Under the gun, p.6
Under the Gun, page 6
part #5 of The Blackmore Agency Series
The medical examiner and his assistant were crouched down, half under the row of seats trying to get the body into the black bag.
“Hey, Blacky,” hollered Lopez. “Good to see you.” He trotted over for a handshake.
“Y’all are just happy because I’m taking one off your hands.”
“Yep. That too. Preliminary is all done. The techs are waiting for your people from DPS and then they’ll start. No tracks or footprints, that I noticed, but it is pretty dark.”
“Hope we can ID him. We need to hook something together.”
“Just a guess, but I’d say he was hiding. After he got away from them at the party next door to you, maybe they came after him again.”
“Could be. It’s the location that’s bothering me. Nowhere near the Prince’s territory.”
AT TEN FORTY, Annie found a seat in the waiting area at Austin-Bergstrom and picked up a dog-eared magazine someone had left behind.
I shouldn’t be seeing him at all, but somebody has got to watch his back. He never should have told Vince he was going to leave the club. They’ll have eyes on him now. A tail for sure. They might even take him out right away.
Ten minutes later, Linc came through the double doors, a black duffel in his hand, looking more handsome than she’d remembered. Her thoughts were jumbled these days, confusing him with Sam, but maybe that was guilt clouding her brain.
“Thanks for meeting me. I didn’t expect it.”
He didn’t hug her or kiss her, and she called him on it. “No kiss hello?”
“I’m… not a public kind of guy, I guess.”
“Okay.”
He reached to open the door for her and she paused to take a look at who was behind them. Looking for a single guy. Wouldn’t be from The Rule or Linc would recognize him. Some other guy doing Vince a favor. Jesus, why could she read these guys—it was a disease—incurable—possibly terminal.
“Coming?” Linc was still holding the door.
“Uh huh. Thought for a minute I saw somebody I knew.”
“Where’s your truck?”
She waved a bare arm in the direction. It hadn’t gotten any cooler after the sun went down. “Over there in short-term.”
As they got closer he said, “I don’t see a red truck.”
“I brought a different one.”
“You have more than one truck?”
“Uh huh. Another thing to learn, right?” She pressed the fob and the doors of her dark blue Ram unlocked.
Linc tossed his duffel in the back seat. “Want me to drive?”
“Nope, I’m good.”
Annie drove to the Hampton Inn on highway two-ninety, parked and shut the engine down.
“You booked a different hotel?”
“Uh huh.”
Better for your health.
“The other one wasn’t up to your standards?”
“My standards aren’t too high.”
Vince booked the other hotel. That’s where he’ll send his man. Would it be a watch-dog or a hitter?
Annie jumped out and Linc followed. She locked the truck and led the way into the lobby. Two minutes at the desk and she had the key cards. “Third floor.”
“Is something going on that I don’t know about?”
She pressed the elevator button. “Nope. I’m tired and I’m sure you are too. Since I didn’t get a kiss at the airport, I thought I’d come up to your room and jump you.”
Linc smiled as he leaned on the back of the elevator and watched the doors close. “I like the way you think.”
In the room with the door locked, Linc seemed nervous and unsure of himself. Annie pulled her boots off, propped herself against three pillows and watched him unpack the few items he had brought. He wasn’t what she would term amorous.
“Are you sleeping over?” he asked.
“No, but I can stay for a while if that’s what you want.”
“I do want it, but I wasn’t thinking ahead and… I’m not ready.”
“Okay, how about we just fool around a little and not get too serious?”
“I want our first time to be perfect.”
This guy cannot be a biker. He’s a ringer. Or he’s batting the other way.
“Sure, okay.” Annie reached for her boots and tugged them on. A bit of heat crept up the back of her neck and she tried to ignore it. She picked up her purse and headed for the door.
Linc said nothing to change her mind, so she left.
That was weird.
In the elevator she received his text.
“I’m a mess. I’ll make it up to you.”
