Chapter Thirteen
After the call from Dalton, Hunter got on his bike and headed toward downtown. On a Saturday night, heading toward downtown L.A., traffic was still a bitch. But Hunter took advantage of the law that let him lane split and dodged in between the cars. He made great time down to the hotel. He pulled up to the valet.
When he got to the front of the line, a white guy looked him up and down. “I’m sorry Sir, we don’t park motorcycles here at the Valet. Are you a guest?”
“I’m meeting a friend.”
“You’ll need to park in our underground garage. Just follow the curve down to the right.” The young man pointed him in the correct direction. Hunter drove his bike slowly, surveying all the valet attendants as he went. It wasn’t until he was almost to the garage that he saw a young Hispanic man running up from the garage stairs. He’d bet his bottom dollar it was Rafael.
Hunter took the ticket to get into the garage, parked on the bottom floor near the valet section, far enough away so his bike wouldn’t be dinged by any other cars, and took the stairs two at a time up to the lobby. Dalton was relaxing on one of the couches talking to a striking older woman. He had managed to fit into the exclusive environment, even in jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket. Dalton spotted Hunter immediately and excused himself and came over to him.
“Did you see our guy?” he asked.
“Think so. Cross tattoo showing a little on his right hand?” Hunter asked.
“That’d be him.”
“How d’you find him?”
“Scoped out the apartment building Nicolas mentioned. Figured he’d be working on a Saturday night. Looked for any kid wearing pants other than jeans. He made it easy because he was carrying his valet jacket on a hanger. He took the train. I followed him.”
Hunter grinned. That was Dalton, always thinking. “How should we play it?”
“I say question him now. He’ll be more apt to talk if he needs to get rid of us to save his job.”
Not a bad plan.
They took the stairs down to the level where the valeted cars were parked. Hunter stepped out first. There were plenty of pillars between the door and the entrance ramp where he could hide. “Wanna stay here?” he asked Dalton.
“Yep.”
“I’ll head over there,” he pointed to a spot close to the down ramp.
The first car that pulled in was driven by the same valet who had told him where to park. The young man eased the BMW into a space close to the stairs.
“Shit. Fuck. Piss.” Hunter swore under his breath, then he texted Dalton.
Incoming.
When the valet opened the door to the stairs thirty seconds later, there was no sign of Dalton. A white Mercedes AMG came down the ramp rounding the corner at a fast clip. Hunter saw only dark hair driving by, and he watched it go to the far wall. He saw a door to what he assumed was the maintenance closet open. He crouched low and moved fast, keeping in the shadows.
“They’re staying two nights. They left their house keys on the ring. Their address is listed on some mail in the glovebox. Quick, Mateo, take an imprint of the keys,” Rafael said in Spanish to a young Hispanic man.
Another car pulled in, the headlights caught Hunter.
“Fuck,” Mateo said in Spanish. He pulled out a gun and fired at Hunter, then ripped Rafael out of the Mercedes and threw him to the ground. He got into the high-performance sports car and squealed backward behind the Escalade that had just pulled into the garage, then did a one-eighty. Hunter couldn’t get off a shot without hitting the big black vehicle. He ran around it, but by that time the Mercedes was going up the ramp.
Dalton ran out of the stairwell, his gun drawn.
“White Mercedes AMG,” Hunter yelled. “It’s Mateo. Rafael’s on the ground,” he waved backward. He was on his motorcycle in a heartbeat. By the time Hunter got to the top of the parking structure, he saw the car had ripped through the parking garage’s gate and had to swerve to avoid the broken wood on the ground. He saw the taillights of the white car going down Figueroa Street.
A game or a concert must have let out of the Staples Center, making traffic bad, really bad. Hunter weaved around cars, trying to catch up to the supercharged Mercedes. Fuck, did it have to be the AMG edition? Mateo took a turn onto Flower street, hitting a homeless man’s shopping cart, sending the man sprawling, his contents going everywhere. Hunter skidded sideways, barely missing the exploding plastic bags containing the man’s life.
The growl of his bike was loud without his helmet. He revved up his throttle and sped faster, then Mateo merged onto the 110 Freeway, and the race was really on. His bike got up to speeds he’d never seen before. Where was the California Highway Patrol when you needed them?
