells me he followed you. Maybe for a chance to speak with you in private. Maybe you are…previously acquainted?”
Not trusting myself to pull off a bald-faced lie, I shook my head instead and focused on the wide lapel of his jacket. “He’s my—that is, he’s Keen’s helper. Partner. You know how it works. Keen is, like, his trainer.”
“No more?” His eyebrows raised, as if daring me to lie.
Who was this punk, to think he could manhandle me this way? God. In 2010, he probably wouldn’t even be of legal drinking age. I gave a hard shove and freed myself. “What else would there be?” I demanded. “You think because the moron stumbled into the ladies’ room, we’re carrying on a secret affair? Do I look like the type of woman who’s attracted to stupidity?” It took all my high school drama classes to muster enough haughtiness to convince myself I was offended and not terrified. I couldn’t let Mitch’s cover be blown because of me. I couldn’t.
“You look like the type of woman,” Tino said with a smile, “who knows much more than men think she does.” When he smiled like that, it brought back memories of flirting with him the night before. My heart started beating faster for reasons other than fear. “Tell me, Drew.” When he said my name, his lips ended in a pucker. “What can you teach me, hey?”
For a moment, the divorced and very sexually deprived part of me fantasized about Tino. But some part of me, deep down, trembled at the immature, yet certain, power he exuded. I needed to tread carefully. He obviously wanted me, which could be used to my advantage; he’d be distracted by his lust. Yet, he distrusted Mitch. Without knowing what his post was in Rico’s organization, I’d bet he could have Mitch eliminated. I had to convince him the attraction was mutual, yet keep him from going too far.
His finger brushed under my chin, tilting my face so I couldn’t avoid eye contact.
I swallowed hard, uncertain how to proceed. “Er. Keen probably wouldn’t approve.” Of this, I was reasonably certain.
His nostrils flared for a moment. “Keen?” he asked in a disbelieving tone. “Rico requires Keen to have a female cover. Why would he care if you and I were—”
“There’s more to my relationship with Keen than you know.” Or than Keen knew.
The nostrils flared again. “I see,” he mused, his lips pressed thin against each other. “Keen, and the older woman.”
I could have happily hit him, but refrained.
Only then did I realize that in order to protect Mitch and avoid Tino, I’d have to pretend to be having an affair with my own father! Surely my acting skills would fail me. The older woman. “Yeah. If you’re lucky, one day you’ll be old too.” With that, I turned away from him and headed to the bar for a much-needed drink.
The parking lot was dark and crowded when we set out on our nightly mission. Something was up. Each man had a wary air about him and Keen was being almost benevolent toward Mitch. At least, until it came time for us to get on the bikes.
“So,” Mitch, er—Miguel, suggested, “how ’bout Drew rides with me tonight?”
“Nah. She’s fine right here.” Keen’s tone was casual, but firm. He took a short puff from his cigarette and expelled it quick, then drew another as if he couldn’t get quite enough nicotine.
“You’re supposed to be scouting,” Miguel objected. “It’s safer for her to be with me, and you can ride faster alone.” As Keen put on his helmet, Miguel gestured me toward his bike. Did he expect trouble?
“If anything goes down, she’s better off with me. I know more ways around the city.” Another quick draw from his cigarette.
“Something’s going down?” My voice was barely more than a squeak.
“No!” they answered together.
An uneasy moment passed while they stared at each other, silent and guarded.
Keen shook his head and held out my helmet for me to take. “I told you, nothing ever happens on my runs. Which is why Rico pays me so well for my services.”
“You can’t guarantee that,” Mitch said.
“Look, new guy, there’s a reason you’re the new guy and I’m not. ’Cause I know what the fuck I’m talkin’ about, whereas you do not.” A quick flick and the remaining stub of cigarette landed on the ground between them. With much more force than necessary, he ground out the butt under his heel, casting Mitch the evil eye. “And one thing we don’t need tonight is you two playin’ touchy-feely while you’re supposed to be paying attention. So shut the fuck up and let’s get on with the job. Or go inside and tell Rico to get me a replacement.”
Mitch fastened his chin strap shut and started his bike with a couple of loud revs. He didn’t even wait for us to follow before peeling out of the parking lot and heading down the street. I clung to Dennis as he followed, weaving between double parked cars on our way out.
Sunday night seemed to be a popular time to go out dancing for the Cuban population. The dance floor had been brimming with bodies, to the point that the normal spins and movements were impossible. Salsa hip shakes in such close quarters were nearly erotic in nature, suggestive at the very least. This had turned out to be unfortunate when Mitch found me taking dance lessons from Tino, in what had surely appeared to be a mutually stimulating embrace. If he only knew how long I’d put Tino off, avoiding his advances. But it had been hours, literally hours they’d been in the meeting back there. Given the thrusting and humping going on around us, the moves Tino and I had been performing were tame not at all deserving of the scowl Mitch blasted me with. Still. It was one more thing for him to hate me for.
