First Ride (16 page)

He looks at me like I have two heads. “What the fuck you talkin’ about, man? No, he didn’t have a fuckin’ accent. Now give me my kid!”

“You got a place to take her?” I feign concern for his situation.

His hands fidget and wring. I can spot the signs of a junkie from a mile away. This asshole’s hurtin’ for a fix. “Yeah, I got a place. Now that I got a kid, they’ll give me a better place, benefits, food stamps.”

It turns my stomach to listening to him rattle off how his new kid is gonna be a meal ticket for him. “Molly’s not gonna hand her over. Not now, not ever. I don’t know you, know the shit that went down between you and your ex but a man’s got a right to his kids.”

“She
better
give me my kid or I’m calling the cops and they’re gonna lock her ass up for kidnapping,” he threatens.

Once again I’ve got to hold myself back. “Calm your ass down. No one’s goin’ to the cops. My woman’s not getting jammed up. She may not
want
to do what she has to, but she don’t really got a choice anymore. Give me a couple hours. We’ll pack up some of the kid’s shit and let her say her goodbyes. You got someplace to stay tonight?”

He shakes his head no, still on guard.

Reaching back to my pocket I take out my money clip. His eyes set on it like it’s a piece of meat and he’s a starving man. He actually licks his lips. I peel off a handful of bills and hold them out to him.

“Here. There’s a hotel downtown on Fifth. It’s clean. Get a room. I’ll handle my woman and we’ll bring the kid tonight.”

He practically grabs for the cash, with his dirty fingernails and blotchy, bruised skin. The sleeves of his beat up shirt pull back as he reaches, showing the telltale track marks that I already suspected were littering his body.

The closer he gets, the worse he smells. With the dough in his hands, more money than he’s probably seen in an entire month, he pulls back quickly. “If I don’t get my kid back tonight, I’m goin’ to the cops.”

I laugh to myself. “Tonight. You’ll get what you came for tonight. Now get the fuck out.”

Once he’s gone, I make the phone calls I need to.

First, to Esè. “You lookin’ to prove your worth, kid? Make room on that vest for your patches?”

The poor kid must be getting whiplash from me. First, I’m threatening to skin him alive for dropping the ball last night. Now, I’m practically giving him his golden ticket to what he wants most.

“Anything, D, I’ll do
anything
.”

Damn right he will. “That hotel down on Fifth. There still a guy dealin’ out of that place?”

“Yeah, D. Think so.”

I bite the inside of my lip while silently nodding my head. “Good. You give him a very, very, special delivery. There’s a scrawny little white guy about to check in. Big time user. Looking for a fix. I want him checking in, but not checking out, you got me? I want it done tonight. The guy drives a beat up old Acura. Judging by his tracks, he likes to shoot, so make sure he gets a dose that’s gonna end it quick.”

“Consider it done, D.” He’s eager to get started on his task and ends the call. Crazy turn of events today. Not only did this little unexpected hiccup save Esè’s ass, but it also gave him a one-way ticket to his full patches.
If
he pulls it off.

The next call isn’t so easy to make.

“Thank God!” The phone is answered before the first ring is even through. She must have been sitting on pins and needles waiting.

I multitask, entering the basement while calling Angel. “Hey, baby.”

It’s obvious to me that she’s whispering, shielding her conversation from both Sasha and Lana. “Is he still there? Did you tell him he’s never getting her back?”

“You don’t have to worry about him again. Ever. It’s taken care of.” I keep my reply obscure. She doesn’t need details. She may not be a fan of the club’s rules regarding confidentiality, but, in this case, it’s for her own good. No way am I gonna let her be an accomplice. Even
after
the fact.

There’s a deep rustling over the phone as she exhales her relief. “Thank God. We’re coming home.”

I reach back behind an old cabinet near the clothes drier. “No. Not yet, Angel. Not yet.”

“Wha—what are you talking about, Dawson? I’m coming home!” She’s raising her voice.

“Angel! I’ve got shit to take care of; shit that I don’t want to touch you. Stay with Lana tonight. I’ll come get you two in the morning, okay? Tell Sasha I’ll come get you both in the morning.”

There’s a moment of silence on her end as she no doubt weighs her words and her actions, not at all pleased with my wishes for the night. I wait for her next protest while finding what I’m searching for in the secret alcove of the basement wall; the cell phone taken from the Mexican we killed over in Chisolm last year. The nephew of the head of the Conquistadors.

“I’m not stupid, Dawson. I know something’s going on. Stitch. The drugs planted at the club. Please. Please just be careful.” She pleads.

