“I can’t. Not without you,” Isabelle said. She couldn’t leave Holt here.
“You have to. I can’t leave. I’m sorry. There are people here that don’t know about this. I have to warn them,” Holt said. Isabelle saw her work mask drop. Holt was looking at her like she did at home. She was pleading with her.
“I want to beg you to have someone else do it,” Isabelle said. “But that wouldn’t be who you are. Be careful.”
“I will,” Holt said. “I’ll see you soon.”
Isabelle put the truck in reverse and drove quickly away.
Holt felt a measure of relief as soon as Isabelle left the parking lot. There was still a bomb hanging like an ugly metal nutsack from the undercarriage of the Escalade, but at least it wasn’t going to blow up and kill Isabelle. Now all she needed to do was make sure it didn’t kill anyone at all.
She jogged back to Dubs and Max, who were watching it warily. Max was crouched down, as if keeping an eye on the bomb to make sure it didn’t get away. Dubs looked like she wanted to be somewhere else.
“Get inside,” Holt said. “Go through this place inch by inch and get everyone out the back door. Max, you clear the second floor. Dubs, you’ve got a good enough idea of the layout of the first floor. Stand in the middle of the room and yell if you need to. I think Moose or Tuna should be here by now. They can help. Make sure someone goes to the tattoo shop next door. I’m going to hit Jose’s shop and the two buildings attached to us. We’ve got to do this quickly. Isabelle is calling the bomb squad, but I don’t know if this is on a timer, or if someone is watching. Who knows. Move it.”
Holt watched them scatter. She knew they were scared, but they moved quickly and efficiently, not frantically. She knew Max would keep her cool, but she was happy to see Dubs do the same. It had been a stressful few days, but so far at least, Dubs was handling it. Holt moved through Jose’s shop with lightning speed. There weren’t many people there that early.
To get to the other buildings, she circled around the back of her office and sprinted along the alley. Their back door was locked. She estimated going back around would take three minutes. She didn’t want to wait that long. She picked up a large rock and heaved it through the glass upper half of the door. She tried to be careful letting herself in, but still nicked her underarm on the shattered glass.
Her dramatic entrance caught the attention of the few employees in the first floor office who had arrived early. When she burst through the door, they were already up and headed her way, probably coming to see what the breaking glass was all about.
“I don’t have time to explain, but you need to evacuate the building,” Holt said. “Please do not go back for personal items, move out into the alley and follow my employees. You need to move far away from the building, as quickly as possible.”
“Is this some kind of drill?” one of them asked.
Holt held up her bleeding arm. “No drill. No more questions. Everyone out. Is there anyone that works upstairs?”
She didn’t know if it was the blood or her tone, but the crowd got the message. She knew them well enough for a friendly greeting, and she was sure they knew of her, if nothing else. If someone like Holt barged into your office bleeding and said you needed to evacuate, most people took that at face value.
Once she was satisfied they were headed out the door, she continued upstairs. There were three total levels, but no one was in. She was back out of the building in a flash.
As she’d hoped, her crew had taken charge and gotten everyone safely out of harm’s way. She ran along the alley toward the large group, and anxious faces and palpable fear greeted her. She debated how much to tell everyone. It seemed unkind to keep the truth from them. She could hear the sirens getting close. Word would spread fast anyway.
“I’m sorry you were rushed out under such terrifying conditions. A car was dropped off in front of my office. Strapped to the undercarriage is what I believe to be an incendiary device. I do not know how much damage it can do, or if it was set to explode at a specific time. I didn’t want to take any chances with your safety. The bomb squad is on its way now. I’m sure they can provide more of an update once they know more. I’m going over there now to provide what assistance I can.”
Holt sent Isabelle a text, telling her everyone got out okay, and that she was unhurt. She didn’t think the flesh wound on her arm was worth reporting.
She got back to the front of her office at the same time the bomb squad arrived. She knew a few of them and shook a few hands. Their leader came over to talk to her.