Fear will do that to you. He knows what he’s done. She didn’t bother answering, ran straight to her truck and headed for the hotel Vince had booked. She couldn’t think of it right away—a stupid name—Easy Rest. Was that it?
The GPS had heard of it and sent her there in five minutes flat. It turned out the map maven had been to even the lowest level of accommodation.
Easy Rest proved to be a one-storey structure, the office near the road, and the dozen units running behind with access from both the front and the parking lot at the back.
Perfect place for a hit.
How many guests would a sleaze-hole like this have? She passed the office with the flashing vacancy sign and drove around the back looking for a room that held a customer. Two units had vehicles parked in their allotted space. She picked the one with the rental Ford and parked beside it.
She left the engine running, took her Beretta from her purse—the special one, fitted with a custom suppressor—chambered a round and stuck the gun in the waistband of her jeans beside her leather gloves. In her right hand was her lock picker, she might not need it if the dude thought he was bulletproof like a lot of them did.
She stood in front of the door, pulled her gloves on and tried the door handle.
See. Big and tough. Don’t need to lock the door. Bring it.
Quietly, she entered the dark room. The dude was snoring.
Annie flicked on the overhead light, saw the Glock on the nightstand next to his cell, lined up her shot and pulled the trigger before he opened his eyes. Impersonal.
She picked up her brass from the threadbare carpet and shoved it into the pocket of her jeans. From the ten-cent nightstand she grabbed his cell, wiping the blood spatter off on the dirty comforter as she made her way to the door. She turned off the light, backed out of the room and locked the door behind her.
CHAPTER SIX
July 8th.
BLAINE SAT smoking on the porch steps, his injured leg sticking straight out in front of him, his third cup of early morning caffeine on the step at his elbow. Travis and Farrell were due to return soon from their night of surveillance on the Latino Princes. Andy and Rick had gone to relieve them in the junk truck. Good cover for lurking in a junk-ridden neighborhood.
Travis drove the dark green unit that belonged to Blackmore Agency, (Jesse had bought it originally), to the back of the driveway and parked in front of the old carriage house. He and Farrell strode around to the front of the house dragging their weary asses.
Blaine hooked a thumb over his shoulder, “You guys look like hell on a stick. Get some breakfast and sack out.”
“Yeah, thanks, boss,” said Farrell. “We didn’t get much for all the time we put in. Punks in and out of that house all night long, but nothing we could tap into. Got a few plate numbers.”
“Good.” Blaine pushed up onto his good leg and secured the crutch under his other arm. “We need to make a list of members, pull them in and squeeze something out of them.”
TRAVIS AND FARRELL had wolfed down stacks of pancakes that Carm made them, then crashed upstairs before Lily arrived to start her day.
She fixed herself a mug of coffee and sat down at the table with Blaine. “What do you want me to start on?”
“I’ve got to get the Harrison’s off my back today,” said Blaine. “Get Larry Appleton over here and we’ll draw something up. When the contract is ready, you can go to the bank, then take the package to them and tell them to fuck off.”
Lily squelched her smile. “You could take care of the legal aspect yourself, boss.”
“Don’t have time today and it has to be done.”
“You don’t have to help them. It’s not your fault this happened in their house. Fate is fate.”
A smile spread across Blaine’s face as he thought about Fancy. “A girl once told me that we could hear the Fates talking if we listened hard enough. She said, you got ears. Use them.”
Lily raised a perfectly drawn brow. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
“I had thoughts of buying the house from Misty, although I never put it into words. Now, it’s been dumped in my lap for a whole nuther reason. I should listen harder.”
“Okay, I’ll call Larry.”
“He’ll rush over here like his ass is on fire, Lil. Bet he still has the hots for you.”
Lil screwed up her face. “Hope not. Not my type.”
Blaine chuckled to himself. Lil was a ten in every sense of the number and had no shortage of admirers.
