Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (30 page)

I bit my curious tongue. Nyla’s need for kink wasn’t my business. “How’s this work? You get the call, I’ll go to where’s she’s being held and grab her?”

“No. The suppliers agreed to help us only if the shit don’t go down at their place. She’ll take her first hit at the suppliers, then take her stash back to wherever she’s been hiding. If she’s high she might not pick up on the tail. But we can’t take a chance on multiple vehicles in pursuit, especially ones she recognizes, because she’ll definitely notice that.”

“Might not?”

“Don’t ever underestimate her. Drug addicts are paranoid, so again, this is why she’s been so slippery.”

“Or you have someone on the inside feeding Jackal information on your plans.”

Big Mike’s jaw flexed. “
Had
being the operative word. I ain’t gonna tell you who. But at least we know why it was so easy for the shooter to get at Tony.”

Had to be someone working at Bare Assets. An 310

Hombres pledge? A bartender? A bouncer? A cocktail waitress? A couple of months passed since I’d slung drinks at the strip club as a favor to Martinez.

I’d made more enemies than friends with the staff.

Throwing in with Jackal was stupid and the snitch deserved whatever punishment had been—or would be—meted out.

“You still haven’t told me what I’ll do with Nyla once I track her.”

“Keep her under surveillance. We’ll see if Jackal shows. If he doesn’t, then you’ll go in and grab her.”

“Right. A paranoid, hopped-up meth-head is gonna just open the fucking door to me? You trying to get me killed? Or just arrested for kidnapping?”

“You’re tough as shit, Julie. Knock her ass out if she fights you.”

“Why me? Why not use a Hombres member who’s trained in this stealthy crap?”

“Because you volunteered, remember?”

Me and my big mouth. I had said I’d do anything to catch Jackal.

“Besides, we’re not sure Jackal doesn’t have someone else inside the Hombres working with him to tip him off. That’s why we’re keeping this between you and me.”

“Let’s say I’m successful and I grab her. What next?”

“Then you’ll bring her to me. We’ll detain her until the drugs in her system wear off. She’ll be so 311

desperate for her fix she’ll tell us what we want to know.”

After sucking down the last bit of my own fix, I crushed out my Marlboro. “There’s a flaw in that line of thinking.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because Jackal wouldn’t blab his secrets to a crack whore and he wouldn’t give a shit what you did to her.”

“He would if the crackhead was his sister.”

“Get out. Jackal and Nyla are related? How come I didn’t know that?”

“It’s not common knowledge. In fact, Jackal don’t know
we
know. Sick deal because they use a sexual relationship to throw everyone off, but they’re both so fucking perverted they get off on it. So see, he’s counting on the fact we’ll discount her as nothing to him but a stupid meth-head chick he fucks and beats up from time to time.”

“Jesus. That’s disgusting. Who knows this?”

“Me. Martinez. Now you.”

“How’d you figure it out?”

He smirked. “Interested in my investigative technique, PI?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Nyla showed up two weeks after Jackal was in-stalled in the enforcer’s position. Bugged me she’s always had inside info she shouldn’t and she seemed to be around even more after we put Jackal in lock-312

down. One night, I . . . ah, took one for the team, so to speak.”

“Eww.”

“Yeah. Made sure she wouldn’t remember me asking the questions, just the false info I planted to see if she’d pass it to Jackal. She did.”

“Okay. But won’t Jackal notice if she’s missing?”

“I hope so.”

“So if Jackal or one of his guys is following her to see if anyone is tailing her, and he sees me, chances are good he’ll take after me.”

“Then he’s out in the open, which is easier, and we nail the cocksucker either way.”

Made sense. But I could see why we were keeping this from Tony; he’d be livid. “You aren’t gonna kill Nyla, are you?”

“No. But we need to get the ball rolling on this.

Martinez needs to get out of here and be seen tonight.”

“What’s the plan for explaining his injury?”

“Skiing—”

The bedroom door banged open. Tony hobbled out. “Don’t let me interrupt whatever required you to shut the fucking door.”

Busted. I pointed at Big Mike. “Blame him.”

Big Mike glared at me. “If you weren’t so goddamn loud and freaking out about—”

“Freaking out about what?” Martinez demanded.

