by KB Winters
Chapter Thirty-Two - Jag
“We need to be ready for anything. I don’t trust this fucker as far as I can throw his little ass.” Cross stayed on his bike with me right beside him, eyes focused below us about two clicks ahead where Carlito stood beside a flashy white Escalade because heaven forbid the dumbass kept a low profile.
“Me either, but he won’t do anything too stupid without his enforcer.” Guys like Carlito were all the same, strong and crazy as long as they had stronger and crazier backup. On his own, he was mostly talk.
“How sure are you that Guapo’s gonna show up at the clubhouse?” Cross asked.
“He doesn’t need to be sure, boss man, because I’m sure,” Vivi cut in on our conversation, something I was sure Cross had forgotten about based on the frown he wore. “The tracker on his bike says he’s on his way here now.”
At Vivi’s words, tension coiled in my gut. I knew she could take care of herself, could handle a knife and a gun as well as she could a computer, but I also knew Guapo was a crazy motherfucker. He’d killed people just for the fun of it and he enjoyed it. The guy was unhinged and he was heading Vivi’s way. “Be careful,” I told her.
“Always am, babe. Always am.” Vivi was always careful, except when she wasn’t. “Guapo’s ETA is about five minutes.”
Cross nodded, his jaw tight with tension. “Guys, you hear that?”
“Yeah, boss. We hear you.” Savior barked into the comms, pissed off that he’d been picked to stay back with Black and keep the compound safe.
“Good. Stitch, you en route?”
“Yep, just rounding Skull Rock now.”
Cross gave me a look and I started my bike, leaving the meeting spot, at least as far as Carlito was concerned. About two miles from the meeting point, I stopped my bike and climbed up the side of Skull Rock where Stitch left my rifle. “In place.”
“Good. Stay alert.”
There was still an hour until the meeting time and we were in no more a hurry than Carlito was to start early, he just didn’t know why. But we did. “Guapo is in the building,” Vivi said sharply and I was on edge, hating that I couldn’t be there with her. To protect her.
All I could do was listen. Even though I wasn’t there, I knew the plan because we’d gone over it a dozen times. Mostly for my own peace of mind. Vivi would be standing at the bar like she was nothing more than one of the Reckless Bitches, her laptop behind the bar, a gun under her leather jacket and a comm in her left ear, where her pink hair would shield it from discovery. If it came to that.
“Can I help you? This is private property and I don’t know you.” That meant Guapo was inside.
“You could know me. We could be friends, chica.”
Vivi laughed flirtatiously, something she’d had Peaches coach her on because my woman did not subscribe to the whole catch more bees with honey school of thought. “Yeah? How about you, me and Billie Jean be friends?”
“Billie Jean? Sounds kinky,” Guapo said, a smile in his voice that I knew he would soon regret.
The sound of the shotgun cocking came through loud and clear. “Billie Jean wants to go first. Ah, ah…not so fast asshole. State your business before Billie Jean gets to your dick first.”
“Easy, chiquita. I’m just looking for a friend of mine, Marisol Luna.”
“I’m not your chiquita and I’ve never heard of her.”
“She’s been here for weeks. Maybe you don’t know everyone around here?” He was taunting her, probably thinking she was nothing more than a piece of biker ass.
“I know everyone who matters and if your friend is a biker bunny, then she ain’t worth knowin’ and she ain’t here. If I was you, I’d get going before things get uglier than your mug.”
“Mouthy bitch,” he grunted. I swore it took everything within me to stay up on that rock with my gun aimed at Carlito’s head, just in case shit went sideways.
Vivi laughed. She fucking laughed like this was all some joke. “I’ve been called worse, Guapo.”
“You know me?” He sounded confused. Vivi must have nodded because Guapo kept talking. “Then you know I’m not some one you want to fuck with.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Guapo. I heard Gunnar took you out pretty easily, twice, and that guy is all talk.” She laughed at what I could only assume was an incredulous look from Guapo.
“I can hear you,” Gunnar grumbled which only produced more laughter from Vivi.
