B0056C0C00 EBOK (14 page)

“Where... are the others?” She looked at me, without comprehension. Her eyes rolled up and she went slack. Lifting her over my good shoulder, I dragged my gun hand along the wall for balance. I pushed into the hall. The house was still, in the living room I laid the girl down on a leather sofa. Slumping down beside her, I wanted to sleep, drift off and wake in my bed with Angel. Like a shark, I knew I had to keep moving or die. I didn’t know how many thugs were still alive in the hacienda.

Stumbling from room to room, I opened doors, but found no one waiting to kill me. In the back of the hacienda stood a thick oak door, it was locked, when I rattled the knob I could hear soft voices. Leaning back, I kicked the door, it bowed and cracked but held tight. I bounced backward. Hitting the far wall, I stumbled down onto the tile.

From inside, a girl cried out. Squinting, I pulled the door into focus. A large key jutted from the lock. Dumb fuck. I turned the lock and opened the door. A plump older woman stood in front of three frightened girls, she looked like a tarted up mother hen.

“Kak dala?” The mother hen moved towards me.

“English.” I leveled the small pistol at her.

“Kolya will kill you.” Her eyes were flaming mad.

“He’s dead.” Her face dropped its anger as she started to panic.

“Oh, thank god. You have come to save us,” she said, her eyes darting around, looking for escape at the same moment she was trying to convince me she was happy about this new turn of events.

From the canyon beyond the house, a large caliber gun rumbled, one, two, three shots, then it was quiet. “Time to roll.” I pushed off from the jamb, motioning with the pistol for them to follow.

The mother hen led the girls after me. Picking Nika up off the sofa, her eyes drifted open. She looked around the room with a vacant dreamy gaze. I lifted her up over my shoulder. The floor buckled. I wanted to puke, but kept moving.

Passing through the kitchen, I stepped out into the courtyard. Nika’s body went stiff. Something behind us had scared her. I swung around to find the older woman running at me; she had a butcher knife up over her head. I fired without thinking. A small hole appeared between her eyes. She dropped like a sack of round soft rocks. The three girls stepped over her body without even looking down. Apparently none of them would shed a tear for the old bitch.

Headlights bounced up over the front gate and I could hear the throaty rumble of the Scout as it skidded to a stop.

Peter’s pupils were pinned. “Who the fuck are they?” he asked, looking at the small tribe of girls following me. Noticing my damage, he let out a small gasp. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Bad things.” Setting Nika in the back seat, I almost tumbled in on her. Righting myself I motioned the other girls into the back.

Peter looked at the still rock hard erection outlined in my jeans.

“They fucking doped me - Viagra... let’s roll.” The ground was pitching causing me to sway.

“You can’t drive.”

“Fuck you.” I slid in behind the wheel, turning the key, I ground the already running engine. “Where’s Mikayla?”

“Not with you?”

“I heard shots.”

“There were some flashes near the foot of the mountain, but I didn’t stop to check it out or anything. You said if I heard shots I should come to the house and that’s exactly what I did.” He was speaking so fast, I was amazed he didn’t pass out from lack of oxygen. Whoever had been firing was most likely still down there. I mashed the gas pedal, spinning the Scout into a dusty 360; we almost hit the front gate.

“I can’t drive.” Moving into the passenger seat, I let Peter take the wheel. We caught air flying off the ridge. Slamming down, he fought for control and almost took us off the road. The xenon lit a bright path down the dirt road. Slamming around a rutted curve, we sprayed dirt and rocks out behind us. Hitting the door, my shoulder screamed red pain.

Peter was concentrating like a fiend. Bouncing up over a bump the size of a tree trunk, I flew up, my head thumped up into the roof. I squealed. I didn’t ask him to slow down.

Coming off the hill, the valley spread before us. Pounding up out of a small gully I saw a dark figure in the middle of the road.

“STOP.” It was almost too late when I realized it was Mikayla. Locking up the brakes, the Scout fishtailed sideways, Peter fought the wheel to keep us from either rolling or hitting Mikayla. When we finally stopped moving, I saw her standing statue still, with dust settling down around her.

