“Guy on Mission Beach,” I responded. “He’s having a party tonight. I was supposed to deliver those weapons so he could distribute them to his clients. If I don’t, I’m going to lose the money, and lose a damned good customer.” I looked at the clock. “I don’t have a phone. I can’t call him. I need to get there before ten.”
Alacrán stepped between me and the door. “You want to pay me for a shipment and then rush away, Mister Tiddlewood?” His face went stern. “This deal is beginning to smell like a set-up.”
“It’s not a set up. I fucked around and got mixed up on—"
“Stop taking,” he demanded. “As soon as you leave here with the drugs, will the police break down the door?”
“Fuck those drugs,” I snapped. “Keep the money and the drugs both here. Fuck, if you’re that worried about it, come with me. We’ll come back and do the deal in a few minutes.”
He seemed confused. “I don’t like this.”
“Look,” I said, giving him my best evil-eyed stare. “You took a fucking hour and a half counting that money. That’s your fault. I somehow lost a day this week, that’s my fault. The bottom line? If I don’t get to this guy’s house by ten o’clock, I’m going to lose three million bucks and a good customer. I don’t know his number, or I’d use your phone to call him. My only way to reach him is to go to his place. It’ll take twenty minutes. Take the money with you. Leave it here. Leave the dope here. I don’t give a fuck. But, I’m walking out that god damned door and going to make this gun deal right. When I’m done, I’ll come back here and make this deal right. What do you want to do?”
“No offense intended, Mister Tiddlewood, but I don’t fully trust you.”
“We’ve been through this.” I looked him up and down. “I don’t fully trust you, either.”
He studied me for a moment. Then, he looked at Manos. “Get the money.”
It was exactly what I’d hoped for. I looked at Manos. “You coming?”
“As soon as I geet the mahney.”
By the time we loaded the money in the car, it was ten after ten.
I needed to make sure the cop didn’t arrest Alacran while he was with us. If that happened, he’d know it was us that set him up, and I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.
After everyone was in the car, I looked at Crip. “I’m taking a different route out of here, just in case there was a cop that followed us.”
He gave a nod. “Gotcha.”
In fifteen minutes, we were at Goose’s place. The music was blaring, the lights were flashing, and people were on the rooftop dancing. The place looked like a mansion from Million Dollar Listings in Los Angeles, and was sure to impress Alacrán, making everything look that much more legitimate.
My only hope was that Goose followed my lead.
I parked the car and glanced over my shoulder. “Coming with me or staying here?”
“He’ll stay with the money,” Alacrán said. “I’ll come with you.”
“Understandable,” I said. “I’ll leave Rex with him. C’mon.”
Alacrán and I took the staircase to the roof. Goose and the rest of the fellas were right where we left them. I gestured to the bar. “Grab a drink, I’ll be just a minute.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
Fuck.
I took my time walking to where Goose was standing, trying to decide how I was going to talk my way out of the mess I was in without Alacrán knowing what was going on. Everyone knew where I was going, and I hope like hell they recognized Alacrán from the pictures we’d seen.
When I reached the group, Tito stepped between Goose and I, and pointed at me. “Tyrone Tiddlewood,” he said, loud enough that Goose could hear. “Is that right?”
The little fucker remembered every detail, every time.
I grinned. “Good memory.” I gestured to Goose. “I need to talk to your partner.”
I walked up to Goose and raised my right hand to chest height. He raised his. We slapped our hands together, and I pulled him in for a hug. While I patted my hand against his back, I moved my mouth to his ear.
“Carma’s in danger,” I whispered. “I need her safe, Brother.”
He’d know to use my phone to get her number. From there, I hoped he knew what to do.
He released me, stepped back, and gave a nod.
“Listen.” I offered an apologetic shrug. “I lost my phone. Didn’t have a way to call you. I don’t have your guns.”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t what!?”
“I don’t have—”
“I fucking heard you, Tiddle-whatever-the-fuck-your-name-is. When are you going to have them?”
I shrugged. “Couple of hours?”
