"Do tell. So what's this rumored deal with the cartel?"
The Jamaican smiled. "Now why should I be tellin' ya that? That's one way to get cut out of a deal, spilling too much info."
Rez wasn't deterred. "Let me think now. If it ain't junk, leaf or LBJ, what else could it be? Or could you be bringing in some hardware 'cause that's somethin' we might be interested in."
The Jamaican stood silent, giving Rez time to continue.
"Maybe we might be interested in gathering a few heaters, maybe some macks, a few tray deuces, tray eights, AKs, even some Kevlars. At a discount, of course as we're good customers."
The Jamaican didn't answer for a beat or two then broke out into an earnest laugh. "See what I can do for a good customer. This here…monkey…knows the value of a good dime even when comin' from a white-shit-smelling-ain't-seen-soap-in-a-decade-hillbilly-mofo."
Rez's face wasn't something that could be readily scrutinized in the dark, even with all the ambient lights around. Dele knew he wouldn't take too kindly to the adjectives but Rez was a businessman before all else. Pride couldn't outprice inventory.
Dele felt a release of breath near his cheek. He had been so wrapped up in the conversation between the two gang leaders that he had nearly forgotten about her. Her whole body was trembling and it wasn't due to the drop in the temperature. At least the situation had de-escalated. No fight tonight. Which meant both of them would live to see another day.
But the clock was still running down on him. Rez dealt with thieves with succinct and deadly finality. He might still be seeing his grave in a matter of days.
Which meant she would be seeing hers in the same time frame if not sooner.
Rez gave the signal. Each man hit the throttle. The bikes roared as the Demons prepared to leave. Dele looked up at some of the wooden decks facing the ocean side. Other silhouettes were present, looking down on the scene. Some of the onlookers might be observing in dread that their pricey neighborhood was getting just a little too much traffic these days. Other residents would probably be looking on with more than a dose of curiosity. Something to break up their privileged, jaded lives. Dele figured not one of them would be calling the cops tonight. Again fear, cowardice and most likely the thrill of seeing a bit of dirt and grit in their pristine environment.
As Dele held to the line on the exit, he realized even facing a death knell he didn't envy those pallid, anemic souls with their martini-on-the-rocks existences, with everything given to them on silver trays. Even the drugs that were being negotiated on the sands below their million dollar homes. After all, it was the privileged who were the Demons main customer base.
And that's the main reason no one would have called the police. Even if the guns had blazed on their doorsteps.
Chapter 10
They were back in his hotel room. And this time he was taking no chances with her. The handcuffs that held her to the head board chafed against the skin of her wrists.
"You don't have to keep me tied up like this," she pled.
He silently sat in the chair barely offering her a glance before turning to stare out of the window. The light in the room along with the darkness outside reflected his image in the dirty pane. She looked at the reflection of his face which was hard, inscrutable. The stone expression unnerved her. His silence unnerved her even more.
More minutes passed. Already, the first light of dawn was muting the blackness outside. Just a slight pale pink in the eastern sky. She'd been handcuffed for almost thirty minutes, ever since they had returned. He hadn't brook any resistance from her, his hand a vice around her arm, the slight pain a tacit threat that he wasn't to be played with. Not anymore. They had survived yet another close call and she knew he wouldn't take any further chances of her trying to escape.
When he turned to her again, she saw a tiredness in the hard set of his face. No, more of a weariness that extended beyond the physical lack of sleep. There was something going on there, something other than him babysitting her. Her instincts told her that there was some other trouble brewing just beneath the surface. And her presence was more than complicating things.
"You should try to get some sleep," she said hesitatingly.
He smirked. "And give you another chance to run out on me. You must think I'm a total idiot. I trusted you once. I'm not gonna make that mistake again."
"Where the hell you think I'm going to go handcuffed to this bed?" She shook her cuffed wrists for effect.
"By the way, these damn things hurt. And forgive me for thinking of my life. I'm not the kidnapper here."
"I told you that I would get you out of this mess! You just have to give me more time!"
"I don't have more time to wait. Those animals can decide to kill me any moment. Or something worse. You can't protect me from them and you know it!"
He was up from his seat, pacing. At least she had his attention now. She just had to reason her way out of this.
"I panicked before. I realize you can't just let me go. That's why we both have to leave. Go to the police."
"I can't do that."
"Why can't you? It's the only thing you can do to save me. To save us."
Just seconds before she thought she'd gotten through to him. His expression had seemed thoughtful when she stressed that he couldn't protect her no matter how much he wanted to. But something in that expression changed when she mentioned going to the police. It occurred to her at that moment that for him going to the police was even riskier. Obviously he had a criminal background. She could only imagine the stuff he'd been involved with. Drugs, obviously. Was it possible that he'd done something worse than that? Then again he was a gang member which meant that he could be capable of just about anything.
"Trust me. Going to the police isn't an option."
"You can let me go, then take off then. You're better than this. You don't have to stay in this gang, do the things that you do."
Another smirk. "Not an option. There're other things going on that you can't possibly know. Trust me, you came at the worse time possible."
