Cowboy Gangster 03 - Outlaws of Love (12 page)

“For our purposes, that’s a good thing,” Anthony spoke up. “Guys like that don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. Find his regular hangouts and I’d bet my ass someone heard him spouting off about the job.”

“We’ll find them,” Clint nodded. “And they’ll fucking tell us what we want to know, or lose their fucking nuts.”

Their attention turned to the door in one unified motion when someone knocked once then entered before invited. The five of them stared at the man in the dark suit, a badge and handgun clipped to his belt.

Anthony glanced at the others.
Put on your game faces, boys.

♦

“Corrigan Romero,” the man said, his eyes passing over each occupant in the room and coming to rest on Cory. “I’m detective Warren Cobb. I need to ask you some questions about last night’s shooting.”

Cory remained calm and didn’t waver from the man’s stare. He nodded but didn’t speak until the detective began passing out questions.

“According to an earlier statement given to officer Parks,” Cobb said as he retrieved a small tablet and flipped it open. “You and Shay O’Riley were transporting a car for sale to an arranged buyer.” He raised his eyes to Cory’s face. “Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Cory said.

“Who set up the sale?”

“I did,” his dad spoke up. “I’m Anthony Romero. My son, Cory, and Shay O’Riley were two of my drivers.”

“Explain to me how your business works?”

Anthony nodded. “As Mr. Maddox explained to the officer, we deal with high end clients who are very particular about who purchases their vehicles. Our job is to complete a thorough background check on the potential buyer, and if the client is satisfied, my drivers transport the vehicle to the buyer and complete the transaction –which entails the buyer to deposit payment in a designated account before the merchandise is signed over.”

The detective nodded and scribbled down the information. “I will need to see the contract between you and your client, as well as the transaction forms. Also, the name, physical address and phone number of both the client and the buyer.”

“Of course,” Anthony said. “Not a problem.”

Nathan Sanitini had developed this simple business ‘front’ while Cory was still in diapers. He’d grown up in the “business” and heard his father and others recite the details many times over that sometimes he almost believed it himself as he watched them pull the wool over the eyes of the authorities. Nathan had been meticulous, leaving nothing to chance. The business was registered, and could actually be ran as such if they were ever inclined to go legit.

“What vehicle were you and Mr. O’Riley transporting from New York?” Cobb looked at Cory.

“A 2015 Maserati Gran Turismo.”

“And what price was the buyer paying?” he asked.

“One hundred and ninety-five thousand,” Cory told him.

Cobb raised an eyebrow. “Is that standard for the Maserati?”

“Typically they sell for a hundred-thirty to a hundred-eighty thousand,” Cory said. “But the clients we deal with aren’t selling off-the-lot cars. They are pimped out, finely tuned vehicles –worth well above show room floor prices.”

Cobb nodded and added it to his notes, then raised his eyes again. “Where were you scheduled to meet the buyer?”

“At his home,” Cory said.

“So how did you end up at the warehouse?”

Before any of them went out on a job, their stories were laid out and rehearsed ahead of time in the event that the police became involved. “We received a call from the buyer, directing us downtown to the warehouse.”

“His reason?”

“He was looking into buying the block as a business venture. He is a very busy man and doing business overseas quite regularly, so with his limited time, he had to conduct both deals on the same night.”

“I see,” Cobb murmured. “And what happened when you arrived at the warehouse.”

“We were told he would be inside the building with the warehouse owner and to meet him in there.”

“And you weren’t at all suspicious that this might not be on the level?” Cobb asked.

“We were,” Cory admitted. “Which is why we parked the car a block away and walked in, taking our weapons with us for protection.”

“And when you entered the warehouse…” Cobb went on. “…What happened then?”

As the lie began to merge with the truth, Cory’s throat knotted and he lowered his eyes as tears formed. “Shay was shot. No warning. Then me.”

“You didn’t see the shooter?”

“No,” Cory murmured and blinked back the tears. “I lost consciousness as soon as I was shot.”

Cobb cleared his throat. “Two meditated murders seems excessive over a car.”

“A
two hundred thousand dollar
car,” Anthony reminded. “People have killed for a hell of a lot less. Of course, as a detective, I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

Detective Cobb stared at Anthony dryly. “Yes, I
am
aware of that, Mr. Romero.” He shifted and a spear of sunlight stabbing through partially closed blinds glanced off his badge, briefly blinding Cory –and he suddenly remembered the forgotten detail.

“So the buyer double-crossed you?” Cobb looked at Cory. “Is that your deduction?”

“We haven’t yet deduced anything, detective,” Anthony said. “My son just got out of surgery.” He glanced at Cory then looked at Cobb. “And he needs his rest. So if you could postpone any more questions till later, then that would be greatly appreciated.”

Cobb nodded slowly and closed his notepad. “Of course. But I will need the client and buyer forms as soon as possible. And their contact information.”

“I will get those to you right away,” Anthony said.

“Thank you.” Cobb moved to the door. “I will speak to you again.” He exited the room.

Anthony sighed and smiled. “Easy as pie.” His smile faltered as Cory’s brow tightened. “Son, what is it?”

Raising his eyes, Cory murmured, “I remember what I had forgotten before…about the shooter.”

Anthony glanced at the others then back to Cory. “What do you remember?”

Cory licked his lips slowly. “When he shot me,” he said quietly. “The gunfire…it glinted off something metal on his chest.” His stare drifted around the small group. “I think it might have been…a badge.”