He shook his head and looked away. After a long, exaggerated sigh, he met my gaze. He held it for a moment, and then looked at Alacrán. He studied him for an instant, and then looked at me. “Who the fuck is this? A fucking cop?”
Good job, Brother.
“He’s a business associate,” I said. “His name’s Bradley Cooper.”
“Well, take Bradley, go get my guns, and don’t come back until you have them.”
I hoped like hell he knew what to do. I gave him a nod. “I’ll see you in two hours.”
He glanced at his watch. “If you’re five minutes late, I wouldn’t want to be you, Mister Tiddle-fuck.”
If you’re five minutes late saving Carma, I wouldn’t want to be me, either.
29
Carma
It was twenty minutes after ten, and I had yet to hear from Reno. I feared something had happened. Something bad. While I sipped a cup of coffee loaded with Irish Cream, my mother came into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong, Carma?”
I looked up. “Just waiting on a someone, mother.”
She walked to the coffee pot, paused, and then looked at the clock. “It’s late to be going out.”
“Not for an adult on Saturday night, mother.”
She faced me and put her hands on her hips. “It’s not the boy from your work, is it?”
I gave her a look. “Mother…”
“Carmelita, I don’t want you to—”
“Mother, he’s a good man,” I insisted. “You have to trust me.”
“You’re putting us all at risk. You need to understand—” She cocked her head to the side. “What’s that noise?”
It was the same sound from the poker run. The sound of dozens upon dozens of motorcycles approaching. The hair on my neck stiffened as the sound grew closer and closer.
Filled with excitement, I leaped from my seat.
She glared. “Stay. Here.”
The sound grew louder and louder, until it was so intense the dishes were shaking in the cabinets. I hurried to the opening that led into the living room and peered toward the front door.
My mother’s face was plastered against the door, and her eye was at the peephole.
My father was standing in the living room, facing her with his hands on his hips. “What’s going on?”
“There’s motorcycles everywhere.” My mother gasped. “There’s two men coming to the porch. A long-haired giant and a man with a bushy white beard.” She turned toward my father with fire in her eyes. “Get the gun.”
Pee Bee and Bama!
“Father, no!” I screeched. “I know them.”
They both glared.
I ran to the door, nudged my mother out of the way, and pulled it open.
Pee Bee. Cash. Bama. Slacker. Rebound. Goose.
Behind them, men I didn’t recognize stood along the edge of the driveway.
Beyond them, dozens of motorcycles lined the streets, on both sides. Beside each motorcycle the riders stood with their arms crossed, gazing up each side of the street.
Reno was nowhere in sight.
My heart palpitated.
I swallowed heavily and met Pee Bee’s gaze. “Is Reno okay?”
“He’s tied up for a bit.” He brushed his ha
ir away from his face. “I uhhm. I’m gonna need you to get whatever you need and come with us.”
“Uhhm. Okay.”
“All of you,” he said. “Mom, dad, brother.”
I swallowed a lump of fear. “Everything’s not okay, is it?”
The men each returned a blank stare.
“Carmelita Rosarita Garcia Lorca!” my mother howled. “What is going on?”
I knew the men didn’t come on their own. Reno must have somehow sent them. There was only one reason I could think that he would have done so. Angel must have been in the country. Sending three-dozen bikers was a precautionary measure that wasn’t necessary, but I felt warm inside knowing I was safe from harm.
“Carmelita!” my mother hissed. “I asked you a question.”
I looked at Pee Bee. “Is Angel here? In the country?”
Pee Bee looked at Cash.
Cash shrugged. “I ain’t sayin’ shit.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Bama said, leaning between the two men. “Goose got the octopus done, and we thought we’d come get you so you could sample it. Said it was your mother’s favorite, right?”
I appreciated the levity, but Bama wasn’t very convincing. I looked at Goose and raised my brows. “Well?”
A sigh escaped him. “He is,” he admitted. “We need to get everyone loaded up and get out of here. We’ve got a truck back there that ought to fit three of you. You can ride on a bike, can’t you?”