"Yes, I'm sorry I forced you to kidnap me and keep me prisoner here. I hate when I inconvenience criminals that way." She couldn't keep the strain of bitterness out of her voice.
He smirked.
"I'm glad you find me funny."
The smirk left. "Trust me lady I don't find any of this funny. I no more want you here than you want to be here. But what we want isn't our reality. You don't know Rez. If I let you go, it's as good as a bullet to the head for both of us. He would track us down no matter where we went. Even if we left the state."
She sighed, exasperation overcoming the underlying fear. "Then what is your plan. We can't go to the police, we can't run. Do you plan to keep me as your gang bitch because believe me that's not an option either. My family and friends will be looking for me soon, if the police aren't already looking for me."
He stopped pacing and she realized this was something he had already considered.
"Trust me on this. It's a matter of timing. I have an ace up the sleeve, something I can't tell you about. But if you give me for just a little longer, I can get us both out of this."
She was tired of his asking her to trust him. How could she trust a biker, a gang member, someone who dealt drugs and probably did much worse? Yes, he hadn't hurt her…yet. But that could change at any moment. She was at his mercy.
But right now she didn't have a choice. He was her only ally in all of this mess.
"So, what's the plan?" she asked. "More pretending?"
He looked at her in earnest. "Yeah, that's exactly it. What you said before about being my…bitch. That's the role you're going to have to play for a while. If Rez and the gang think you're in this on your own free will, the heat'll be off us…off of you… at least for a little while. Rez is fast with the knife but he also doesn't build up a body count unnece
ssarily. He's efficient that way."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Basically, just stick by my side. And look like you enjoy it."
"Geez, I swear I'll never eat another piece of rib again."
"Don't blame the meat. It seems you got anger management issues."
"You really want to go there? Considering…" She shook her handcuffed wrists again.
When he smiled, a couple of dimples deepened in his cheeks, as they did now. She had to admit it wouldn't be hard to pretend to like him. Remembering the kiss in the parking lot actually made her flush a little.
"There'll be no kissing," she declared.
He just shrugged and said, "That's up to you. Although you don't seem too turned off by my touch."
She refused to answer his observation.
He walked close to a bureau she hadn't noticed before, opened the top drawer, pulled out a white t-shirt.
"We got to get you some clothes that aren't torn. Until then, you're going to have to wear this top." He tossed the shirt onto the bed.
He walked over to her, pulled a key from his jeans pocket and unlocked the handcuffs.
She sat up, rubbing at her sore wrists.
"Where did you get those from anyway?" she asked, nodding at the cuffs that he was presently putting away in the nightstand drawer. "The local joy toy shop?"
"You could say that," he offered.
"Bet your lady friends get a kick out of those."
"I have better uses for them."
"I don't want to know."
She shifted placing her feet on the floor. It felt good to be mobile again.
"It'll be light soon. First thing we're going to do is pick up some breakfast then we'll head over to the warehouse district. That's the official meeting place for the Demons. We have facilities all over the city. Anyway this is what's going to happen in a few hours. We're going to walk in together lovey-dovey, kissing or no kissing is up to you. But you hang on to me, stay by my side. That'll be the message to the gang that this is a thing for now. Luckily for you, Rez's woman Clare is a hothead and doesn't take kindly to women being passed around so at least you don't have to worry about that. But make sure you don't ever be alone with any of the guys because they will definitely try something."
"And just what do I do if someone does try something?" The idea of having to fight off one of those goons was temporarily debilitating.
"Fight. Fight like you've never fought before. And call out to me. I'm not going to be far away."
"Can you promise that?" she asked.
His silence wasn't reassuring.
"Put the shirt on. And to answer your question, all I can do is try to keep you within distance at all times. Other than that, we're going to have to play this all out by ear."
"Play it by ear," she repeated as she turned her back to him, took off her torn shirt and slipped on his much larger t-shirt. She shifted it and tucked it to prevent major exposure.
"That's all you got?" She turned back to him. He gave a slight nod of approval at the change.
"For now. The main thing is to stay alive. If I'm taken out, you're at their mercy. Just remember that. Which means neither one of us can afford you doing something stupid like trying to run off again. Because even if I don't find you, you best be sure Rez or one of the crew will and the consequences will be brutal and final."
She didn't want to be reminded of those consequences. Her courage level was dropping at a rapid rate. Even now she didn't know how she was still standing. Her legs were jelly.
"C'mon," he ordered, opening the door. "We better get fueled up, put some food on our stomachs. Something tells me it's going to be a hell of a day."
She followed him out to the bike. The sun was almost fully risen and already the heat was settling over the city like a pall. She didn't know how she was going to keep anything on her stomach. Actually she didn't know much of anything at this point. Including whether she would still be alive at the end of the day.
She was going to have to play it by ear, just as he'd ordered, if she had any hopes of getting out of this mess. She climbed on the bike behind him and held on for dear life as he roared out of the lot into a traffic that was burgeoning even at this early morning hour.