I close my eyes and let her words wash over me. “I know, Angel. I’ll be careful. Promise. I’ve got to come back home to my girls. They need me.”

There’s nothing to say after that. We both quietly end the call. I hope she’s able to find some peace tonight. At least for Sasha’s sake.

For my sake I hope I’m able to keep my word. I hope I’m able to walk out of this alive and come back to them just like I promised.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Nervous isn’t the right word to describe what I feel right now. Oddly enough, I’m excited. It’s shit like this that really makes you feel aliv gets the juices flowing. Knowing you’re walking into something that you most likely won’t be walking out of isn’t something that most people experience.

In this type of life, though, it happens often enough to become accustomed to it. Hell, to even welcome it, because then, and only then, do you feel how fragile life can be. That fragility is the reason I live like I do. I do
what
I want,
when
I want, because there’s no guarantee I’ll have another chance to do it.

That’s why when I saw Angel, when I knew that I wanted her, I just did it. No regrets. Ever.

I look around the clubhouse at the mess the cops made in their fruitless search. Almost every bottle behind the bar is broken or drained. Every bottle except one. A bottle of Johnny Walker Black. I thank the universe for small miracles.

Carefully rummaging through the pile of broken shards I find an intact shot glass and rinse it under the bar tap. I’m not opposed to drinking straight from the bottle, but my guest might not feel the same.

I check my watch. He should be here any moment.

Using my forearm, I push debris off one of the tables and take a seat. We’d agreed to come alone, but I have no guarantee that he’ll stick to his word. Actually, come to think of it … I’m not even positive it’s a man I’m meeting.

Once the hidden cell phone from my basement was charged, I sent a text message to set up the meeting to the contact inconspicuously labeled “TIO” or uncle in Spanish.

It was my best bet at getting to the leader of the Cartel. Josè Jimenez.

You see, he’s obviously declared vendetta against me for his nephew, acting upon that vow in the last couple of days in an onslaught from every angle. The attack on Stitch, breaking in here and planting the drugs that led to the mess in my club, and even Sasha’s pop showing up for her.

Those are the things I know for sure can directly be traced back to Jimenez. I don’t know for sure yet, but I’d even bet that Trixie’s childcare license being pulled has a little more than something to do with the Cartel as well.

No doubt he’s had his men setting this up for a while. Some of it at least. Little does he know that while he’s been planning his attack on me and my club I’ve been doing my own research, my own preparations.

I didn’t know for sure at the time if I’d ever need to act on the information I found, but I kept it handy
just
in case. Whoever walks through that door tonight, we’re gonna have a poker game. Each one of us are gonna play our hand and see who has the better cards.

The engine pulling up outside is a quiet one. It cuts off and I hear a car door shortly after. One car door. Either the person followed through with their end of the bargain by coming alone, or there’s backup somewhere.

I take another sip of the whiskey and savor the building heat that the liquor radiates through me as the front door to the club opens. A very lean, clean-cut man in a designer suit carrying a leather briefcase, walks in.

“Mr. McCade,” he greets me formally.

I nod. “Please have a seat, Mr.--”

“Aguilar. Simon Aguilar.” The introduction is completed.

I wave my hand signaling for him to take the seat opposite to me. He does, slowly, as we size each other up.

We must look like polar opposites, he and I.

“Thank you for coming,” I’m formally polite. Just because I look like an animal doesn’t mean I don’t know how to be civilized when I have to.

Simon Aguilar nods. “Of course, of course. Mr. Jimenez is very eager to end this business.”

I’ll bet he is. End it with me six feet under, that is.

“I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience for you to come all this way?” I feign interest, but truly not giving a shit if he or his employer were inconvenienced.

I pour the clean shot glass full with whiskey and hold it out for him. He accepts it but doesn’t sip until I’ve taken a swig from the bottle from which his drink came.

Once satisfied that I haven’t attempted to poison him, he drinks from the small glass.

All pleasantries aside, it’s time to get down to business. “What does he want, Mr. Aguilar?”

The hinged latches of the briefcase laid on the table are opened, with a cell phone being taken out and placed on the table.

“What’s that?” I ask.

Simon Aguilar sits tall. “That, Mr. McCade is the phone I will use to give Mr. Jimenez your answer.”

I arch my eyebrow in curiosity. “My answer? I don’t recall a question.”

He smiles. “You have a choice to make, Mr. McCade.”

I take another sip of the bottle in my hand. “Do I now.”

