by Carolina Mac
“If you hurry. Pack a bag.”
Poker Club. San Antonio.
IT WAS MIDNIGHT and Annie was getting some hands. She was having more fun than she’d had in weeks and winning money too. That was a bonus. A new player came to the table and she glanced up. Dougie. She nodded and said nothing.
Pocket queens were her two hole cards and she raised when it was her turn. A guy at the end of the table called and so did Dougie the Dog.
The flop came, ten, three, king. Not a great flop for pocket queens. The guy at the end checked. Dougie bet a hundred bucks. Annie called and the guy at the end folded.
Turn card was queen of clubs. Annie checked to Dougie. He stared across the table to get a read on her and bet again. Two hundred this time.
He must have two pairs.
“Call.”
The dealer turned up the river card and it was a trey. Annie had a boat, and Dougie had a bigger boat if he was playing king/three, which she doubted. She had raised first, and he had just called, so she put him on big slick and shoved.
“Call,” he said with a little smirk on his face. He turned up exactly what she thought he had—two pairs with an ace kicker.
She flipped up her boat and the dealer pushed the pot to her.
“Nice hand,” he said with a grin.
She stacked her chips, then picked up her purse and headed for the ladies’ room.
Dougie followed. “Can we talk?”
“We’ll have to, soon.”
“What does that mean?”
“Figure it out.”
“Let’s go somewhere and talk this out.”
“Okay. Give me a minute.”
THE RESTAURANT in the poker club was quiet. Not many dining after midnight. Dougie pointed to a table and they sat. The waitress came, and he ordered two coffees. “I saw Jack at the other table.”
“He likes poker. Doesn’t mind when I play.”
“He been your bodyguard for a long time?”
She shook her head. “I was in love with my last bodyguard and he died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“I didn’t know you played Hold-em.”
“Lots you don’t know.”
“More than I thought. I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re not an idiot, but you need to rethink your life’s calling. It’s going to get you killed.”
“I’ve had that feeling lately too.”
“Act on it, Dougie, before it’s too late.”
“Do you know something that I don’t know?”
Annie nodded her head slightly. “I hear things.”
“Why would you? And how?”
“Would you trust me if I said I can’t tell you how I know?”
“Probably not.”
“That’s what I thought.” She stood up without touching her coffee. “I have to go. I have an early morning.”
“Doing what? Going to an auction or something?”
“Or something.”
Riverwalk Hotel. San Antonio.
BLAINE was waiting in the hotel lobby when Annie and Jack came back from the poker club.
Annie beamed a smile. “My two boys are here. Is something happening?”
“Uh huh. Let’s go upstairs.”
“Did y’all get a room?”
“We did, but we wanted to catch you and Jack before you sacked out.”
“I was playing poker.”
“Win?” asked Farrell.
“Uh huh. Few hundred. Took all Dougie’s chips.”
“You make up with the Dog?”
“Nope.”
“Come into our room,” said Blaine, “I had coffee sent up.”
Annie flopped on one of the beds and pushed extra pillows behind her back. “Did the surveillance get something?”
“Yep. There’s a shipment coming across in the morning. They’ll exchange the trucks on route two eighty-one.”
“Will the ATF be there?”
“I haven’t decided,” said Blaine. “I told Kramer I’d let him know when we had something solid. Langois used the word ‘shipment’, according to Greg. No mention of guns.”
“Kramer will be pissed at you,” said Farrell.
“Yeah, and I care? Kramer was running the show on the last take-down and they lost the trucks and six men.”
The coffee arrived, and Farrell tipped the waiter. He stared at the tray and realized there was only coffee, cups and cream and sugar. “Didn’t you order anything to eat?”
Blaine scowled. “You can’t be hungry.”
“Says the guy who never eats.”
ANNIE changed into her nightshirt in the bathroom. The day hadn’t gone well and tomorrow might be worse. She wanted to finish up and go home. She got into bed and checked her phone while Jack used the bathroom. Text from Dougie.
“I know I’m in trouble. I feel the vibe.”
“If you trust me, I can help you.”
“I want to trust you, but I know something is going on and you’re part of it.”
“Stay away from Langois.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m not a cop. If you trusted Race, trust me.”
“Fuck, you are scaring the shit out of me.”
“Noon tomorrow at your condo. Do not go out.”
“Jesus.”
CHAPTER NINE
Tuesday, January 27th.
Rest Area north of Rivertown.
AT DAWN, BLAINE drove south with Farrell in the shotgun seat, Annie and Jack in the back. Behind them were Rick and Andy, Greg and Fletcher in the junk truck.
At the deserted rest area north of Rivertown, they parked in front of the building that housed the washroom as if they were tourists. They waited.
Around six thirty, a semi pulled into the truck parking area. The driver used the facilities, bought a Coke from a vending machine and sauntered back to his truck. He had probably driven all night and was tired. Just a trucker.
Half an hour later the sound of six or seven Harley’s rifled through the morning air like jackhammers. The empty trucks with their escort had arrived from the north for the exchange. They pulled into the big rig area behind the regular vehicle lot and parked. The bikes cruised around behind the trucks and waited out of sight.
