by Julia Derek
***
“Hola chica,” Dante’s smooth, familiar voice said in my ear. “Que pasa?”
“Things are good,” I replied to his question about what was going on. As always, hearing his voice felt soothing to my insides. We hadn’t been in touch except for a quick text exchange in which I’d told him that Ian wasn’t my text stalker after all. “Actually, more than good. I’ve found a great lead.”
“You have? What’s that?”
I told him how it looked like Ron, a friend of Cardoza’s, was behind the threatening texts because of what had happened when I went to meet him and that it also looked like Ron was engaging in some serious money-laundering—with Cardoza acquaintances.
“Damn, girl,” Dante said, sounding impressed when I was finally done telling my story, again having excluded Jonah’s presence at the club that night. “Good work. How did you find out that his clients know Cardoza?”
“I actually don’t know that. I just think they do. No, correct that. I’m sure they do. This is why I need you to help me.” The Google search I had done on these two people earlier hadn’t resulted in anything, much like I had feared, which meant I really needed Dante’s assistance with this. “Remember how you offered to come to New York and be with me for a month?”
“Yeah? You need me to come?”
“No, I need you to go to Texas and check out two places for me. Find out as much as possible about what’s going on there.” I told him the towns and the names of the club and the restaurant.
“You want me to go to Houston and San Antonio and snoop around?”
“Yeah. You think you can do that for me? It’s really, really important.”
“Sure, if it’s that important to you and you think it’s a strong lead, I’ll do it. But tell me one thing first.”
“What’s that?”
“Didn’t you say that the text stalker wanted to meet up with you so he could tell you everything?”
“Yeah, I did. So?”
“How long ago was it since you two were supposed to meet?”
I counted the days in my head. “Not that long ago. Why?”
“If this cad wanted to tell you everything and the only thing that prevented him from doing so was him slipping and passing out, why is it that he hasn’t contacted you again? He had a change of heart, didn’t he? So why not text you again for another meeting?”
“I have no idea, but my guess would be that he had another change of heart. Meaning, he no longer wants to tell me everything. It happens.”
“Sure. Or maybe this Ron-dude isn’t the one behind the texts after all.”
“Yes, there’s always that possibility, but I honestly think that he is. He probably just changed his mind again when he hit his head on that sink. Maybe he took it as a sign from above that he needed to keep his trap shut. Makes perfect sense to me.” I inhaled. “Please, Dante, I need you to do this for me. Tell me you will.”
“Okay, I’ll do it. If you believe that strongly he’ll lead you to Nick’s killers, it’s worth it to me.”
I exhaled with relief, closing my eyes. “Thanks so much. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
“Yeah, Gabi, I do know. And that’s why I’ll do it.”
I was still smiling as we disconnected a short while later. People like Dante sure didn’t grow on trees. He would take a plane to San Antonio first and see what he could find at Tabu Lounge, then rent a car and drive to Houston where he’d ask around at the steakhouse. Being Latino and from the area, having grown up in foster homes all across the state, he should have a fairly easy time connecting with the locals. If he dug deep enough, asked enough people, he’d find out if Cardoza was someone people there knew. If they did, we’d know we were on the right track. He’d convinced Jose to come with him to get to the heart of the matter as quickly as possible.
He texted me a while later, letting me know they had booked a plane for the following morning.
Great , I thought as I read it. I was sure it wouldn’t take the two of them more than a couple of days to find out what the deal with Cardoza was. How either or both of the targets knew the incarcerated drug lord. Any longer would bother me as I didn’t want to keep Dante away from his wife and small child longer than necessary.
The more I thought about all of this, the more convinced I became that Cardoza was not only connected to but in charge of the venues Dante was about to investigate. He could run them even though he was in prison. It wouldn’t surprise me if we found out they only served as drug fronts. When I learned that Cardoza wasn’t exactly living it up in prison, it had made me pause. I had thought a shrewd alpha male like him would invent ways in which to make prison life more palatable. Only now did it dawn on me why he had chosen not to.
Maintaining a low, humble profile, as if you’d somehow found redemption and become a new person, was a smart approach if you were planning an escape from prison.
I had yet to learn of any escaped prisoners from Sing Sing, the maximum security facility that imprisoned Cardoza, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. It might not be easy, but there was always a way if one was patient. Like Cardoza. A man like him was likely to use brain power over muscle to try to gain his freedom, using the same kind of elaborate scheme he’d used when supplying most of the country’s large cities with drugs. Surely, his jailbreak scheme would involve money to bribe people, cash derived from the money-laundering. Money always spoke.
I checked the time on my phone. Two thirty-seven. I had twenty-three minutes to kill before my next client. Considering that I hadn’t eaten anything since the bagel I’d grabbed this morning, I should go down to the cafeteria and eat something.
