by Susanne Beck
"Understandable," she replied, taking her eyes off the road just long enough to glance at the crushed cup, then at me, before returning to the view from the windshield. "I’ll be as quick as I can, then we’ll go back to the house and you can relax, alright?"
I found myself grinning. "Relaxing wasn’t quite what I had in mind, unless that’s what they’re calling it these days. I’m so out of touch, being an ex con and all."
"Oh yeah, you’re a regular Lizzie Borden, alright."
"Hey!"
Laughing softly, she squeezed my leg and continued driving as a comfortable silence fell between us. I placed my hand over hers as it lay comfortably on my thigh and concentrated on the smooth heat of her flesh in mine and not on the fact that we were driving in a dead man’s car with a dead man’s things littering the interior.
Ice hadn’t told me very much about the ‘business’ she had to take care of, just that she was going to meet with someone who had some information for her. The reasons didn’t really matter to me at that point. I was just too happy to be sitting next to her to worry about anything else.
The town, when we finally arrived, looked pretty much like any small city I’d encountered in my travels, save for the fact that all the signs were, of course, in Spanish. When we entered, Ice dropped any pretense of ease, straightening almost imperceptibly in her seat, muscles tense, nerve endings on high alert. Her nostrils flared, reminding me of a wolf scenting danger—or prey—on the wind.
She made a circuitous sweep of the area, driving around a several block area, her narrowed eyes missing nothing. On our second loop, my eyes caught a glimpse of an unmistakable curly blonde head exiting one of the small shops lining the street. "Hey! Isn’t that... ?"
"Yeah. Hang on." An abrupt U-turn in the middle of the near-empty street bought us up behind the car where Critter was storing her newly gotten gain. "Stay here. I’ll be right back."
I watched through interested eyes as Ice approached Critter and spoke intently to her. Critter nodded a few times, then, with a jaunty wave to me, disappeared back inside the shop. Ice returned to the car and slid inside, then silently pulled away from the curb, her expression set and determined. It was a side of her I hadn’t seen in quite awhile. The weight of the world was once again heavy on her shoulders, but as always, she seemed to flourish under the burden. There was a peculiar glint in her eye, the kind I’d seen often in the Bog when she was getting ready to knock one inmate or other down a few pegs.
I won’t say that that glint didn’t concern me, because that would be a lie. But I will say that over the years, I’ve become much more comfortable with it.
A final sweep around the block, and we parked against the curb directly across the street from a rather ostentatious looking establishment which had, of all things, a green awning of the type you see outside trendy restaurants, and intricate scrollwork etched over the door. Only the heavy bars across the windows and door dimmed the ambience of the place.
Stepping out of the car as soon as the motor was off, I crossed around the car and joined Ice as she started across the street, heading straight for the shop I’d been admiring.
When we entered, my first thoughts were that we were in an incredibly eclectic jewelry store. But when I saw handguns, transistor radios, and a plethora of other goods of better and lesser quality, I realized quickly that we were in quite a different type of store altogether.
A short, rather handsome man, nattily dressed, beamed when he saw us enter, and came out from behind the counter, his hand already extended. "Morgan! So good to see you again." Though of obvious Mexican descent, his English was unaccented and spoke of an American education.
"Pedro," Ice replied, squeezing his hand briefly, then releasing it and turning to me. "Angel, this is Pedro Nunez, loan shark... ."
"Ah—I prefer ‘lending counselor’, actually."
". . . And Pawn Shop owner."
"Purveyor of slightly used fine goods and sundries, if you don’t mind."
"Whatever. Pedro, this is my partner, Angel."
"A perfect name for such an angelic vision of beauty indeed," he replied, taking my hand and bringing it up to his lips.
I wanted to laugh at his overdone theatrics, but not wanting to alienate him, I settled for as demure a smile as I could manage, though I drew the line at a feminine titter. "It’s... very nice to meet you, Mr. Nunez," I replied as soon as I regained possession of my hand.
"Oh, please, dear lady. Call me Pedro. I insist on it."
