Better to deal with filth while already dirty and leave the cleaning up for afterward.
RICO
CHAPTER 18
When I arrived two hours ago, the freight entrance to the Happy Brothers warehouse, a nickname I pegged them with, is wide open and asking me to let myself in. These boys appear to be the quintessential golden boys, they were rugby players in college and have the distinct air of wealth and privilege. Which might be why they get away with running the largest black market ring from Charleston, SC, to Washington D.C., and God knows where else. The place is filled with shipping containers in all sizes.
Business must be good.
The place was empty when I first walked in, so I looked around.
The brothers don’t deal in petty merchandise. This stuff is found draped on the bodies of A-listers and only the elite can afford it. Theirs is a very select client base.
Their office is elegantly furnished so I feel right at home sitting at their conference table with a second cup of coffee they prepared.
“You guys shouldn’t leave your door open like that, someone could come in and rob you,” I joke.
They grin. “You don’t honestly think we didn’t know you were here the minute you pulled up?”
No, actually I don’t.
“Have you boys heard about a new player in town?”
For them, every day is casual Friday, I don’t know anyone who has it this good.
“Could you elaborate, Detective?” Ryan, the older brother, the business mind behind their enterprise, asks. He’s a good looking guy, smart, keen, and shrewd. He may look disinterested but make no mistake, he’s dangerous in his own way.
“Think a hybrid Hannibal Lechter, Charles Manson, and Scarface,” I reply seemingly casually.
Ryan appears to consider it for a moment, although I know he’s only humoring me.
He knows exactly who I’m talking about. I don’t want to give up the information that I know Ivan’s name and who he is. I need them to tell me. I need to know what’s known about Ivan on the street.
Ryan and his younger brother Tyler exchange glances.
Finally, he responds, “I don’t think we do,” and it pisses me off.
I know my frustration flashes in my eyes when I look at Tyler.
Tyler leans forward in his seat and rests his elbows on the table. “Rico, we know what’s going on, but we have a business to run, and we have to look out for our best interests.”
Tyler is the public relations portion of their business, he has a certain charismatic quality about him that can sweet talk Putin into blowing him if he wanted to.
Both of them are also smart as fuck. Ryan graduated with a Masters in pre-law, and Tyler has a Masters as well, his is in business. Stupid they are not; smooth, yes, absolutely.
“Of course, we’re just talking over a cup of coffee,” I shrug my shoulder nonchalantly.
What I really want to do is grab the both of them by their necks and slam them against the wall. The fucking clock is ticking and every damn minute Ivan is loose out there and I have no goddam idea where he is.
Tyler lowers his head. I take a slow sip from the expensive porcelain cup. Outside I can hear vehicles coming and going as the business day begins to rev into full swing. I’ve been at it now a few hours, and I can’t wait to get out of here to call Maria just to hear her voice.
After what seems like an agonizingly long time, Tyler lifts his head and faces me. “Yeah, we’ve heard of a new business man in town. Thank God for us, we don’t deal in the same…freight. As far as where he’s set up shop, I don’t think that’s been established yet, or even if he is.”
Fuck! I’ve sat here and wasted my time for two goddam hours and they can’t give me anything!
Tyler continues, inching a little closer, “Our understanding is Ivan,” I’ve got his name! “Isn’t here to establish a business, but rather to build a bridge. His operation is a lot more covert and specialized. He deals with singular assets.” He sits back in his chair. “That’s about all we know.”
I contemplate the information. It all coincides with what I already know of Ivan’s history. But that doesn’t explain exactly what Ivan is doing here.
Unless he’s not here to establish a business.
He’s here to do what he’s always done.
Kill.
He’s looking for someone. “He deals with singular assets.”
There’s only one person he could’ve come here for.
Me.
The color drains from my face and the coffee is churning and burning me like acid down my throat, all the way to my gut.
Because Ivan got a bonus when he found me.
Maria.
We are the absolute only two reasons he’s here.
I set the cup down on the delicate matching saucer and clear my throat to get my voice working again. “Do you know where I can find him?”
Ryan and Tyler both shake their heads. “He doesn’t get found, he finds you.”
I nod slowly. They haven’t told me anything I’m not already aware of, only confirmed it. I stand and extend my hand to each of them. They shake it.
“It was good to see you, Detective. Come by any time,” Ryan leads me out through the large bay area.
“Thanks. And as far as we’re all concerned, I wasn’t here.” I pull my keys from my jeans pocket. “Have a nice day.”
When I step out onto the loading dock, the parking lot is busy with trucks and cars coming and going as business as usual goes on all around. I shove my hand in my other pocket to fish out my phone before I realize I don’t have it on me. Alarm surges through me in a hot flash as my steps speed up to my car. When I get in, I see I have five missed calls from Maria’s aunt.
The alarm bells that had started are instantly replaced by shrills of panic as I hit call back.
“Julie, what is it?” I attempt to keep my tone calm, although I’m anything but.
“Rico,” she practically shrieks, “Maria isn’t answering her phone!”
