by Lexy Timms
The man nodded. “I like that you know the meaning of respect, Mr. Wade. And loyalty. It takes loyalty and courage to do what you did for Anthony. Him, on the other hand,” he said, waving his hand toward Pez. “He should be involved. It’s his business that brought us to this point, isn’t it, Pez?” He spit Pez’s name out like it was something disagreeable in his mouth.
Pez stared around the room and drew himself up as tall as he could. Luke shook his head. Getting macho wasn’t going to win him points with this crew.
“What of it, old man? As you said, it’s our business.”
Rock stepped out of the shadows and spun Pez around and socked him in the gut. Pez grunted and doubled over, and the man turned Pez back toward the men at the table.
“You don’t know the meaning of respect, Spic, and that’s the problem. This territory was ours long before your kind showed up and it will be ours long after you are gone. Capisci?”
“Don’t you mean capisce?” sneered Pez.
“Stunata!” The men at the table laughed.
“You’re crazy, Spic, to stand here at this table acting like an asshole. We’re going to decide what to do about you and the rest of you. Our interests don’t conflict, but causing trouble with people like Mr. Wade makes law enforcement pick up their ears, making it hard for us to operate.”
“What’re you going to do about it, eh, ese? Your kind is nothing here anymore.”
The man hit his hand on the table hard, making drinks set on it jump. “Stupido! We’re fucking everywhere! And we got people ready to come into the state and take care of you and your associates. It will cost us some money, but we’ll do it to make sure you don’t fuck things up anymore than you have.”
Luke stood stock still, barely breathing. It was true that people believed Wiseguys’ influence had diminished, but incidents reported in the local news said otherwise. There had been too many mysterious and unsolved deaths in the past couple years, deaths connected with the businesses Wiseguys were supposed to control. Now these men were going to decide what to do about the Rojos? What was worse, they thought they could do it too.
“We’d just rather avoid spending the money. So what are you going to do to make sure our cost of doing business remains low, ese?” The last word came out in a hiss.
The man spoke with such menace that Luke wondered what they were doing here still standing.
“What do you want?” Pez stared into the old man’s eyes, still unafraid.
The man glanced around the table to different men there. Some of them gave a nod. Luke got the feeling they talked this subject over quite a bit before they got here.
“One. You’ll knock off the social biker clubs. We don’t like them, but from time to time they provide a useful diversion for the cops’ interest.”
“We don’t care about them anyway.”
“Bullshit! If you didn’t show an interest in Mr. Wade’s club we wouldn’t be here.”
“That’s on their president.”
“We know about that asshole. Hard to ignore him. But it takes two to say yes, and someone in your club said yes.”
“We’ve taken care of him.”
“You sure about that, Spic?”
Pez shrugged. “We sent enough of a message.”
“You better be sure about that. I’m holding you personally responsible for keeping a lid on that shit.”
“You aren’t telling me anything I don’t know.”
“Two. You’re to give us a cut of the club’s profits.”
Pez laughed then. “Ask for the moon. You are likely to get that first.”
Rock grabbed Pez’s shoulder to turn him toward him again, but the man at the head of the table waved him off. “You don’t seem to understand. This isn’t a negotiation. I’ve got people more than willing to take over your business, Spic. You’ve got to make it worth our while not to do that.”
“You aren’t interested in the drug business. Too high risk.”
The old man spread his hands. “True, we backed off and let the blacks and spics take the majority of the business. But times are tough. Revenue streams have dried up. But we can make things worth your while. We’ve got people on the payroll that can make things easier for you. But hey, your choice.”
“I’m going to have to take this to leadership, man. I’m just a mouthpiece.”
“Oh, I doubt that. But you want to confer with your associates, go ahead. You’ve got twenty-four hours. Now get out of here.”
Rock wasted no time in shepherding Pez toward the door. Luke couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It felt like he had been punched in the gut. They were just going to let Pez go? What about his club, the people on his property right now threatened by the Westfield Rojos?
“Wait!” said Luke. “That’s it?”
“Yes, Mr. Wade. Now, if you know what’s in your best interests you won’t repeat any of this conversation to anyone.”
“But my shop, my club.”
“Sadly, collateral damage,” the Italian elderly man said, holding out his hands.
There was a knock at the back door, and someone moved off to answer it.
“You can’t let that happen!” Luke said as a tall man moved toward the elderly man. So intent was Luke on his conversation he didn’t realize who it was until he spoke.
“I’m afraid he’s right, Pops.”
Luke stared in shock at Detective Anglotti standing in back of the man. “I’ve been pushing into the Fed’s investigation, just as you wanted. And this man here, his name isn’t Luke Wade. It’s Icherra, Raymondo Icherra.”
The elderly man stared at Luke appraisingly.
“A spic. But not just any spic. What’s your connection with the Icherras?”
“I was named after my uncle,” mumbled Luke, trying to hold the anger burning inside of him.
“Migna!” swore the old man. The other men at the table started muttering.
“Worse yet, Pops, word is that a couple of his uncles’ men landed at Bradley a few hours ago.”
