Staring back at Mike, he shook his head. Mike wasn’t stupid. The son of a bitch was going to put Vic’s feet to the fire and make him choose between the training center or the off-the-books work. Mike watched Gina’s back by manipulating Vic into a career change. The guy had moments of sheer brilliance.
“What does this have to do with your sister?”
Mike shrugged. “That’s up to you. I’m doing my best to stay out of it, but if you think you want a life with my sister, you know what it’ll take. My wife thinks the universe is sending you a message with this training center thing and that it’s time to make a change. I gotta admit, the timing is weird.”
“No shit,” he said.
Mike stood, patted his shoulder. “You let me know. I’m hungry. Who’s hungry?” He yelled to Gina and Matt.
“I’ll help you,” she said, standing and slipping a cover up on. Too bad. Vic liked the other view.
“Let me call Roxann and see what’s keeping them,” Mike said. “Tiny’s probably out of his mind by now.”
“Vic, why don’t you light the grill?” Gina asked, walking by him and brushing her hand over his shoulders. He could get used to that.
He shook his head. “No can do.”
Gina stopped, frowned at him. “Why?”
“Man law eighteen.”
“Again with the man laws?”
“Tell her, Mike.”
“Man law eighteen?” Mike dialed the cordless. “Never mess with a guy’s grill. It’s right there with electronics. If it has buttons and it belongs to a buddy, a guy can’t touch it.”
Her mouth flopped open and Vic couldn’t resist giving her an I-told-you-so look.
“Truth,” Mike said. “I’d bury him if he touched my grill.” He went into the house to talk to Roxann on the phone.
Gina grunted. “Morons.” She followed her brother into the house.
Matt snickered from his lounge chair, shooting poisonous darts at Vic. Enough already. Time to talk to the kid. Matt had been working his last nerve all afternoon. If he hadn’t been Gina’s son, he’d have gotten a talking to long ago. Well, the time had come.
Standing to stretch—cripes, he was tired—Vic yelled, “Mike, where are the boat keys?”
Mikey had a twenty-nine-foot Bayliner sitting at the dock begging for Vic’s attention. Vic had actually picked that baby out. Mike, knowing zilch about boats, gave him a budget and told him to have a party. The blue and white boat had enough seating for ten, maybe twelve people, so if Mike’s visitors wanted to cruise, they could all go. Vic knew the boat got good use, but he’d give her some extra TLC.
The screen door slid open and Mike tossed the keys out.
“Be back in half an hour.” He started toward the dock. “Come on, kid, take a ride with me.”
“I’ll stay here,” Matt said.
Yeah. Bite me. “It wasn’t a request. Let’s go.”
The pain in the ass moved slow, but he got moving. By the time he got to the dock Vic had the boat fired up. He yelled to Matt to untie the lines and watched as the kid took his sweet time getting it done. Kill. Me. Now.
He guided the boat out of the no-wake zone, hit the throttle and shot toward the middle of the lake. On a nice Saturday, boats invaded the lake and it made going full throttle almost impossible. Besides, he didn’t need to wreck Mike’s boat. He’d find a quiet spot somewhere on the other side of the lake and let it rip.
By the time they hit top speed, the boat began bouncing off the lake with vicious thuds and the wind smacked at Matt’s hair. The kid was doing his best not to smile, but Vic knew he had him. Matt was a boy, and boys liked fast cars and boats. At that age Vic had liked fast girls too, but he wasn’t about to talk about that. Gina would rip his nuts off.
He eased up on the throttle, shut the engine and let the boat drift in the middle of the lake. He let out a breath and his humming body settled down. Fun’s over.
The kid bolted straight when Vic moved to the bow and settled onto one of the bench seats to stretch his legs. “So, what’s up? You still pissed at me?”
Matt shrugged.
“If you want me to treat you like a man,” Vic said, “talk to me like a man. Otherwise, it’s all bullshit.” He had to get through to this kid.
When Matt stayed silent, Vic figured they’d be here awhile. Not a problem. He had patience. He’d spent hours doing worse things than floating around on a boat. “I’ll sit here all night if you want.”