“Yes,” he answers. “You see, it took quite some time for Mr. Jimenez to appreciate your … talents. The way you handled the situation with his favorite nephew, Alejandro. You see, at first, he wished for nothing more than a slow and painful death to be extolled onto you.”

“And now?” I prod.

Simon studies me. “And now he has come to realize that there may be a need for someone with your talents in his organization.”

I laugh. “I’m not really in the job market.”

He doesn’t seem amused. “When one becomes as powerful as Mr. Jimenez, he learns to control his impulses, his desires, for the greater good.”

“And whose good would that be?”

“The way Mr. Jimenez sees it, you owe him a debt. A debt that can in no way be repaid in money. You took a life, a life that was dear to him. It is
only
fair that you repay that debt in kind.” Simon Aguilar tries to sound logical.

“In kind?” I ask.

He nods. “Mr. Jimenez will soon be expanding his territory. He wishes for you to support that expansion, as well as help secure the cooperation of those who
don’t
.”

“And if
I
don’t?” I’m eager to get to the meat of the ultimatum.

He looks disappointed. “If that unfortunate decision should be made then I believe those around you would not fare very well. I believe many of those you love have recently suffered tragic circumstances. It would be a shame if such terrible things should continue to befall those associated with you.”

I stare him in the eyes. That’s as close to an admission as I need for who’s responsible for the shit happening to my club, to my woman. Jiminez doesn’t know me, but he must know the kind of guy I am. No way in hell would I ever bow down to a piece of shit scumbag like him unless he had leverage over me.

The only leverage to gain over a guy like me is through my club and my Ol’ lady. That’s why those were the things he went after to send a little taste of what the repercussions could be for me.

“You say Mr. Jimenez has come to appreciate my talents?” I bait Simon. He doesn’t answer. His lack of a response is an answer in itself. “You see, I think Mr. Jimenez and I have more in common that he knows.”

Simon seems to become interested.

“We both know how to ensure that the other person does as we want.” I begin to explain. “Mr. Jimenez seems to have found the area he believes makes me weak. And I’ve found his.”

Simon tilts his head, being taken off guard.

“As long as he’s planned this, organized the things he’s done over the past few days, I’ve also done my own homework. And you can thank your boss for helping me with that.” I take another sip of the swishing bottle.

“And how should I relay that to him?” Simon wants to know.

I decide it’s finally time to show my cards. “You see, there’s no way a man like him, with an organization like his would waste time and resources coming after me unless there was an impulse, a personal motivation behind it. He started all this because he was enraged by what happened to his nephew. That in itself shows me his own weakness. His family. So while he’s busy planning what he’ll do to mine if I deny him, he should be more concerned about what will happen to his
own
family if he continues to come after mine.”

Simon Aguilar hides his reaction well, but I see his chest is no longer rising as he holds his breath.

“Mr. Jimenez has a
very
lovely daughter.” I state.

Simon’s eyes dart to the cell phone he’d placed on the table earlier. “Do you mind?”

I shake my head no. “By all means.”

Within seconds, Simon is calling a person to whom he speaks very quick Spanish with before disconnecting the call abruptly. “Where is she?”

I exhale, taking my time and enjoying turning the tables on my companion. “She’s fine. For now. Whether or not she stays that way will be entirely up to Mr. Jimenez.”

I let my words sink in. “No more attacks on my men. Every little thing that was done will be undone. Immediately. The Cartel doesn’t sell so much as an aspirin in my territory, otherwise I’ll consider it an act of aggression and I can no longer guarantee little Caterina’s safety. By all luck, we can have this matter resolved in plenty of time for her to start medical school next semester.”

Simon purses his lips tightly. “I see. Well, thank you for clarifying things, Mr. McCade. We
will
speak again. Until then, though, if one hair is harmed on her head you do realize the severity of the ramifications?”

I smile. “Of course. Consider her a guest of mine while her father and I sort out our differences. And just to be sure that she doesn’t have an unpleasant stay, please be assured that we’ve taken her to a more scenic location. One that’s a little more peaceful than here in Riverdale where someone might try to interrupt her vacation.”

“Mr. McCade.” He nods and then scurries off, no doubt to call his employer and explain the precarious predicament they’re in.

It worked.

We laid out our cards and mine trumped his. For the time being I have a little insurance policy to ensure not only my club’s survival, but the safety of everyone we love as well.

I know this cease-fire is temporary. I know it could fall apart at any time. But right now it is my only option. It gives me time to think. It gives me time to prepare.

It gives me time to get ready for what is most
definitely
coming my way.