by Juno Rushdan
“Sure do.”
“Can I have it?”
Aiden dug in the pocket of his jeans and handed it to her. “What are you thinking?”
“We need to know who is accusing us, but we’ll need a little assistance to find out.”
“Draper won’t lift a finger to help us, and no one else in the office is going to be inclined to stick their neck out. Not with this kind of heat. If Draper found out, he’d tank their career.”
“There’s one person who might help us.” Charlie shifted in her seat, turning to him. “Nick.”
Aiden was quiet for a long moment. Shame swept through him as he remembered the resentment that he’d held against Nick during those two agonizing months.
“On vacation, he can help from a distance,” Charlie added. “He hates Draper just as much as we do, probably more, and is already planning to transfer to another office. I think he’s our best chance to get some answers.”
The reasoning was solid. Unable to find fault with it, Aiden nodded. “Call him.”
“Maybe the request would be better received if it came from you.”
Nick had moved on; he was no longer hurt by the way Charlie had treated him, and he was in love with Lori. Even better, the one thing his buddy couldn’t resist was a woman in trouble.
“You call him,” Aiden said. “Nick has a serious savior complex.” Maybe Nick thought he could save Charlie from a loveless, lonely life. But Nick didn’t understand that she didn’t need to be rescued. Charlie had to be the hero in her own story. Fear was her dragon to slay. Love was her choice to make. No one could do it for her. “It’s a big ask, but he won’t say no to you. Trust me.”
“What’s his number?”
“You don’t have it memorized?” Aiden asked, keeping his tone light, teasing.
A hint of a smile played over her lips, her eyes deadly serious. “The only number I have memorized is yours.”
That was music to his ears. Aiden rattled off Nick’s number.
“I hope he answers, since it’ll be an unknown number,” Charlie said.
He hoped Nick wasn’t too busy making love to Lori with his phone shut off. Nick had only landed in Phoenix today. It’d been weeks since he’d seen Lori, and he must’ve missed her something awful.
Aiden was happy his friend had finally found happiness.
Charlie dialed and waited with the phone to her ear. Nick must’ve answered, because she put the call on speaker. “It’s me, Charlie. Aiden and I are in a world of trouble. We need your help.”
“What do you need?” Nick asked, without a beat of hesitation.
The man was a good friend and a great marshal.
Charlie explained the details of the situation. “According to Draper, the eyewitness is making a formal statement. We need to know who it is. Figure out a motive. Maybe discredit the person.”
“I know Albatross,” Nick said. “I was the one who got him settled in San Diego and helped him with his transition. I might reach out to someone in our office for information, claiming I saw it on the news. I also have a reliable contact in the SDPD.”
“Since you knew the guy and you’re familiar with his history, do you remember anyone who might’ve had a grievance against him?” Charlie asked. “Or anything odd about his case that stood out?”
“As a matter of fact, yeah. The US attorney’s office was livid at first. They were expecting information on one mobster they’d been going after. Some guy in New Orleans—uh, I can’t recall the name. Anyway, Albatross had been working closely with him, was even engaged to his sister, I think, but in the end, Albatross gave them nothing on the target. Instead, he turned over evidence on two other big fish. Two convictions versus one, so the US attorney’s office accepted it and made the deal.”
“That’s helpful, Nick,” Aiden said. “More than you know. Thanks for helping us. We really appreciate it, brother.”
“No problem. You’d do the same for me. When I get something, should I call this number?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, this number.” Charlie lowered her head and her voice went soft. “Thanks, Nick. And hey...the way things ended between us, I, uh, I—”
“There’s no need to apologize. It doesn’t matter anymore,” Nick said. “It was a long time ago, and I found what I was looking for with Lori. We’re getting married.”
A strange tension blasted off Charlie as she sat back in the seat.
Things had broken off badly between Nick and her.
Nick had ended the fling once he realized he’d never be anything more than entertainment for her, a diversion, a toy, and Charlie had lost it because Nick had beaten her to the punch. But no matter how ugly the breakup, Nick had defended her against others in the office who had snide, unkind things to say about her, and he had even broken one marshal’s jaw.
Hotheaded and impulsive, but Aiden respected the heck out of Nick for it.
“Okay. Thanks. We appreciate the help.” Charlie disconnected.
That wall of hers went up, like an iron curtain drawn between them, and Aiden felt lost. She hadn’t cared about Nick, not romantically, but something troubled her.
“Does it bother you that he’s getting married?” Aiden asked. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Of course not.” The stark sincerity in her voice relieved him. “It’s just that... Nothing.” She shook her head. “It’s stupid.”
“Nothing you have to say is stupid. What is it?” He glanced over at her.
There was a glimmer of pain in her eyes—just a flash like lightning in the darkness—and then it was gone. “The only reason I let it last so long with Nick was that I thought he was like me. That hooking up was enough. That he believed happily-ever-after was a crock,” she said, a cutting edge to her voice. The normal confidence she carried faltered. “He pushed for me to spend the night, leave stuff in a drawer. And I thought it was about him needing to control a woman who refused to be controlled. Turns out that he really does want the lifelong commitment, house with white picket fence, two-point-five kids.”