At least he’d wanted to keep me out of harm’s
way. That was a good sign.
Dennis took little time catching up to and blowing past Mitch. Come to think of it, riding with Mitch would have been much safer. Maybe what really became of my father was a horrific bike accident, so gory the body couldn’t be identified…
I closed my eyes tight and pressed my face against his back, distracting myself with memories of the look on his face when I’d taken his hand in mine on the way out of Conga. He’d looked like one of my students the day he was telling his friends about seeing his parents kiss, with their tongues. It was all I could do to keep from laughing. But knowing Tino wasn’t far behind us, I’d only been able to say, “Shh. I’ll explain later.”
We arrived at the warehouse ahead of Mitch. Keen whipped his helmet off and dismounted. “Mind telling me what the fuck the touchy-feely was for?”
I couldn’t help having some fun by drawing this out. “What?”
“Actin’ like we’re some kinda item in the club!”
My chuckle was muffled by the roar of Mitch’s bike beside us. When he’d killed his engine, I answered, “That was for Tino’s benefit.”
“Tino,” Keen spat. He looked me up and down, then nodded as if he understood. “Ya know, it’s not that I mind helpin’ you out. It’s just…” He shrugged. And shuddered.
“I know. I’m so damn old.” I laughed.
“It’s not even that. Somethin’ about you. Maybe it’s because you look so much like Ma. It’s…creepy.”
“That’s probably reason enough,” Mitch said.
“Yeah?” Keen sneered. “What the fuck you sayin’ about the way my mom looks? Huh?”
“Nothing, dude.” Mitch held his hand up, palms toward Keen. “I just meant, if she looked like my mom—”
“First off, I’m not a dude. Dudes live on ranches out west. You talk almost as screwy as she does. Christ. And second, it’s none of your fuckin’ business what Drew looks like. As far as everybody at Conga knows, she’s my woman, so that’s how we’re gonna play it.” He shook his head as he set off to the warehouse. “Creepy or not.”
When the door shut behind him, I let loose the wave of giggles I’d been restraining.
“Poor bastard,” Mitch muttered. “Got no clue why he finds you so repulsive. Creeped me out too, to see you hold his hand. But I guess if it keeps that hard-on Tino away… He suspects something, doesn’t he?”
I nodded, and sobered up. “Yes. So I was trying to, erm, distract him.”
Mitch shook his head and looked up and down the alley. “Come’re.” With a furtive tug on my hand, he led me into the shadows near a corner of the building. Up this close, he smelled strongly of cigars, and maybe marijuana smoke. “Listen to me. Don’t be putting yourself in danger.” When I started to protest, he pressed warm fingers to my lips. His voice lowered to a near-whisper. “And something might be going down tonight. The Feds have a task force...my supervisor’s trying to pull jurisdiction and stop them. But in case he can’t, well, you need to stick with me. Got it?”
“What about Keen?”
He shook me, gently, but a shake nonetheless. “Listen. I think he’ll be able to get away, he seems to have a knack for it. Rico thinks he’s charmed because Delicia gave him some sort of voodoo blessing. But if you’re not with me, I can’t guarantee your immunity. And if you get picked up and locked away…” Neither of us needed the words said. If I got locked up, how would I ever go back through the wormhole? His hands squeezed my shoulders. “Fuck. How’m I gonna get you out of my system, huh? We should’ve gone for it in the Grand Canyon. Then maybe I could think straight.”
“Mitch? I can’t think straight when we’re together either.” I intended to apologize again for all the trouble I’d caused, but my words were muffled by his lips. Hard, hot, and hungry, they stole my breath. Stopped my heart. And then kick-started it, making all my nerves tingle and reach in his direction like plants to sunshine. He tasted of cigars, but it didn’t matter. He still wanted me, and the throbbing between my legs said I most definitely wanted him. When his hands slipped down to my butt, I sighed, and when he pressed a hand between my legs, I moaned. A fire burned inside me, and only he’d be able to extinguish it. Without conscious thought, I slid a hand between us and cupped him through his Levi’s.
He groaned. “Fuck.”
I let out a shaky laugh and then sucked in some much-needed oxygen. “I believe my schedule is somewhat busy tonight, but I’d certainly take a raincheck.”
“The hell you will! Get your asses out of the shadows and over here.” Now why did that sound so like a dad catching his daughter behind the barn with the milkboy? We stepped apart and returned to the bikes without a peep, where Keen was fastening the saddle bags on Mitch’s bike.
“We, er…” Mitch cleared his throat. “…talked about it, and Drew wants to ride with me on the way back.”