“You can’t keep me out here.”
Vic jerked a shoulder. “You gonna swim back?”
“My mom will kill you.”
“Probably.”
He hadn’t thought about that. He may have just screwed the pooch by dragging Matt out here. He’d deal with it later.
Matt narrowed his eyes and started grinding his teeth.
Come on, kid. Let me have it. I know you want to blow your stack.
Nothing. Just the damned teeth grinding.
Matt rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Stubborn little shit. Vic had to smile. He’d been just as ornery at fifteen, and he suddenly felt sorry for putting his aunt through this fucking misery.
Ten minutes later, with only the chirping birds to keep the conversation going, Matt finally spoke. “I know you went out with my mom last night. She dumped us on Uncle Mike because of it.”
Hadn’t they been through this recently? Mike’s warning about Matt pushing buttons rang in Vic’s ear.
He leaned forward. “She didn’t dump you. You know it, but you’re trying to light me up. You got nothing this time. I did go out with your mom last night. She told me she talked to you and you didn’t have a problem with it. Why are you pissed at me?”
The heat evaporated from Matt’s eyes, but something else took residence. Confusion maybe. “I don’t know. I just am.”
That answer sucked. They were getting nowhere.
Vic scratched his head with both hands. “You’re driving me bat-shit. It doesn’t matter though. I’ll still care about your mom. And I’m going to spend time with her. With all you guys. We’re all here together today, aren’t we?”
“So?”
“Your mom could have stayed in Chicago all weekend, but she wanted to be with you. She’s not going to dump you. Maybe there will be nights when she and I go to the movies alone, but she and your dad did that when you guys were little. She didn’t dump you then, right?”
“But—”
“No. Don’t try to deny it. You can spend as much time as you want being pissed at me. I won’t like it, but I’m used to aggression. It’ll eat at you more than me. If you want to be miserable, knock yourself out.” Vic stood. “I’m still going to date your mom.”
He walked back to the boat’s cockpit and fired the engine. Frustration knotted at his shoulders. Fucking teenagers. The mess of ’em should be put in some sort of coma. They should go from twelve to twenty and forget everything in between.
This bullshit was over. He wanted things with Matt to be good for Gina’s sake, but he wouldn’t pacify the kid. Fuck it.
They returned to the house in minutes, and Vic docked the boat and headed across the grass. The smell of sizzling meat hung in the air. The others had arrived. Lily sat at the patio table showing Gina her nails and Jake, God bless him, was still in the pool and probably half-shriveled by now. Tiny must have been in the house resting after being forced to spend all afternoon in a salon. Poor bastard.
“Hey,” Matt said, trailing a few feet behind.
Vic stopped and turned to him.
“You got sunburn on your back.”
Sunburn? That was all he had to say?
“Yeah,” he said. “I forgot sunscreen. It’ll hurt like a bi—uh—it’ll hurt later.” He might as well at least try to not swear around the kid. Although, Matt had a pretty good potty mouth himself.
Shuffling his feet, Matt nodded toward the lake. “Um, there’s fireworks tonight. Maybe we can go out on the boat late
r and watch them?”
Haza! Forward motion. Vic wanted to leap with joy, but Matt had his eyes locked on him, waiting for a response. Don’t make too much of it. It’s killing the kid to do it. Play it cool.
He nodded. “Sure. We’ll all go. It’ll be fun.”
“Yeah,” Matt said, obviously not giving another inch.
Vic gave him a companionable shove. “You are a major pain in my ass, but I suppose, right now, you feel the same about me.”
Matt laughed, and it was a good snorting laugh that made Vic smile. “Pretty much, yeah. We’re stuck with each other.”
“I can only hope, kid. I can only hope.”
Chapter Fifteen
Man Law: Never reflect on a bad childhood.
“That him?” Vic asked from the front seat of Tiny’s not so tiny Hummer.
They’d gone to a lot of trouble weaving in and out of lanes and making illegal turns to ensure they weren’t tailed, but could they be any more conspicuous in this monster? Sure the moonless night sky blanketed the area in darkness, but a Hummer was hard to miss even from the alley across the street.