“The stupid excuses he’s come up with to explain 313

why you’re on crutches.” From the corner of my eye I saw Big Mike relax slightly.

“What’d he come up with?”

“Skiing!” I threw my hands up. “Nobody in their right mind would believe you injured yourself snow skiing.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t ski, Martinez.”

He lifted a brow. “Yes, I do.”

My jaw hitting my knees wasn’t a dramatic touch.

Big Mike said, “Told ya.”

“But . . . you ski?”

“Of course I ski. I grew up in Colorado.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I never hear you talk about hitting the slopes or any of that ‘gnarly powder, dude’ kind of shit.”

“I don’t ski around here. Why do you think I’ve gone to Colorado more often this winter?”

I gaped at him. Why hadn’t he told me if it wasn’t a secret?

“What?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know that about you.”

What else was he hiding, the man I’d told I loved not an hour ago?

“So now you do. What was your explanation for my injury?”

Should’ve known he wouldn’t let it drop.

“When Julie argued about the skiing idea, I suggested we tell everyone she accidentally shot you with 314

her bow when you guys were out target shooting,” Big Mike said.

“That’s fucking lame. I am a goddamn good shot and it pisses me off you even suggested it.”

“Enough.” Martinez settled in the corner of the couch and propped his leg on the coffee table. “Now I see why you shut the goddamn door.” He looked at me, gifted me with his lethal grin, and patted the open spot on his left side.

I bounded over; if I had a tail, it’d be waggin’. Even if Martinez’s secrets drove me bat shit, color me deliriously happy my man was on the road to recovery.

Big Mike sighed. “Don’t get too cozy. I came up here to take Julie downstairs.”

“Why?”

“You need to put in an appearance at Fat Bob’s tonight.”

Without
her
was implied.

“It’s okay. I haven’t been home in three days.

Probably all sorts of shit waiting for me to deal with.”

“Give us a couple of minutes,” Martinez said, and Big Mike headed for the bathroom.

I murmured, “Are you really feeling up to doing this? Because there’s no shame in taking another day to heal.”

“Would you stick around and be my wet nurse?”

“Sounds perverted, but yes.” Then I remembered why Big Mike needed to separate us. I couldn’t tail Nyla if Martinez and I were playing grab ass. “But 315

Big Mike wouldn’t be pushing for you to go out and be seen if it wasn’t necessary.”

“True.” He angled my head where he wanted it and kissed me thoroughly. “Promise you’ll charge up that cell the second you get home, blondie.”

“Promise.”

Martinez twined my hair around his finger and muttered against my throat. “
Te quiero mucho.”

“What’s that mean?”

“
Debes aprender a hablar español
.”

“Funny. You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Swearing at me? You must be feeling better.” I gave him a big, wet, smacking kiss right on his smirk-ing mouth. “Later?”

“Most definitely.”

I followed Big Mike downstairs. Felt good to be out in the fresh air even if it was frigid.

He handed me one of those disposable cell phones while we were sitting in my truck waiting for it to warm up. “I won’t call you on this unless something’s going down. The number programmed in the call list is mine.

Remember, only contact me on this phone, okay?”

And for the first time since I’d met Big Mike, I wasn’t entirely sure I trusted him. This seemed too elaborate a scheme. Why not just have an Hombres member snatch Nyla at the dealer’s place? Especially since she was everybody’s crack whore? I’d bet a kilo of coke the Hombres were the dealer’s distributors. If 316

the dealers wanted continued business, they couldn’t deny the Hombres’ demand to detain Nyla until security arrived.

But . . . chances were good Jackal knew where Nyla scored her drugs. If he put the place under surveillance and if Hombres members showed up, it’d tip him off they knew about his relationship to Nyla. Then we might lose the best chance of flushing Jackal out.

On the other hand, if Big Mike suspected Jackal was living with Nyla, following her would kill two birds with one stoned chick.

God. Too many variables and I didn’t have the energy to work them all out. I really wanted to go home.

“You’re quiet. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just thinking. If I’m gonna help you do this, I want you to call off all surveillance on me.”

Big Mike vehemently shook his head. “No fucking way.”

