Authors: Elizabeth Roderick
Love or Money (15 page)
She took his other hand, interlacing her fingers with his. “Will you do that for me? Just you and me, somewhere nice…and I can fuck you every night, and sleep in your arms.”
His eyes shone, and he pulled her closer over the console, his hand sliding down to squeeze one of her breasts. “Partners in crime, huh?” he murmured in her ear. “That’s not such a bad idea, Riel.”
He kissed her, and she closed her eyes, imagining that it was Evan’s lips on hers, his hand sliding up her shirt. She knew she had to give Isaias something in order to make this believable. She also knew he wouldn’t give up trying to get her to go all the way. But, if all went as planned, in a few more days he’d be in jail and she wouldn’t have to worry about his bullshit anymore.
The apartment Isaias set her up in wasn’t so bad. It was furnished and had a view of the bustling street. But the cable and internet weren’t working, there was no food in the kitchen, and she didn’t have much to do but sit and wait. She wished she’d brought her guitar, but it had seemed like a bad idea. She might have to get out of here in a hurry, and then she’d have to leave it behind. But she wasn’t really unhappy being alone in the quiet; at least she’d been able to get rid of Isaias.
She took a long nap and didn’t wake up until after dark. She called Evan while she sat at the tiny dining table and munched on leftover fried chicken.
“I miss you so much,” Evan said.
She smiled, twisting her hair between greasy fingers. “I miss you too. But it feels stupid talking about this over this line.”
Evan laughed. “Hi, FBI agents! Should we have phone sex now?”
She snorted. “Probably better than most of the stuff they get to listen to.”
The laughter drained out of his tone. “How is it going there, anyway? Is Isaias being a dickhole?”
“He’s always a dickhole, but it’s going okay. He’s taking the bait so far. Tomorrow we’re going to go meet the contact.”
“He hasn’t…you haven’t…”
Riel closed her eyes, banishing the memory of Isaias’ bad-tasting kiss. “No. I haven’t.”
Evan let out a breath. “Be careful.
Please
.”
“I will.” She pushed her limp coleslaw around the plate. “I just want this to be over with, so we can be together again.”
“Me too,” he said. “More than you know.”
“Just a few more days.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I love you, Riel.”
“I love you too.”
***
Isaias picked her up at nine the next morning and took her to breakfast at a café down the street. He stared at her in fascination as she wolfed down bacon and roasted purple potatoes.
“How do you stay so skinny when you eat like that?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Genetics. My mom was skinny too.”
A wave of sadness washed over her. Her mother had been a tiny woman with a gentle smile, but it would melt away in an instant, revealing the cold steel beneath. It had been so long since she’d died, and now all Riel had were fading photographs. She glanced up at Isaias, who was still watching her.
Mama would tell me to get this deal done, put this asshole in prison forever, and get on with leading an honest life
.
Lizette saved my life by marrying Isaias; now I can return the favor by getting rid of him.
She rolled her eyes. “Stop staring at me. I’m just hungry.”
“It’s sexy to watch you eat, that’s all.”
Her gaze fell to her plate, and she pushed her toast around, drawing patterns in the egg yolks.
“So tell me again about this guy we’re meeting today,” Isaias said, cutting up his ham. “You didn’t tell me much on the phone.”
“I didn’t have time. I was worried Evan would walk in.”
“I know, babe. But you’re safe now.” He reached over and pinched her thigh under the table.
Riel smashed a potato wedge under her fork. “This guy, name of La Percha, works for El Huracán directly, usually running to Mishmash. But when he found out I was your sister-in-law, he came and sounded me out. He says you already have a network down south, and maybe if you worked together you could cut Mishmash out of it.”
“He’ll want some of my cut, of course.”
Riel shrugged. “But you’d be richer in the end, anyway, so I figured it’d be worth it.”
“And this big deal you were talking about…”
They both went silent as the waitress approached, filling their coffee cups. Riel stirred some cream and sugar in hers as the woman wiggled off to the next table, Isaias’ eyes following her round ass.
“There’s a boat coming up off the coast north of Aberdeen,” Riel continued in a low voice, and Isaias pulled his gaze back to hers. “It’s a huge shipment of black tar that was supposed to be picked up by Mishmash himself, but La Percha says he can arrange for you to get it before Mishmash does.”