"Alright," I replied, nodding. "Pedro it is."
"Good! Excellent." He rubbed his hands together. "May I get you anything? Tea perhaps? Wine? I have an excellent... ."
"Information," Ice replied in her usual ‘let’s just stop stomping around shrubbery and get to the point’ manner.
His smile faltered a little, then returned, bright as day. "Ah yes, of course. If you’ll both follow me into my office... ?"
As he put his hand on my lower back to escort me to his office, the door opened. A young couple, freshly engaged I guessed, based on that ‘new glow’ of love coloring both of their faces, stepped in and headed for the jewelry display.
"Ah—customers. If you’ll excuse me for just a moment, I must attend to them. Please, make yourselves at home and feel free to look around. A special discount for you, my friends." And with a final, glib smile, he left.
"Interesting," was the only word I could come up with.
"That’s one way of putting it," Ice replied, smirking.
"Old...friend?"
Her smirk became a snort. "Hardly. We’ve spoken a few times, on the recommendation of a friend of mine. Seems most of Pedro’s debt collectors have gotten better offers to be on Cavallo’s goon squad. He’s a bit pissed."
"Ahh. So now they’re breaking kneecaps for the competition, huh?"
"From what I’ve heard, yes. Got a few tips that he’s starting to become the laughing stock of the loan sharking business."
"So...he feeds you information in the hopes that you’ll take care of his little problem for him."
"Somethin’ like that, yeah." She didn’t sound entirely convinced, however.
"Something wrong?"
"I don’t know yet. Just keep alert."
"Will do."
Several moments later, he returned to us, all slick smiles and oozing charm. "I apologize for the interruption, but, as they say, business is business, and I am a businessman. Shall we?"
We started for the back again, when Ice froze.
I stopped as well. "What is it?"
"Get down."
Her words were aided by a firm push to my shoulder, and I dropped to my belly immediately.
The rear door blew open and two men stepped through, already firing their automatic weapons into the shop. It was obvious that Ice had already removed her own gun (which I hadn’t known she was even carrying until that very second), because she returned fire immediately, hitting one of the men in the chest and blowing him back out the door.
The sounds of gunfire and shattered glass filled the air, and I covered my head with my arms in blind reflex.
There were several more rapid bursts of gunfire and breaking glass, before all went mercifully silent save for the ringing in my ears. I vaulted to my feet immediately, almost bumping into my thankfully very much alive partner, who steadied me with her free hand.
"Ice, thank god you’re alright. Are you... you’re bleeding!"
She spared her shoulder a cursory glance. "I’m alright. Just got hit by some flying glass." She returned her gaze to the second gunman, who was sprawled on the floor, a massive quantity of blood splattered across his belly. Stepping over, she shoved him with her foot. His body lolled like a rag doll’s. He appeared quite dead.
Swallowing back the bile in my throat, I turned away just in time to see Pedro rise to his feet, swaying slightly as he brushed glass from his hair. It was obvious he’d gotten his bell rung, but he didn’t appear to be hurt too badly otherw
ise.
"Get in the back room now, before any reinforcements come."
"But Ice, I... ."
"I said now!"
Without waiting to hear my response, she launched herself at Pedro, pinning him against the wall, one hand around his throat and the other holding her gun which was pressed up against his temple. "You set me up, you bastard!"
"I...please... ." His voice came out in a pathetic wheeze, and after arguing with myself for all of a second, I walked over to them, intent on getting Ice to back down enough to let the man breathe.
"You lost any right to beg when you doublecrossed me, pig. It’s time to say goodbye."
"My family!" was all he was able to get out before Ice’s hand squeezed his throat closed and slammed him back against the wall hard enough to cause already fractured glass in one of the cases to shatter and fall to the ground in a rain of trumpery diamonds.
"Ice, please!" I yelled, my voice almost lost to the sound of glass shattering.
"I told you to get back!" Ice returned, her face set in a snarl of rage.