A couple minutes later she returned with a note in her hand. “I had a call-back from one of the clinics I contacted yesterday. They checked their records and they did stitch up a kid’s face and neck the morning after the party. This is his information.”
“Great. I’ll send a squad to pick him up and interview him at headquarters.”
Lily glanced at her watch. “You need to leave for your appointment at the hospital. Ask for a walking boot if the wound is healed enough.”
“Good idea. I want to burn the fuckin crutches.”
ANNIE SPREAD NEWSPAPER on the harvest table and pulled out the Hoppes number nine. Cleaning her guns always brought her a modicum of peace and tranquility. She took apart the gun she’d used the night before. Untraceable. One of George’s from his secret stash in the back of her closet. She didn’t have much left of him, but she treasured the few items that remained in her possession.
Before I start, I should check my phone to see if Linc messaged me.
Annie left her cleaning kit spread out on the table and went back to her room for her cell. She picked up the purse she’d tossed on the dresser and reached in for her phone. She pulled it out, took a second look and realized it was the hitter’s phone from the motel.
Forgot I had this.
She plunked down on the side of the bed to read messages from Vince Cabrelli.
“Wait for your chance, then take him out.”
“Yep.”
“Dump him in a field outside of town.”
“A woman met him at the airport.”
“He don’t know any women. Not his field.”
“Good looking bitch with black hair.”
“Forget her. Hit him when he’s alone.”
“I got this.”
“Thanks, cuz.”
Annie scrolled down for the messages the cousin never saw.
“Is it done?”
“Answer me.”
“Where are you?”
Annie smiled and sent a reply. “I’m dead like you soon will be, Cabrelli. More garbage for the dump.”
She got an answer back seconds later.
“Fuck, you Jules. I’ll deal with you when I get there.”
Damn it. Vince is coming to Austin.
Should I warn Linc? He’s an asshole and I don’t owe him anymore.
She shoved the burner phone into her back pocket in case Cabrelli sent more enlightening information she could use.
She checked her own phone for messages. Nothing from Linc this morning. That could be good and bad.
She texted Blaine.
“The Rule is expanding to Texas. Starting up in Austin.”
“Fuck that, Mom. How do you know?”
“I know.”
BLAINE CHECKED in at St. Mike’s. The nurse at the desk verified his appointment and smiled at him.
“You look better in person than in the paper, Mr. Blackmore.”
Blaine tried not to smile but couldn’t help himself. “Thanks, I guess.” He focused on her name tag. “Pepper?”
“The name my parents gave me is unacceptable, so I go by Pepper.”
“I’ve never met anyone with an unacceptable name. Nice to meet you, Pepper.”
“You too,” she gave him a big smile, “I’ll go see if you can go in.”
Pepper was beyond pretty in Blaine’s eyes. Long, dark hair that framed her face. Eyes as blue as he’d ever seen, and there was something about her that he couldn’t put his finger on. He needed to find out more.
Should I ask for her number? I’d better wait.
She motioned to him from halfway down the hallway of examination rooms. “In here. The doctor will be with you in a minute.”
“Thanks, I’m hoping to get rid of the crutches.”
She smiled and shrugged. No hints from her.
Twenty minutes later, Blaine emerged from the treatment room walking almost like a normal person in his newly acquired boot. Incredible how the boot took away most of the pain. Kudos to the guy who invented it. Maybe it was a woman. He’d Google it and find out.
In the waiting area, he handed the crutches off to Jack and felt the urge to speak to Pepper before leaving.
She was staring at her computer screen and talking on the phone to a patient. She looked up and smiled. “Enjoy your walking boot, Mr. Blackmore.”
“If you gave me your cell number you could call me Blaine.”
“You’re asking for my number? My personal number?”
“Is that allowed?”
“I guess so.” She scribbled the number on a pink message slip. “I’m surprised you asked.”
“Why? I’m sure it’s happened before.”
