Race Against Time

by Sharon Sala

  “You want me to be the one to help bring Baba in? Jesus! He’ll kill me if I fuck him over,” Paco whined.

  “And I’m going to kill you if anything happens to the woman,” Nick added. “Your choice.”

  Paco glared at him.

  “You’re a cop. You can’t threaten me like that.”

  Nick leaned forward until his voice was just a whisper.

  “You misunderstood. I wasn’t threatening you. That was a promise.”

  Paco shuddered.

  “What’s in this for me?”

  “Well, for one thing, I won’t kill you,” Nick said.

  Paco cursed.

  Nick waited a beat, then added, “And maybe I can try to forget you were caught snooping around my house.”

  Paco glared at him.

  Nick got up and headed for the door.

  “Wait! Wait!” Paco said. “I’ll do it.”

  Nick pointed at him.

  “Don’t move. I’ll be back.”

  Nick left.

  The guard took a stance between Paco and the door.

  Paco looked at him and then looked away. It was hell cooperating with the cops.

  * * *

  Nick had to call the sheriff and let him know what was happening and get the okay to access Paco’s phone. Then he made a phone call to Gleason, as well.

  Gleason answered on the second ring.

  “This is Gleason. What’s up, Saldano?”

  Nick quickly filled him in, explaining that the Peeping Tom was actually one of Anton Baba’s snitches who had come looking for Quinn. And since she was now a federal witness, anyone threatening her was a federal problem.

  “I’ll go interview him this afternoon,” Gleason said.

  “He won’t be there,” Nick said. “He got picked up on a drunk and disorderly, and once he’s arraigned this morning he’ll be gone.”

  “And we don’t have anything to hold him on? He hasn’t made a threat or tried to harm O’Meara, has he?”

  “If you don’t find a way to keep him here, don’t blame me if Quinn decides to leave you high and dry. She won’t feel safe if he goes free and is able to get in touch with Baba.”

  “I thought you two were in a relationship? Can’t you convince her to testify?” Gleason asked.

  “If people are trying to kill her and no one other than me is willing to help, what would you expect her to do?”

  Gleason sighed. “Okay. We have a safe house here in the city. You give Paco that address, and if Baba shows up there, he’s ours. Let Miss O’Meara know we’ll do what we can do to get this guy behind bars so she can feel safe again—safe enough to testify.”

  “Thanks,” Nick said, taking down the address Gleason gave him.

  Then he went to get Paco’s phone out of evidence. They would have to get a search warrant and turn it over to the Feds and hope there was a record of calls or texts to Baba. If there wasn’t, then they had nothing on Paco Cruz but a simple Peeping Tom report. It was crucial that Cruz cooperate willingly, so Nick took the phone back to interrogation.

  As he walked in, he glanced up at a mirror on the wall opposite the table where Paco was waiting, aware that Quinn was behind it, watching and listening.

  “What took you so long?” Paco muttered.

  Nick put the phone down on the table between them, then gave him a piece of paper with an address on it.

  “Send your boss a text telling him the girl he’s looking for is at this address,” Nick said.

  All of a sudden Paco got defensive. “What happens to me if I don’t?” he snapped.

  Damn it, Nick thought. He had left him sitting alone too long. He’d had too much time to think about repercussions. Nick picked up the phone again and headed for the door without so much as a word. He wouldn’t be able to offer Paco anything he wanted to hear, so his best bet now was to make him fear the unspoken.

  This was not what Paco had expected. An argument, sure. Maybe some kind of deal for participating willingly. But the cop was just going to walk out and leave him again, so Paco panicked.

  “Wait! Hey, wait!” he yelled.

  Nick paused, then turned around.

  “I’ll do it!” Paco said. “I’ll send the text. Just tell me what to say.”

  Nick walked back and laid the phone in Paco’s hands.

  “This is what you type—‘I found the redhead you’re looking for. She’s at this address.’ Then send this address to him,” he said, laying down a piece of paper with the safe-house location scrawled in pen.

  “And that’s all?” Paco said.

  “Yes. That’s all,” Nick said, then watched Paco open the phone and pull up the right number in Contacts. Nick stood behind him to watch, making certain he typed only what he’d been told to say. The moment Paco hit Send, Nick took the phone and then signaled for the guard that he was finished and to lock Paco back up.

  “Wait! When am I going to get out of here?” Paco yelled as Nick headed for the door.

  “I don’t have any idea,” Nick said. “When you sent the text to a man wanted by the Feds, you immediately became part of their case.”

  Paco stared.

  “But you’re the one who came to me. You’re the one who was making all these threats to my life and then bringing me the phone to send your message. Why is this happening? Why am I now involved in a federal case because of your request?”

  Nick walked back to the table and leaned down until he and Paco were eye to eye and so close he could smell the hangover on his breath.

  “Because you messed with what’s mine,” Nick said. “Whatever happens to you with the Feds is unimportant to me. But if I ever see your face again, or if you ever mess with me or mine, I will make you sorry. Understood?”

