Mad Dog

by Ophelia Bell

  “Oh, you think I’m still torturing you for intel? Nah, dog, I’m just doing this for fun now. Maybe I should give you a break and let Mad Dog here get reacquainted with my fist the way he got reacquainted with Celeste’s pussy.” He leers at me and lifts his metal-clad fist to his lips, kissing it like a lover. Then he takes a swing at my face.

  I dodge as he comes at me and his fist glances off my cheekbone, but it still stings like a motherfucker and I go down onto my side. Gustavo kicks me in the gut.

  “Get up. Take it like a man, not the little pussy faggot I know you are.”

  He bends over, taunting me, and I struggle to rise, then fall to the floor again, which invites even more name-calling. Behind Gustavo, J.J.’s eyes open wider and the flex of his biceps telegraphs his intentions a second before he acts.

  I laugh out loud. “Punch me again, asshole. I fucking dare you.”

  Gustavo sneers and straightens up to draw back his fist. His change in position is just enough for my brother to act. He grabs hold of the chain above him, hauls himself up, and wraps his legs around Gustavo’s torso. Gustavo loses his balance, feet flying out from under him, and J.J. squeezes. A series of muffled pops sound from between J.J.’s legs and I know he just crushed a few of Gustavo’s ribs. I’m prepared to just lie back and watch—until Gustavo’s unencumbered hand rises up with a gun aimed over his shoulder.

  “No!” I lurch to my feet and rush him head-on, aiming at his shooting arm. But I’m too late. The gun goes off. J.J. lurches and his body goes limp. I crash into the wall on the other side. Gustavo falls to the floor with a thud, then turns and aims the gun at me.

  “Amador’s coming for all of Papá’s little whores,” he says, and fires again.

  Pain rockets through my left side like wildfire and I’m instantly back in Afghanistan. The explosion of an IED rings in my ears. Zag huddles over me but he can’t protect me from the ensuing fire. He needs me. They all need me to live, to get them out, because otherwise, why did Zag save me?

  Within seconds the bloodred darkness clears from my mind, leaving a sharp pinpoint of agony just beneath my ribcage. The deafening ring in my ears fades into Leo’s deep voice yelling my name and I’m back in the cold airplane hangar office.

  I struggle to rise, to reach J.J., to get to Gustavo, who has collapsed and is struggling to breathe. I need to put that final bullet into his head for what he’s done. My head swims when I move and I only make it a few feet before blackness seeps in again.

  39

  Leo

  “Maddox!” I bellow as I rush through the door. I stop short at the sight of the carnage inside. J.J. hangs from the ceiling, limp, a bleeding wound in the center of his chest. My vision tunnels and my skin goes ice cold. Suddenly, it isn’t his face I see, but my brother Manny’s. I rush to him, grappling at the chains above to unlock the winch mechanism holding him aloft. He rouses when I lay him on the ground.

  “Manny . . .” he croaks out. No, wait, that makes no sense. He said Maddy. As he coughs up blood and struggles to turn, reality comes crashing back. I spin, heart in my throat, toward Maddox’s unconscious body. He’s twisted in a heap on the floor, arms bound behind his back. Blood pools beneath him and I turn him over, hands shaking as I press them to the bleeding wound in his side.

  I dart my gaze around, hunting for something to help stanch the bleeding. J.J. is unconscious again. Maybe even dead, but I don’t want to think about that. I finally see Gustavo slumped against the wall and scramble over to him, tearing the shirt off his limp body to use as a makeshift bandage.

  I pause, then grab the gun in his hand, rise to my feet, and aim the muzzle at his forehead. My blood surges as I squeeze the trigger, but all I get is a click.

  “Fuck!” I toss the gun to the floor and turn back to Maddox and J.J. Ripping the shirt down the middle, I make two wads and jam them each against a bleeding wound, then close my eyes and pray.

  Only a moment later I hear sirens. Then the place is teeming with people in uniforms, which is the last thing I expected when Celeste said help was on the way. Paramedics pull me off the floor and take over checking Maddox and his brother’s wounds. They check me out too, but none of the blood on my skin is mine. They wheel J.J. away first, an oxygen mask covering his face, which I take as a sign that he isn’t dead.

