Chapter 13
Cam, Sunday morning
After an exhausting night of dismantling the car, I only had a couple hours of sleep. Even though I had lost some time on the job by dealing with Fiona’s life-threatening problem first, I hoped that I made up for it by tearing apart the interior of the Rolls.
Jimmy offered to drive us to meet our mystery buyer of the loot. I accepted it. He’d gotten more rest than I did, since he crashed on the couch in the garage while I was still working.
I moved the drugs into a nondescript sedan and left the Rolls-Royce in the garage. If my coworkers came back early, they’d be looking for it. Since it wasn’t a nine-to-five type of environment, anything was possible.
I wrote a note explaining I had a family emergency that interrupted my work. My hand shook as I thought about how furious my boss would be about me leaving before the job was done. I put the pen down. It was barely legible, like a doctor’s script. I took a deep breath. Best-case scenario, I’d return before anyone decided to come back to work early.
Pleasing my boss was usually my only priority, but not that day. My only mission was to sell the drugs and get the hell out of Dodge.
Even with Jimmy as my bodyguard, I needed to pack some heat of my own as extra insurance that I’d make the drug deal and get out alive. Once we were in the car, I gave Jimmy directions to my place so I could get my gun. He agreed that it was a good idea.
The short drive to my apartment was just long enough for the smooth ride to lull me to sleep. When Jimmy slammed on the brakes, I was jarred awake. Damn. How am I supposed to be alert when I can’t stay awake? Fuck. I rubbed my eyes.
I put my window down. The crisp morning air blew against my face and helped with the drowsiness. The more I did to stay awake, the better. I turned on the radio to speed metal. The rapid beat of drums and stretching guitar blasted through the speakers. Jimmy sneered and turned the volume down a few notches.
We pulled up to my apartment. It only took a few minutes to grab my gun and tuck it inside the waistband of my jeans. My loose-fitting work shirt covered the weapon. Even though I had left Jimmy alone with the drugs in the trunk, I knew the vehicle and its contents were secure, because he was packing his own heat. I returned to the car.
The gun had been my father’s. I had only fired it a few times at a shooting range. I’d never pointed it at a living being. Can I pull the trigger when I need to, or will I hesitate? I hoped the revolver would stay in my waistband. The fear of having to use the weapon kept me awake during the rest of the trip.
We pulled into the strip club’s narrow back parking lot. Jimmy swerved in between potholes and broken glass.
We drove by a parked Mercedes. The driver’s hands clutched the wheel. He sat still, upright, and alert. He locked his eyes on us. Without blinking, he held eye contact until we passed him. Fuck, we’re being watched.
Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw the Mercedes abruptly turn toward us. Its tires squealed. My breath hitched. I gripped the dashboard. Closing my eyes, I braced for impact. We kept moving forward. There was no sound of brakes screeching. We turned and stopped moving. I opened my eyes and exhaled, relieved that we didn’t get plowed into by the Mercedes. Unfortunately, it parked and blocked the way we’d entered.
I looked to the right to find another way out and saw a Suburban and a garbage truck blocking our way. The man buying our stash had come prepared with friends. A tall man stood next to the Suburban. His muscular shoulders spanned the length of the car window.
Shit! This man could knock me out with one punch. Even if I shoot him, I doubt one bullet can bring him down.
Another man stepped out of the SUV. He went up to the garbage truck and gave the driver a wad of cash. The driver took it, and the two men inside the truck got out. They walked behind the SUV then into the alley. The man standing next to the car made a call on his cell.
Jimmy watched our plans turn to shit, but he didn’t break a sweat. How can he be so calm? This can’t be good. We had lost our upper hand by having the drugs. Surrounded by these men, it seemed like our minutes were numbered. They could shoot us and take the drugs. The taste of vomit rose up in my throat. I swallowed, forcing it down.
The curvy prostitute who had arranged the meeting leaned against the back door. Her smug smile lingered until I stepped out of the car. She took a long draw from her cigarette. I walked up to her, eager to see the mystery buyer. She blew the smoke out then flipped the cigarette onto the cement.
Stomping on it, she said, “Right on time. He’ll like that.”
My goal wasn’t to impress him. I only cared about making the drug deal.
She said, “My associate is going to stay with the car and your friend, for now.”
A car door shut behind me. Keeping my hand on the revolver in my waistband, I turned my head toward the noise. The driver of the Mercedes approached us. His dark shark eyes shot daggers through me.
The cold barrel of a gun jammed against the back of my neck. My breath hitched as I put my hands up. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Where’re the drugs!” the man standing behind me shouted. He grabbed my revolver from my pants.
Fucking great, now I don’t have a gun. “They’re in the trunk.”
“Open it.” He pressed the gun deeper into me.