  Paco was shaking. A cop could easily look the other way for one of their own. It had just occurred to him how easy it would be for this man to kill him and get away with it.

  Nick stood up and left the room. He had come close to crossing a line with this punk, and it had never occurred to him to pull back. Protecting Quinn was what mattered, and now he was going to get her and take her home. They had a sink full of dirty dishes and a family dinner to go to tonight. A life to live. He was done with bottom-feeders for today.

  He paused in the hallway and called Gleason back.

  “All right, Gleason. My Peeping Tom sent a text to Baba pointing him to your safe house. Now you make sure you file charges on him for abetting a man with a warrant out for his arrest.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll get someone on that,” he said.

  Nick hung up, then kept winding his way through the hallways until he got to the observation room and went inside.

  Quinn had gone through the gamut of emotions watching Nick work his magic on Paco Cruz. She was afraid that, once Cruz was released, he would be back for some kind of retribution. And then Nick did something that forever sealed the deal with her. She’d asked him once what it felt like to belong to family and now she knew. The moment she heard the words “don’t mess with what’s mine” come out of his mouth, she lost composure completely.

  Today was the beginning of the rest of her life.

  This time, when she watched Nick walk out of interrogation, she knew he was coming back to her. She turned her back to the two-way mirror to watch the door. One minute passed into another and then another, and then she heard footsteps and saw the door beginning to open. When she saw Nick, she walked directly into his arms.

  Nick could tell by her silence that what she’d witnessed had rattled her. Maybe one day she’d trust him enough to admit she was frightened, but for now it was enough that she loved him.

  “He’s more bluff than business,” Nick said as he wrapped his arms around her. “You’ll be okay. You’ll s
ee. And the address he gave Anton Baba is to a federal safe house. They’ll be waiting for him when he shows.”

  Quinn heard, but was afraid to believe it could be this easy.

  “Don’t you believe me?” he asked, sensing her tension.

  She lifted her chin and looked at him then. It was time for her to trust someone besides herself.

  “Yes, I believe you,” she said.

  He cupped her face with both hands and then kissed her, gently at first and then deeper until they were both a little shaky when he stepped back.

  “Come with me, baby. I have to take the phone back to evidence and then we’re out of here.”

  Quinn didn’t hesitate. She took his hand and together they walked away.

  * * *

  Anton was in the galley returning his dirty dishes and tossing out what was left of the food he didn’t eat when the pilot’s voice came over the intercom.

  “We’re ten minutes away from landing at the hangar, sir. Please take a seat and buckle up.”

  Anton wiped his hands, made a quick trip to the bathroom and then checked his disguise one last time before he returned to his seat.

  Even though his white hair had been dyed black, he looked older this way. Maybe it was the salt-and-pepper beard and the condition of his clothing. He looked like a peon, and driving that old truck would add another layer to his disguise.

  He went back to the main cabin and checked to make sure everything he needed was in his bag, then dropped his cell phone into the pocket of his jacket and buckled up.

  There were many details to take care of, and they had to be dealt with in a timely fashion. He was in this mess because the people he’d sent had not done their jobs properly. So he’d already decided that the things that mattered most he would deal with himself.

  When the plane began to descend, his gut knotted. Except for killing Ian for leaving Sammy behind at the wreck, it had been years since he’d had to get his hands dirty. Maybe it was a good thing to revisit from time to time. He didn’t want it ever to be said that Anton Baba had lost his edge.

  The landing was perfect.

  Paul emerged, lowered the stairs and then went to carry Anton’s things down.

  But Anton stopped him.

  “No, no, I’ve got this,” he said. “What I need you to do is go get the truck. If it needs gas, fill it up. I have a couple of calls to make while I’m waiting.”

  “Yes, sir,” Paul said and took the stairs down two at a time and hurried toward the hangar.

  Anton took out his phone to check for messages and saw he had one from Paco Cruz. He opened it, read the message and then smiled.

  “Good man. Good man,” he muttered. “If she’s a smart girl, she’s hiding from me, so she won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. I’ll leave her on ice for the time being.”

  He checked for other messages, but there were none, which he viewed as positive. He thought of his place here in Vegas. Elegant. Luxurious. Servants to do his bidding. Women waiting in his bed whenever he asked. And directly in the sights of federal agents. Like it or not, he was going to have to huddle with the masses. Just like old times back in Istanbul when he was a boy.

  Fuck them all.

  He’d be back on top again soon enough.

  Then he heard the sound of an engine and looked out. Paul was bringing the old truck to the plane.

  “Damn. It looks worse than I remembered,” he mumbled and then shouldered his bag and started down the steps to the tarmac.

  Paul got out and held the door open for Anton.

  “Will there be anything else I can do for you, sir?”

  “No, but thank you for your service, Paul. It is always appreciated.”

  “It’s my pleasure, sir,” Paul said, then watched Baba toss his old bag into the seat and get in. “Safe travels, Mr. Baba.”

  “It’s Petrova now. Manny Petrova. Remember that in case I need another ride.”

  “Will do, Manny,” Paul said and gave him a thumbs-up.