Blaine hopped out of the back of his truck with a Blackout and hollered, “down on the ground with your hands on your heads.”
The bikers pulled AK’s from under their cuts and before any of them pulled the trigger and shot Blaine, Annie, lying prone on the top of the junk truck, picked them all off their bikes with head shots.
Andy, Rick, Greg, Farrell and Fletcher, cuffed the two truck drivers and their protection detail and secured them in the back of the junk truck.
Twenty minutes later when the two trucks arrived from the border and parked for the exchange, the boys greeted them with automatic weapons, jerked the drivers and the guards out of their seats and cuffed them. Job done.
Annie left before the ATF guys arrived because it was better that way. Her job was done. Better for her and better for everybody.
BLAINE had given Kramer a later time in hopes he and his own crew—and Annie—had the situation in hand before the ATF arrived in a vengeful frenzy and fucked it all up.
“Here’s your trucks, sir,” said Blaine, “and I have a duffel full of money in my truck and a bunch of collars for you in the back of the junk truck.”
“It’s all over?” Kramer asked with an annoyed look on his face. “Did they arrive early?”
“Uh huh. Good thing we were in position waiting here since before dawn,” said Blaine.
Kramer opened the back door of one of the semi’s and nodded when he saw the crates. “Nice work, Ranger Blackmore. I want to believe you didn’t cut us out on purpose.”
“Why would I?”
Kramer walked around the trucks gazing at the bodies of the dead bikers. “Head shots. Who did the fancy shooting?”
“Can’t say, it happe
ned so fast. Probably Donovan.”
“Any weapon gonna match those corpses?”
Blaine shrugged. “Sure. Farrell where’s your gun?”
“Here boss. Six shots fired.” He handed it to Kramer.
“Jesus, Donovan. You are a dead-eye.”
“Thanks.” Farrell grinned.
Doug Robertson’s Residence. San Antonio.
ANNIE parked Blaine’s truck at the hotel when she got back to San Antonio and took her own truck to Dougie’s condo. She checked her watch as she parked in the visitor’s lot and it was eleven-thirty. Before going inside, she made a call.
The man answered in his gruff, gravelly voice. “Did it go well this morning, sweetheart?”
“Yes, sir. The ATF have two truckloads of guns. In order to clean up the Rule, and get what we need, I have to read Dougie the Dog in.”
“You’re in the situation, girl. Your call.”
She took one of her rifles from the back seat, ran up the steps and rang the bell.
He let her in, looked from right to left outside and closed the door. “I almost went insane waiting for you. Why couldn’t you come earlier?”
“Sorry, I was working.”
He stared at the rifle and at the hand that held his. “Powder burns. Who are you?”
“Got a beer for me?”
Dougie ran a big hand through his thick hair as he strode over to the fridge and pulled out a couple of cold ones. He took a glass from the cupboard and filled it. “Say something that makes sense. My whole world has gone fuckin crazy since I met you.”
Annie laid her rifle on the counter, perched on one of the stools and chugged half her beer while Dougie stared at her.
“Langois is going to trade you to the B team for a million in coke.”
“Okay. That’s something I can relate to.” Dougie tipped up his beer and chugged it down. “I believe that. Can I ask how you know?”
“No.”
“Any ideas on how I’m gonna solve this little problem?”
“Pack your stuff.”
Dougie paced. “Just like that—pack your stuff—and I walk away from my life?”
“The choice is all yours. You trust me and walk away, or your life is over.”
“Who do you work for?”
“It’s classified.”
“This ain’t a movie, Portia, where they say shit like that.”
“Portia is my first name, but my family call me Annie.”
“And you lied about George Ross too?”
“No.”
“Did you lie about Ogilvie?”
“No. I belonged to Race for a time. We have a son.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“I don’t want you to be dead.” Annie walked to the fridge and took out another beer. “Are you coming?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Glass shattered on the upper level. Annie ran to the counter and picked up her gun. She opened the front door and fired two shots. She pressed 911 on her phone and then called Blaine. “Here, now.” She gave the address.
Dougie came running down the stairs with a duffel in his hand and a guitar case slung over his back. He grabbed the painting. “What about my bike?”
“I’ll have my crew get it. Get in my truck. How bad is the fire upstairs?”
“I put it out.”
Annie ran outside and opened the back door of her truck. “Get in the back and lie down across the seat.” She stood the painting up against the seat and put the guitar case in the shotgun seat.
“I don’t…”
“Do it, now.”
“Fuck.”
The big black diesel came down the street with sirens flashing. Blaine careened around the two bikes with dead riders lying in the street and stopped at the curb. He waved that he had the scene, and Annie took off.
Ten minutes later they were at the hotel. Annie parked in the ramp and took Dougie to her room.
Riverwalk Hotel. San Antonio.
DOUGIE couldn’t remember having a day he was so fuckin mixed up. He felt like he might puke as he sat at the table in the corner of Portia or Annie or whatever the hell her name was—her room. His cell rang, and he checked the screen. “The boss.”
“See what he says.”
