Cole drove back to the motel with a big smile on his face. He hit the speed bump at the entrance to the parking lot and realized he’d been on cruise control. Thoughts of Ellie and the memories they had relived were like a tonic. Cole felt a deep healing inside, like the dark cloud that had been in front of the sun was blown aside gently by a spring breeze. His soul was brightened. He began whistling as he locked the car door and started toward the stairs to his room.
As he passed the alcove next to the stairs, he sensed a movement, a shadow, but it was too late to process. As he lifted his right foot to plant it on the bottom stair, he was dropped to his knees by a blow to the back of his head. His hands hit the stair. He pushed up. A pair of arms slid through his and spun him around. With his arms behind his back, he was nearly helpless as he was lifted up to his toes.
Standing in front of him was Tree Top’s man with the parrot tattoos. Before Cole could react, the man punched him hard in the stomach. The hours of hitting the body bag in the gym paid off, and Cole heaved out all the air in his lungs.
“Good evening, Mr. Smart Mouth from Chicago,” the tattooed man sneered.
Cole gasped for air. He had an aura of sparklers surrounding his vision, and he was afraid he was blacking out.
“What? Nothing clever to say?” The man slapped Cole with the back of his hand on the right side of Cole’s face.
His ears rang, but the slap seemed to clear Cole’s head a bit, and he raised his eyes to look at the man. He was bigger than Cole remembered and had his head shaved smooth, but the huge parrot tattoos were unmistakable.
“Ooh, look here, Tommy, Chicago looks pissed.” Tattoo spoke to the man holding Cole.
Cole listened to the two men banter back and forth and for the first time realized how stupid they must be. Like a couple of really dumb schoolyard bullies who torment their victim, they teased Cole.
“Want some more? Mr. Wise Guy, cat got your tongue?”
“Maybe he likes it,” said the voice from behind him.
Cole tried to twist away from the grip on his arms, but he was still dazed. He breathed deeply and tried to calm the pain and the nausea from the blow to his stomach.
“Nice to see you guys, again,” Cole gasped.
“See, Tommy, always the smart ass, this one. Hold him tight.”
The tattooed man pulled back to deliver another blow. In an instant before he struck, Cole leaned back against the man holding him and kicked both legs out at his attacker. The kick fell short and the tattooed man’s blow glanced off his lower calf.
“He likes to kick, Tommy! He’s gonna love this, then.” Tattoo turned slightly and bounced on the balls of his feet. He did a karate kick shooting his leg out at almost a perfect 90-degree angle. “Okay, here it comes!” He kicked again, this time with the intent of landing a blow to Cole’s midsection.
Cole twisted hard to the right and the kick landed just above his hip. Still bouncing, Tattoo spun around and kicked Cole in the ribs. Dancing like a boxer, he hit Cole square in the face. Cole’s head flew back, and he felt it hit Tommy’s face. Tommy grunted and spit. Cole tried to stomp the insole of the man holding him, but the man pulled back, just missing Cole’s heel. Cole’s eye ached; it was beginning to swell shut.
“This is getting to be fun!” Tommy cried in a manic laugh.
“Okay, roundhouse! Chokehold, Tommy, hold him still! I don’t want to kick you!” Tattoo bounced and laughed.
As he spun around, a big natural leather, steel-toed work boot at the end of a pair of khaki chinos kicked Tattoo in the groin. Tattoo collapsed to all fours. Again, the boot kicked him, this time in the ribs, lifting him off the ground. Tattoo rolled and tried to get up. He made it to his knees when a large brown hand clamped onto his Adam’s apple.
It was Luis. He stood behind Tattoo and had him by the throat. Luis had turned to face Cole and Tommy. Tattoo was looking up at his captor, clawing at his hands and making a gagging, coughing, airless sound.
“Let him go,” Luis said to Tommy.
“No, you first.”
“Me first? Are you crazy, this ain’t no game, asshole, I’m going to kill this piece of shit if you don’t let my friend go.”
“You ain’t killin’ nobody. If anybody gets killed, it will be Chicago here. Then you.” Tommy brought his forearm tighter against Cole’s throat. He had Cole’s left wrist and was pulling it up between his shoulders. “Tree Top don’t like Beaners to start with, and he’ll turn over every taco truck in town lookin’ for you.”