“Listen. There’s no reason for
me
to tail
her
if she sees people tailing me. You guys might as well do it and leave me out of the middle of it.”

He was quiet for a beat. “Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. But I can’t call off your security detail. Not only will Tony know, the guy assigned to you will wonder why, especially in light of the fact Jackal is still out there on the loose.”

“There’s no other way to do this.”

“Fuck. Do you know what he’ll do to me if he 317

finds out not only are we going behind his back, but I’m purposely putting you in danger?”

“So you’d better figure something out fast. I’m risking my ass to save Tony’s. I’d do anything to keep Jackal away from him, and so would you. That’s what’s at stake, Big Mike. You think I like being fucking bait? You think I like lying and sneaking around on Martinez?”

“No.” He scrubbed the stubble on his face. “Fine.

Let’s just hope this goes down soon.”

After he hopped out, I rolled down the window and yelled, “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Take good care of him.”

“I will. I’ll be in touch. Soon.”

318

Too soon.

The blasted cell phone Big Mike snuck me rang at 3:00 in the morning.

“Julie. Haul ass. She just got there.”

“Where’m I going?” Man, I was groggy.

Big Mike rattled off the address. “There’s an alley on the left side. It’s hidden, but it’ll give you an unobstructed view of the rear entrance. Yellow house, white trim, concrete stoop in the back. She’ll take the rear entrance out. Once you get to where she’s hiding, keep awake.”

The late hour proved Nyla was smart enough to pick a time when there’d be little traffic.

“And for Christsake don’t freeze to death.”

Vernon Sloane’s frozen body amidst the bright white snow flashed behind my dark lids and I was 319

instantly wide awake.

“Call me and let me know where you are, but you’re on your own. At least until dawn. Bossman is already suspicious about the changes in security.”

“Great.” I didn’t want to know how Big Mike had pulled one over on Martinez. After minimal hygiene I dressed in layers. Long johns. Flannel jeans. Two pairs of cotton socks. A long-sleeved T-shirt. A lightweight wool sweater. A fleece pullover. Then the usual hat, glove liners, gloves, scarf, and subzero Thinsulate ski jacket.

I popped four Jet-Alert caffeine tablets. They worked way better for staying alert than energy drinks and I didn’t have to pee all the time.

Cell phones, gun, restraints, big-ass bolt cutters, a blanket, a shovel, cigarettes, bottled water; I was good to go.

The area the dealers set up shop was familiar. A mere three blocks from the house I’d grown up in.

The neighborhood hadn’t gone to the dogs in the last twenty-odd years; it’d always been a mix of working class and low-income folks.

At the mouth of the alley I cut my headlights and hoped like hell the cops weren’t patrolling. Nothing says criminal activity like cruising down an alley at 3:30 in the morning with your lights off. I parked by a chain-link fence and stared straight ahead at the back of the yellow house.

I shut off the truck. Nyla probably wouldn’t 320

hear the engine idling, but I wasn’t willing to take the chance. I studied the junky cars scattered on the street. A beige Ford Escort. A jacked-up Chevy Blazer. A rusted-out Honda Civic. A brand-spanking new Dodge Ram pickup. A beat-up Ford conversion van. A Buick.

By the time I’d pegged the crappy Honda as hers, Nyla burst out the back door, head down, and went right for . . . the conversion van. She backed out and headed south.

I started my truck, kept the lights off, and watched her taillights, staying as far back as I dared. A light snow fell, which was good for masking my vehicle but bad for visibility with no headlights.

Nyla drove aimlessly for fifteen minutes. I’d begun to think she’d made me when she changed directions again and parked in the far corner of the Kmart parking lot. I killed the engine and wished the sodium lights weren’t a neon arrow pointing to my location.

After five minutes, she climbed out the driver’s side door with a messenger bag slung across her shoulder. She took a quick look around, but never once my direction. Satisfied, she briskly walked to a seedy motel, disappearing at the edge of the building.

No choice but to follow her on foot. I jammed my gun in the outside pocket of my jacket and slipped out of the truck. Luckily, the snow wasn’t blowing her tracks away, but I had to run to keep up.

I snuck along the back of the brick building. When 321