Sounded pretty good. Aiden wanted to get married, settle down, have kids, build a home like his parents had. Only problem was he couldn’t envision it with anyone other than Charlie.
“What’s wrong with wanting that?” Aiden reached for her hand and took it in his.
She flinched and he closed his fingers more firmly around hers, expecting her initial reaction.
“For every nine out of ten people who want it, are drawn to it, one isn’t. Or can’t have it. For every nine out of ten who run toward the dream, one is stuck with reality. I guess I’m that one.” She pulled her hand away from his, shifting in her seat, and cleared her throat. “Do you think the men who attacked us are going to take Edgar to New Orleans?”
Aiden’s head spun as he tried to keep up with Charlie’s dodge-and-evade maneuvers.
There were times such as now, when she’d give an inch and he wanted to press for a mile through that thicket of thorn bushes surrounding her, needing to delve deeper so badly regardless of the injuries he suffered. But he’d get better results beating his head against a wall than taking a battering ram to her heart.
In the wake of his silence, she said, “504. That’s the area code of the number that texted the hit men. New Orleans, right?”
Her emotions were compartmentalized and controlled to the point of strangling. She radiated a distance that was part of her core. She wore that cold bravado like armor.
One of the things Nick had grumbled to Aiden about Charlie was the lack of closeness. Nothing physical that wasn’t foreplay, culminating in cool, no-nonsense sex. No hugs. No kisses beyond flirting. No postcoital cuddling. No sharing of anything of substance.
Nick’s complaints had left Aiden mystified.
In those quiet moments between Aiden and Charlie, when an intimacy was
tangible and a physical kind seemed possible, she shared bits of her childhood, glimpses of her soul. There was no doubt in Aiden’s mind that hidden behind her cold reserve, she had an inner fire that raged, burned so hot that it would scald.
Sadness leaked through him at the absence of tenderness and affection in her life. He ached to give her the emotional warmth and security she deserved, to feed her heart and soul.
He gripped the steering wheel harder with both hands and took a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s the area code for New Orleans. The hit on Albatross feels personal, with the offer of extra money to bring him in alive so he could be tortured. With the involvement of the mobster’s sister and the fact that Edgar had worked closely with that guy, I’d say it’s our best lead.” The only thing they had to go on.
“It would be impossible for them to fly there with a hostage. They’ll have to drive. How long do you think it’d take them to get there?”
Aiden had mapped out the drive from San Diego to Camp Beauregard in Pineville, Louisiana. Twenty-four-hour trip that he could make in two days, if he took the job. Tack on an extra four hours to get to New Orleans.
“I’d estimate twenty-eight hours,” he said. “They’d drive straight through in shifts, only stopping when absolutely necessary for gas, food. Maybe twenty-nine hours if we’re lucky.”
“We need to beat them there, be ready once they arrive and find Albatross before they kill him. But with the head start they have on us, the only way to do that is to fly.”
“Have you forgotten we’re wanted? They’ll be on the lookout for us at airports.”
“I agree that trying to fly from any airport in California would be suicide.” Charlie stretched, rolling her shoulders, and Aiden could hear the wheels spinning in her head. “Didn’t you mention that on the reservation there are independent Navajo-controlled airports?”
“Yeah, so?” he asked, not liking where this was headed.
“So, your father is an important man.”
Aiden’s dad was the chief of a tribal council. He was essentially a governor with executive power, and the council had legislative power.
The position was one of great respect and influence.
“If you called him,” Charlie said, “and explained the situation, don’t you think he’d get someone to do him a favor? Get us on a flight to New Orleans. With our weapons. No IDs needed. No questions asked. He would gladly help.”
Without a doubt, his father would help any of his children in need, but Aiden would never ask such a thing of him. Charlie should’ve known better than to suggest it, but her upbringing was so different. Aiden’s family was large and tight-knit. Honor and respect and principles were as important as love.
Charlie didn’t speak to her mother anymore for some reason and only exchanged a few hollow pleasantries with her sister around the holidays. She’d never been taught the value of family, the sanctity of such a bond. All she knew was the anger, the fear and loneliness from not having it. He understood that was the reason she held herself at such a distance, but he was no longer sure she’d ever let him in on the other side of her wall.
“No,” Aiden said, shaking his head to emphasize his point.
“Why not? It’d be easy.”
“The easy way isn’t always the right one. I won’t ask my father. You don’t use family like that. Not if you care about them. This is our problem. I won’t drag him into this.”
“Your family is off-limits, but it’s fine for us to get Nick involved? He might only be getting us information, but we’re also making him complicit. He’s aiding and abetting us. I guess that double standard sits fine with you.”
The hypocrisy of it twisted through Aiden’s chest. Charlie’s point was valid.
Growing up, he’d worshipped his father. He’d been taught to protect his family at all costs.
Nick understood the stakes, the risks, and knew that if the shoe was on the other foot, he could rely on them to stick their necks out the same way for him. Nick could’ve said no, whereas Aiden’s father wouldn’t have a choice. His dad would be compelled to help.