“Fuck this.” Peter jumped out, kicking dust, screaming into the night, “Fuck this. I didn’t sign on for this shit, no way, ask a few questions, get an interview, fine. Not this crap!”

Mikayla leaned in the window, ignoring Peter’s rant. Noticing the shaken but free girls in the back she came as close as she was capable of to smiling. Then she looked at my raggedy ass. “You are alive.”

“More or less,” I said.

“You drunk?”

“As a skunk.”

“Interesting choice.”

Headlights flared up behind us. Mikayla dove into the driver’s seat, dropping the hammer, the truck lurched forward. Peter had to run to keep from being left. He climbed in next to me as we took off.

Our new shadow was coming cross country, angling to meet up with us long before we could make the highway. I silently thanked Jason B for the heavy duty shocks as we flew across ruts deep enough to cripple any soccer mom’s SUV. The speedo swept up past sixty. Cactus and brush were brown and green blurs out the side window. In the back, the girls were screaming and crying, they must have thought I pulled them from the frying pan and dropped them smack down in the middle of hell.

Mikayla was pure cold concentration. The chick could drive, I’ll give her that. Out of the side window, I could see that we were making ground on the bouncing headlights. If she kept the speed up, we would be well ahead of him before he intersected the dirt track. Gold eyes glowed red in the headlights, a coyote crossed into our path. The small critter was frozen with fear. Mikayla wasn’t slowing. I grabbed the wheel and spun us to the left.

I had already killed one dog that day, I didn’t think my karma could handle another. Bumping off the road, the windshield filled with brown and green. We hit a barrel cactus with enough force to dent the center of the grille and hood. Steam started to geyser up from the ruptured radiator. Mikayla fought the wheel. We swiped a small manzanita and skidded back onto the road. The steering was pulling hard to the right, she was struggling to keep us on the road. The temp gauge started to climb towards the red line.

We were running out of options, there was no way the damaged Scout would outrun our pursuer. Grabbing the emergency brake, she locked the back tires; yanking the wheel to the right she spun us in a half circle. Releasing the brake she headed away from the highway, back towards the hills.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter screamed. “The road home is back that way, you crazy...” Whatever else he said was lost in the high pitched whine screeching out of the engine. The temp gauge was locked firmly in the red as 454 cubic inches of blueprinted horsepower started to rip itself apart. The road twisted sharply up, heading back to the hacienda. Foul black smoke joined the steam billowing up over the windshield. Visibility was down to zero. Keeping us on the road was mostly guesswork. The only good news was that I had yet to see any headlights behind us.

Cresting the hill, Mikayla hit the brakes, misjudging by only a few feet. We slammed into the side of the adobe wall. My head bounced down onto the dash. “This fucking night...” I mumbled. Our cargo was well shaken but they all seemed to be able to move.

“There’s a van,” I slurred at Mikayla as we piled out of the ruined truck.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked as I pawed at his pocket, coming up with the small envelope.

I didn’t answer him.

Nika was moving, but weakly. Mikayla gently put an arm under hers and helped Peter get the girls into the courtyard.

On the Scout’s dashboard I dumped out what was left of Peter’s coke. Two fat lines brought my eyes back into focus. I rubbed the last of it into my shoulder wound. It burned like a mother when I touched it, but the coke did the job, laying a layer of numb over the ache.

The tranny was fucked, it took three tries to muscle it into reverse. Swinging it around, I aimed down the hill. Out across the valley floor, blurry headlights sped toward us. Giving it some gas, the Scout groaned and started to roll forward. It was clocking about thirty when I fell out.

The ground jumped up and smacked my face. I could taste dirt as I did a painful somersault.

The noble Scout swerved right as it bounced down the steep hill. It made it about a hundred feet before it hit a rock and started an end over end tumble. I didn’t wait to watch it come to rest. It didn’t look like I would be getting my deposit back from Jason B. But what the fuck, it didn’t seem likely I’d be alive long enough for him to collect the forty grand from me.

“Give me ten, then get them out of here.” My heart was doing triple time. The coke had joined the Viagra in its battle against the effects of the booze.

“He can’t drive.” Peter looked to Mikayla for support. She shrugged.