Keen looked up at us and even in the dark, his exasperation was clear. Before he could speak, the sound of an engine moving down the next alley froze us all. And then the unmistakable crackle of a police radio. “Fuck. We’re made. You—go that way,” he ordered. “Don’t fucking question me. Just do it!” He straddled his bike and yanked my arm.
“Drew!” Mitch started his bike. “Come on!”
Mitch would be fine, I knew he would. But for all I knew, this could be the end of Dennis’s association with Rico. I had to know where he ended up. Surely he’d manage to get away, somehow. Mitch would know where to find me. I let Keen jerk me onto his bike and held on as we sped away. Over my shoulder, I saw Mitch hesitate and then take off in the direction Keen had indicated.
Keen definitely knew where he was going. Though it seemed there were cop cars down nearly every alley, he found a way unblocked, racing down streets lined with stacked shipping bins and piles of wooden pallets, aisles nearly full of empty semi trailers. Then he pulled behind one of the taller buildings and parked.
“Come on,” he muttered. We entered a pitch black building through an unlocked side door and he tugged me, stumbling, up a set of steep steel stairs. At the top, he opened a creaky metal door and led me out into the pinkish city night, across the top of the building.
Below us, four cop cars with lights flashing had parked in front of the warehouse we’d left. Not far away, Mitch sat on his bike with his hands in the air, surrounded by cops with their weapons raised.
My chest tightened up so I couldn’t breathe. Regardless of who he really was, all it would take was one trigger-happy cop and he’d be shot. I must have sobbed.
“Shit. See why I didn’t want you getting tangled up with a guy like that?” Dennis’s tone was gentle, if his words weren’t.
“Who-who, are they? Feds?” If they were, Mitch’s boss would be able to bail him out.
“Nah,” Dennis answered as he lit a cigarette. “City police. Looks like it worked out just like Rico wanted.”
“Like Rico—what?”
“He wanted ’em to take the warehouse. Sidetrack ’em while we do the big deal, later this week.”
“Surely he didn’t want to lose one of his guys.” Poor Mitch appeared to be sitting silently, refusing to speak. “L-look. He’s not even gonna betray Rico and say who he works for.”
“Pffbt! Give ’im time, he’ll talk. They all do. Anyhow, Rico don’t care. Miguel’s the fall guy.” He took another leisurely puff.
“Fall guy? You mean Rico meant for Mi—guel to get picked up?” And this was the city cops, not Feds. They may not be as friendly with Mitch’s department. All I could remember was how mad the guys on CSI got when the Feds came in and pulled rank on them. I couldn’t let Mitch get hurt. “It’s only his second day!”
“That’s how it works, Cuz. Rico uses people for what he needs.”
“And what about you? You gonna use him too? Do you think this is fair, huh?” I punched his chest. “Goddammit, we’ve got to do something.” Down below, they’d cuffed Mitch and were leading him toward a fifth car. Along the way, one cop kept boxing him upside
the head. For no reason. “Look at that! It’s not right. How can you let Rico do this to him?”
“What the hell would I tell Rico if I came back with the fall guy?”
“Who cares? You’re freaking Keen! Magical Keen, with all the cards up your sleeve.” Desperation wrenched sobs from my throat, in between my words. “Tell him you like working with Miguel and you won’t work without him.”
“Babe. It’s too late. Look down there. He’s already cuffed, and probably had his rights read. What can we do?”
“Please?” I sunk to my knees on the rough asphalt-shingled roof. If something happened and Mitch couldn’t get out of jail, I’d never have the nerve to go home alone. And I needed him. In so many ways. “Please. Help him. This is wrong, and you know it. You’ve been lucky, haven’t you? Lucky that this never happened to you. And you know it! What if he has some, some, some little girl…” I choked, but plodded on “…waiting at home for him somewhere? You think he has a chance of ever getting clean again if he goes to the Pen?”
“Jesus Christ. Let me think.” After casting away the cigarette, he buried his fingers in his hair and mumbled for several seconds. When he pulled his hands down, he made a fist with one and hit it against the other palm. Still muttering, he counted the officers below. “Okay. Don’t ask me why I’m doing this. Riskin’ a perfectly good thing I’ve got goin’. You see that car over there, kinda up the slope from the others?”
I listened to his instructions, memorizing them to a tee. If I never remembered another thing, it had to be this.
* * * *
From behind a corner, I watched four officers enter the warehouse. After looking left and right, I all but stepped out in front of another cop lagging behind the rest. My heart beat loud enough to be heard down at the pier as I pressed my body closer to the building. He started whistling—now why couldn’t he have been doing that before he gave me a heart attack?—and then the recognizable sound of a zipper opening followed by dribbling told me he was relieving himself. So. Mr. Cop thought it was all clear, nobody else around. Perfect.
