Authors: Brandon Massey
“I told you to come unarmed, Thorne,” Cutty said. “Are you incapable of obeying directions?”
“I was worried someone might car-jack me on my way over here.”
“You’re despicable,” Cutty said. “Valdez, restrain him, please.”
“What about my nephew?” Anthony asked.
“We’ll let him go after we’ve secured you,” Cutty said. “Now drop your hands, asshole.”
“Asshole? I thought profanity offended you, Cutty.”
“Just do it, dammit!”
Anthony lowered his hands. Valdez drew his arms behind him. He heard the jingle of metal chain, and then felt the cold steel rings close around his wrists.
He pulled against the cuffs, found them tight and unyielding.
“Bring him to the truck,” Cutty said.
Valdez grabbed his arm. Together, they shuffled across the parking lot.
Reuben rose shakily. A fresh wave of tears streamed from his already-reddened eyes.
“Hey, man, don’t let these people see you cry,” Anthony said, but his own voice was fragile. He was praying Mike wouldn’t let him down. “Everything’s going to turn out fine.”
“It certainly is,” Cutty said. “God is good.”
Reuben swallowed, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. They arrived at the back of the Suburban, where the tailgate doors hung open. A cleared-out space, roomy enough to store a grown man, awaited.
“Sit.” Valdez nudged him down.
Anthony sat on the lip of the bumper. “All right, you’ve got me. Now let him go.”
“Go ahead,” Cutty said to Reuben. “Get out of here, you little sinner. Remember what I said about calling the police—we
own
the police.”
Slowly, Reuben backed away, his tearful gaze fixated on Anthony.
“Uncle Tony . . .”
“Go home, Reuben,” Anthony said. “Your mother’s waiting there for you. She needs to know you’re okay. Hurry now.”
As Reuben hesitantly retreated, Cutty rounded the picnic table. Madness, or delight—Anthony wasn’t sure which, perhaps a measure of both—gleamed in his cold blue eyes.
“God delivered you to me,” Cutty said. “Where is your devil god now, Thorne? Why don’t you call on him to save you?”
Anthony finally uttered the code phrase that he and Mike had decided upon.
“Can’t we all just get along?” he asked.
Sneering, Cutty punched him in the face. Anthony rocked sideways and nearly tumbled off the bumper. Jaw numb, he spat out a thin stream of blood.
“Dear God.” Cutty massaged his knuckles. “That felt so good.”
“Not as good as this is going to feel to me, asshole,” Valdez said.
The woman had drawn a semi-automatic pistol. She leveled the gun at Cutty.
What the hell?
“Valdez?” Cutty said, in a quavering voice. “What . . . what are you doing?”
“I’m with the FBI, you prick.” She chambered a round in the gun. “Put your hands in the air.
Now.
”
Anthony’s mind reeled. The FBI?
Drawing backward a step, Cutty slowly raised his hands.
Then, in an eerily calm voice, he said, “No weapon formed against me shall prosper,” and fled into the woods.
72
Valdez fired several rounds at Cutty, but the guy, crouched low and scrambling in an erratic, zigzag path through the trees and undergrowth, nimbly escaped gunfire. His white tracksuit faded in the shadowy distance.
“Dammit!” Valdez lowered her smoking pistol. “We lost him.”
“You’re really FBI?” Anthony asked. Thanks to his aching jaw, the words were like stones in his mouth.
“On your feet,” she said. “Turn around.”
He did as she asked. She unlocked the handcuffs and clipped them to her utility belt.
He rubbed his chafed wrists. Circumstances had taken such a dramatic, unexpected turn that he felt dizzy. Why was the FBI involved? Had Bob known about it, and if so, why hadn’t he told him?
Although Valdez had gotten him out of a jam, until he had a better handle on what was going on, he had to be careful. Cops, whether of the local or the federal variety, always harbored an agenda—and it might not be the same as yours.
“I work out of the Atlanta field office,” Valdez said. “I’ve been undercover at New Kingdom for three months.”