The keys had been under the sun visors of both the panel van and the black Mercedes. After loading the girls into the van, I dropped into the German luxury cruiser. “I’ll meet you at the plaza in Tecate.” My voice sounded distant and much clearer than it felt.

“I don’t think we will be seeing you,” Mikayla said.

I wanted to puke. I wanted to fight the world. I turned the key.

CHAPTER 15

M
Y JAW WAS PUMPING LIKE A
demon as I came down off the mountain. The Mercedes took the curves like a champ. I was on the flats when I saw headlights coming at me. I kept the speed down in deference to the Mercedes’ less than manly suspension. The truck barreling at me had no such concerns. The gap between us was closing fast. A dry river bed lay between us, if I could make it down to sand, I’d have more room to maneuver without having to worry about another cactus killing my ride. I cranked the German V8 up, amazed at the instant access to torque. We were ten feet apart when I hit the riverbed. It was clear the madman powering at me had no intention of swerving. His high beams blinded me. With nothing to spare, I spun the wheel left. Sliding into the sand, sparks flew from where the vehicles scraped sides. Sluicing back onto the dirt road, I bounded up the opposite bank. The SUV disappeared behind me. Partly, I hoped he would spin around and give chase. A smaller voice hoped he would just keep going. Let Mikayla deal with his crazy ass.

I slowed down to a safe if not sane thirty MPH. At that speed, it didn’t take long for the headlights to catch up. He was still doing well over sixty when he rear-ended the Mercedes. I jolted violently forward, but to my surprise the heavy German steed stayed on track. Six feet of flame leapt from the driver’s window. A large bullet blasted a baseball sized hole in the rear window, then whizzed past my face and out through an equally scary hole punched into the windshield.

Ahead I could see the highway; it was tantalizingly close. I swerved to the left as he fired again. Dodging the lead, I spun back on the hard dirt inches before I struck a fallen oak. Fuck the suspension; it was time to lose this prick. Pushing the gas pedal to the floor, I was pressed back into my seat. The car bucked and slid, but with careful aim and a bit of muscle I was able to keep it in a straight line. The SUV’s lights fought to keep up with me. He was concentrating too hard on driving to throw any more shots my way.

I was doing ninety when I hit the highway. I know they say to look both ways before crossing a road, but I never was one to listen. A bus blared its horn as I flew past it. The Mercedes was glued to the pavement. Crossing the highway, I nailed a hard left and headed back towards Ensenada. The SUV had to lock up his brakes to keep from smashing like a bug on the side of the bus. By the time he got across the road, I had dialed it up to well past a hundred. I don’t know what ungodly amount the S500 cost, but it was worth every penny. It soared down the highway like a racehorse that had to be held back. Even at high speed it felt like it had mountains of thrust left. Pushing it up over the hundred and forty mark, the SUV’s headlights shrunk to pin points and then were gone like a bad memory.

I dumped the car in a strip club parking lot, I left the keys in the ignition. It would be gone, stripped or painted before whoever was hunting us found it. Slipping down a dark alley I leaned against a brick wall. My heart was pounding. My head throbbed. My shoulder felt like it was on fire. My cock was still rock hard. I felt like throwing up. I had to keep moving.

I did a quick accounting and found a hundred and forty-two dollars, a SIG .380 with five rounds in the mag and nothing else. My duffle, extra cash and guns had gone down with the Scout. I was eighty miles from the border in Tecate, some mad fucker was hunting me and it wouldn’t be long before the local cops started looking for the killer of three thugs in an alley and three more out at the hacienda. Even in these Wild West days, that many bodies would surely put them high on their list of crimes to solve. I was caked in sweat, dust and blood. I needed a doctor, a bath, a drink and a long night’s sleep but it didn’t look like I was going to be getting any of them any time soon.

Adolpho was sitting on his stool in front of Anthony’s when I stumbled up. “Chingalo! You look bad, compadre.”

“You think?” I tried to smile, but failed miserably.

“Are they looking for you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Then come, rápido!” He led me around the side of the club to a small parking lot. Laying back the front seat of his Toyota, he placed a rough woven blanket over me and promised to come back as soon as his shift was over at four. He was afraid to draw attention to himself by leaving early.