Isaias laughed between bites of hash browns. “Leave him holding an empty bag. I love it.” Then his smile faded and he gazed at her distantly, his brow furrowing as he cut another chunk off his ham steak.
“What?” Riel asked.
Isaias blinked and smiled. “Just thinking,” he said, taking another bite of ham.
***
They crawled through traffic over the I-5 bridge to Vancouver, pulling off at a little strip mall restaurant that smelled of fish and garlic. They found La Percha in a back booth, wearing a John Deere hat like he’d said he would. He glanced up from his
sopa de mariscos
, smiling and wiping his moustache with a paper napkin as they scooted into the vinyl seat opposite him.
“
Buenas tardes,
” he said, shaking their hands. “You must be Isaias and Riel.”
“Nice to make your acquaintance,” Isaias said.
Percha and Riel exchanged the briefest of looks, a faint smile flitting across his lips before he focused all his attention on Isaias.
“Likewise,” Percha said. “I’ve heard so much about you, it’s nice to put a face to all the
chisme
.” He grinned and spooned up some more soup. “So, we can work together,
que no
?”
“Maybe we could,” Isaias said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. “Sounds like we could make a little pile off of this shipment, and then each of us could come out a little ahead on other business.”
Percha nodded, his eyes flicking over to the waiter, who approached them, smiling solicitously at Isaias and Riel.
“
Buenas tardes.
Can I get you two anything?”
Riel ordered a Coke, and Isaias got a plate of
ceviche
, even though they’d eaten only an hour before. When the man left, Isaias ran his hand over his hair, mussing it on purpose so that it stood up rakishly. Riel watched him, struck by the fact that he was a full ten years older than her sister, crow’s feet beginning to show around his eyes. He was still playing the part of the cocky young punk, still trying to get out from under his mother’s heavy thumb, and trying to be a man and a boy at the same time. He was failing on all counts.
“My biggest problem with this,” Isaias said, “is that Mishmash is going to retaliate hard when he figures out who’s engineered this
chingadera
. No part of this plan actually gets him out of the picture.”
Percha shrugged, spooning up a chunk of fish. “We cut him out of it, he’s bound to get mad. But up here he hasn’t got many people. We can take care of him later when our network is stronger.” He slurped his soup.
“Why wait?” Isaias said. “He’ll be up here himself for this deal, so why not
matar a dos pájaros de un tiro
?”
Percha and Isaias regarded each other over the cluttered table as Riel clenched her teeth against her panic. She didn’t like the emphasis that Isaias had put on
matar,
“kill.” Percha’s gaze darted to hers for a brief second, then away again, locking once more on Isaias. Riel thought she knew what that glance meant. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pretended to play with it, not wanting the microphone to miss any part of this conversation.
“You want us to do a hit on Mishmash ourselves?” Percha said. “Because, to me, getting away clean with the dope sounds like the most lucrative option.”
“Us three will get away with the dope. I’ll arrange for the hit,” Isaias replied.
Percha folded his hands on the table. “Your guys are going to figure out there’s a big shipment involved and demand heavier payment than they would otherwise.”
“My guys will do what I tell them. I’m not worried about that.”
Percha’s gaze hardened as he studied Isaias’ face. “So you’re only telling me this because you want part of their payment to come out of my cut.”
“Seems fair.”
“Not when I don’t agree. Much safer to deal with Mishmash later, when we’re well out of it.”
“And give him time to get organized and hit back? Doesn’t make much sense.”
Percha squinted at him, tapping his thumbs against the veneer tabletop as the waiter brought Riel’s Coke. She stirred her straw around as the waiter left again, rolling her neck around to loosen her muscles. Percha nodded slightly. “Okay, but I’m only paying an eighth of their take on the deal.
Y no me jodes
by saying it costs more than it does, because I know what it should cost.”
“I’m not going to fuck you over. If we’re going to work together, the first thing you have to learn about me is that I’m fair. I do business, sure, and I take what’s mine, but I don’t screw an honest man out of his money. Now do me the same favor by paying half.”