“Just give up Marisol and this will all be over. El Jefe won’t stop until he has her back.”
Vivi sighed and I could hear the sound of the shotgun being set on the bar. “How well do you know your Jefe? I mean really know him?”
“We have known each other since we were children. Mi padre raised him like he was his own.” The emotion in Guapo’s voice paid true to Vivi’s theory about the enforcer.
“Yes, Cadre, right? Funny thing about the way he died, right? A late night car explosion after visiting his mistress, something less than a handful of people knew about.”
“Felicidades. So you use Google.”
Vivi laughed again. “Google, that’s cute. But you know what Google didn’t tell me? That the police captain down in Tamaulipas, Captain Martinez, confirmed what even you probably suspected. Carlito was behind the bomb in your padre’s car.”
“Liar!”
“You wish I was lying because you know what this means. What you have to do, but I’d just as soon have the Reckless Bastards kill you all. I’m just saying I’d be pretty fucking pissed off if I’d been playing servant and errand boy to the man who put a bomb under my dad’s car just so he could take over the cartel, which technically speaking, should be yours.”
Guapo barked out a laugh. “And I’m just supposed to believe you, some whore to a motorcycle gang?”
“I don’t give a shit what you believe. What I know is that I spoke to Martinez myself, at his gorgeous estate in Montecito. You know where that is? It’s where Oprah lives, pretty swanky digs. I wonder where he got the cash.” Vivi did an excellent job of playing this fool and I couldn’t wait to show her how proud I was.
“A dirty cop in Mexico is no surprise.”
“Maybe not, but it got me to thinking. Martinez was a young guy when he left Mexico, barely forty so how did he accumulate so much cash in so little time? I did some digging though, well a lot of digging because that’s kind of my thing. I’m just a club whore on the side, you see,” she rambled briefly. “This is what I really do.”
There was silence for a long time and then an audible pained groan. “You forged this,” Guapo accused. She must have given him the papers we’d discussed earlier.
“Nope. This is straight from the bank. I even left the routing numbers visible because I wouldn’t expect a professional sadist to take my word for it. And before you even ask, yeah, that’s a number to one of the Salinas accounts.” Vivi took a deep breath and from the sound of it, she must have set the small tape recorder on the bar and hit play.
“Everyone knew it was Carlito because he came into the station, just sixteen years old, with a picnic basket full of cash and one request. Make the bombing look like it was the job of another cartel. So we did. We killed one of the Aztecas Negros foot soldiers and put his fingerprints on what was left of the bomb. He was dead and everyone bought the story.”
“Turn it off!” Guapo was good and riled up now. Emotional. And my girl was alone with him. There was another long, tense silence before he spoke again. “You are sure about this?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. The last deposit was just ten days ago. Every two weeks for the past nineteen years.”
“Aaaah!” The sound from Guapo was visceral, the rage palpable. “If you are lying, if this is some ploy, I will come back and skin you alive chica.”
Knowing Vivi, she grinned at his threat. “I look forward to it, Guapo. And I don’t need to make this shit up because it’s the truth. Yeah, it helps us but I imagine it helps you more.”
“I mea
n it chica.”
“I look forward to it, Arturo.” A deep chuckle sounded and seconds later, Vivi let out a loud breath. “He’s gone and he’s pissed.”
“We all heard, babe. Great job.”
“Yeah, thanks. Stay safe boys, Guapo is moving toward the meeting point at a fast clip. He’ll be there in less than fifteen.”
“Thank you, Vivi.”
I wondered if it cost Cross anything to say those words. I knew my guys were no fans of such a headstrong woman but this would make the second time Vivi saved our asses. I hoped they appreciated it.
“Thank me by bringing my old man back in one piece. Good luck.”
I hoped like hell we didn’t need luck.
Chapter Thirty-Three-Cross
Five minutes. That’s how long until the clock struck three and we’d come face to face with the crazy motherfucker who’d made my life hell when I should have been enjoying this holiday season with my woman. My boy.
“You gonna be cool, Stitch?”