“You speak English like a native.”
“That’s ‘cause I am a native. Born and raised in Spanish Harlem.”
“I thought I’d just caught that New Yorker accent.”
“The poor grasp of English, that was part of the act, kept that sack of shit Cutty from taking me too seriously.” She looked toward the woods, lips twisted in disgust. “That guy is freakin’
loco
, about drove me outta my damn mind. I shoulda popped him while I had him point blank.”
“You saved my ass. I owe you.”
“You bet your ass you do.” She gave him a tight smile. “You’re gonna return the favor before we’re all done.”
“Hey!” Mike rounded the corner of the Suburban, Reuben at his side. “Got the signal, AT, then I heard what went down. Sorry I missed the party.”
Hands on her gun, eyes sharp as daggers, Valdez looked from Mike, to Anthony.
“Who is this clown, Thorne?” she asked. “Friend of yours?”
Anthony said, “Maria Valdez, meet Mike Alfaro. Mike, meet Valdez.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.” Mike grinned at her. “You were in my bedroom last night, senorita.”
“I remember you now,” she said. “You own the dump in Duluth.”
“Dump? My place is no dump.”
“Freakin’ pig sty.”
“What’re you talking about? My house is totally squared away, spotless.”
Watching everything, Reuben shook his head. “Uncle Tony, what’s the deal? This is like, crazy, man.”
“Everything will make sense soon,” Anthony said. “Come here. Let me take a look at you.”
He put his hands on Reuben’s narrow shoulders and checked him for injury. The kid appeared to be fine, only shaken up a bit, but Anthony found it difficult to look at his nephew without seeing his father.
“You okay?” Anthony asked.
“I’ll be all right.”
“We need to get you home,” Anthony said. To Valdez, he said: “What if Cutty notifies your bosses at the church about what happened here? Your cover’s blown.”
“If you help me do my job, it won’t matter,” she said. “I saved your ass, you save mine.”
“You don’t need my help,” Anthony said. “You’re with the FBI. I’m just working solo.”
“You got me, AT,” Mike said. “We’re a dynamic duo.”
“You guys are trying to be funny, right?” Valdez said. “An informant in New Kingdom was helping you, Thorne. I know that for a fact, ‘cause he got me in.”
“You mean Bob?”
“That’s not his name.”
“His family calls him Bob.”
“Whatever. Bob, Bozo, who gives a damn. He gave you something, and I want it.”
Now things were starting to clarify.
“We can talk on the way to my family’s place.” Anthony tapped the side of the Suburban. “We should disable this ride in case Cutty comes back.”
Casually raising her pistol, Valdez blew out the SUV’s two rear tires.
“You’re really something else,” Mike said.
She glared at him as she holstered the gun. “I got one round left in the clip, asshole—don’t make me use it.”
Mike winked at Anthony.
The four of them piled into the Explorer. Anthony slid behind the wheel, Valdez hopped into the passenger seat, and Reuben and Mike climbed in the back.
Before starting the engine, Anthony called Danielle. He told her that everyone was fine, and that they would be returning shortly with a special guest. He hung up before she could ask him anything else.
He twisted the key in the ignition, glanced at Valdez. “By the way, can you give me back my piece?”
She withdrew the revolver from her jacket and handed it to him.
“You’ve got my .38, too, mister,” she said. “You took it from me last night. Before I beat your ass like a pinata.”
Heat warmed Anthony’s face. “Well . . .”
“Damn, you gonna take that off her, AT?” Mike said.
“Ah, she got lucky, Mike.”
“Lucky?” Her lips puckered sourly. “I spent six years in the Army before I joined the Bureau, and before that, I earned a black belt in karate—second degree. We can step outside the truck right now and see if luck has anything to do with me resuming last night’s ass kicking.”
The look in her eyes was dead serious. Anthony didn’t know what to say.
“Shit,” Mike said. He sounded awed. “You’ve got a helluva chip on your shoulder, senorita.”