Tiny observed the front of the beat-up, two-story brick house. “Yeah. That’s Conlin.”
“He’s shorter than I expected.”
Tiny gave him the famous you’re-a-dumb-ass curled-lip look.
Vic flipped him off. “The guy hassling Gina at the bar was bigger. I thought maybe it was the same guy.” Conlin got into the Chevy. “Are you sure he’s gonna be gone awhile? If we’re going to break into the guy’s house, I don’t want him running out for coffee and coming back quick.”
Here they sat, in a neighborhood known for its gang violence and drug dealing, and Vic wanted to get moving. The pounding in his head had nothing to do with fear. No, this lifeless darkened street, with its dead trees and boarded up houses, reminded him too much of his early childhood. After a nice weekend with Gina, he didn’t want to think about that. Particularly after he and Matt made nice. Score one for the kid, who stepped up and kept their little chat to himself.
“According to Janet,” Tiny said, “Conlin works at a twenty-four-hour market stocking shelves. I called the place and they said he comes in at eleven.”
“No roommates?”
“Not that we’ve seen.”
When Conlin drove out of sight, they walked around the house to the back door. Tiny pulled out his penlight and turned it on before using a handkerchief to loosen the bulb on the porch. No sense having the place lit up while breaking and entering. Not that cops spent too much time around here anyway, but still. Vic put on a pair of latex gloves and pulled the small black case containing his lock-picking tools from his pocket. He chose his favorite pick along with a flathead screwdriver.
“Look at this piece of shit lock,” he said. “I love these wafer-tumbler deals. They got these nice wide keyholes that make it so easy for me.”
“Whatever,” Tiny said, humoring him.
Vic slid the screwdriver into the keyhole, rotated it and applied the right amount of pressure. Almost there. With his other hand he inserted the pick, quickly pulled it out and felt the lock give. Bingo. The familiar rush of excitement swirled through him and he opened the door, waited a second for any beeps indicating an alarm—nothing—and stepped in. Tiny entered the kitchen behind him.
The house was a typical row house with the living room, dining room, kitchen front to back. The small stove light lit the entire kitchen, where a card table sat in the middle of the room with four folding chairs. The dank smell of old grease assaulted Vic, probably from the dirty dishes piled in the sink, and he held his breath. They trudged over the nasty-ass kitchen’s sticky floor and into the living room.
A lit lamp sat on a folding tray next to a worn gray sofa that could have been green at one time. Vic sensed the overload of dust in the place settling on his skin. He’d need a shower after this.
“I’ll take the upstairs.” He handed Tiny a pair of gloves. “Use them so you don’t leave prints. They’ll also keep your hands clean in this cesspool.”
“Got it.” Tiny snapped the gloves on and moved directly to a trunk sitting in the corner of the otherwise empty dining room.
“Any idea how long he’s been here?”
“Six months, I think.”
Vic took the creaking stairs two at a time, thanking his almighty stars he didn’t live in this dump. The place reeked of discarded food and the smell made his stomach hitch. What a way to spend a Sunday night. Particularly after a good day at the lake.
The upstairs hallway was dark and Vic pulled out his penlight. He stopped at the top, listened for any movement in the house.
Nothing.
The first door on the right was the bathroom and he poked his head in. Fucking pigsty. Not going in there unless he had to.
The second door led to an empty bedroom. He’d come back to that one. The third and last door was another bedroom. A full-size mattress and box spring sat on the floor—no frame or headboard—and a chest of drawers against one wall. A folding card table sat in the other corner with a computer on it. He’d get to that in a minute. He went to the closet. People always hid shit in the closet, and he could never figure out why, because guys like him always went there first.
He rifled through the few pairs of pants and shirts. With the penlight in his mouth, he stepped inside and knocked on the walls to see if anything sounded different from one wall to the other.
The closet was a bust. Maybe Conlin wasn’t so dumb after all.
Vic moved to the bed, lifted the mattress and, holding it up with one arm, ran the penlight over the gauzelike material of the box spring. Nothing.