Mateo weaved in and out of traffic until finally, he couldn’t. Three lanes were blocked, two tractor trailers and one Prius all going the same speed. Hunter fell far back, hoping Mateo would think he’d lost him and stop the crazy-assed driving, and no lives would be lost on the freeway. He kept an eye on him, but the fucker darted forward when there was an opening and the game was on again.
Up ahead, he saw blue and red lights flashing as the highway patrol raced to catch up with the performance car. Again, Hunter fell back, watching.
Mateo must have realized he was at the end of the line because he sped up even more. Hunter could see the accident happening in his mind’s eye before it did. Mateo headed for the exit, but he hadn’t read the exit closure signs. He crashed through the orange signs straight into the cement barriers, and flipped the stolen car, disappearing over the side of the exit ramp. Hunter saw flames shoot up. The highway patrol skidded to a stop while Hunter kept driving down the freeway toward the next exit.
When Hunter was finally able to pull over to a stop on a side street, he patted the side of his bike. Damn, she had performed well. He fished his phone out of the deep jacket pocket and called Dalton.
“Where the fuck are you?”
“Still trying to figure that out. Got Rafael?” Adrenaline was pumped wildly through his veins. He quickly calculated how much information Rafael could give them about the threat against Aliana, hopefully, it hadn’t died with Mateo.
“I’ve got him and your helmet. He and I are having a nice little chat in the back of the 7-11 on Hope Street. You might want to join us.”
“On it.”
***
“Did you call Zed and Aiden?” Hunter asked as he dismounted the bike and ambled towards the two men, never taking his eyes off the cowering former valet.
“Yep. They said if we needed any help with clean up to call them.”
“Clean up?” Rafael squeaked.
“Was I talking to you?” Dalton asked as he cuffed him on the side of the head. “You talk when I tell you to talk.” Rafael whimpered.
“Careful Dalton, according to Aliana and Nicolas this guy might be on the side of the angels.”
“Yeah, sure he is, stealing cars, breaking into people’s homes. He’s a regular Mother Teresa. The way I heard it, he was there when Aliana was attacked, and he planted a bomb in her home. That makes him more than an asshole, that makes him an attempted murderer. This is not going to go down well.”
“You don’t understand, I was trying to save her life.” Hunter could see the whites of Rafael’s eyes, and by the sound of his voice, you’d never think he’d hit puberty.
“Rafe, you don’t need to worry about a police charge,” Hunter soothed. He took three steps forward, so he was towering over him. “Aliana is my woman. Do you think I’m going to let you see the inside of a cell?”
“You’ve got to believe me. She was my teacher in school. She was cool. I really liked her. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”
“There is only one way for this to come down so you don’t end up like Mateo, and that’s if you provide the right information,” Hunter whispered softly.
“What happened to Mateo?”
“Yeah, what? Inquiring minds want to know,” Dalton chimed in.
“He’s dead, burned to death.” Rafael flinched and started to tremble. “It’s a bad way to go Rafael. Do you want to burn to death?” The kid opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Answer me,” Hunter barked.
“No,” he squeaked.
“Where is San Marcos? I want an address.”
“He’ll kill me.”
“Hold on Hunter,” Dalton laughed. “The 7-11 sells lighters.” He turned to leave.
“No! Don’t,” Rafael pleaded. “You’ll never beat San Marcos, and he’ll find out I’m the one who gave you the information. He won’t just kill me, he’ll kill my dad.”
“So leave town,” Dalton said over his shoulder. Hunter knew his teammate would be back soon with anything fire related the convenience store had to offer. It wouldn’t be necessary, Rafael would talk before then.
“Tell me. You know he’s after Aliana, you don’t want him to get his hands on her.”
“Man, it’s inevitable. He knows everything. He knows where her mom is, her grandma even that damn shrink with the killer shoes.”
Hunter froze. Goddammit, they hadn’t been watching Lottie. Hunter picked the kid up by the front of his sky blue valet jacket.
“Tell me where he lives. I need an address, Rafael, or so help me God, I really will set you on fire.”