“What’s going on here, Holt?”
“Someone left me a car and I don’t like their wrapping paper,” Holt said. “There’s a wire sticking out of the left taillight. When I took a peek underneath, I thought you guys should probably be the ones doing the inspecting.”
“You’ve got to get better at making friends, Holt.”
“I’ve got plenty of friends. They give me better gifts.” She wasn’t in a very good mood. This was a little embarrassing, as she preferred to handle her own business. “I cleared the buildings. Everyone’s gathered at the gas station a block over.”
He gave her a thumbs-up as he walked back over to set up and get to work. They were quick but methodical. This wasn’t the kind of work you could rush.
Isabelle texted back to say she was still waiting a few blocks away. Holt called her and told her she should probably go home since this might take a while. Isabelle didn’t sound happy, but she agreed and Holt promised to be careful.
Max, Dubs, and Moose joined Holt. “Jose and Lola are keeping everyone entertained back there,” Moose said. “What’s going on here?”
“They’re still working,” Holt said. “I can’t tell what they’re doing, but I’m stressed for them, I can tell you that.”
“What do you think would have happened if I’d tried to get that door open?” Dubs asked.
“Best not to think about it,” Moose said. “Probably good lughead here didn’t go bashing in windows with that damn bat of hers.”
“She knocked. Very politely,” Max said.
“Why are you bleeding?” Moose asked. “You know how much I hate patching you up. And now there’s all this pressure to make it look extra good so Isabelle doesn’t worry.”
“It’s fine, Moose. I’m fine. I just scraped my arm on some glass after I broke the window next door.”
Moose rolled his eyes.
The leader of the bomb squad came over and told them to go join the group that had been evacuated. She didn’t like being kicked out of the area, but this wasn’t really a great time to argue. They were the ones with the expertise and the unexploded bomb. She did what she was told.
When she got back to the large group, who still looked quite nervous, she lasted about fifteen seconds standing around before she got antsy.
“Max, which gang did you say that Escalade belonged to?”
Max told her. “You think they were stupid enough to leave a car with a bomb on your doorstep, H?” Max asked.
Holt shrugged. Probably not, but only one way to find out for sure. She scrolled through the contacts on her phone. She kept a list of all the power players in the gangs, drug trafficking, and other local criminal enterprises in her phone. You never knew when it would come in handy. Like now.
The phone rang a few times before a very sleepy voice answered. He didn’t sound happy to be woken up.
“Is this Marcos?” Holt asked.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’ll assume that’s a yes. This is Holt Lasher. I believe you spoke with two of my colleagues yesterday.”
“Bitch, how did you get this number? And why are you calling me so early? We’re not friends. This was a dangerous phone call to make. You understand me?”
“You don’t want a friend like me,” Holt said. She wasn’t in the mood to play games. “Do you understand me? This is not a social call. I found your Escalade.”
“I told your two
yesterday, that got stolen last week. Where did you find it? Are you really calling to tell me you found my car?”
“No. I’m calling to tell you I found your car outside my front door with a bomb strapped to the undercarriage.”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a second. Marcos was either trying to figure out a lie, or was shocked into speechlessness.
“Holy fuck, Holt, we had nothing to do with that. I told your people, and I’m telling you, that car was stolen. Why would I pick a fight with you? Like you said, I don’t want a friend like you, and I certainly don’t want an enemy like you, either.”
“See, the problem for you, and for me, is that your car was used in a drive-by shooting, and now this. And you didn’t file a police report after it was stolen.”
“You really think I would file a police report? That’s hilarious. I’m not about to ask for trouble, from the cops or the new cats in town boostin’ cars. They wanted my ride, fine, I got a few others. But now, clearly, that’s causing me some problems. Look, Holt, I don’t want any trouble from you. I’m certainly not stupid enough to try and blow you up. I don’t do bombs anyway. That’s mob stuff, or terrorists, or some other shit than me.”