There was a fundamental difference that he couldn’t put into words.
Folding her arms, Charlie looked out the window and dropped the issue.
A heavy silence filled the confines of the cab, almost consuming them in its enormity.
Aiden flipped on the radio and tuned in low background noise. He upped the speed a bit, keeping it under the limit. They didn’t come this far to get stopped for a traffic ticket.
For a hundred miles they drove east toward the mountains and the Arizona border without talking. There’d never been the need to force chitchat between them. It always flowed. The quiet moments were natural, not awkward and uncomfortable as it was now.
Her stomach growled, but she said nothing.
He saw a billboard for a shopping mall and restaurants. They both had bloodstains on their jeans. Most people might overlook it, but a keen eye would find it suspicious. If they figured out a way to fly, they couldn’t go through an airport looking like this.
Taking the off-ramp, he pulled into Yuma, five miles across the Arizona state line. First, he stopped for gas, making sure to keep his face turned away from the cameras.
Then he found the mall, which wasn’t hard. It was a sprawling, palm-tree-studded outdoor complex with plenty of stores to choose from, dining options and a theater.
He parked at a department store. “We should get fresh clothes,” he said.
“Good idea.”
Inside, Charlie headed to the women’s section and he went to the men’s.
Under normal circumstances he’d gravitate toward the sales, but efficiency was his focus. They needed to get in and out. He browsed quickly and found a replacement pair of jeans. Dark wash. Perfect size in a brand he was familiar with. Fifty bucks. His shirt was in good condition, but after smelling under his arms, he searched for something new. He grabbed a moisture-wicking crew T-shirt that had the stretch and fit he preferred, navy instead of black, and a long-sleeve button-up shirt to wear open and hide the bandage on his arm.
He changed in the cubicle, trashed his old stuff and took the tags to the checkout. Near the register, he saw a ball cap and grabbed it, too. His total was a hundred and twenty dollars.
It took them ten minutes to meet back up. Charlie wore slim-fitting jeans that looked great on her and a V-neck T-shirt in light gray that hugged her curves and flat stomach. She’d also added a cotton warm-up jacket.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Starving.”
In-N-Out Burger was a close walk and the food would take no time. They ate inside, their backs to a wall, away from cameras and other people.
Charlie took a bite and moaned. “This is the best burger ever.”
Digging in, he had to agree. After the day they’d had and three hours hauling butt to get out of California, they were both famished, and almost anything would’ve tasted good, but the thick patty and cheese and grease hit the spot.
“You never did tell me where you learned how to hot-wire a car and pick pockets,” he said.
“In a group home. The place was like a jail, with white concrete walls and bedrooms that resembled cells. They even had rules against hugging because it violated the no-physical-contact policy. Some of the girls in there were on the road to becoming criminals. I picked up those skills from troubled kids, to pass the time, for fun. Other things I had to learn to survive. Like how to fight. To make sure that if I let the other girl get back up, I taught her a lesson first so she’d never touch me again. It wasn’t an easy place to grow up. But in there I figured out how to turn my anxiety into anger, channel it into something useful.”
He knew about her mom’s drug problem and Charlie’s time in foster care, but he’d thought it had been a brief stint. “How long were you in the system?”
/> “My sister and I bounced in and out from elementary to high school.”
Her most impressionable years had been spent in an institutionalized environment with child welfare monitors instead of loving parents. His heart sank. It pained him to imagine it.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me all of this?” He opened his water bottle and took a long draw.
She shrugged. “I guess I don’t like thinking about it. All of your childhood stories are wonderful.”
“That’s not true.” He’d shared his tough lessons and disappointments. The racism and stereotypes he had to endure outside of Navajo Nation. His world wasn’t sunshine and rainbows every second of the day.
“Okay, you’re right. That’s not fair. But I don’t really have any happy stories. With the stuff I learned in the group home, being in that environment, I could’ve just as easily ended up like my sister instead of...” Charlie lowered her burger, her gaze darting around. “I have an idea. I know how to get us on the plane. I’ll be right back.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin and went up to a male employee mopping the floor.
A young guy in his early twenties. Laughter flowed back and forth. Then he wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to her.
Charlie waved bye to the kid and came back to the table. “Let’s go.”
They grabbed their burgers and drinks and got into the truck.
“We need to go here.” She handed him the slip of paper.
“The Oasis. What is this?”
“The solution to our problem.” A bright smile spread across her face, lighting up his heart. “Drive.”
Chapter Nine
The atmosphere of the Windfall Casino on Fridays was an appealing balance of electric and calm. One of Big Bill’s favorite things to do was stroll around undisturbed by anyone for a few minutes and take it in as a tourist might, but he could never shut off his managerial brain.
Dressed to the nines as usual, he wore a quiet dark suit, a perfectly laundered shirt, an elegant silk tie and gleaming black oxfords. First impressions mattered. He could intimidate a person, get inside their head and establish the pecking order simply with his attire, without uttering a word.