I thought I was prepared for the answer. I wasn’t. Knowing Angel was in the country I’d escaped to brought a tidal wave of emotion. My heart shot into my throat. My hands began to shake.
I cleared my throat and turned around. My parents each gave me a look of confusion.
“Angel’s in the country and he’s…he’s coming after me.” I braced myself against the door frame. I didn’t know what to say, other than to tell the truth. “Get your things,” I stammered. “These men are here to save us.”
30
Reno
Alacrán and Manos carried the money up the driveway. Not certain if Goose knew what to do or how to do it, and fearing Carma was in imminent danger, I shuffled toward the door with my mind in a haze.
Manos unlocked the front door and turned on the lights. Once inside, Alacrán set the bag he was carrying by the door. Manos placed his beside it and turned to face me.
Realizing the home was much darker than it was when we left, I glanced around and then looked at Manos. “Where the fuck is Primo, I need a drink?”
“He took Alfredo and Manuel to meet Luiz,” Alacrán said. “They’re picking up something that’s rightfully mine.”
My entire body went tense.
“Oh,” I said under my breath.
With my jaw clenched, I watched Alacrán like a hawk.
He set his pistol on the coffee table and took a seat at the couch. He kicked a heel on the edge of the table and rested his other across it.
Nervous as fuck about everything and beginning to wonder if the cop was still waiting, I assessed the situation. It dawned on me that we were relying on the cop to arrest Alacrán. It was to look like he was being arrested for entering the country, not for doing a drug deal. Nevertheless, if the cop happened to miss him whenever he departed, he would remain free.
I trusted cops about as much as I trusted Alacrán.
“Jew ready to load jore stuff, Amigo?” Manos asked.
I needed a minute to think. “I need to piss, and then we can get busy.”
Alacrán sat up straight. “Search him before he goes.”
I gave him a look. “Seriously? So much for trust, huh?’
He shrugged.
“This is fucking bullshit.” I raised my arms. “I’ve got two hundred bucks and a key.”
Manos searched me thoroughly and then gave Alacrán a nod. “Es bueno.”
I pushed my way past Manos and went to the bathroom. While I washed my hands, the only plan that might actually work came to me. It was risky on my part, but it was the only thing that would guarantee Carma’s safety.
I dried my hands, adjusted each of my rings, and then waltzed into the living room. When I entered, I made eye contact with Crip. I then gestured toward Manos with my eyes, twice.
He acknowledged the gesture with a nod.
I walked to the edge of the sofa, which, incidentally, was right beside the door. I looked at Crip. “Remember when you saved me in Afghanistan?”
Crip took a few steps in Manos’ direction. “Never forget it.”
Seeming unamused, Alacrán looked up.
“I was thinking of that while I was pissin’,” I said. “I was scared as fuck behind that rock until you fuckers showed up. In the end, you took out some of those fuckers, and I took out the others. It was as easy as one, two, THREE!”
I dove across the arm of the couch, toward Alacrán. As I landed on top of him, I thrust my elbow into his nose. Surprised by the spur of the moment attack, and momentarily blinded by the broken nose, he frantically reached toward the table in hope of finding his pistol.
With his arms in front of him, his face, chest, and neck were an open target. I pounded him with my fists, making every blow count. My ring-laden fingers wreaked havoc on his face, leaving him looking as if he’d been beaten with a hammer.
Only when he was semi-conscious did I take pause. Then, I slid from the edge of the couch and grabbed his gun.
I checked the weapon, determined it was loaded, and flipped off the safety. I pointed it at him. “One fucking move, Amigo, and I’ll put two of these in your head.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Crip had Manos wadded up in a chokehold.
“You good?” I asked.
He nodded. “What do you want me to do with him?”
Manos’ eyes were bulging from their sockets.
“Don’t kill him,” I said. “Duct tape’s in the glovebox. Toss him on the couch and go get it. Grab your phone, too. Car’s unlocked.”
“Are you calling the police?” Alacrán asked past bloody lips. “For reward money?”
Blood trickled from beneath each of his swollen eyes. His nose was mangled, as were his lips.