“Then tell me about the new cats in town, the ones stealing cars, and we’ll call it even,” Holt said.
“They’re real secretive. I don’t know much. Just that they work out of the South Side and they’re nasty pieces of work. Not for nothing, but I bet those assholes know a thing or two about bombs. But I don’t got no names or anything.”
“Thanks, Marcos. You’ve been real helpful. Maybe there’s a chance for friendship after all,” Holt said. She could hear Marcos sputtering as she hung up the phone.
Holt didn’t think he had anything to do with either the shooting or the bomb. She hadn’t thought it before talking to him, but she was more certain now. There wasn’t really a way to know for sure, but he didn’t seem like he was lying. She was pretty good at detecting bullshit, even over the phone, and he didn’t have a good reason for attacking her. He was common, petty, small time. Not a bomb-making, drive-by-during-the-day kind of thug.
“I don’t think Marcos is our guy,” Holt said. “Max, Dubs, think back to your day, retrace your steps, and figure out how someone would have known you were looking for that Escalade. When we’re allowed back in the office, I want a list of everyone you came in contact with. Marcos thinks our group is working out of the South Side. I know that doesn’t narrow it down, but it’s something.”
“We were over there looking for the Escalade,” Max said. “We’ve got the list of cars Dubs thinks are their work, and Isabelle is working the financial end. Eventually, we’re going to cross-reference enough that we’ll get this narrowed down.”
“The bomb might tell us something too,” Moose said.
“And Shorty’s cell phone, right?” Dubs asked, her teeth chattering.
“All of it will help,” Holt said. “Are you cold?” Holt asked Dubs.
“Freezing,” Dubs said. “But I didn’t really have a chance to run back in for clothes. There was a bomb on the doorstep, if you remember. I was only sleeping with underwear on because Max was there. If I’d been alone, I would have evacuated in my birthday suit.”
“That would have distracted the bomb squad,” Max said. “Might have made our initial evacuation easier though. Just follow the naked woman. She’ll lead you to safety.”
The bomb squad leader saved Dubs from more embarrassment.
“All clear, Holt. You guys got lucky. That thing could have done some real damage. It was rigged to the driver’s side door and ignition. If you had opened the door, or started the engine, the car would have blown. There was plenty of punch under there to take out most of your office too. We’ll take it all back with us and have the forensic team do what they do. Maybe we can get some prints or other evidence. We’ll be in touch.”
Holt shook his hand, unsettled by his news. Dubs had been seconds away from popping the lock and opening the door. Isabelle had been in the parking lot, in harm’s way. Whoever dropped off the car seemed to know they would have tried to move it.
“Everyone back to the office,” Holt said. She was pissed. On her way back, she called Isabelle to let her know she was fine and the coast was clear. She left the details of how much damage could have been done, and how close a call it really was, a little vague. There were some details she figured Isabelle didn’t need to know.
Chapter Thirteen
Dubs didn’t know how Max and the rest of her colleagues worked the way they did. So far, she’d seen a knife fight, been shot at, and almost blown up, and the rest of the time, they’d sat around plotting, or working leads on the computer. She was either bored out of her mind, or running for her life. Max tried to tell her she had just caught them during a bad stretch, at least as far as the life-threatening excitement, but Dubs didn’t know whether to believe her.
Then there was Max. Dubs had started flirting with her to pass the time, and to get a rise out of her. But now she was worried about just how much she was enjoying it. One major advantage to all the danger they had been in was that she had gotten to see Max in full superhero mode multiple times. She was insanely sexy. There was no denying that.
Her phone buzzed and she looked at the text. It was Tony. While she had told Max what he had said about the new crew of thieves, she hadn’t told her everything he had said to her. He was trying to get her to do a job, a very specific one. So far, she was resisting, although it meant a lot to her, but he was wearing her down. She had taken this opportunity with Holt to find a way to get back on her feet. She didn’t know why she was hesitating to take Tony up on his offer. It was precisely the opportunity she had been looking for.