I knew he, more than the rest of us, wanted Carlito dead because of what he’d done to Marisol, but this would only work if the new patch kept his cool.
Stitch gave a crisp nod, fingering his stubble anxiously. “I’ll be cool. Marisol is safe but if Guapo doesn’t kill that fucker, he’s mine.”
“Fair enough.” Three minutes left. “Ready?”
Stitch nodded again, the muscles in his jaws clenching with the effort to remain cool. “Everybody, give me a quick radio check.” One by one the members of the Reckless Bastards checked in with a go call. “All right, let’s do this shit.” We rode side by side, stopping with only about twenty feet between us and Carlito’s pearly white SUV, where he stood with three men, armed with AK-47 assault rifles.
We’d picked this spot because it was a perfect place for an ambush. The terrain was covered with boulders big enough to hide a tank, or in this case, several heavily armed Reckless Bastards hidden around the rocks waiting for the call or shit to hit the fan.
“Cross, so good to see you mi amigo.” He wore a big toothy grin, greeting me like we were old buddies and not two men looking for the first opportunity to kill the other.
“We ain’t fucking amigos asshole, unless you regularly kill the employees of your friends.” I could’ve put a bullet through him for Katrina alone, never mind what he put my club through. The unnecessary worry he put Moon through.
“That was just a preview of things to come.” Carlito waved his hands dismissively as if slicing a woman’s throat was no big deal but it was—it was a huge fucking deal. He smirked and I wanted to smack that look off his face. “Lesson learned, right?”
I scoffed. “I guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?”
He nodded and took a few steps forward that separated himself from his men, but still kept a few feet distance to us. “Let’s talk business, Cross. I have a proposition for you. I don’t think you will want to turn it down.” His tone was arrogant, like he could force me to say yes. “Be my top distributor in America. Funnel the shipments for me before they move across North America.”
I laughed at that. “We don’t fuck with drugs.”
“Too bad,” he said, much too easily which was just another piece of evidence that he was wasting time and he had no idea it was a pointless gesture. “Looking for someone, Carlito?” Guapo should have been at his side by now and he was getting worried.
“No.” He gave a flick of his wrists and the three black SUVs that had been waiting about a half mile away, pulled up behind him. “I have everything I need.” All four doors of each car opened, revealing four armed men, all of them carrying AK-47’s.
“Doesn’t look much like a friendly chat now, does it?” At his smile I crossed my arms to show that asshole that I wasn’t worried. Although to be honest, I had no idea why this asshole and his goons hadn’t tried to blow us away already. “I mean, it’s just me and Stitch here, yet you’ve got all these armed men. Plus, I’m sure your enforcer is around here somewhere too.”
Carlito tossed his head back and laughed way too hard at something that wasn’t all that funny. “I thought you were a better businessman Cross, or at least a better gangster.”
Under normal circumstances he would have been right, but the problem with guys like Carlito was that they never looked past the big, flashy move to see the subtle moves that were ten times more effective.
“You know, Carlito, sometimes it pays to be smarter, not better.”
That wiped that smarmy fucking grin off his face but the high pitch wheeze of one of those racing bikes sounded in the distance and his smile returned. “Too bad you weren’t smarter and better. Things could have gone differently.”
Guapo pulled up, parking his bike between me, Stitch and Carlito. He spared a quick, blank, look at me and Stitch before turning to Carlito. He gave him a head nod. “Jefe.”
“Things taken care of?”
“Si,” he answered in Spanish.
Carlito’s smile broadened. “Sorry about your girl, Stitch,” he called out, too damn arrogant for the reality of the situation. “I will punish her, dearly, but you can rest easily because I will not kill her. No. I will put Marisol to work in one of my casitas. Perhaps the little whore will work in Tijuana.”
Stitch grinned with his arms crossed. Looking much too casual for the news he’d just received. “Sure about that, are you?” He scoffed.
I saw the flicker of doubt and worry in his eyes. “I have no reason to worry, do I, Guapo?”