“Uh huh, but never a famous guy like you.”
Blaine shook his head. “People talk,” he whispered. “It’s all bullshit.”
Pepper giggled and went on to her next patient.
JACK DROVE BLAINE straight from the hospital to headquarters. “The kid might have been waiting a while in the holding room,” said Jack. “You took your time fooling around with the nurse at the desk.”
Blaine grinned and gave Jack a hand signal. “Let me out at the front step, and I’ll try to make it up to him.”
As he limped down the hall with newfound freedom, one of the Rangers pointed to interrogation room three.
“Your kid is in there, Mr. B.”
“Thanks, Barry, would you ask the Chief if he wants to sit in?”
“Sure thing.” He was back within a minute. “Chief’s tied up. He said to go ahead.”
Blaine entered the room and after one glance at the kid’s face, he was thankful he hadn’t eaten lunch. A mashed maze of stitches, bandages, and black and blue swelling, Blaine felt the pain. “You’re in tough shape. They shouldn’t have brought you in. I could have come to you.”
“I’m here now.” His speech was impeded by the swelling around his mouth, but traces of the kid’s mother tongue were evident.
Blaine opened the thin folder in front of him and read from the single sheet of paper.
One arrest for trafficking. Spent a month in juvie.
“Wyatt, you were present at the scene night before last where two brutal murders were committed. I’d like you to tell me about that night.”
Wyatt stared across the table at Blaine with eyes swollen to slits. “You that super cop?”
Blaine shrugged. “You affiliated with the Latino Princes?”
“Fuck, no, man. Think I’d look like this if I was El Principe?”
“Why were you at their party?”
“Why not? Not private.”
Blaine tried not to sound surprised. “Open to anybody?”
“Sure. If you got connections. And I do.”
“Who are you connected to, Wyatt?”
“None of your bidness, super cop. I ain’t saying nothing.”
“Who cut you up, Wyatt?”
“Can’t say.”
Blaine nodded. “I understand. You rat out and they get you better the second time around.”
Wyatt nodded.
“You’d end up like the guy we found under the stands at the high school. Bled out. Dead meat.”
Wyatt turned his head and stared at the wall.
He knew that kid.
“He one of your boys, Wyatt?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m sorry you lost a friend.”
“Me too.” He let out an involuntary groan.
“You’re in a lot of pain, Wyatt. I’m gonna have a squad take you home.”
He shook his head. “No, man, I’ll walk.”
“Too far for the shape you’re in. My man, Jack, will take you in my truck and let you out a couple blocks from your house.”
“Your big motherfucker?”
“That’s the one.”
“Okay. Deal.”
WHILE JACK drove Wyatt Menzies home, Blaine visited the lab. He navigated the stairs to the lower level without difficulty. His mobility had improved so much he was elated. “Sue, anything new?”
“Hey, Blaine. Yeah, I think I do have something for you. Haven’t entered it into the computer yet.” She searched the neatly stacked papers at her station. “Here it is. Prints on the victim at the high school showed up. I’ll make a copy for you.”
“Hector Vega. Seventeen years old. Known member of Punos.” Blaine read aloud, then glanced at Sue. “Ever heard of the Dukes?”
“Sure. Dukes of Hazzard?”
“Not them. Street gang. I’ll run it by Ortiz downtown.”
Jack had the truck parked in front of the entrance when Blaine exited DPS. He held his breath as he put his weight down on the side-step and grinned when it didn’t cut his brain in half. Progress.
“You’re in a better mood now that you’re walking, boss.” Jack rammed the truck into gear and took off.
“Thought it would never fuckin happen.” Blaine called Detective Ortiz on his cell. “We got an ID on one of the kids at the scene. He’s a member of a street gang called Punos.”
“Small. Don’t think they’ll be around long. Why was he at a party with the Princes?” Ortiz groaned. “Don’t fuckin tell me the Princes are killing off the Punos.”