  When they lift Maddox onto a gurney, I tear myself away from the paramedics to follow him.

  He regains consciousness halfway to the ambulance, staring around at the sea of people in Navy-blue raincoats with an alphabet soup of letters on their backs: DEA, ATF, FBI. He probably thinks he’s hallucinating, and the scene is just as surreal to me, but I’m not about to argue with the people who are here to save his life.

  “J.J.,” he croaks, then begins to struggle, staring around himself in a panic. “Leo!”

  The paramedic at his side glances down. “Don’t move, buddy. You’ve been shot.”

  “I know, asshole. Where are they? Are they alive? Where the fuck is my brother?” he yells, clambering to sit up.

  “We need to restrain him!” one of the paramedics yells.

  I push my way through the crowd, frantic to reach him, and finally make it to his side. “I’m here,” I say, grabbing his hand. “I’m with you all the way, got it?”

  He stops struggling as I run alongside and climb into the ambulance along with them. “Celeste?”

  “She’s home. She’s safe,” I say, never letting go of his hand. “I think she’s the reason all these people are here. Woman’s full of surprises.” The paramedics wrap me in a Mylar blanket as I stare down at Maddox, filled with dread.

  “I’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure the bullet didn’t hit anything important.”

  “It’s J.J. He’s in bad shape.”

  He twists his head around to look at the two paramedics riding on either side of him. One checks the IV and the other shakes his head. “We don’t know much. He endured some pretty heavy trauma, not to mention a gunshot to the chest. It’s a miracle he was alive when we got here, but it’ll be touch and go.”

  Then Maddox gives me another look. “How are you even riding along with me? That place was crawling with feds. Aren’t you worried about . . .” He lets the question hang, as if he doesn’t want to jinx anything.

  I don’t have an answer, but if they were going to arrest me, they would have. I have a feeling Celeste and her father are going to have a doozy of a story to tell once I see them again. All I know is that every other thug who was still conscious was in handcuffs when we left, but they didn’t seem interested in me. “Don’t worry about me.”

  He tries to ask another question, then breaks out in weak laughter. I stare at him in alarm.

  “Pain meds are finally kicking in,” the paramedic says, then Maddox fades into la-la land again.

  40

  Maddox

  I fade in and out for the rest of the trip, incoherent and confused about the whole ordeal, but conscious enough to be aware of Leo’s presence the entire way. So many things don’t add up. How the feds found out, for one thing, not to mention why they didn’t take Leo in. While I’m asleep, I have crazy, sex-filled dreams that are nothing more than reenactments of the night before. When I finally wake up, I’m in a quiet, dark room with the familiar, distant beeps and chatter of a hospital around me.

  A figure rises from a chair in the shadows, and the most disturbing sense of déjà vu hits at the sight of the deep-set eyes, heavy brows, salt-and-pepper hair, and silver goatee. Arturo Flores. I stiffen and cringe when he settles on the edge of the bed, giving me an intense stare not unlike the one he gave me when I was seventeen and in a similar situation. Gustavo’s beating all those years ago put me in the hospital, and I woke to Arturo at my bedside warning me to stay far, far away from Celeste if I cared about living.

  The look he gives me now is not that look. It’s resigned, I think. Maybe even a little understanding. He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t strain yourself, mijo. I’m not
here to hurt you. I’m here to thank you.”

  My mouth is parched and I try to swallow, then cough. He picks up a cup from the rolling table and puts a straw to my lips. I’m too baffled by this action to do anything but accept his offer, so I drink. Icy water calms the tickle and I drain the cup.

  “Thank me for what?”

  “For drawing out my enemy.”

  I start to respond that I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but he holds up a hand and I know better than to talk over him.

  “I know you and your brother didn’t intentionally help, but if not for J.J.’s hubris and your unwitting involvement, Amador would never have made such a grave mistake. Gustavo cannot be trusted. That was his biggest mistake. If he was disloyal to me, he would be disloyal to any master. But thanks to you, Leo, and your brother, we have caught him. We’re one step closer to bringing Amador down.”