  Anton put the old truck into gear and drove out of the private airstrip and headed toward the city.

  Seventeen

  Anton hadn’t seen Vegas from the front seat of any vehicle in years, and it had been even longer since he’d been behind the wheel. But driving was like sex—once you knew how it worked, you never forgot.

  He purposefully took backstreets to get to his casino, marveling at the shops he’d never noticed. Little shops, small businesses, a local gym, a hair salon. These businesses and the people in them had been there all along, living their small, insignificant lives while he was pulling in millions by the month. They would never have come on to his radar now but for what was happening. When you live big, you have a very long way to fall, and at the moment he was as far down as he ever cared to go. Even now he wasn’t certain he could pull himself out of the shit he was in, but if he couldn’t, he was sure as hell taking people down with him when he fell.

  He saw the bright lights of Lucky Joe’s long before he reached the building itself, and the closer he got, the bigger the knot in his belly became. But by the time he reached the casino he was cold and steady-handed, ready to take back what was his. His old truck garnered little notice as he drove around back to the delivery entrances and parked against the building a good distance from the door.

  He put his bag behind the truck seat so it wouldn’t attract some petty thief to bust a window to get to it. Then he grabbed the toolbox from the floor in the front seat, took a pair of cheap, black plastic eyeglasses from his pocket and put them on. They were the final addition to his disguise.

  He got out, locked the truck, then pulled the old sombrero down tight on his head. As he headed toward the back entrance, he made sure to keep his shoulders stooped and his walk a shuffle. When he reached the entrance he opened the door and walked in, expecting to be stopped by a guard asking for an ID and what business he had on the premises. But there was no one there.

  Frowning, he finally saw his guard down a darkened hall with his back to the door, humping a waitress for all he was worth. The woman was moaning, and he could see that the guard was on the verge of climax, even as he watched. They were too far gone to even notice him, and he didn’t want witnesses to what he was about to do, so he knew they would agree—timing was everything.

  He slipped up the back stairs to the second floor and headed down a hall past a bank of meeting rooms, then took a sharp right at the ice machines. There was a small, insignificant-looking door near a blind corner that opened only by a key code. There were no security cameras in this hall because he’d designed it this way, but he still made sure he was alone before he punched in the code.

  Immediately, the door slid into a pocket in the wall revealing a small, private elevator. When he stepped into the car, the door slid closed behind him. He had a card key for the penthouse, and once he swiped it, the elevator started moving upward. He put on a pair of latex gloves as he rode, and when the car came to a silent stop, it opened up into the far end of a walk-in closet.

  Anton grabbed his toolbox and stepped out as the door closed behind him. He put the toolbox down by the door, took a large hunting knife from his boot and quietly made his way out of the master bedroom, pausing every few steps to listen for sounds that would alert him to Stewart’s presence.

  Just when he thought the place was empty, he heard a toilet flush.

  Hope you’re done, Mr. Stewart, because real shit is about to fly.

  He knew the layout like the back of his hand and was ready for anything. Just thinking how this sorry sucker had walked in and taken over what he’d built drove his bloodlust higher. He shifted the knife from one hand to the other and waited to see which way Stewart went.

  He heard the bathroom door open. Stewart exited wearing dark purple lounge pants and a white
billowing shirt hanging loose over his belly. He was blowing his nose and clearing his throat as he walked by.

  Anton followed a ways behind. When Stewart suddenly stopped, so did Anton, holding his breath as he waited for Stewart to disregard the sound he heard and let go of suspicion.

  He watched as Stewart shrugged it off and went into the living room, poured himself a double shot of bourbon, took a sip and then sank down into an easy chair and reached for the TV remote.

  Anton had thought long and hard about how he would do this. Was he going to let Stewart live long enough to confront him, to make him answer for what he’d done? Did it matter enough that Stewart knew he’d been caught? And at that moment, Anton decided the answer was no. Swift and efficient, that’s what this needed to be. Enough mess had already been made, and there was no time to risk any mistakes.

  Stewart had the sound on the TV turned up loud, which masked Anton’s steps as he walked into the living room. Just as Stewart let out a big burst of laughter at the show he was watching, Anton plunged the hunting knife into the top of his skull.

  The glass of bourbon hit the floor and shattered as Stewart’s body began to jerk and seize.

  Anton circled the chair for a last look at the traitorous son of a bitch and realized from the wide-open mouth and the tip of the knife clearly visible in the back of his throat that Stewart had literally died laughing.

  “Joke’s on you, you sorry bastard,” Anton said and then headed for the media room to destroy the footage captured on the security camera.

  He not only sabotaged the cameras, but removed the discs and backups and took them with him.

  Now that the deed was done, he was anxious to leave. He made a quick run through the rooms back to the master bedroom, then into the walk-in closet. He grabbed his toolbox, keyed in the code, and then while he was riding down in the elevator he put the security discs into a plastic bag, took a hammer out of the toolbox and beat everything in the bag until nothing was left but shards. Then he wrapped the bag and the latex gloves in a handful of paper towels and put it all in his toolbox.