My eyes instantly met Ian’s even though the eatery was unusually lively it being so late in the day. He was reading the newspaper at a table in the middle of the crowded space, looking up the second I entered, as if he’d been able to sense that I was coming. There was the tiniest of smiles on his lips.
A rush of conflicting emotions went through me as I walked closer. I had expected another day to pass before I’d see him again, some more time to think about what I’d say to him regarding what had happened between us. I had yet to figure out the best way to tell him the night we’d shared had to be a one-time deal. There was no need to be rude about it. Unfortunately, the current expression on his face suggested that he wouldn’t mind repeating what we had done. No, scratch that. It looked like he would not only love to repeat it, but do it right here. I sighed inwardly.
I stopped before him, having arranged my features into what I hoped was a neutral expression.
“Well, hello there,” he said, the smile on his lips growing wider. “Did you get up in time?”
“Yes, I did, thank you. Um…”
He motioned toward one of the free chairs around the table. “Please. Have a seat.”
“I will. Can I just get something to eat first?”
“Of course. I won’t go anywhere.”
“Okay. Can I get you anything?”
He nodded toward the empty plate partly covered by the newspaper he’d lowered onto the table. “No, thanks. I just ate.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I headed toward the long food counter, trying to gather my thoughts. They were still in a jumble when I returned with a tuna salad wrap and some bottled water a few minutes later.
Pulling out a chair, I took a seat. Neither of us said anything as I began eating my wrap. The piece I bit off felt like a big chunk of paper stuffed into my mouth as I chewed, all my appetite having disappeared the moment I laid eyes on Ian. But I didn’t want him to know what an affect he had on me, so I kept chewing, then finally swallowed and had another bite.
“Is it good?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Eatable.”
“Just like you.” His eyes gleamed knowingly.
My cheeks heating up, I hated myself for having set him up with a line like that. I cleared my throat, deciding to ignore the fact that I may
or not flaunt a pink face, and said, “Right. About that.”
“Yes? It was pretty great, wasn’t it?” Ian gazed at me with an expectant expression.
“Yes, it was.” I couldn’t argue with that statement; it had been amazing. Even so, it would have been better if it had never happened. It only served to complicate things between us and things were already so complicated. I had another bite of my tuna wrap to buy myself time; I wanted to tell him that it couldn’t happen again, but the right words failed to form on my tongue.
“Have you had time to look into your target?” he asked as I finally swallowed the big piece of paper in my mouth.
I had a sip of water before I replied. “Not yet. You?”
“Yes. So far I haven’t found anything interesting, but I’m just beginning.”
“You went back home after your meeting?”
“Yes. I was back by ten and spent the rest of the morning researching.”
I nodded, relieved he had moved on from us and onto what really mattered—the investigation. I didn’t think he’d find anything interesting in Rockford’s emails. At least nothing that involved The Adler Group as that had just been me making that up in order to get him to hack for me. Digging up stuff about Adler was what really mattered to Ian.
“I did go back to your stalker’s accounts again though and couldn’t find any email exchanges between him and you-know-who,” Ian said. “Didn’t you tell me your source had seen some?”
“Yes, he did. If they’re not there, someone must have deleted them.”
Ian raised an eyebrow. “How convenient. Are you sure they were there in the first place?”
“Absolutely. My source wasn’t aware of your primary target when he did his research for me. So they had to have been there.”
“I see.” There was an unreadable expression on Ian’s face as he took me in.
Something struck me then—I’d meant to bring it up earlier, but now I was glad to have waited. I leaned across the table in order to get closer to him. “As much as we’ve discussed Adler and their cohorts over the phone, I’m sure they’ve figured out we’re onto them by tapping us. Well, you primarily. So it makes sense they would delete any written correspondence just to be safe, don’t you agree?”
Given that, supposedly, part of the government was involved in this conspiracy—people so powerful they could make it seem like Ian had been convicted and served prison time—I wasn’t sure exactly what they were trying to be safe from of course. Still, what I had said had sounded great to me and, besides, Ian himself had claimed there were eyes and ears everywhere, so we always needed to be careful.
He frowned and whispered, “The only reason I speak openly over the phone about this is because I’ve installed a software I invented to both of our smartphones. It’s supposed to protect us from anyone being able to hack into our conversations.”
I stared at him, outraged. “You’ve installed a software to my phone? Without asking me about it first? When did you do that?”
“When you went to the bathroom during my fitness consultation with you.” He looked like a contrite little boy all of a sudden. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to take any chances. It was a necessary evil. Though now it seems it’s not working any longer if they’ve been able to hear us.” He shook his head mournfully. “I should’ve known it was only a matter of time before they cracked the software…”
I handed him my phone, livid. “Please remove that software immediately. How dare you do that without my knowledge? That’s so… so incredibly invasive of you!”
“Fine. I will.” He took my phone and unlocked it without me giving him my password first, which infuriated me even more. He spent some time tapping the screen and then put the phone down on the table. Raising his gaze to meet mine, he said, “It’ll be gone in a few minutes.”