“This is your game,” Percha insisted. “I’m just a lowly runner. I don’t stand to make half the profits, so why should I pay half the costs?”
“If you’re a lowly runner then I’m a fucking
chango.
I’m helping you to get a leg up, and you stand to make some good money, better than you’d make with Mishmash.”
“Yeah, but not
half
. You gonna pay me half your profits on this,
señor chango
?”
Riel tensed as the two men glared at each other across the table, Percha smiling tightly.
“I’ll pay you three percent over what Mishmash was paying you,” Isaias said, “which is more than fair considering you’ll pick up more work if he’s out of it.” Riel relaxed slightly.
“Make it ten over what he pays me, and I pay fifteen percent of the hit,” Percha replied. “That’s more than fair.”
They continued to haggle, pausing only when the waiter came to serve the
ceviche
. Riel watched Percha closely while pretending to look at her phone. He was playing his part almost too convincingly, and she got a jolt of fear wondering if he wasn’t some sort of double agent, or if he didn’t have some other angle on this. Her stomach cramped. What if Mishmash ended up really getting killed because of her?
But the agents were listening in. They wouldn’t let that happen, right?
Eventually they came to terms, Percha agreeing to pay twenty percent of the cost of the hit. They shook hands over the table, and Percha paid the check. They stood up to leave, and Riel shoved the phone into her back pocket.
“It’s very nice to meet you guys,” Percha said with a faint smile at Riel. “I know this is going to be a productive relationship.”
Riel returned his smile, wiping the sweat from the back of her neck.
“I’m sure it’ll be a long and happy marriage,” Isaias said.
Isaias backed her up against the wall of the apartment, holding her there with his wet lips and overly-enthusiastic tongue. He grabbed her tits and squeezed them like gigantic stress balls, his disappointing hard-on smashed against her belly. Riel wrapped her arms around him, returning his kiss, feeling like she was standing outside her body, like a film director.
His hand worked its way down under the waistband of her jeans, and she struggled gently away.
“Isaias…”
“Ah, babe, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, sliding his fingers down further and stroking her clit roughly. “Let me bury my cock up in that sweet pussy. I promise I’ll be gentle, and I’ll make you come so hard, Rielita.”
She had to pry her lips from his again. “Just wait, Isaias. It will be better…it will be so good if we wait.”
He groaned, pressing his wet lips to her neck. “I need you so bad right now.”
She swallowed the bile creeping up her throat. “I’d feel horrible afterwards. I just want this to be right. It’s something I’ll remember for the rest of my life, and I don’t want anything to ruin it. It’s only a couple more days…”
He sighed and took his hands off of her. He leaned back against the wall on his clenched fists, his eyes closed and his face pale. Riel stood, tense, waiting.
He straightened. “You’re killing me,” he said. Then a wry smile twisted his mouth, and Riel flattened herself against the wall, her heart beating fast. But he didn’t reach for her again; he shoved off and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.”
Riel’s shoulders slumped with relief as the door closed behind him, and she threw herself on the couch, clutching her head in her hands. This was just an act. It wasn’t even really happening to
her.
This was an alternate Riel, one that existed only to get this job done. Once Isaias was in prison, the fake Riel would disappear, and the memory of Isaias’ ungentle hands and disgusting lips would disappear along with her. She only hoped she’d make it to that day alive and intact.
Riel twitched as her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She pulled it out.
It was a text from a blocked number:
Unknown
:
Meet the woman with red hair and green denim jacket at the Hot Box Café at 4:30 p.m.
Delete this after reading.
Riel deleted the text and checked the time, her heart pounding in her ears. It was 3:45. She’d seen the Hot Box further down Burnside as they’d driven past; it was probably a five minute walk.
She wondered what the feds had to say to her. It couldn’t be good: she didn’t remember them saying anything about a meeting, so something must have gone wrong. What could it be? Was the mission in danger?
She got up and paced the apartment, opening cupboards, finding a bottle of spray cleaner and shriveled sponge, wiping down the already clean kitchen counters. She touched up her makeup, brushed her hair, and then stared at her phone for the last five minutes until it was time to leave.