“You!” said Pops, pointing to Pez at the front door. “What do you know about this?”
Pez gave a grin as evil as a jack-o'-lantern in the dark. “There’s a reward for information on a man with a mother from Hispaniola, and a father from Mexico. Seems like, ese, your uncle’s been looking for you for a long time. My people know I was with you and they know where I am now.”
I’m fuckin’ dead. Luke rubbed his temple.
Pez turned his head toward the elderly man. “Now, old man, who is in what shit?”
Everyone at the table started speaking at once.
“Silence! Tie that shithead up right now!” he spit, pointing to Pez. “And you, Wade, or Icherra, or whatever the hell your name is. You better start talking now. Why are your uncle’s men here now?”
Luke stared at the man, feeling a frisson of fear settle in his gut. What should he tell him? He looked over to Anglotti, who stared at him with menace. If the corrupt detective didn’t have the whole story, he could find it out. Luke decided the best thing was to tell the truth.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen my uncle since I was five. My father and mother moved to the United States after that. I was too young to know what was going on. Later, I found out we were in Witsec. Both my parents were killed when I was eight, and the program put me here in Connecticut with a foster family. I had several until I graduated high school. Then I was cut loose. Or so I thought.” No use in hiding the story anymore. It didn’t matter. He was so glad he’d cut Emily loose from this hell. At least she would be safe.
“And you never had contact with your uncle?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t think that matters, Pops,” said Anglotti. “Icherra’s only son was killed last year. He may be looking for Luke to take his place in the family. In any case, Icherra’s not going to be pleased if anything happens to this guy or his.”
“His?” said Luke. “What do you mean by that?”
�
�Your girlfriend, Emily, is in your clubhouse right now,” sneered Anglotti.
“What?”
“We’ve been doing surveillance on your shop, and your clubhouse. One of our guys saw her enter a few hours ago. She hasn’t come out.” Anglotti smiled smugly.
Luke started for the door and was pulled back by Rock.
“Let me go!” He struggled and several men at the table rose and grabbed him.
“What do you think you’re going to do, Spade, eh?” said Rocco as Luke twisted, trying to break their grip.
“I’ve got to get her out of there!”
“Hey, we understand your worry, Spade, but walking in there is as good as getting killed.”
“No,” said the old man, cutting through the chaos. Everyone else stopped speaking. “Let him go.”
Hands fell away, and instantly Luke was free.
“Go. See what you can do. We appreciate what you did for Anthony. Go with God.”
Luke thought it was incongruous that this man would invoke God’s name, but he wasn’t going to argue. “What about Pez?”
“He’ll remain our guest until we get some things straightened out.”
Luke nodded, knowing better than to argue. He walked out of the Red Bull and into the night with his heart racing. What the hell was Emily doing at the clubhouse? He sped to his bike and ignored the other Rojos sitting on their bikes, hands up, looking at the men half in the shadows pointing weapons at them.
He jumped on his speedster and started it. He had no illusions about why the crime boss let him go. If Luke got killed in a confrontation with the Rojos, then the Hispanic gang would be the ones to earn his uncle’s wrath. Mexican drug cartels were utterly ruthless and took no prisoners. The Wiseguys would do anything to avoid a war with them.
All heads in the parking lot turned to him, but he didn’t care. He had to get to Emily. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. It would kill him if he did.
So either way he was a dead man.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Under Siege
Emily cowered in the small shower, once again alone with her thoughts. If Pepper, who had at least some military training, couldn’t see a way out of here, what was she supposed to do?
Dear God, please, please, please get us out of here alive.
She felt bad about her furtive prayer. What did she do to earn God’s attention? Nothing but break every commandment she felt like breaking.
The front door opened and closed again as Emily pressed against the shower. Had Pepper returned? Or was it one of the other club members checking out why Pepper was in and out of here so much?
“Hey, Emily?”
Emily released a sigh of relief at the sound of Pepper’s voice. “What’s going on?”
“Aces wanted to know where Luke was.”
Emily wondered the same thing. “Do you know?”
“All I know is that he went to Saks’ apartment to see what he could find out. Saks had been missing since sometime after work yesterday.”
“Shouldn’t Luke have returned by now?”
“I think so, but maybe…”
“Maybe? Maybe what?”
“Where’s George?” muttered Pepper. He stared at the wall as if it had answers.
“Pepper, who’s George?”
Pepper sighed. “My partner, or supposed to be, anyway. Maybe he got Luke out and away.”
“Your partner?”
Pepper stared at her, a look that had frustration and regret mixed in, like he failed at something. “I need to get you out of here too.”
“I got myself in this mess.”
“We made promises to Luke to keep you out of this, so it’s my job.”
His job? “You’re just a mechanic, Pepper.” She didn’t understand what he was saying.
“After what Luke taught me, I suppose I am.” He chuckled and quickly made his face serious when Emily didn’t smile. “I’m a DEA agent.”
“A cop?” Why in the world was Luke working with the police?
Pepper nodded. “That’s how I know Luke didn’t want you here. He made a deal to work with us in exchange for keeping you safe.”