“I don’t know where he lives, but he does all his business out of a tattoo parlor on El Fenix and Seabreeze. He keeps like office hours.”
Hunter moved his wrist and saw that it was a little past eleven p.m. “Will he be there now?”
“Guaranteed.”
He pulled out his phone, called Zed, and told him to get to Lottie’s place.
Hunter looked across the street at the long-term parking lot. It would work. He called Dalton.
“Get duct tape.”
***
Aliana looked down at her cell phone and smiled. She had so much to share with her friend, and the snoopy, shrinky part of Lottie would be all agog at the information.
“It’s about time you called me back,” Aliana smiled.
“Hi, Ms. Novak, it’s Mark. Were you expecting your friend Carlotta?” he asked in Spanish.
Aliana had to bring up her other hand and use both of them to keep the phone next to her ear, otherwise, she would have dropped it. She took a calming breath.
“Hello, Mark, may I please speak with my friend?” she asked pleasantly.
“So polite, I like that about you. You’ve taught my son so many good qualities. I appreciate that. You’ve also taught him some undesirable ones as well. We talked about that Ms. Novak, or can I call you Aliana?”
“Ms. Novak is fine.”
“Aliana, I told you to stay away from my son. I told you not to fill his head with ideas that wouldn’t help him in this world, but what did you do? You turned him into a goddamned revolutionary.”
“Let me talk to Lottie.”
“No. I’m not going to give you that courtesy because you didn’t give me the courtesy of doing what I asked.”
“Then what is the point of this call?” she asked politely.
She just had to keep it together for just a moment, then she would call Hunter. Hunter would know what to do.
“I want us to have a little visit.”
She opened her mouth to tell him she knew about his plans for her, but then shut it. Was she supposed to know? Was there an informant involved?
“I don’t trust you. Mateo threatened my mother. He said he would cut her up into pieces. I was almost killed when my townhome was blown up. Nope. I think I’ll pass on your little invite.”
She might be many things, but she refused to be in the too stupid to live camp.
“If you don’t meet with me, I’ll kill your friend.”
“Let me talk to her.”
There was silence. Then she heard a muffled roar and the unmistakable sound of someone being slapped.
“Bitch,” Mark roared.
“Aliana, is that you?” Lottie asked, panting.
“Why did he slap you?” Aliana cried.
“Don’t do anything he says,” Lottie was crying so hard, she could barely understand her.
She heard a muffled scream. “There you talked to Lottie. As you can see, she’s not making friends. It will be my pleasure to kill her if you don’t trade places with her.”
“Cut the crap, Mark. You’ll just kill us both,” Aliana said derisively.
Fuck. Her brain started to work. Hell, if she didn’t start sounding like she was giving in, then Lottie would be killed for sure. Way to outsmart the situation.
“Fine. I’ll kill her and find another way to get you. I’m sorry to have―”
“No, no, no. Tell me what to do. Don’t hurt her.”
“Tell me where you are,” he demanded.
“I’m being guarded,” she lied. “I don’t want there to be a bloodbath with people I care about. Let me sneak away. Tell me where I need to meet you, and I’ll go there.” She walked over to the hotel desk and wrote down the address he provided.
“A car will be waiting for you. You better come alone.”
“I will. I promise.”
He hung up and she called Hunter and got his voicemail.
***
Lottie’s house was ten minutes from the school, right in the heart of Los Demonios territory. Aiden and Zed were already inside when Hunter and Dalton both pulled up on his motorcycle. They both hightailed it inside. Hunter stopped short when he saw the look on Zed’s face.
“What happened?”
“There was quite a struggle in the bedroom. Lottie’s gone. Based on his ID, Ernie Robinson is dead.”
“Fuck.” Hunter had really liked the guy. “Any idea how long ago this happened?”
“We’re in luck. There was a kitschy alarm clock broken in her bedroom. Happened at ten forty-five,” Aiden said.
Dalton, Zed, and Hunter all stared at Aiden.
“What?”
“Just looking at the man who correctly used kitschy in a sentence is all.” Aiden flipped Dalton the bird. At least the tension was eased, and they could think again.