In the dark car I closed my eyes, I couldn’t shake the fear in Nika’s face when I mounted her. The feel of her downy hair against my cock. My hand brushed across my erection. The faint scent of her sex was on me. I hadn’t been laid in months and it had taken its toll. I started to stroke myself, anything to escape the reality of my situation. My stomach started to tumble. I was jerking off to thoughts of a child. Opening the car door I puked onto the asphalt. I was trembling with the blanket up over my head when sleep finally took me.

In the soft predawn light, Teyo sat in the park down by the bay. The massive Mexican flag flying overhead slapped in the morning breeze. One of the other tip boys passed him the fat joint. He had spent the night this way. After the shootout with the Russians, he had run deeper into the barrio. He used the cash the foreigners had fronted him to buy a bag of bud, the good shit, not the rag he normally smoked. This was the kind of weed he usually reserved to impress a girl. But he needed to chill, hang with his friends and blot out the ugliness.

None of the boys heard Xlmen approach, he seemed to appear standing before them. “You are called Teyo?” He pointed one of his gnarled fingers at the boy. Teyo nodded nervously. “Leave us.” Xlmen looked at the others, who were quick to comply. One of them gave Teyo a sorry expression, but what could they do?

“Do you know who I am?” Xlmen asked once they were alone in the plaza.

“Si, señor, you are Santiago’s hunter.”

“Are you frightened?”

“No,” Teyo lied.

“Then you are an idiot. I have killed more men than you have met.”

“Are going to kill me?” Even in the cold, Teyo had started to sweat.

“Most likely, yes. You have been working for the Russians.”

“Just the one time, I swear on my mother’s grave, I was going to tell Señor Santiago.”

“You’re a liar, I don’t blame you. Truth has lost all value in these troubled times. Did you take a woman to meet with them?”

“No, only the two gringos, I swear.”

“I know, on your mother’s grave. Who was a toothless whore, I’m sure. Describe the gringos.”

“The short one had glasses, skinny, I think he liked the coca, and glasses, he had glasses,” Teyo started to relax. This was a task he was up to and maybe there would be some cash in it if he could help Santiago find the gringos.

“The other?”

“Big, very tall, and strong. Red hair and beard, I’m sure he has done time before, you can tell. His eyes, they were flat and he carried a huge gun. See my head, this lump he gave me.” He parted his dirty black hair, turning around to show where his head had hit the wall. Xlmen drove his hunting knife into the boy’s back, passing between the ribs and into the heart. A small gasp was the only sound Teyo made before he died.

Dreams, if they have any logic, it is lost on me. I’m standing in the living room of a wealthy home. Kittens are running around the floor, many kittens, maybe hundreds, it’s hard to tell, they keep running back and forth. Something is wrong with them, some birth defect. They will never grow up to be happy, life will only get worse and worse for them. It is my job to kill these kittens, it is the only humane thing to do. In my hand is a hatchet. I bring it down, severing the first little creature’s head. She is a small tabby, she could have fit in my hand with room to spare and now she is lifeless. I know I should feel bad, but I’m doing what must be done. Sometimes life isn’t a pretty field of flowers, sometimes we have to do ugly acts to hold back worse ugliness. I take three more small heads quickly and easily, none struggle or cry out. They seem resigned to their fate. The blade of the hatchet comes down on an orange little fluff ball’s neck, but it doesn’t sever the head. The kitten screeches in pain. I swing down again, bones crunch but the crippled kitten isn’t dead. She tries to crawl away from me. I keep chopping. My stomach turns sour. The kitten shrieks in an almost human voice.

A happy six year old brown-skinned boy stared down at me. The dream faded away, leaving me unsettled. I was in bed in Adolpho’s house. I vaguely remembered him driving me, he had washed me in a large tub, gently as any mother had ever washed their child. A sticky mud paste covered my shoulder where the dog had bit me. My mouth tasted like a gym sock. When the boy noticed I was awake, he smiled and started asking me a string of questions in Spanish.

“No habla Español,” I told him.

“No? I know Spanish, English and some French. Don’t you go to school?”

“I went, but I wasn’t much good at it.”

“I’m first in my class.”

“Smart kid.”

“I know. Popi says you have a good heart, but bad judgment.”