She tossed her phone down with a sigh. Prison had been less complicated.
Max walked in just in time to catch Dubs’s sigh. “I told you, things aren’t usually so rough around here,” she said, misreading Dubs’s morose attitude.
“It’s not that,” Dubs said. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Uh huh.” Max started rubbing her shoulders. It felt like magic. Max found knots Dubs didn’t even know were there.
“Oh my God. Please don’t ever stop doing that,” Dub said. “How is it you big strong types are so tender?”
Max laughed. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me big or strong. I’m pretty sure I’ve actually been blown over in a gust of wind.”
“It’s not about what’s on the outside, Max.” She was close to catatonic she felt so good. Max had amazing hands. “You’re big and strong in all the right ways. Your heart, your courage, your kindness. And right now, your massage skills are off the charts.”
“Feeling better then?” Max asked. She stopped rubbing Dubs’s shoulders.
“Hey, why’d ya stop?”
“Because I’m not sure you were concentrating,” Max said, “and I want to make sure you’re okay. All of this has been a lot.”
“I’m a criminal, remember? I live for danger.”
“You’re also full of shit,” Max said. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s your business. Who was texting you?”
“Is that an official inquiry, or a personal one?” Dubs asked. She wanted to know if Max was checking up on her for Holt, or if Max was interested in her personally. She hoped Max was being nosy for her own sake, not Holt’s.
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me,” Dubs said. “I like to feel wanted and valuable to my lady. I don’t like to feel owned by my boss. So? Personal or professional?”
“You do realize I’m not your lady, right?” Max said.
“Position’s open.”
“Two years ago, there were just under twelve hundred motor vehicle thefts in Providence,” Max said, apparently ignoring Dubs’s offer. “Last year that number was under one thousand. So far this year, we’re already over fourteen hundred.”
“What’s your point, Pretty Girl?” Dubs a
sked. She liked watching Max work. Her mind worked in a far more detailed and technical way than anyone Dubs had ever met. She was used to people like the rest of Holt’s crew, maybe not as impeccably honest and good, but their general type. But she had never met anyone like Max.
“My point is, how do you randomly steal over four hundred cars in less than a year without anyone knowing who you are? Without a security camera picking you up, getting caught by a nosy neighbor, a competitor figuring out what you’re up to?”
“You don’t,” Dubs said. “The kind of theft you’re talking about, any theft really, is about opportunity. But a truly random theft is even more driven by serendipity. You stumble on a guy who ran into the gas station, but left his keys in the ignition. Or he left the door open with the spare key conveniently hidden right inside. There aren’t four hundred of those just lying around.”
“So how do you make your own opportunity?” Max asked. “What or who are we looking for?”
“Someone with access to a lot of cars,” Dubs said. “But it’s got to be more than that. They had to have access to the right kind of cars, and access for a long time, in a way where they could steal them without anyone noticing, or tracing it back to them. That’s not easy to do. These guys are good.”
“You kinda sound like you admire them,” Max said.
“They tried to torpedo me first, then dropped off a bomb for us today. I’m not a big fan. ’Cause you know who would have been charred like one of those dumb cartoon characters with the slim-jim in her hand? This idiot. I was the one about to open that door and drive the Escalade out of here. Just like they wanted me to. That’s a low, dirty, cheap shot.”
Dubs had thought she was okay from the events of the day, but perhaps she really wasn’t. She hadn’t stopped to consider that it would have been her blown to bits. Whoever left the Escalade had to know that. If a stolen car was dropped on the doorstep of another car thief, it was a well known challenge. Maybe it was because she was a threat to them. Or maybe it was because she was selling out and working for the cops. She knew how working for Holt Lasher would go over in their community. Although it wasn’t like she had much choice.
Pedal to the Metal Page 10