My heart pounded. He’s going to pull the trigger as soon as I open it. Either I show him the drugs and die, or I die and they force Jimmy to do it. Shit!
“Now.”
Unless Jimmy did something, I was dead. I walked to the car.
A man sat in the passenger seat, pointing a gun at Jimmy. The thug said, “Give your friend the keys.”
Our plan was becoming more complicated by the minute. Jimmy rolled down his window and handed the keys over. I went to the trunk and popped it open. The man that had pulled a gun on me earlier kept his weapon drawn on me. Another man got out of the SUV and walked toward us.
“You’re going with him.” He nodded in the direction of the man heading our way with his gun pointed at me. He towered above everyone else and had tattoos covering his arms.
Shit! How many men are we dealing with? Even if Jimmy tried to disarm the man in the car, it would turn into a bloodbath.
Tattoo Man came over and glanced at the stash in the trunk. His eyes lit up. “Well, look what we have here.” He looked back at me.
The other guy put his gun in his pocket and grabbed a pouch of the pills from the trunk. He opened it and took a whiff, closing his eyes as his nostrils flared. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to the man with his gun still aimed at me.
“Move.” Tattoo Man motioned me with his weapon toward the back door entrance of the strip club.
I looked back at Jimmy before entering the club. His hands were on the wheel. The scumbag still pointed his gun at Jimmy. Jimmy stared ahead with a stoic expression. I didn’t know if we were going to make it out of here alive, yet Jimmy sat there as if he was in control.
As the prostitute watched us go inside, I wondered why we were still alive. What’s stopping them from killing us and taking the drugs? What the hell is going on?
When I reached the top of the staircase, I found three rooms, all with closed doors.
“Go in the one on the end,” he commanded from below.
Just as I entered the room, I saw a man inside. He grabbed my shirt and shoved me. Pinning my back to the wall, he grabbed my neck. He squeezed hard. I struggled to breathe.
We were eyeball to eyeball. His hardened face was carved with deep wrinkles, and his jet-black eyes were intense. The smell of whiskey permeated what little air I could breathe. I gasped. I struggled to form words but couldn’t speak. Lightheaded, my vision became fuzzy.
He loosened the hand wrapped around my neck just enough to allow air to seep into my lungs. As I inhaled, my vision became clearer. He took a knife from his pocket with his other hand. Holding the blade against my jugular, he released his hand on my neck.
“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” he said. “Where’s my car?” He pressed the knife deeper against my skin.
Shit, his car! I was trying to sell the drugs back to the owner of the drugs. So that’s why they didn’t just kill us. The fact that I still had his precious car was the only thing keeping us alive. That hoe fucking set us up.
On the verge of cutting my neck he said, “Answer me, or your friend starts bleeding!”
“I can get it for you.”
“You’ve got till midnight. Bring it back here.” He put his knife down. The tattoo man grabbed my right arm.
He needed his car. I needed his money. Coming back here would be suicidal. “Not here.”
“Reggie will make sure you come back.” He nodded at the tattoo man, who shoved his gun into my side.
If I could get away from Reggie, I’d have to have a way to contact him. I didn’t even know his name.
Looking at the owner of the car, I asked, “What’s your name?”
“Skel.”
I tilted my head. What the hell kind of name is that?
“You cross me and that will be all that’s left of you, a skeleton.”
Reggie gripped my arm and pushed me toward the door. “We’re going to go for a ride in your car.”
I left the room and headed down the stairs. How am I going to get the car back to its owner with it half chopped for parts? My foot hit the third step.
“Police. Freeze.” The command came from behind the closed door at the bottom of the stairs. I stopped moving.
Pop-pop-pop. More gunfire came from the same direction.
Reggie maneuvered until he was in front of me. “Go back.”
For a split second, I thought of not obeying him. He wouldn’t follow me toward the cops. He aimed his gun at my forehead. “Fucking move!”
Instantly, Fiona’s gorgeous face flashed before me. I needed to live. I turned around and bolted up to the top. Reggie ran into me to get to the door of the room we just left. He turned the knob, but it was locked.
At the bottom of the stairs, a cop slammed the door open with his gun drawn. “This is the police. Come down with your hands up!” he yelled.
Reggie shot at him. The cop fired back. The gunfire was nearly deafening in the enclosed space. I clenched my jaw and tried to open another door. I flung it open.
Reggie followed. I pulled a desk in front of the door to block it. Reggie opened the window. There was a fire escape outside.
Crack-crack. More gunfire sounded from outside the window.
Pop-pop-pop.
Crack-crack-crack.
Reggie ducked below the window. I squatted in the corner.
“Officers down! Two dead.” It sounded like the person was right below our room.
“Copy that!”
Pop-pop.