“If I didn’t have attitude, men would treat me like I was only a dumb piece of eye candy. I’ve thrashed men tougher than both of you, so I suggest you act accordingly.”
“We get your point, Valdez, take a chill pill.” Anthony shifted into Drive. “Anyway, the gun is in my bag at the house. Wasn’t loaded, though.”
“I never packed live ammo while I was working the field with these dirt bags. The gun was for show. Cutty was plenty happy to do all the wet work anyway.”
“How many has the nut job wasted?” Mike asked.
“Too many to count.” She stared at Anthony. “You give me your info, Thorne, and we can bring down the whole organization.”
“We’re back to that again.” He exited the parking lot and swerved onto the adjacent road. “But I’m sitting here trying to figure out that if Bob got you inside, like you say, then why didn’t he give you everything you needed to make your case. Why involve me?”
“Beats me. You’ll have to ask your Bob if you ever see him again.”
“But you infiltrated the church months ago,” he said. “Don’t you have enough dirt on them from your own investigation to shut them down? You’ve witnessed murders, and I can only imagine what else.”
“I’ve got plenty, yeah. But I need it all. You don’t want to go in half-assed against these people.”
“They have big cheese contacts, says AT,” Mike said.
“At the very highest levels,” Valdez said. “If we don’t hit them with everything we’ve got, they’ll shut us down, smear the reps of everyone involved so badly I wouldn’t even be able to get a job guarding rug rats at Disney World.”
“You think Bob gave me the whole enchilada, then?” Anthony asked.
“Didn’t he?” She glared at him.
Shrugging, Anthony glanced at Reuben in the rearview mirror. The kid, following their conversation quietly yet intently, still looked a little shell-shocked.
He was going to feel much worse after he learned the truth of his paternity.
“All of this will make sense to you later, Reuben,” Anthony said. “Your mom will explain.”
“Hey, I’m just listening, Unc,” Reuben said with a shrug.
“Speaking of which.” Valdez turned around in the seat and fixed Reuben with a penetrating stare. “You can’t repeat anything you’ve overheard here to your friends. This is a federal investigation. We clear, kid?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Reuben nodded vigorously.
“If you run your mouth, she’ll beat your ass like a pinata like she did your uncle,” Mike said.
Valdez flipped Mike the bird, and he laughed.
“I need to know, Thorne,” she said. “Are you going to help me out? Yes, or no?”
“I’ll help you,” Anthony said. “Under one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You’ve got to help me, too.”
73
Lisa answered the door. When she saw Valdez standing between Anthony and Mike, she screamed.
“It’s cool, sweetheart,” Anthony said. “Valdez is with the FBI. She’s been working undercover at the church.”
“Oh.” Lisa put her hand against her chest as if to calm her heart. “You’re serious?”
“We’ll get you up to speed,” Valdez said.
They filed inside. A tearful Danielle let out a squeal of joy at their entrance, pulled Reuben into her arms, kissed him, and asked him over and over again if he were okay. True to his age, Reuben acted as if he were embarrassed by his mother’s lavish attention.
Anthony drew Mike aside from the others.
“What’s up?” Mike asked.
“I need to talk to Lisa, alone,” he said. “Think you can keep Valdez occupied for a few minutes?”
“You kiddin me?” Mike’s eyes danced. “I’ve met my future wife, AT, for real.”
“All right now.” Anthony laughed. “Slow down, tiger.”
“What are you two knuckleheads jawing about?” Valdez asked, charging between them. Lisa trailed behind her, looking thoroughly perplexed.
“The old married folks need some alone time,” Mike said. He took Valdez by the arm and guided her away. “Meanwhile, senorita, let’s talk about some of your favorite action movies . . .”
Anthony asked Lisa to grab the Bible, and then he led her into his father’s study and shut the door. The air was heavy with dust, so he opened a window. Afternoon sunlight and a cool wind poured into the room.