♦

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “Do you think Cory could be right?” he murmured. “That the shooter might be a cop?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Cochise mumbled as his face turned to the passenger window. “We haven’t fucked with any cops.”

Exhaling low and deep, Clint rubbed his mouth. “Maybe the gunfire glinted off a button on his coat. Cory just saw the quick flash. It could’ve been anything.”

“Maybe. But we can’t afford to take chances.” His face tightened. “We’ve lost too much as it is.”

Clint looked out the driver side window. “Yeah,” he whispered and opened his door.

Though it was slipping into late afternoon, Anthony and Angelo had driven back home to grab some extra clothes and personal items. Deciding to drive back early the next morning, they offered their motel room to Clint and Cochise for the night.

Clint sat down on the end of one of the twin beds, but as emotionally drained as he was, he had his doubts that sleep would come. Every night for the last few days, he had fallen asleep in Axel’s bed…in Axel’s arms. And in that short time, he’d grown accustomed to the comfort that Axel’s presence provided. More than accustomed. It had started to feel like something he couldn’t live without. That he
didn’t want
to live without.

He tugged off his boots and set them aside –and tried to resist the ache coiling around his heart. With the loss of Shay, and the scare over Cory…Clint needed Axel’s embrace more than ever right now. He rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head, combing his fingers through his hair. A small knot formed in his throat and he struggled to swallow it.

I did the right thing. For everyone.

Did it always hurt this bad to do the “right thing”? The instant he’d walked back into Cory’s room and saw his face, he knew that Axel was in bad shape.
You promised him you would never hurt him.
Tears started to form and he forced them back when the bathroom door opened and Cochise stepped out into the room. Clint didn’t look at him. He could feel the wetness in his eyes –feel the
pain
in his eyes.

God, what happened to you? You used to be this badass motherfucker and now you’re breaking down like some weak lovesick fool? You better get your fucking act together or you’ll be the next body lying in the morgue.

Cochise walked to the other bed and sat on the edge, removing his shoes. Clint felt the weight of the man’s eyes on him, and the pain of his loss that he refused to let show.

“I’m sorry,” Clint whispered. “Shay shouldn’t have been there.” He licked his lips slowly as he stared at the floor, the carpet swimming. “I talked to him…just before they went out on the job.” The knot in Clint’s throat swelled as their phone conversation replayed through his mind and Shay’s lighthearted voice –
I love you, too!
–tearing through his heart.
Repeat after me. I. Love. You. Easy as pie.
Clint sniffed and cleared his throat. “I loved him, too,” he said quietly, a tightness to his unsteady voice. “You’re not the only one who lost him. I didn’t need you to tell me it was my fault. I
knew
that.”

The Egyptian slid back on the bed and laid down. “What’s done is done,” he murmured stiffly. “Can’t change it. Now we focus on finding the motherfucker who shot them.”

Clint nodded, his eyes on the floor.

“Are you?” Cochise asked.

“What?”

“Focused,” Cochise said, a trace of hardness in his tone. “Because you don’t look focused. You look like you’re still distracted. Maybe you need to decide once and for all who’s most important to you.”

Clint stood fast and rigid. “I already
fucking
decided,” he shot back. “I dealt with it, so get off my
fucking
back.” Long, stiff strides took him outside with a slam of the door behind him.

♦

Kane had done his damnedest to put the Egyptian out of his mind, repeatedly steering clear of thoughts on the phone call. But rather than getting easier, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to quiet the questions as to why the man would choose to call him if something
was
wrong. Cochise had no personal interest in him. Kane was fairly certain that the Egyptian had a stash of men at his ready for spontaneous, on-demand fuck-fests.

And you’ve just been added to that list. Way to go –what a positive, moral role model for Zoe.

Luckily, the only “encounter” Zoe was aware of was the first one. She didn’t know about the minor incident in the parking lot, and she sure as hell didn’t know about the kitchen fiasco. Although she would surely
greatly
approve –God help him –it was still his actions that were telling her is was okay to be a slave to her base desires and lusts. That wasn’t the message he wanted to reflect back to her.

For all his mental “moral pep talks” though, the Egyptian remained strong on his mind. Not just the recent phone call –but everything concerning him. Laid out on the kitchen table, the man on top of him, grinding their hard members together –Kane had been his for the taking. And
fuck
, he’d wanted the man to
take
him.
Hard
.

When Kane failed to show any more enthusiasm in his lunch or dinner as he had in breakfast, Zoe became more insistent that he talk to her. For an eighteen year old –and oftentimes an overly bubbly eighteen year old –Zoe was very mature and understood much about life, which had made it easy to be open and honest with her in the past. But this was an all-new situation. And an unsettling, uncomfortable one to be discussing with a teenage girl.

“Come on, Uncle Kane.” Zoe sat across the table from him. “Tell me what’s going on with you. Is this about your spontaneous fling the other night?”

Kane groaned and raked his hair.

“What’s the problem?” she asked seriously. “Either it’s done and over with, or it isn’t. And if it isn’t, then maybe…”

Kane looked up. “Maybe
what?
”

She smiled and shrugged. “Maybe you should give it a chance and see where it takes you.” Her smile widened. “He could be your one true love. Anything’s possible.”

“Not that,” Kane shook his head. “What happened between us was…not everlasting.”

“But you were still thinking about him afterwards.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You
messaged
him, Uncle Kane,” Zoe reminded. “And said some…fairly sexual things. I’d say he was on your mind.”