I glared back at him. “Fuck off.”
Crip tossed a confused and breathless Manos on the couch at Alacrán’s side.
“If you release me,” Alacrán began, “I will let you keep the drugs and the money, Mister Tiddlewood. If not, from my prison cell I will direct the torture and murder of your family. You will watch, Mister Tiddlewood. Then, they will start on you.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo, Amigo,” I said. “Your threats aren’t going to work with me. You’re torturing no one else after tonight.”
Thankfully, Crip returned with the tape in no time. After taping both men’s ankles, wrists, and mouths, he called his corrupt cop buddy. Fearing Primo and friends would soon return, I anxiously paced the floor in front of the open front door, alternating my attention from the two men on the couch and the driveway.
In minutes, a car entered the drive.
“That’s him,” Crip said.
The cop came to the door, glanced at the two men on the sofa, and paused. “Holy shit. It’s him.” He stepped just inside the door. “It’s fucking El Alacrán.”
“You get Brownie points whether he’s dead or alive?” I asked.
He shifted his eyes to me. “What do you mean?”
“If he’s dead, do you still get recognition?”
“Sure.” He looked at Alacrán. “I doubt he’ll bleed to death before I get him hauled in, though.”
I nodded in acknowledgement of his remark. “One more thing. You wearing a ballistic vest beneath that jacket?”
“Sure am. Wh—”
I shot him in the chest. As he stumbled toward the door, I shot him again. He fell backward, into the doorframe, and then onto the floor.
“What in the fuck are you doing?” Crip shouted. “God fucking damn it, Reno!”
Before the cop could retrieve
his weapon, I rushed to his side and pulled his gun from the holster. I yanked open his jacket and looked at his body armor. Two flattened .45 caliber slugs were in the center of his chest.
“Just breathe, buddy,” I said. “It’ll only hurt for a while.”
With the cop’s gun in my hand, I walked in front of the sofa. Alacrán met me with wide eyes.
I waved the gun in his direction. “Both of you. Stand up. We’re leaving.”
They looked at each other, and then at me.
“Stand up,” I said. “Or I’ll shoot you both.”
Not knowing what in the hell was going on, they both managed to stand. Teetering from side to side with taped ankles, they hobbled half the distance to the door. I paused and turned to face them.
“You have no idea what’s up, do you?” I asked. “Well, in case you don’t, here’s the dealio. Carmelita? She was never yours. But for saying’s sake, she’s mine now. You won’t be hurting her, or anyone else for that matter. Ever again.”
Using the cop’s gun, I shot Alacrán once, in the chest.
He fell dead on the floor at Manos’ feet.
I looked at Manos. “Don’t. Move.”
I walked to the cop. He was still on his back, heaving to catch his breath.
“Do you think that Manos fella will prove useful as an informant,” I asked. “Or do you think he can be trusted?”
Rocking from side to side in agony, he looked at me like I’d asked him the impossible. He sucked a quick breath. “I don’t have…any…fucking…idea.”
“Personally, I kind of like the fella,” I admitted. “But I don’t think he can be trusted. And he knows who we are. Bad idea to let him live, huh?”
He closed his eyes and swallowed heavily. Then, he opened them and started to speak. It didn’t matter, I’d made my mind up. I faced Manos and shot him once in the chest. He stumbled, and then fell a few feet from Alacrán.
I faced the cop. “Am I going to get that reward money?”
“I wasn’t…planning on…”
I pulled Alacrán’s pistol from my waistband and pointed it at his face. “‘San Diego County Sheriff’s detective Marc Watson died today while serving a felony warrant in San Diego’s Ocean Beach neighborhood.’” I cleared my throat. “Or, you promise me the reward money. Then, the headlines read this: ‘An unnamed San Diego County Sheriff’s detective is hailed a hero for taking down the notorious El Alacrán Ramirez in what authorities are calling the end of one of the most intense manhunts in history. In the raid, he was shot twice before returning fire and killing Ramirez and an unnamed accomplice.’ Which will it be, detective?”
Reno: Devil’s Disciples Book 5 Page 16