The damp evening air had formed a dew on her cheeks by the time she shouldered her way through the café door, setting off a string of dangling prayer bells. The air was stuffy with the smell of sandalwood and damp wool hats. Kishi Bashi played on the stereo system.
Riel spotted the red-haired woman in the green jacket at a dimly-lit booth in the back. Their eyes met, and the woman smiled and waved. Riel wove through the tables to slide into the booth across from her.
“Hi, Riel,” the woman said. “I’m Catherine.”
Riel smiled, twisting her fingers together under the table. “Hi, Catherine.” The agent had on a lot of eye makeup, and her beauty was marred somewhat by a heavy jaw. It was hard to tell her age; she was dressed like a young hipster, but something in her glance and the way she held herself told Riel she was older, probably in her thirties.
A waiter approached, his thin face etched with geometric tattoos. Riel glanced down at her menu, her stomach feeling sick. They didn’t have Coke, and she didn’t feel like coffee. She settled on a pomegranate soda, and Catherine ordered a basket of taro fries and a kava chocolate milkshake.
When the waiter was gone, Catherine glanced around. “How are you holding up?”
Riel shrugged stiffly. “I’ll be glad when this is over, that’s all.”
Catherine gave her a knowing look. “Listen, this job is getting rough for you, and it’s getting complicated all around, so we wanted to let you know that there’s a way out, if you want it. We have a recording of Isaias planning a hit against Mishmash, and planning to retrieve a shipment of drugs. That, along with the circumstantial evidence we already have, might be enough to prove conspiracy and racketeering charges against him, so if you want to bug out now, you could.”
Riel’s heart pounded in her hollow chest. She could forget about this. She could go back to Evan right now and start a new life. But something in Catherine’s gaze brought the heaviness rushing back to settle over her shoulders.
“You
might
be able to prove conspiracy and racketeering charges. What are the chances you couldn’t?”
The woman’s thin lips twitched in a slight grimace. “Not even a lawyer would give you odds, and I’m not a lawyer. But I will tell you the case isn’t nearly as strong as we’d like it to be. The recording we have might be enough to send him away for a bit, but in absence of other hard evidence, a good lawyer could say it was all bluster, or a joke, or even entrapment. Assuming we did get a conviction, the sentence wouldn’t likely be very long. A few years at most.”
Riel chewed her lip. “If we go all the way through with this, the chances of him going to prison for a long time would be better?”
Catherine nodded. “When he actually has the drugs in his possession, and the hit men are poised to act, it should be fairly easy to get a conviction. If we have those two elements together—the hit and the drug deal—we can get a conviction under the federal racketeering statute, and it will also be easier to prove more counts against him with the circumstantial evidence we have, and put him away for a long time. That’s what we were aiming for originally…but the risks are pretty high for you right now.”
Riel wrinkled her nose at the look Catherine was giving her. “I can handle it.”
“It’s a dangerous game you’re playing,” the agent said. “I know you’re just doing what you have to do, but Isaias could get violent if you don’t give him what he wants. It could blow the whole mission if we have to come in to save you before the deal is complete.”
Riel stared down at the table, the conversation and music in the restaurant swimming around her ears. She looked up, a bit startled, when the waiter came back with the fries and drinks. He gave her a cute smile that changed the pattern of his tattoos, his brown eyes lingering on hers. “Can I get you anything else?”
A different life.
She smiled back. “No, I think we’re good.”
He left, and Riel looked back up at Catherine. “I came back up here to make sure Isaias goes to prison for a long time, and I’m going to see that through. If I give up now, I won’t get another chance, and if I don’t take it I’d never be able to forgive myself. If he’s acquitted or gets a short sentence, he’ll hurt me, and my sister, and Evan.”
“We’d do all we can to prevent that,” Catherine said.
Riel shook her head. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, knowing it was possible he’d find one of us.”
Catherine regarded her a long while, then nodded slightly. “I understand.” Then she leaned over the table, fiddling with her napkin. “There’s something else. This is off the record, and technically I shouldn’t be saying this, but…you wanted him to set it up so your sister and her kids would be taken care of after all this is over…”
Riel tensed. “What’s the problem?”
“Well, once we bring charges, we’ll seize all his assets. That would include anything in his wife’s name or under the names of any of his companies. His mother will face charges with him, so anything in her name wouldn’t be safe, either. I’m not sure there’s any way around that.”