###
The warehouse district was located just southeast of the downtown area. The blocks of industrial buildings ran along the BNSF freight railway with the Los Angeles River just a few miles away. Hardly anyone lived in the surrounding area anymore and many of the dilapidated buildings were closed up due to the economic downturn. The seclusion provided a perfect backdrop for the less than licit dealings of the gang members which not only included drugs but prostitution and other enterprises. Dele had accumulated evidence of the drug running and the pimping but still hadn't picked up anything on the Mojave murders. At this juncture he wasn't sure that he would.
Dele pulled up in front of a building just off Merchant Street that presently served as the Demons business headquarters. The building's front signage read "Nuevo Mexican Seasonings" and offered "chiles, frijol, tamale pepper and other mouth-searing spices." The graffiti-strewn metal door was closed but a couple of bikes were already parked indicating that there were members inside. One of the bikes was Roach's 1979 Harley Sportster. Anytime Roach was around was bad news. Somehow in the next day or so he was going to have to confront Roach about the missing stash to get out of Rez's bad graces. Even if he came in from the cold, this vendetta could follow him into his other life. He needed more evidence to make charges stick or these fools could be out on the streets days after the arrests. And they would come looking for him.
He steeled himself for whatever shit he had to deal with today. He didn't have to tell her to stick close. Even as he unstraddled his bike, she was quickly beside him. Her arm encircled his waist with no hesitation or shyness. Yeah, she knew what to do now. At least she wasn't an idiot, not like some of the crew's women.
He led her to the door, knocked three times. Within a few moments, Roach stood in the doorway. The biker's expression was less than welcoming and for a few seconds he blocked their entrance.
"You wanna move?" Dele asked, his voice tight. He wasn't about to take shit from this cokehead. Even this early in the morning, Dele could see that Roach had already been snorting. How could Rez not see how far gone this mutha was? Especially enough to lift a few kilos for his own recreation.
A few seconds passed before Roach finally shifted to allow them entrance, but only slightly. Dele caught the look the biker cast Nailah's way, or specifically along her form. A leer appeared.
"Keep your eyes to yourself," Dele warned.
"Got her tamed enough, huh?" Roach snickered.
Before the man could move back, Dele grabbed the lapel of the biker's leather jacket.
"Keep your bullshit to yourself," Dele said.
Dele turned to a visibly shaken Nailah, grabbed her arm while silently imploring her not to lose her nerve. It was very important that she steel herself through this ordeal. Rez and the crew could smell weakness a mile away, fed off it. Not to mention the other women, especially Clare.
Inside the "business center" as Rez liked to refer to the abandoned warehouse was nothing more than one moderately sized storage area that held a lingering smell of spices, weed and booze. The only furnishings in the room were three tattered leather couches as well as a few metal tables with accompanying metal chairs. Near the center of the room stood a newer entertainment center holding a hi-def television and stereo unit. In addition to meetings, the crew often partied here. In the rear left corner wall were several bullet holes courtesy of one of the rowdier get-togethers just a few weeks ago. Two of the crew had tested some new AK47s.
Dele led Nailah over to an empty chair near the back of the oblong space. Sid, one of the older crew, held position on the couch along the right wall. Nearing
sixty and having survived more shit than a little bit, he was more mellowed than the younger dudes. Sid sat there, eyeing them without a word. The silence made Dele too aware that he and Nailah were on display. Just as she was about to sit directly on the chair, Dele stopped her, sat first then began pulling her down on his lap. There was a momentary resistance before she allowed him to maneuver her. Picking up his cue, she settled into her role and placed an arm around his neck. Again, he was grateful that she was quick on the uptake. It would go a long way to saving their lives in the end.
He didn't know why he nuzzled her neck. It was just an instinctual thing, part of the pretense. Or so he wanted to believe. The nape of her neck was warm and there was a trace of perfume. He wasn't an expert on fragrances, but he'd known enough women to know the types of colognes and perfumes that they called pricey, and this one smelled like money. The scent made him temporarily wonder about her, about the life they had ripped her from. What did she do for a living? What places did she go to to unwind? More importantly, was there a man or someone special missing her right now? Someone looking for her? Of course, there would be.
From the corner of his eye Dele watched Roach take a seat in a chair just a few feet away, watched as the man again ogled Nailah. Dele broke from his pantomime, sat forward. He could feel Nailah tensing up.
"You got a problem, man?" Dele asked.
"Nah, man. Just enjoying the view," Roach said with a widening grin.
"I'm only going to warn you once more. You look at her, eye her in any way, you're going to be missing a pair of orbs, and because I'm such a good sport, I'll let you choose which pair."
Sid wheezed out a gruff chuckle, which was rare for the older gang member. Roach reddened, stood abruptly, upsetting the chair which clanged on the ground. He walked angrily to the door, slammed out of it. Dele heard the sound of a bike motor as it drove off.
"You do better not to aggravate the bug," Sid said directly to Dele. "Roaches tend to leave a whole lot of shit in their wake. Best to just get rid of 'em."
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