Cold dread sweeps through me like a fucking flood.
“I’m on my way to my house,” I’ve already got the car started and screeching out of the parking lot. I keep my voice even, trying to calm her. “I left her sleeping early this morning. She’s probably in the shower.”
I’ve GOT to believe that!
“Call me as soon as you get there,” at least she’s lost the shrill. “When I see that girl, I’m going to let her have it for scaring me half to death.” Julie attempts to hide her fear, she even chuckles, but it’s nervous, and could easily turn into hysterical sobbing, I can hear the tremors.
“I will,” I mumble and hang up.
I’ve got my flashing lights on, but no sirens, although I want to, I want everything blaring so that everyone will get the fuck out of my way. Drivers are veering off to the side of the road, but it’s not enough, the streets are fairly congested with morning rush hour traffic and I can’t get through fast enough. I’m tailgating, rubbernecking, just a cunt hair away from pushing them out of my way with the front end of my car. Finally, after a grueling fifteen minutes, I peel around the corner turning onto my street and head for my house at the end of an empty cul-de-sac.
Dread.
Bone crushing dread and the end of the fucking world.
My front door is wide open.
Maria
I was sleeping when they came in. I didn’t hear them; I didn’t sense them. I’d been so content in the haze of morning after glow of what I’d found with Rico.
Safety.
Protection.
Love.
I’d been fucking stupid.
Stupid.
STUPID!
Now I’m going to be dead.
This all flashed through my mind in a fraction of a second.
I was awakened from a night of the best sleep I’d had in months by a hand gripped tightly on my mouth. When my eyes flew open, the man leaning over me punched me in the face. The im
pact knocked me out, but not before I saw who it was.
The realization was worse than the hit.
It was the man from the restaurant.
My head is throbbing, and my face feels like a boulder landed on it and crushed every bone in my skull. I’d never before felt physical pain so severe, I didn’t know it was possible.
The horrible part is, I have no doubt that was only just a teeny tiny taste.
As I come to, I try and force my mind to clear and think, focus, and find a way out of here, wherever the hell here is.
But I can’t.
I feel like I’m floating and the ache in my skull is a dull jackhammer, it’s still there, but it doesn’t make me want to cut my head off.
I’m stoned.
Gloriously, disgustingly high.
I try to pick up my hands, but they’re tied behind my back. I don’t care, and I laugh, the familiar sound of my voice seems like it’s somewhere far off in the distance. Everything feels good, the hard floor beneath me, the rope around my wrists, even the pounding in my head begins to sound like a melody, and I begin to hum to it.
Muffled male voices begin to blend with my little private tune.
“What’s he going to do with her?” mystery man asks from outside the closed door of the room I’m in.
“No se, but there’s a price on her head, this I know,” I hear the gruff whisper of a second man in the clouds I’m floating on.
I wonder if they’re talking about me.
An annoying feeling begins to creep over me, some thought is trying to pierce the blissfulness I’m in. I won’t let it ruin my giddiness. My heart starts pounding erratically nudging me, demanding my attention.
What? What is it?
I’m supposed to remember something, something important. What is it?
“Did he fuck her?”
They must be talking about Rico. Yes! Yes! He fucked me so good, send him back, I want him to do it again. I giggle again.
Then there’s a sinister chuckle.
“Ivan’s going to do a lot more than fuck her, I promise you that.”
Ivan, who’s Ivan. Rico, I want him.
I turn serious, as serious as being stoned out of my head will let me.
Something isn’t right.
I only wish I knew what it was.
Images flash through my mind. Rafi. The Greyhound bus. Sadness overwhelms me, then anger, they swirl like ghosts fighting, both grappling for control. A sob bubbles from my lips, like a drunken person would cry, quickly and hysterically, and for no real reason known to them. I just know I want to cry, scream, wail, but I can’t remember why. I reach to swipe the tears from my face, but my hand stops short.
I know the fact my hands are tied should bother me, but it doesn’t. Instead, I lean my face to my shoulder and wipe my nose, immediately wincing from the dull ache from the touch.
He hit me.
Clarity begins to push the fogginess away.
He kidnapped me, the man from the restaurant.
I should be mad, I know it, I want to be furious, because then I’ll fight back.
I want to fight back.
I want to float in these cotton candy clouds.
My mind is a rainbow of storm clouds, bright and happy one minute, thunderous and booming the next. I don’t know if I want to laugh or sob, so I do both, going back and forth between the two like a lunatic.
The door opens and I peer out of the one eye that isn’t swollen shut. That tiny movement hurts, I feel it somewhere floating in the mismatch of my emotions, but it doesn’t really quite register in my dull painful euphoric delirium.
“What is it puta?” the ugly man in front of me sneers. I think he sneered, did he? I’m not sure.
Both men step closer and my heart pounds.
I’m afraid of them…I think. I should be afraid of them. I think.
The one who’d spoken squats down in front of me.
“Look at these tits, Pedro, I bet you’d like to stick your cock between them and fuck them, I know I do.”