Luis eased up his grip slightly on Tattoo’s throat. While Tommy had been talking, Luis had slipped his right hand into his pants pocket and taken out a box cutter. Tattoo’s eyes bulged, and his face was turning from blue back to a reddish hue.
Tommy was calm and forceful. “You let him go and nobody gets hurt. We were just supposed to rough this guy up and scare him out of town. Let him go, and we’ll let it go. You don’t want to be startin’ any kind of war.”
Without saying a word, Luis slid the cover back on the box cutter and put the point of the razorblade in the center of Tattoo’s forehead.
“What the hell are you doing?” Tommy growled.
From Cole’s vantage point, Luis looked like a priest blessing a parishioner from behind with holy water. Then a small trickle of blood ran down Tattoo’s forehead and into the corner of his eye. Luis continued to pull the box cutter back. Pressing hard, inch-by-inch, the blade sliced all the way to Tattoo’s skull. Tattoo could only feel the pressure on his scalp. Blood continued to run into his eye. Tommy was confused and couldn’t understand what Luis was doing. Cole was watching, but his eye had swollen completely shut, and he could taste blood in his mouth.
“What’re you doing?” Tommy screamed.
“Let Mr. Sage go.”
Tommy began shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was breathing hard. Luis, perfectly calm, never stopped pulling the blade toward him. When he reached the nape of Tattoo’s neck, he brought the box cutter up and turned it slowly so Tommy could see it.
“You’re going to pay for this.”
“Let Mr. Sage go.” Luis said calmly.
Luis pressed the blade to Tattoo’s forehead an inch to the right of the first cut and began drawing it back across his scalp.
“Okay, okay!” Tommy shoved Cole forward.
Luis took the box cutter and with flashing speed drew the blade in deep across Tattoo’s forehead. Blood gushed from the wound and into his eyes. Luis released Tattoo’s throat and kicked him hard in the middle of the back with the flat of his boot. The force slammed Tattoo to the pavement.
“You need to leave,” Luis said. “If we see you near here or anywhere near Mr. Sage again, I will cut off your head.”
Tommy, trying to get Tattoo to his feet, didn’t respond. Tattoo was coughing and trying to wipe the blood from his eyes.
“You tell Tree that he is in deep enough shit already, and he don’t want what we can bring down on him. You hear?” Luis handed Cole a red bandana from his back pocket.
“Tree will kill you, man.”
Luis flipped open his cell phone and punched three numbers. “I need an ambulance. Palmwood Motel on McAllister. Man’s bad hurt, hurry.” He flipped the phone closed and put his hand on Cole’s shoulder. “You okay, man?”
Cole took a deep breath, groaned, and said, “Thank you.”
“An ambulance is on the way. It would probably be a good idea if I wasn’t around when they get here. You be okay by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine. I think I need to sit down a minute.” As he spoke, Cole’s knees buckled.
A car door slammed, and Tommy ran around the back and opened the driver’s side door. He turned and raised his middle finger to Luis, then jumped in the car and started the engine. Luis took a 9mm automatic from his waistband and pointed it at the car. The car burned rubber, and sped across the parking lot, hitting the speed bump hard and exiting without slowing down. The sound of Tommy’s screeching ti
res was nearly drowned out by the sound of brakes slamming cars to a stop in the street.
“I don’t think that guy likes me,” Luis said, helping Cole to the stairs and sticking the gun back into his waistband.
In the distance, a siren cut through the night air. Cole sat on the second step of the stairs and put his head down between his legs.
“I’ll see you around, amigo.”
Cole sat up and offered his hand to Luis. “You better get out of here. Be safe.”
Luis shook his hand, then turned and disappeared back into the dark alcove. Cole spit on the sidewalk. His head was spinning. He could only see out of one eye, and he got a sharp pain every time he breathed in. A few minutes later, an ambulance pulled into the Palmwood parking lot. The driver used his high beams and a searchlight mounted in front of the door to scan the lot. The blinding light came to rest on Cole.
“Good evening, sir. What seems to have happened?” A fresh-faced, young blonde man with a red goatee approached Cole.
“I fell down the stairs.”
“Well, let’s take a look.”
On the way to the hospital, Cole tried to think what he was going to do, but he kept blacking out. His head throbbed and everything was cloudy.
“Try not to go to sleep, Mr. Sage. You have a pretty good concussion, and I’d sure like the doc to take a look at you before you catch a few Zs.”
EIGHTEEN
Diamonds and Cole: Cole Sage Mystery #1 Page 25