Okay. Moving on. He went to the computer, booted it up and waited while it made that whirring sound. He heard Tiny coming up the stairs.
“Anything?” he asked, sticking his head in.
“No, but I’m about to check out the computer. Anything downstairs?”
“Just rotted something or other in the fridge. You check the bathroom yet?”
“Be my guest, pal,” Vic said, secretly glad he didn’t have to do it.
The piece-of-shit computer was taking a long time to boot up. Sirhan obviously wasn’t paying his employees well. Vic sat back in the folding chair and stretched his legs. When he slid his foot back, a piece of the 1970 shag carpeting came with it. Hmm.
Vic stood. “Tiny.” A second later he came back in.
“What?”
Vic jerked his head toward the table. “Grab an end. We’re gonna slide it this way.”
Being careful not to dislodge the monitor, they moved the table and he bent to pull up the carpet. Hardwood. Damn nice hardwood too. He reached down, started knocking on the floorboards. The fourth one rattled.
Yes.
Adrenaline shot through him like a rocket into space.
“Loose?” Tiny asked.
“Yep.” He stepped to the side, pulled the carpet back and lifted the board.
Checking the one next to it, he found it loose and pulled it out. Tiny shined his penlight into the floor.
“Subfloor,” he said.
Vic dropped to his knees. God help him, he’d have to throw these jeans out because who knew what kind of filth grew in this dump. He reached his arm under the boards and, before he got elbow deep, his fingers brushed against an object. “I got something and it isn’t a dead animal.”
“What is it?”
He wrapped his fingers around what felt like a stack of paper and pulled it out. He sat back on his heels and, with Tiny’s penlight shining down, stared at a stack of hundred dollar bills neatly wrapped in a money band.
“Are there more?”
Vic stood, moved left a couple of feet and, with both hands, pushed on the boards. Four more loose. He pulled the boards up and shined the penlight onto stacks and stacks of hundred dollar bills.
“Fuck me,” Tiny said. “There’s gotta be fifty grand there. This is not the neighborhood to have that kind of cash around.
”
“Unless you’re a terrorist trying to hide it.”
“There is that.”
Vic pushed on the next few boards. Loose. He pulled those up and—holy shit—this guy had all sorts of goodies. With itchy fingers, he ran his hand over a few semiautomatics, an AK-47 and a sawed-off shotgun. Some hand grenades rested quietly next to a couple of handguns. One of which he recognized as a Colt .45. A real man-stopper Vic had used many times. If he’d had time, he would have checked every floorboard in the room. He was sure he’d find other treasures, but didn’t want to take the time and risk getting caught. He wasn’t law enforcement and he certainly didn’t have a warrant. That would be Lynx’s department. And there seemed to be enough here to get Conlin locked up.
“I’m going to put this all back together. You check the computer. I’m sure it’s password protected, but give it a try. You got a flash drive to copy files?”
“Yeah,” Tiny said. “If I can get in.”
“When we’re done here, I’ll call Lynx and see if he can get a warrant for this place. If they lock Conlin up, maybe he’ll squeal on where Sirhan is.”
That would take some time, though, which sucked, but probable cause needed to be established before a warrant would be issued.
As suspected, the computer was password protected. Tiny shut it down and he and Vic moved the table to its original location. All in all, the sneak and peek only validated that Conlin was up to no good.
“Let’s get out of this hole,” he said, taking a final glance around the room to ensure that they put everything in its rightful place. “Don’t forget to fix the light bulb on the porch. We don’t need Conlin suspecting anything before Lynx can move on him.”
“Can you get hold of Lynx tonight?”
“I don’t know. He’ll blow an artery because I called him on his cell, but oh well. I want the feds on this place fast.”
Vic slid into the Hummer and immediately dialed Lynx.
“This better be good,” a sleep-riddled Lynx said.
“Why? You getting laid?” Vic was hopeful for his old buddy.
Tiny snickered as he made a right turn, heading toward Vic’s apartment. They drove through a brighter part of town, leaving behind the gloom of Conlin’s neighborhood. Not to mention Vic’s memories of his mother and his miserable time with her.
Man Law Page 13