"I won’t stand here and let you kill a man in cold blood, Ice."
"Oh, no, my blood isn’t cold, Angel. Not at all. In fact, it’s red hot." Though she was speaking directly to me, her eyes were flame, and far, far away.
"Ice, please... ." Pedro’s face was the color of brick, his lips, a deep plum. His eyes were bulging from their sockets and sweat formed in fat beads along his hairline. "Please…don’t do this," I whispered. "He might be beyond begging, but I’m not. Please...don’t kill him ."
As I watched, her fingers tightened infinitesimally around his neck, her knuckles white, the tendons in her wrist standing out in bas relief against the bronze tan of her skin. Then slowly, like a fan winding down after it has been turned off, her grip began to ease until she’d released him entirely and he fell to the floor, breath coming in great, whooping gasps.
"Thank God," I whispered, closing my eyes as relief swept through me in a great tide of emotion.
After a moment, she holstered her gun and, reaching down, pulled Pedro back up to his feet using the lapels of his suit jacket instead of his neck. "Tell me what I wanna know, Pedro," she snarled, her face an inch from his.
"M...My family! He was going to kill my family!"
"I don’t give a shit about your family, you bastard! Tell me where Cavallo is!"
"I...I don’t... ."
"Tell me!!!" The shake she gave him probably scrambled what was left of his brains and I was about to step in once again.
"The...he’s in the desert! They call it Scorpion’s Nest! That’s all I know! I swear!!"
"Thank you." Releasing him, she pulled out her gun again, causing both of us to gasp. Reaching into his suit pocket, she removed his handkerchief and proceeded to wipe her prints off the gun. Then, grabbing his hand, she pressed the gun into it, closing his fingers around the grip and looking him straight in the eye. "Now, when the police come, those bastards over there broke in and tried to rob you. You killed them in self defense. Got it?"
"Yes! Yes, I got it! Anything!"
Her grin was menacing. "Good. Because if I hear that you told any other story, to anyone," she placed his finger on the trigger, with hers over top, and forced the gun upward until the nose was touching the skin beneath his chin, "I’ll kill ya."
"I won’t. I swear!" He was a talking statue at that point, his eyes spinning crazily in his head as the rest of his body was stiff as marble.
With her free hand, she patted his cheek. "Good boy."
Releasing her grip on both the gun and his suit, she stepped back, and, after a tottering second, the whites of his eyes showed and he slid down the wall to the floor in a dead faint.
"C’mon," she said, turning for the door and grabbing my wrist just as the first sounds of sirens became audible in the shop. "Let’s go."
She led me over to the first body before releasing my hand. "Go on ahead, and don’t step in the blood. We don’t want to leave tracks behind."
Oh, like that was going to be a problem.
Or maybe it would be, since in order to avoid the generous pools of blood, I had to keep my eyes open as I stepped over the man’s corpse.
The back door opened into a narrow, trash strewn alley. The second gunman, equally dead, lay sprawled across the noisome pavement, his head resting against the brick wall of the next shop down.
The putrid stench of rotting garbage filled the air, and I resisted the urge to vomit right then and there. Instead, I looked down to the left, to where our car was parked.
It looked as if a bomb had fallen on top of it. The tires were shredded, the body full of bullet holes, and the windows shattered. "Ice?"
She spared the car a quick glance. "Yeah, I know. C’mon, this way. Hurry."
The sirens were getting steadily louder as I followed her down the alley, my feet slipping in who knows what as I tried to keep up with her long-limbed strides.
As the narrow alley gave way to a wider street, I hear the unmistakable squeal of tires. I was just about to turn and run when Ice grabbed me, lifted me bodily off the ground, and practically threw me into a car which suddenly appeared out of nowhere, the back door levering open as it came even with us. Landing squarely atop Critter, I scrambled to make room for Ice, who dove headlong in behind me.
Grabbing the door and slamming it shut, she shouted "Move!" to Rio, who promptly accelerated, throwing us all back hard against the seat as she took off down the thankfully empty back street.