“Where the hell are you, Dougie? Shaky is dead. We lost all the guns and a cop capped a bunch of our own. We need to retaliate, and I mean now.”
“They killed Goldsmith?”
“That’s what I said. I need you at the club.”
“I’m busy.” He pressed end and stared at Annie.
“You said you weren’t a cop.”
“I’m not.”
“Who took down the guns?”
“The ATF with a bit of help.”
“I can’t believe this is happening to me.”
ANNIE picked up the house phone and dialed the front desk. “I need to move to a suite please. Thank you.”
“You seem pretty calm in all of this, girl.”
She nodded and pressed Blaine’s number. “Hey, sugar, can you load Dougie’s bike in your truck? He’s worrying about it.”
“Sure, Mom. Is he there with you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think it’s the right thing?”
She smiled at Dougie who had looked better. “I do.”
“I’ll be there soon, and we’ll go to dinner.”
“Yeah, I’m getting hungry too.”
Dougie paced. “Can I ask who you’re talking to?”
“My son.”
“He’s picking up my bike?”
“He is.”
“Is he a cop?”
“He is.”
“I don’t understand what’s happening. I’ve always avoided cops. They freak me out. I feel like I should go.”
Annie pointed. “There’s the door.”
“Why are you in a hotel in San Antonio? You said it was to go to an auction, but that was a cover story, wasn’t it?”
“Uh huh. Part of it. I do have two antique stores.”
“So why? I know it wasn’t to meet me.”
“No, it wasn’t, but after I met you, I liked you a lot—maybe a bit too much—and I changed my plan. I thought you were worth saving.”
“Saving?”
“I’m here to take down the Rule. My job is classified whether you believe it or not. I asked for clearance to tell you.”
Dougie sat with his mouth open. “You were gonna kill all of us,” he said. “You’re one of those invisible wet work people. A fuckin sniper. And I’m sleeping with you?” He shoved his big hand through his mop of hair again. “I was worth saving?” he whispered. “I feel sick.”
Annie hooked a thumb. “Bathroom.”
DOUGIE was in Annie’s bathroom when he heard more people come into the room. What the hell should he do? He’d never been in a situation he couldn’t fight his way out of. Pound the shit out of anybody in his way, and if they didn’t give up he’d slit their throats or shoot them.
Worth saving? I don’t think so.
What does she want from me in return? I must have to do something.
He took a deep breath and opened the door.
A kid was standing just inside the door of the room. A Latino kid with long black hair and a bandana wrapped around his head. Beside him was a taller guy with a cowboy hat on and a rifle in his hand. Jesus.
“You okay, Dougie?” asked the Latino ganger. “Must have been a shock for you.”
He tried to smile. “I was puking, actually. Don’t know what I’m doing here, or if I should be here at all.”
“Are you armed?”
He nodded.
“I’ll have to ask for your gun, just for now. I’m thinking of my mother’s safety.”
“Your mother, right.”
Dougie took the Colt out of his waistband and handed it over.
“Ankle holster?”
He pulled a small twenty-two pistol out of his boot and gave it up re
luctantly.
“Boot knife?”
Dougie grinned. “You’re stripping me naked.”
Blaine chuckled. “I hate being unarmed myself. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Dougie, but we barely know each other.”
“I understand you’re a cop.”
“Yeah, I guess. A different kind of cop. I head up the Violent Crime squad in Texas.”
“Holy fuck, you’re the super cop.”
Blaine took a stance and his lip curled. “Don’t call me that.”
“If that’s you, then this cowboy is your brother, dead-eye Donovan,” said Dougie. “Fuck me blind.”
“Maybe later,” said Annie. She winked at Dougie and took him by the hand. “Let’s go to dinner.”
DOUGIE sat through dinner in the hotel restaurant. He didn’t think he’d ever eat again. His brain was muddled. Life as he knew it had been snatched from him in the flick of an eye and he’d never get it back. He’d have to start over.
Start over at thirty-eight?
“Eat something, Dougie,” Annie whispered to him. “This isn’t easy for you, but I’ll help you.”
“What do you people want from me?” he looked straight at Blaine.
“The same thing I want from any man in Annie’s life. Don’t hurt her.”
“That’s it? Don’t I have to do something? Be some kind of bait or a fuckin snitch?”
“Annie’s mission is her own,” said Blaine. “I’m finished in San Antonio.”
“You guys were working with the ATF.” It wasn’t a question.
“They have the guns and they’re happy,” said Blaine.
“I need to think,” said Dougie.
Blaine nodded. “You have to start over, Dougie. “It’s tough to do and even tougher if nobody helps you. Both Farrell and I came out of clubs and Annie helped us start over. We were younger than you are now, but it can be done.”
Dougie nodded.
“Come up to our new suite and have a couple of beers,” said Annie. “The hotel said they moved us.”
“I don’t think beer will sort this out for me.”
UPSTAIRS in the suite, Annie moved her luggage from inside the front door where hotel staff had placed it, into one of the bedrooms. “Jack can have the other room, and you can either sleep in here with me or sleep on the sofa or with Jack. I know you’re messed up, Dougie.”