“You’re kinda doing a lousy job.” She tried to smile but her lips trembled.
Pepper scratched the back of his neck with his good hand. “Can’t argue with you there. I did get your legal charges dropped – as per Luke’s requirement."
Emily’s hands flew to her lips. “He did that? For me?”
“Yes.”
Emily smiled and then her eyes narrowed. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I’m the worst undercover ever. I can’t see Luke as a bad guy even if my bosses do. After this, if I live and don’t get arrested or fired, I’m turning in my shield. I figure I’ll live longer that way.” Pepper pulled out his dead cell phone and stared at it, then shook his head.
“That your backup?”
“Supposed to be.”
“Where are they?”
“Right now? Since my tracker signal went dead, I expect they’re calling up a SWAT team and doing calculations.”
“Calculations?”
“For the casualties.”
Her ears rang. She didn’t want the answer to her question, but she asked it anyway. “What does that mean?”
“Well, you do the math. There are ten Hades’ Spawn with guns holed up in a clubhouse and ten, or more, Rojos with guns on the outside. Eight women in the clubhouse with no weapons at all. What do you think is the likelihood we’re getting out of this with our hides?"
As if to answer for her, the pop, pop, pop of gunfire sounded faintly in the inner walls of the small bath. Cheers and noises of celebration rang through the clubhouse.
Pepper ran out of the bathroom, holding the bloody towel, and Emily followed close behind. She peered down the hall to see a man she did not recognize stand in the middle of a group of Spawn men. They were obviously happy to see him.
“Yeah,” bragged the man. “I popped that Rojos good. When I came in the back door I saw his brothers drag him off.”
“One down,” said Aces. “Nine to go.”
“George, man, where have you been,” said Pepper. He put his hand loosely wrapped in the towel on George’s shoulder.
“When I saw those Rojos come in I took off for the woods, but I came back around and barged through.” He grinned. “Who’s the man?” He pounded his chest.
“You’re bleeding,” observed Pepper. “I’ve got a first aid kit in my room.”
“You do?” said Aces, his eyebrows arching. “Good. We may need that.”
“That’s fine. Let me take care of George first.”
Aces waved his hand dismissively and Pepper steered George to the little apartment. George was a slightly pudgy man with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. There appeared to be nothing remarkable about him, which is why, Emily supposed, he’d be good at undercover work. Pepper closed the door once he and George were in the room. He pointed immediately to Emily.
“George, Emily. Emily, George."
“Fuck,” said George, staring at the wet blood Pepper transferred from the towel. “You ruined my shirt!”
“Shut up. Where did you go?”
“I made a report to the boss. He said to hang tight, and he’d get a—” he looked at Emily nervously, “team here.”
Pepper nodded his head toward her. “She knows.”
“You told her? What the fuck?”
“Had to. Kind of in a tight situation here.”
“What the hell were you thinking?” George glared at Emily like it was her fault.
Pepper ignored his question. “Is there any chance we can make a run for it? We need to get her out of here.”
“One of us would have to lay down cover fire. I’m sure someone else has taken up the position in the tree.”
“Strange. And the guys on the roof didn’t see it?”
“It’s getting dark out there and the position’s well camouflaged by the tre
es.”
“You need to tell Aces what you’ve seen. Maybe we can get him to tell the guys on the roof to shoot at the position and we can get out of here. I’ll come with you. Emily, you stay here.” Pepper pushed George toward the door and didn’t wait for her to reply.
She watched them leave and shuddered at the sudden silence in the room. If she made it through this, she was going to need a month to process all the information inside her brain. She should be terrified, and she was, but for some reason, probably shock, she seemed relatively calm. She was oddly comforted that there were police on the inside. It made her feel protected.
They needed to find a way out.
She moved to the door and pressed her ear against it. She could hear talking and more men were heading down the hall to check the back door, or possibly coming back to the main room. She held her breath, trying to make out what they were saying as they were speaking in low voices and she couldn’t tell who was speaking.
“They haven’t made a move. What the hell?”
“They’re waiting for back-up, for more Rojos.” This voice was gruff and Emily assumed it was Aces speaking. “Otherwise they’ve no advantage.”
“Like hell, they’re outside, we’re trapped in here.”
“Fuck look, there’s a police car out there.”
“What the—? Look! That fucker Ramses is talking and laughing with the pig.”
“Who’s Ramses?"
“Their vice-prez. He’s running things since Sal got shot.”
“Asswipe! He probably convinced the guy they were just shooting off rounds for fun.”
“Fuck! He’s giving him a plate of our pig.”
“I should shoot him for that.”
“I’d like some more of that pig.”
“Shut the fuck up! Stop thinking about your stomach.”
There was a moment of silence and then the conversation picked up again.
“The cop’s moving off.”
“Damn. We could use some police intervention now.”
“Shut your pie hole. We don’t want cops here, now or ever.”
“I just thought of something.” It was Aces speaking here. “The other Rojos aren’t here yet. That’s telling us something.”
“How so?”