"Take a roundabout route," Ice ordered. "Make sure we’re not followed."
"Right," Rio replied, driving expertly through the twisting maze of city streets with one eye always on the rearview mirrors.
I turned to Critter. "How did you... ?"
She grinned at me, then shifted her gaze, significantly, to Ice.
I looked over at my lover. "You knew?"
"Let’s just say I believe in covering my bases." Her expression became serious and I knew there was something lurking behind the silvered blue of her eyes, something she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, say. Not here. Not now.
I gave her a slight smile, and nodded, letting her know I saw her thoughts, and letting her know further that I would be willing to wait for her to express them, if that time should ever come.
Sighing, I slumped back in the seat, my body tired and achy and plummeting quickly down from its adrenaline-induced rush. My eyes were gritty and they longed to close, but every time I allowed myself that luxury, the images of the men Ice had killed would come floating out of the darkness to superimpose themselves over the image of Ice slowly strangling Pedro.
Needless to say, it wasn’t a very pleasant ride home.
PART 7
"WHY DON’T YOU sit here and take off your shirt," I said, leading my lover into the bathroom and closing the door behind us, "and I’ll see what I can do about cleaning out that cut of yours."
Without a word, she sat on the closed lid of the toilet as asked, sure fingers making short work of the buttons on her shirt and easing it off of her broad, bronzed shoulders. She hadn’t spoken a word since ordering Rio to take the long route home, an order Rio followed to the letter, turning a twenty minute jaunt into a two hour trek.
She seemed deep in thought, buried beneath the weight of whatever emotions were going on behind the razor-sharp glare of her eyes.
I stole glances at her as I cleansed the dried blood from the long, narrow slice in her upper arm. She appeared absorbed in her hands, staring at them intently, turning them over, and back, and over again as I worked.
When I was finished, I replaced the supplies and moved to the front of her, squatting down between her spread thighs. "Hey," I said softly, looking up into her closed face. "You ok?"
The barest ghost of a smile graced her lips as her eyes cleared and focused on mine. "Yeah. I’m alright."
Things fell silent once again as I searched my mind for an opening gambit. "They say I’m a good listener."
Her smile became a tad more pronounced after a moment. "They do, huh?"
"Yep. Best listener in three countries."
She laughed softly, then dropped her gaze and looked back down at her hands, rubbing them together. After a moment, she spoke, so softly that I had to strain to hear her, even though we were inches apart.
"I used to think that if I tried hard enough, I could get it off."
"What?" I asked, in the same quiet tone.
"Blood. On my hands. So much blood," she whispered, clenching her hands into tight fists. "No matter how much I try, though, it’s always there. Always." She met my eyes then, her own glittering with such agony that my heart wrenched powerfully and tears sprang unbidden to my eyes. "Sometimes in the night, I ache to touch you, to hold you. But how can I taint you with all this blood?"
Taking her hands, I gentled them open, stroking each palm, each finger, before lifting them and placing them on my face, cupping them to my cheeks and nuzzling each in turn. "You don’t taint me, Ice. You complete me. In ways I never dreamed possible."
Her eyes darkened and she attempted to pull her hands back. I held fast, pitting my own strength and my own will against hers. An uneven match, yes, by far, but one I was determined to win.
"No," she said.
"Yes, Ice. Yes. You always tell me who I am to you. I think it’s time I tell you who you are to me." I locked gazes with her, not allowing her to look away or to shrink back inside her self imposed prison of guilt. "You are my hope. My strength. The joy in my life. You’re my teacher. My guide. And my light."
She shook her head slowly, trying to negate my statement.
"Yes, you are. No matter how much you want to believe it’s not so, it is. Whenever I find myself in a very dark place, all I have to do is look at you, or think of you, and it’s like seeing the sun after a month of rain. Because you’re inside me, so very deep, that I can never be alone, even if we’re miles apart." I smiled up at her, the joy of that truth shining from my face. "Don’t you see, Ice? You don’t taint me. You never could. And you know why?"