I look down and realize I’m naked.
A jolt of subdued terror sizzles through me. Then he reaches out and pinches my nipple hard.
It hurt so good.
NONONO.
I push myself into his touch.
My mind is a frenzy of cloudy contradiction, I want to scream and hit. I think. I want more. I think.
“Fucking puta,” he laughs as he shoves his finger inside me.
I jerk away. It was purely instinct. He invaded. I think. I reacted.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the voice that spoke the words is so menacing, even through my fog of happy terror I shiver.
The man who’d touched me didn’t have a chance to react. His head was instantly crushed, it happened so fast, I couldn’t see what hit him. I flinch from the slow motion commotion. I’m splattered with his warm blood, it covers my face, my chest, all the way down my body. I try to move to wipe it off, but I can’t because my hands are tied.
That’s when I scream.
RICO
CHAPTER 19
I slam my badge down on the counter in the kitchen of the crime scene that is my house. It’s not a fucking home anymore, it was invaded and raped, and the only thing that is good in my life, the only thing that has made me happy to be alive, was ripped from it.
From me.
Maria’s gone.
Agony beyond what I thought is humanly possible radiates throughout my entire being. I’m being crushed alive inside as my body stands rigid and poised with no outward sign of the turmoil within. I swear I should see blood oozing from the pores of my skin from the onslaught of destruction happening to my soul, I should hear the crunch of my bones being mangled from the weight of the excruciating pain.
Her clothes are laying right where we’d left them last night, which means she’s naked because nothing of mine was taken. Not a damn thing. The house was destroyed, but not in the way a burglar would ransack a place. Nothing had been smashed in a flurry of robbery haste, things hadn’t been pilfered as if disturbed in a rush. No, this was done for fun because he could. They’d been playing with me, tossing my shit in the air, turning everything over as they’d passed. It was obvious he’d wanted to make a statement.
Statement heard loud and clear, motherfucker.
But there’s no blood anywhere, that fact gave me a very small sense of relief. Very, very small.
Because that really doesn’t mean shit.
If I were perfectly honest with myself, and I have to be, I cannot let emotion overrule me, I have to keep my shit together to get her back. Alive. I have to keep my head clear and focus on what I know about Ivan, and Maria, and, unfortunately, just because there’s no blood doesn’t mean there isn’t any. Her blood. It’s just not here.
Maria is wanted by Los Muertos and they have a price on her head.
The thing is, I don’t know if they want her dead or alive.
But what could even be more critical is that she’s directly linked to me.
The man who killed Ivan’s brother.
I am absolutely certain what’s most important to Ivan is revenge. Because of that, I’m sure he couldn’t give two fucks about a girl that could bring in a few dollars over finally getting what he’s been preparing almost twenty years for.
He wants me? He’s got me!
It’s time for war.
Again.
And I realize, it’s suddenly so clear, that I’m not a man.
I’m death and destruction, a machine with its only purpose to kill.
And get back what’s mine.
“What the fuck is this?” Scott barks, picking up my badge.
“What does it look like?” my voice is steely cold.
“Your goddam badge,” he presses it roughly onto my chest.
I don’t move, I don’t even bother looking down at his hand.
“I’m not going to need it anymore,” I state so low and calm, the sound
of my own voice is almost foreign to my ears.
I’ve only sounded and felt like this one time before.
History is going to repeat itself.
This time it won’t be a boy seeking revenge.
This time it’s death itself.
The prey is the devil.
The only thing that will kill him is himself.
Unlike the first time, I’m on my own. I don’t have my boys with me, and there’s no one I can call. This isn’t the concrete jungle where we lurked on the outskirts of what’s right, hid in plain sight among society living according to our own rules. That underbelly, the cancerous growth of civilization has grown and grown unchecked and allowed to weave its way into every facet of our lives. While people were sleeping, shopping, going about their days without a thought to what lurks underneath the perfect façade of civility, its ultimate destruction has flourished to such unprecedented heights, nothing can stop it except its own self-annihilation.
It was only a matter of time. No one could live buried in secrets forever. I’d been lucky, if you could call what my life has been as luck, before the door was ripped open to my closet, shining a fucking spotlight on my secrets and demand the skeletons come out and sing.
Nothing stays hidden forever.
I step around Scott to leave.
Every goddam second counts, and I’m not wasting anymore. Nothing or no one is going to stop me, not the badge, not Scott, not fucking Ivan.
Scott grabs my arm.
“If you don’t let me go,” I say deathly quiet, “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you.”
It’s not a threat, it’s the truth.
He doesn’t drop his hand; his grip only tightens.
“You’re going to get her back. I’m going with you,” he glares at me. “But we’re doing this the right way.”
“Let go, Scott.”
“Listen to me, I’ve got the task force ready…,” he begins.
My face an inch from his, I crowd him against the hard surface at his back.
“This is me, I’m not the cop, she’s not a fucking assignment. Let me the fuck go, before I do something you’re going to regret.”
Hiding Page 17
