Chapter Thirteen

 

DAVIS

 

The dive around us is empty. I don't realize why Ryan is keeping his head down for a lot longer than I would have been willing to admit, but once I figure it out my head goes down as well.

The bartender doesn't bother us. I think that's probably part for the course in places like this, and I'm glad for it. More than that, though, I suspect that Beauchamp is glad.

One call from the guy behind the counter could bring a lot of heat down on both of our heads, and he's not stupid enough not to know it.

Which, I have to admit, makes it the perfect place for him to try to lay low. No way Danny's going to be looking here, and anyone else that Donaldsen sends is going to think about it.

But we can't stay here forever, not given who Beauchamp is, and the relationship he's sure to have with the owner.

He pulls out a phone as we leave. He puts his thumb down on the number two and holds it there. I don't get a good look at who he's calling, but he tells me anyways when the person on the other side picks up.

"Logan."

He waits a second to hear the response.

"Yeah, I don't like working this early, but listen. Things just got… complicated. Yeah. We need to meet somewhere. Your place alright?"

He pauses a minute.

"No, the bar's no good. Not right now. We need to do that job I was telling you about…"

Another pause. I can hear his brother's voice through the phone, the way that he gets riled up.

"I know I said we needed to wait. Things have changed. Look, I'll let you in on it when I get there, alright?"

He climbs onto the bike and kicks it to life. I climb into the saddle behind him. It's too small for two, but he acts as if he doesn't notice. I press myself up against him, pull my arms around him.

I notice the way our bodies are forced together in that close space, but I pretend not to. So does he. He takes the weight of the bike and controls it on the way out.

The drive is quick, easy. Nobody's on the road, not in a town this size. That's what makes it such a good place for his sort of business, I know. He ducks around a winding turn, more than ninety degrees, and it turns back in on itself after a minute. Like a snake or something.

When he finally stops, and I pull myself up off the back, I can feel my shirt clinging to me with sweat. The way that it shows all the lines of my body. I can't stand it, and it's more than just the afternoon heat getting to me.

He walks up to the front gate of the place. It's just a little wrought-iron fence, and he could probably have climbed it if he wanted to, but he doesn't. He pushes the button instead.

There's an intercom box right beside us, and for a minute I expect a voice to come out of it, asking who's there. Instead I just hear a buzz as the gate unlocks itself.

Ryan goes in first, holds the gate for me. It swings shut behind us on its own, closing with a loud clang that makes me wince.

He doesn't have to knock on the door because there's already a man at the door, built like a bear. He gives me a doubting eye as I walk up behind Ryan.

"Who's the cop?"

I don't look that much like a cop.

"It's not time to talk about that. We'll get into it, only—inside."

"Right. I got you, alright."

He steps back for Ryan and lets him pass, but as I try to push on through behind him, Logan's shoulder moves forward to block me. He leans down, and his voice drops to a low growl.

"I got my eyes on you."

I push him out of the way with my own shoulder, and he lets me through. There's no God damned way that I'm going to be treated like some sort of criminal by a Beauchamp. Being treated like a cop, though, seems to be worse.

I follow Ryan, who heads through and settles into a chair in the kitchen.

"Logan, this is our new best friend."

"She looks like a cop."

"That's because she is a cop. Why don't you introduce yourself, babe?"

"Agent Davis, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. I picked up your brother—"

"That's enough, for now, Agent Davis. We'll get back to you."

"You got picked up by the cops? Is that why you suddenly decided that you need to go after McCallister?"

"Bingo," Ryan answers, leaning forward against the back of the chair he's straddling backwards.

"So why the hurry-up now?" The bigger Beauchamp eyes me as he asks the question, but I let Ryan do the talking.

"My friend here, she's got her eyes on the big prize, but you know cops. Small-minded. They don't see the advantage in trading little old me for getting rid of the Crazy Horses."

"So you're giving them lessons, now? Is that what I'm hearing?"

We never got any shots of Ryan smiling at the Bureau. Just the typical criminal shit. All scowls and the forced neutral expression of mug shots. The last comment puts a big smile on his face, one that brightens up the room just by being there.

I can't resist any more. "We don't need any lessons on anything."

"She talks, too, huh?"

"She does a lot of things, you keep talking like that," I answer, flipping him a one-finger salute.

It's Logan's turn to smile at me, an insincere thing that still splits his face into a wide mask of good humor.

"She's here because, admit it or not, she needs me. You know how I am, can't ever turn down someone in need."

"No, you never can," Logan says, with a voice that sounds like he'd rather his brother figured it out sooner, rather than later.

"So we have to get things moving, and we have to get it moving today. Is that going to be a problem?"

The bigger Beauchamp leans back, his heavy body pressed back into the kitchen counter. I take the opportunity to look around better this time. Maybe I can get two for the price of one. Maybe three for the price of one.

To my surprise, though, Logan Beauchamp's place looks like the sort of place a guy might retire to. It's not big, but it's comfortable. It looks decidedly unlike the house of a man who runs a gun-running operation with his two brothers.

So distinctly that I almost have to wonder how the man who owns a place like this can do it, keep the two lives so separate. Still, he's obviously managing it somehow.

"If we're going to be moving that soon, we'll need to call the guys."

"Get Spider in on this one. He's been doing good work lately."

If he doesn't know about Spider, I had better make sure that Hawkins doesn't get pulled out any sooner than necessary. It is going to be very useful to have as many eyes on the inside of this operation as possible.

"Of course, Ryan. Anyone else?"

"Figure out an I.D. for the girl, too."

"She's not coming with us."

I can't stop myself chiming in. "No, I'm not coming with you. Are you stupid?"

"Oh, stupid? Maybe. But you're definitely coming with us."