“Your popi said that?”

“Si, was he right?”

“Yes, he was right.”

“Jaquene!” A short sturdy woman leaned in the door, she spoke in harsh Spanish. The boy rolled his eyes at me and then walked out. The woman leaned down, inspecting my shoulder. She prodded the tender flesh and sniffed it.

“Will I live?” I asked her.

“No, but this wound will not be your death.” Her accent was thick, her voice was soft with an edge of steel resting just below the surface.

“You are Adolpho’s woman?”

“His wife. I am not the innocent mountain girl he thinks I am. I know bad men when I see them. You repay kindness with death. I have fixed you as good as any hospital, now I want you gone from my house.”

Adolpho snapped something in Spanish. She looked at her husband, shaking her head sadly, then left us alone.

“She’s right, you know,” I told him.

“No, Lorda sees the world in black and white, si? You are a malo hombre with bueno corazón, si? Gray is the color of our lives.”

“If you say so.” I didn’t want to argue the point, but I was pretty sure I was a bad man with a bad heart. The list of evidence was growing longer every day.

Over a bowl of spicy stew, Adolpho told me that both the police and Santiago, a local crime boss, were looking for me. Apparently my good amigo the tip boy had sold me out. I told Adolpho I had to get to Tecate.

“La policía are watching the highway. Better you go south, get lost in Baja.”

“I can’t, people are counting on me, people I don’t want to let down.”

“The niña?”

“Yes.”

“Through the mountains, muy peligroso, but possible.”

“Can you draw me a map?”

“Oh hermano, it is dirt roads, trails, no map. I will take you.”

“I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“Then don’t tell Lorda.” His mind was made up, nothing I could say would change it.

Santiago sat drinking an espresso while Xlmen gave his report. The roads were sealed, the Mercedes found in town, but there had been no sign of the big gringo or the tarot card killer. “The puta is dead, but doesn’t know it yet. They are here somewhere, I will find them.”

“Certainly,” Santiago said, “but how many of our people will die before that day comes? The Russians paid us a lot for protection, now they are dead. This is not good. Someone is hiding these people. Find out who and you will find them.” Ensenada was in many ways a small town, Santiago knew if he pressed hard enough, someone would talk. And who was better at pressing than Xlmen?

On the outskirts of Ensenada, we stopped at a small, one pit garage. Adolpho’s cousin climbed out from under a rusted Chevy truck. His coveralls were streaked with black grease stains, and when he shook my hand it felt rough and calloused from years behind a wrench.

“You not so big,” he said looking me over.

“Excuse me?”

“I heard the gringo they were looking for was a giant.”

“Must be someone else, I’m here on vacation.”

“Ok, sure, whatever you say.” His grin told me he wasn’t buying it. Adolpho traded his Toyota to his cousin for an older 4x4 pickup. When asked where we were going, he said vaguely, “The hills.”

Heading into the eastern mountains, the pot-holed pavement became rutted dirt. Buoyant banda music floated out of the truck’s radio, Adolpho sang along as if he hadn’t a care in the world. I rolled a poncho he had given me and rested my head against the window and tried to sleep. My head wouldn’t shut up. I kept seeing ugly images of dead Russians and a naked young girl. The fear in her eyes, the pain as I entered her. I needed a drink, I needed oblivion.

“What will you do with the niñas once you get to the States?” Adolpho asked.

“Take them to LA, figure it out from there.”

“Better not to worry about the end, at the beginning of the journey?”

“Something like that.” In a life where tomorrow wasn’t even close to guaranteed, it seemed wise not to get too far ahead of myself. I didn’t have any idea how we were going to get them across, let alone what we would do with them then. But if I wound up in a Mexican jail behind a murder rap, any time spent planning for the girls would be wasted.

The sun was setting when we dropped down out of the mountains and found our way onto pavement again. One of the more striking aspects of Tecate was its lack of gringos. It was a border town without the corruption and sin that Americans bring or come for. Parking by the large open plaza, Adolpho started to get out. I told him he had to go home, my future was fucked, his didn’t have to be. I thanked him for all he had done and took his address and promised to write. As I stepped away, he clasped my hand, pressing a small wad of pesos on me.