Riel swallowed, and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “So Lizette will be bankrupt. She’ll have nothing. She’ll still be rid of that fucktard, but I’m not sure she’ll really thank me for it.”
“There are other ways.”
Riel put her hands down. “How?”
“Get him to put the money in someone else’s name, someone not connected with this stuff at all. Then, when legal gets a hold of this case, we’ll have an easier time keeping that money from being seized. You’ll just have to make sure your sister doesn’t use it to hire him a lawyer or help him any other way, because they’ll figure it out quick in that case.”
She thought of her sister, pale and miserable, stuck in a horrible marriage. But still, she loved Isaias. Would she try to help him after he was arrested? She clenched her hands into fists. “I’ll make sure she won’t,” Riel said.
Catherine nodded, smiling warmly.
The real problem
would be convincing Isaias to put the money in someone else’s name.
He’d be suspicious that she was up to something, afraid she’d run off, that she was playing him. And whose name would the money be connected to, anyway? Someone not connected with this, but who wouldn’t take the money and run themselves. She chewed her cheek so hard she tasted blood, while Catherine picked up a handful of fries, fixing her with a stare that Riel might have called motherly, if she could remember what a motherly stare looked like.
“Listen,” the agent said. “You’re brave, and smart, and tough, and you’ve got the U.S. Government on your side. We’re going to figure this out, okay?”
Riel nodded. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out. Thanks.”
***
Riel tossed around, tangling herself up in the scratchy blankets. The streetlights leaked through the curtains and stained the ceiling a watery orange, throwing every bead of the popcorn ceiling into high relief. Riel had memorized every pattern in that ceiling, the slack-jawed faces, weirdly-shaped animals, and misspelled words hidden in the smattering of dots. Her brain felt like dry toast. The alarm clock shone a dull red, turning over the minutes one by one. It was two fourteen in the morning.
All the potential conversations she could have with Isaias to convince him to give her the money for her sister rolled through her mind, each of them fragmenting toward the end as they broke down under the pressure of logic. There was no explanation she could give him for the request that wouldn’t invite dangerous questions.
She tossed over again. She wasn’t even getting any new ideas at this point. Her brain was stuck in a loop, wandering down the same well-worn pathways.
If only there were some way to transfer the money from Lizette’s name to another without him knowing.
The relentless march of minutes dragged toward dawn, grey light dimming the streetlamp’s glare, before she sat up, flinging off the blankets. There was only one way she could think of. It was dangerous, but she’d have to try something.
The clock said six twenty-two. She grabbed her phone from the bedside table, hesitating. Her sister would probably be up now, Isaias still sleeping.
But what if she wasn’t up? What if Lizette answered the phone still in bed, a groggy Isaias right next to her?
And what if she told her husband that Riel had called her? Did she really love him? Would she be loyal, or was she just sticking around because she had nowhere else to go?
When they’d been girls, Riel and Lizette had been very close. Their parents were gone a lot, always working, and it was just the two of them together, taking care of each other, watching out for each other. Then, when their parents had died, they’d really only had one another. It had been them against the world.
Until Isaias came into the picture. Lizette had latched onto him like a life raft. He was their ticket out of the horrible poverty that threatened to claim them, the hunger and uncertainty that gnawed at them every night, the worry that the government would come and put Riel, or both of them, in foster homes. The stability that Isaias offered had made Lizette idolize him, and had quickly turned into a fierce love and devotion. That love had apparently soured somewhat over the years as Isaias showed his true nature, but was it still strong enough that Lizette would choose him over her own sister?
And then there was the FBI, listening in on the conversation. Would they go along with this, even though they’d easily be able to follow the trail of money? Or would they double-cross her and her sister once this deal was through, and seize the assets anyway?
There were so many other risks, so many things that could go wrong. Riel tugged her fingers through her disheveled hair. There was no point agonizing. It was her only hope. She dialed her sister’s number.
Her heart beat painfully as it rang, and Riel sent up a silent prayer that Lizette was alone. That she’d be sitting in the kitchen with her coffee, enjoying the only quiet moment of her day before everyone else was up.