  “Gustavo deserves to die,” I spit. “You’re taking care of him, right?”

  He gives me a patient smile. “He won’t outlive his usefulness, trust me. His need to atone to Amador for his failure at the gun deal brought him back to fix his mistake. But we have him now.”

  “The feds?”

  “They want Amador gone as much as I do, so we have a mutually beneficial arrangement. I do what I can to help control crime in Southern California my way, I leverage my connections to Amador for their use, and they look the other way when I do my other business. As long as we don’t step on each other’s toes, we get along.” He offers a slight shrug as if he’s just talking about a pair of schoolyard rivals, not a major crime organization and the fucking government.

  “The guns . . . That’s why you’re so heavy-handed about them, isn’t it? Don’t you care about the money?”

  “I make my money in other ways, Maddox. What I care about is protecting my family. Celeste and her mother were my world. When I lost Lola, my daughter became the most important thing in my life. You have proved yourself a safe harbor for her twice in her life now. That loyalty won’t go unrewarded.”

  I grit my teeth. I want to tell him his daughter isn’t just a thing. She’s not his property. “I wasn’t being loyal to you,” I finally say. “I love her in spite of you.”

  He smiles as if what I just said pleases him. Jesus, I can’t fucking win with this bastard. “Then you will love her in spite of what you must do for me. You will owe me a favor very soon, and when I come to collect, you will do as I ask. You see, I hold the keys to your family’s well-being. I can take everything away. But you’ll obey me because in doing so, you get to keep Leo and Celeste. Share their bed, be their partner in everything. Have the life you always dreamed about and keep your family together.”

  A chill runs down my spine because despite how great that all sounds, there’s bound to be a hefty price if he’s framing it the way he is. That he’s aware of how close we are is telling. “Tell me now.”

  “Now isn’t the time. If everything goes as planned, you’ll understand soon enough.” He gives me one last, long stare as if he’s memorizing the glare I’m giving him and filing it away. I hold his gaze in challenge, and neither of us looks away. His eyes are a crazy light hazel with golden starbursts at the center, just like Celeste’s. And fuck me if they don’t remind me of my little sister’s too.

  He pats me on the hand once more. “Leo and Celeste will be back soon to keep you company. They refused to leave, but both of them know better than to defy me.” Then he walks out, leaving in his wake the rich old man scent of aftershave, cigar smoke, and scotch. I’m left stewing over everything he said, but I fixate on the last detail.

  He more or less gave his permission for me to continue a relationship with both Leo and Celeste. As if the idea wasn’t completely insane, but actually made sense. But what the hell will he ask me to give up to keep it? My soul? Not that that’d be any great loss.

  I don’t want to wait for Leo and Celeste to return though. I’m too antsy to find out how J.J. is doing, so I scoot out of bed, wincing at the jolt of pain that lances through my side. I lift my gown. A fresh white bandage covers my side just beneath my ribcage. One more scar isn’t going to make much difference. I’m just lucky Gustavo’s aim was shitty when he pointed the gun at me.

  J.J. wasn’t so lucky, so I find the IV stand, hook the bag onto it, and pad out into the hallway, squinting into the brighter lights. The world is a little wobbly but steadies as I take a few deep breaths and head off in search of the ICU, worried as hell about what this will do to Mom when she finds out.

  I only have to pass through two doors before I can belly up to the nurse’s station like I’m just visiting and not carting an IV stand along like I have a new pet. “I’m looking for Julian Santos, Jr. I’m family,” I say. I have no idea whether it’s visiting hours or not, so I glance at the analog clock on the wall, which reads six o’clock but doesn’t tell me whether it’s morning or evening. All I know is it’s dark outside, and based on the level of staff activity, I can only guess it’s evening, which means I can’t have been out that long. Half a day at most.