Judging by Guapo’s stance, arms crossed with his shoulders broad and an angry look on his face, Carlito had every reason to worry. “I want to talk about Cadre,” Guapo growled out.
He hid it well, but another flicker of worry crossed Carlito’s face. “Don’t be stupid, Guapo. We can talk about this later, right now we have business.”
“No. We will talk about it now. This has everything to do with business.” Guapo took a step forward and Carlito took a step back. I couldn’t help but smile at how well the plan was playing out.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Mi padre, did you kill him, Carlito, yes or no?”
“Guapo, por favor—”
“Yes or no, goddammit!” He held up a silver handgun with a glossy wood finish and aimed it at his employer. “Answer me!”
“You want an answer?” Guapo’s only response was to pull back the safety and wrap his finger around the trigger. “Okay, I’ll give you an answer. Yes, I killed him. He was in my way, standing where I should have been standing. What was I supposed to do?”
“You killed my father.” Guapo bit out. Both men glared at each other. “You killed my father! Mi padre!” His voice broke on the last word and I reached behind me where I kept my favorite piece because shit was about to explode.
Carlito laughed at his cousin’s display of emotion which only pissed him off. Guapo ran full speed at Carlito, knocking him to the ground with his knees pressing into the other man’s arms, effectively pinning him to the ground. Both hands raised in the air, Guapo rained fists down on his cousin’s face until blood flew from his fists, rage and anguish propelled him forward, pushed him to land blow after blow.
“Guapo!” Carlito screamed, terror and pain squeezing the breath out of him. “Por favor.”
“Now you say please, when your life is on the line?” Guapo spit at the man and stood, which was a mistake because Carlito pulled out a small gold gun with a white handle and squeezed the trigger, sending Guapo to the ground.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance, Primo.” Carlito turned to me with a sly grin. “Kill them all,” he ordered his men as he pulled himself up off of the ground.
Stich went straight at Carlito and knocked the fancy gold gun away and then I kicked Carlito square in the jaw sending his face crashing back into the desert sand. Stich and I took an arm and dragged Carlito toward the boulder next to our bikes. We used him as a human shield as my boys rained down hell
fire on his countless men with automatic weapons.
“Shit!” I spared a glance at Stitch who smiled like he was on a goddamn roller coaster. He kept Carlito pinned down with one knee. I could tell Carlito was wearing a vest, but he was bleeding from two places that I could see. Clearly those bullets were meant for me and Stitch.
More bullets flew, a high-pitched whine sounded three times and then Jag’s voice came over the comms. “Got three down. Nope—make that four.”
“Where the fuck are they coming from?” I asked over the comms.
“You’re surrounded, but we got you covered.” Jag replied.
Our odds were getting better by the second. Stitch and I shared a look at Carlito and knew he wasn’t going anywhere fast. I took a deep breath and checked my weapons. I had US Military grade M-16 semi-automatic rifle strapped over my shoulder with a 50-round clip cartridge, locked and loaded. I also had a Glock 9 in each hand with 20 round clips each.
Stitch and I both emerged from opposite sides of the rock with guns blazing. I dropped one of Carlito’s men, who was making his way toward our left flank with another guy, on the third shot. When the first guy fell, the second guy hesitated just long enough for me to sink two shots into him center mass that sent him flying into the fender of one of the SUV’s.
“Fuck!” A shot ripped through my left shoulder. I could feel the burn and I gritted my teeth and pulled back behind the rock to check myself out. Luckily it was just a flesh wound and I quickly moved around to the other side of the rock to see how Stitch was doing.
“You all right Prez?”
“Yeah.” I nodded at Stitch who was shooting like a madman. “I’ll live. These motherfuckers are coming out of the fucking woodwork! Just keep shooting.” I looked down and saw two empty clips next to him. That crazy fucking kid had already unloaded two clips and had taken out at least three of Carlito’s men while the rest of our brothers had the bad guys surrounded.
Jag had taken care of most of them, but Golden Boy and Lex were holding their own. And Lex didn’t fuck around. He had a fully automatic weapon that I didn’t even bother to question where he got it. And I wouldn’t.