It became quiet—too quiet. I slid up the wall and stood. Peeling the curtain back just enough to see outside, I saw an officer standing in a pool of blood with a dead cop at his feet.
The officer yelled across the alley to another cop, “Pull back!”
Someone outside our room hit on our door with their fists. Bang-bang. “Police, open the door!”
The cops were giving us two choices, and neither of them was good: Either be arrested, or run down the fire escape. If we fled, the cop in the street could catch us. I looked outside to try to spot the police. I saw no evidence of them, but they could be hiding.
Thump. Thump. Thump. It sounded like men kicking against our door with heavy boots, trying to get in. My heart lurched up in my throat.
The door came ajar enough to cause the desk to move across the floor. Thump. It slid, scraping against the tile. Thump. It moved. Thump. The door was open almost enough for a gun to fit through. My throat was dry. Sweat ran down my face.
This is it. I’ll be arrested, put in jail, and unable to get the money to save Fiona’s life. All because of somebody who ratted us out. Those weren’t garbage men. Those were undercover cops. They knew exactly when this was going down, but how?
Reggie fired through the door until his bullets were gone.
Then there was silence.
A voice yelled from the room next door, “Reggie, get out, now!”
Reggie dropped his gun and headed out the window.
The desk moved back again.
“Open up. This is your last chance to cooperate.”
Boom–boom. Thud–thud.
It sounded as if the cops were dropping like flies. Gagging sounds came from the hallway.
Thud-thud.
There was a hissing sound, then a green mist crept into the room. What the hell, now?
I heard Reggie’s feet pounding on the metal staircase. He’s making it out! I followed him to get away from the nasty odor. I shut the window behind me after I went out onto the fire escape. Just as I started to climb down, I heard the dreaded words again.
“Freeze! Police!” A woman officer pointed her gun at Reggie.
Reggie stopped. “Don’t shoot!” He put his hands up. I did the same. I watched him begin to squat.
“Don’t move.” The cop kept her gun pointed at Reggie. Reggie froze as the officer took a few steps toward the fire escape.
“I’m just sitting.” Reggie slowly continued squatting while moving his hand closer to his ankle. The cop fired as Reggie pulled a gun out of his ankle strap. Reggie flew back from a chest full of bullets. Blood splattered against my jeans.
A rifle stuck out from the window in the room next to ours. Crack-crack.
It fired in the policewoman’s chest. She staggered back, but there was no blood. She must be wearing a bulletproof vest. Tires squealed. The SUV came around the corner and hit her full speed, plowing her down.
The man with the rifle, Skel, went through the open window. He shut it and pulled off his mask. “Get the fuck out of here. Bring back my car, and call me on Reggie’s phone when you get it. He carries his cell in his front pocket. Just dial one.”
“How do I know Jimmy’s still alive?”
“Look down there.” He nodded toward the street.
The back window of the SUV was rolled down, and Jimmy, with a bruised eye, stuck his head out. He squinted as if trying to focus on me. Skel ran down the fire escape and got in the SUV. The car sped off.
Jimmy was hurt badly. It sickened me that he was in trouble because he thought he could handle having my back. If I didn’t get the car back to its owner, they would kill him. I looked around the back alley, but there were no signs of other cops.
“Officer, what is your situation?” a voice came from a device beside the policewoman who had been run over. It was flung off to the side of her corpse. “Officer, please respond.”
More police were coming. In the back alley, two cops lay in their own pools of blood. Was my car still where I left it, or did the cops find the drugs and take it?
My horrible situation had escalated to unbearable. It only took minutes. A few steps below me, Reggie coughed up blood. It spilled down his mouth onto his neck. His eyes bulged as he wheezed. Flabbergasted, I sat on a step. There was nothing I could do but let him die then steal his phone.
I remembered something my pop told me years ago. God forbid Johnny Law ever comes for you. If the cops come, go on the lam. It’s your only chance to survive. I ran my fingers through my sweat-soaked hair. I was going to be on the lam from two groups of people, the police and my own family. First, I’d have to find a way to get my hands on the car the drug dealer wanted back without running into my capo, who was known to occasionally check in on big jobs or send his men to do it. I’d have to steal the stolen car back and not get caught. Fuck me! At least I could still drive it. I hadn’t removed the engine yet.
Reggie convulsed, raising his head and spewing blood out onto the steps. Sirens sounded in the distance. I shoved my hand into his front pocket and grabbed what felt like a cell phone. I pulled it out as Reggie clung onto me with both hands. His eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. His face was gray. It felt like death was staring at me, not wanting to let go. I pried his bloody, sticky hands off of me. To increase my odds for survival, I took Reggie’s gun. I ran down the steps, heading to where I hoped my car would still be parked.