  The nurse looks at me and starts to answer when a cacophony of alarms sounds from somewhere past the desk. The nurse bolts, along with half a dozen other staff, so I take the opportunity to peek into the windows of each glass-walled room to see which one J.J.’s in.

  But when I round the corner, a familiar, tall, willowy woman stands at the end of the hall, and I stop in my tracks. Mom is already here. Leo and Celeste are both here too, along with Sam and Elle. All five of them stare into the room where the ICU staff are frantically working on reviving the person in the bed. The resident in charge barks something about surgery and an OR, and before I can announce myself, they disappear in a rush with the patient.

  Mom sees me a second later and rushes over.

  “Maddox, mon chéri, I’m so glad you’re okay.” She wraps her arms around me and squeezes so tight my wound protests, but I don’t care. I return her embrace and stare past her at the others, who all register my presence with stricken looks.

  “What’s happening?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, touching her cheek and lifting her shoulder. “I don’t know. He just got out of surgery and now he’s going back in. The bullet perforated his lung and grazed his spine, and there’s other internal damage. My God, what those men did to him! It’s so awful!”

  That man is probably somewhere else in this hospital. I know he didn’t get away, and there’s no way he was in any shape to go anywhere else under his own power. But I can’t leave Mom to go hunt the bastard down. Arturo has to have plans for him though, so I’ll let the old man deal with him for now.

  Leo and Celeste are at my side a second later, and I bury my face in Celeste’s hair as she wraps her arms around me. “Papá’s taking care of everything,” she whispers, then pulls away, glancing around as if she’s afraid the others heard. Leo stands just behind her and nods. I don’t know what that means, exactly, but hope it refers to Gustavo’s fate.

  Leo’s in a set of blue scrubs, and Celeste has managed to change into jeans, boots, and a sweater since I last saw her. They both look tired and wrung out, but I’ve never been happier to see two people in my life.

  “What happened? He didn’t come for you, did he?” I ask Celeste.

  She shakes her head. “He was after J.J., not me. We think he got to J.J. first, then came for the guns and took out the two of you. Someone broke into your apartment too, but when I heard the noises, I ran. It all happened so fast. I’m sorry, Maddox . . .” She trails off, tears welling in her eyes, and I haul her to me again, holding her close.

  “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

  I catch my mother’s look of surprise over Celeste’s shoulder, but there’s no point in explaining. We make our way to the waiting room and when we get there Sam hands me a bundle of blue cloth.

  “Pants, brother,” he says. “You’re kind of flashing everyone your assets. I think half the nurses just spontan
eously combusted.”

  I put them on and sit. A little later a nurse arrives, admonishing me for going AWOL from my own bed, but she graciously removes my IV and returns a little later with a couple prescriptions and strict instructions to care for my wound. I assure her I can take care of myself just fine and explain my own medical background and she leaves, mollified.

  Celeste and Elle are seated side by side and I can’t help but stare, because this close, there’s a clear resemblance. It’s particularly evident around the eyes, but other features too. Even though Elle is tall and slim like Mom, with thick, black hair and delicate, fair skin, she has the same cowlick at the peak of her forehead that Celeste has, and they both have small indentations at the tips of their noses. It isn’t much, but the eyes tell the tale, and I can’t stand the secret anymore.

  “Mom, can I talk to you?” I say under my breath. She sets down the magazine she’s been staring blindly at and follows me into the hallway. I lead her a little farther into the recessed doorway of a locked closet, turning the question over and over in my head to find the best way to approach the topic.

  “What is it, honey?” she asks.

  I stare down at her, jaw flexing, and her frown deepens. “How long have you and Arturo Flores been lovers, Mom?”

  Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen. A bright flush rises into her cheeks, making her look ten years younger. She stammers and shakes her head, then finally blurts out, “Where the hell did you get that idea?”

  “Don’t lie to me,” I say, keeping my voice low. “I want the truth. There’s something to it, isn’t there? Why else would we be able to stay in that building all these years? Does he own your house too?”

  “No! Your father and I own the house outright. We’ve done whatever we could to keep from having to mortgage it again.”

  “Does Dad know what you do for Arturo?”