“It’d better be,” I hissed. “Don’t you ever do something to my phone—or anything else of mine for that matter without my consent.”
“I won’t. Again, I’m sorry, but I really didn’t have a choice. From now on, we’ll just have to not speak about this over the phone again.”
I wanted to tell him that we wouldn’t ever speak again unless absolutely necessary, but soon reconsidered. Getting that emotional was stupid. I might still need his help with my investigation. Plus, it really had been helpful to use Adler being onto us as an excuse to make him believe they or Ron had erased their email conversations. So I just gave a curt nod and said, “Fine.”
I checked the time and saw that it was three minutes to three. I needed to leave or risk being late for my client. “How much more time until it’s gone from my phone? I have a client now.”
“You can take it. The uninstallation will continue no matter where you are.”
“Great.” I grabbed the plate with my half eaten tuna wrap and the phone, leaving Ian sitting there without bothering to say goodbye.
Chapter 5
I got a call from Dante two days later, when he’d had some opportunity to talk to people in San Antonio. Especially ones who had any connection to Tabu Lounge.
“No one?” I said, pushing the phone closer to my skull as if that would change his answer. “Not a single person has heard of the target?” The idea of someone tapping my phone had made me paranoid, so I had told Dante not to mention Cardoza by name nor the places they were investigating. “How many did you and Jose speak to again?”
“Not sure, but many. Maybe twenty-five, thirty people.”
“And how many of those were involved with the club?”
“Pretty much everyone one way or another. Listen, Gabi. I really don’t think your man has anything to do with this place. Unless they’re the best liars in the whole world, I’d have noticed it if someone was bullshitting me. I’d have seen something in their faces when I mentioned his name. You know I’m good at seeing through BS.”
It was true; after all those years in the gang, Dante had developed great people-reading skills, which was why I’d wanted him to go down there for me to see what was up. He was also acutely aware of how criminals like Cardoza operated their business, having worked with such people himself for such a long time.
I sighed. Well, there was still one more to go—Mr. Rockford and his Houston steakhouse. I wouldn’t give up hope until we’d done some sniffing around there.
“Okay,” I said, “if you’re sure you’ve done all there is to be done to determine he has no ties to that club, head to the other city.”
“Jose and I will drive there after lunch. We should get there in time for dinner. I’m gonna call the joint now to see if I can get a reservation for two there.”
“Great idea.”
With those words, we hung up.
I spent the rest of the day training people, doing a floor shift, and then working out myself for an hour, lifting weights. All I could think of when my mind wasn’t occupied with clients and members was the investigation and what Dante and Jose were up to. Had I overestimated my old friend’s ability? Was he overestimating his ability? Had he turned sloppy as he’d left the underworld and joined us? It was after all more than five years ago since he’d managed to get jumped out of the Latin Devils. How long could one stay sharp in an area without practice? Did it last forever once you’d acquired a skill or did it go away, fading slowly with every month that passed and you didn’t have to apply yourself? There was no way of knowing. Oh, God, maybe it would have been better if I’d asked for a few days of vacation and gone to Texas to check things out for myself… Yes, that would have been so much better. No, wrong; I couldn’t afford to be away from work that long. Not as competitive as it was here these days. I was working harder than ever to get and keep clients. I couldn’t afford to be away right now if I planned on staying employed at Nikkei, not even for a few days. Not after having been at the club less than three months. Wait, maybe I was exaggerating when I told myself I’d get fired, lose my clients if I was away for a few days. It hadn’t really gotten that bad, had it?
>
I drove myself crazy for hours, one minute thinking I’d made a mistake in sending Dante, the other that I was overreacting and that it had been the best approach. At last I settled on the latter. Dante had a great eye for these kinds of things; surely he couldn’t have changed that much. I nodded to myself. It was only a matter of time until he called to inform me that Mr. Rockford and his restaurant were the big front. And if—a big, big if—it turned out that Dante and Jose didn’t find anything in Houston, I could always pretend like I was sick and head down there to make sure they hadn’t missed something. Acting like I’d gotten the flu was better than asking for a few days off. But I doubted it would ever come to that.
I exhaled, feeling a little more relaxed as I left the club in the evening. Before I could exit the elevator, my phone sounded with an incoming text. It was from Ian.
Still mad at me??
He must be referring to the fact that, during his session yesterday, I had barely spoken to him. I remained pissed at him for tampering with my phone without my knowledge. I had only opened my mouth to let him know what exercises I wanted him to do and how many of them. Frankly, unless something of interest revealed itself regarding our targets, I didn’t see any point for us to be talking at all.
I smiled to myself. To be honest, I wasn’t really that pissed at him any longer, but acting like I was served me well. After all, maintaining a cool distance between us should also hint to him that even though we’d spent a nice night together, it didn’t mean we were now dating.