“Fuck!” Hunter jammed his hand into his jacket pocket. “San Marcos is going to go straight to Aliana to make a trade.” When he pulled out his phone, he saw four voicemails and seven missed calls, all from his Alia. The last one was seven minutes ago. Please God, say he wasn’t too late. He dialed and waited. He got her voicemail.
“Aliana, don’t go. Wherever he’s having you meet him, don’t do it. We know where to find him. We’ll get Lottie. Don’t go, I’m begging you.”
He motioned for Dalton to fill in Zed and Aiden on what they’d found out from Rafael. He turned on the locator app he’d installed on Aliana’s phone the first night. Goddammit, she wasn’t in the hotel where he’d left her. What was she doing near Bertrum High School? His phone rang. It was her.
“Aliana, what’s going on?”
“You didn’t listen to my voicemails, did you?”
“I just saw them. Why are you near the high school? Is that where the meet is going down with San Marcos?”
“I never made it to him. I was ambushed.” She didn’t sound hurt.
“What the fuck do you mean you were ambushed. Alia, are you all right?” All three men were now giving him intent looks.
“Yes, I’m fine. But I’m worried as hell about Lottie. Mark has her, and I didn’t make the meeting, I was―”
“Goddammit, Aliana, tell me where the fuck you are,” Hunter roared.
“Come to the front of the high school. I’m in a black suburban. I’m with Nicolas and two of his friends.”
He’d started out the door as soon as she started to tell him where she was. He was on his bike by the time she said she was with Nicolas. If there was a God, he would have made it there by the time she had finished speaking, but instead, it required seven extra minutes. He pulled out his gun and aimed it at the driver.
“Come out with your hands up.”
“Hunter, these are friends,” Aliana yelled as she opened up the left rear door.
“Aliana, go sit on the curb.”
Aiden, Zed, and Dalton were beside him. The Audi was fast. They all had their guns drawn. Two Hispanic boys who probably hadn’t started shaving got out of the SUV with their hands up as well as a grinning Nicolas. Hunter didn’t know whether to hug him or beat the shit out of him. What the fuck was going on?
“Can I get up now?” Aliana was sitting on the cold cement, wearing a turquoise tunic and drawstring pants she’d bought from the hotel gift store. She had her hand up like she was in class, but her expression was hardly that of a student, it was more of a pissed off Vice Principal.
Now that he knew everything was in hand, he rushed over to her and swept her into his arms. He palmed the back of her head and searched her eyes, assuring himself she was okay. Please, say she hadn’t been traumatized.
Aliana wound her arms around his neck. “I knew you’d come.”
He crushed his lips against hers. He tried to get a modicum of control, but there was none to be had. She opened for him, welcomed him. The hot, sultry, Southern California air curled around them, adding another layer of heat to a kiss that was out of control.
“Hey, we have a mission here. Remember?” Zed yelled out.
“They can’t hear us. They’re deaf to the world,” Dalton laughed.
“Shut it, you two. Just wait til it happens to you,” Aiden said.
“Ms. Novak?” Nicolas whispered quietly. Aliana immediately started to pull away.
Hunter tucked her face into the crook of his neck, turning to look at Nicolas.
“Son, can you give us a report?” He watched as the young man’s shoulders straightened, and he looked at him and each of his teammates in turn.
“My real dad has Ms. Rodriguez. He’s going to use her to hurt you, Ms. Novak.”
“Sperm donor,” her words muffled as she said them into his shoulder. She pushed away from him and twisted to look at Nicolas. “He’s not your father Nicolas. He’s nothing more than a sperm donor. A father is someone who nurtures you and takes care of you. This asshole did nothing more than supply some DNA. He’s not your dad, Honey.”
Hunter watched as the kid brightened. Jesus, here they were in the middle of a kidnapping, potential torture mess, and she’s working on lifting up a kid’s self-esteem. First, he was going to kill some people, then he was going to figure out what mountains he had to move, but goddammit, he was not going to lose Aliana ever again.
“Hunter,” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“You’re kind of squeezing me a little too tightly.” Her eyes were dancing.
He kissed the tip of her nose and loosened his hold. He turned to the others.
“Okay, we need a plan.”