Deadly Alliance (9 page)

Amy stood over an older woman and put out a hand to leverage her up. “Did you hit your head?”

“Did I land on my head? No. I landed hard on my seater-rumpus.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Amy asked.

“Two.”

“Good.” When Amy took the woman’s hands, they felt rough. “You skinned your palms.”

“Stings a bit. No worries. I’m Dolly Pugh.” She brushed leaves from her coat. “My dog, Sweet Pea, ran off.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. My name is Amy Kintyre. Saw a couple of guys running past.” Amy walked behind her. “Let me pull this bramble off.” Dolly’s full-zip fleece was Amy’s trail-ready design.

“Wish I landed on my elbows. This coat has leather elbow pads.”

Yes, it does
.
“Did you see two guys running?”

“Thugs knocked me down. Didn’t even say excuse me.”

“Running? From what?”

“A guy with a gun.” Dolly’s shoulders stiffened.

“What did the guy look like?”

“He looked like a predator in a ball cap. Held a Kel-Tec semi-automatic.” Dolly held up her cell. “I reported it to the police.”

“You know your guns.”

“I used to work dispatch for the PD. One wall had posters of every weapon imaginable.”

“Oh, a Kel-Tec.” Amy gasped.

“The gun means something to you.”

Amy said, “I knew someone who was shot with one.”

“It’s the lightest and flattest pistol ever mass-produced. The perfect concealed weapon.” A penciled-on eyebrow rose.

“Does horrible damage.” Amy remembered. A 9mm Luger cartridge split off a section of Les’ head.

“Something else about the Kel-Tec,” the former dispatcher said. “The gun’s metallic texture doesn’t hold fingerprints.” A flicker of concern crossed Dolly’s expression. “That guy? Looked like a regular college kid. Before that, I walked past another gentleman.”

“What about him?”

“Just taking a hike, I guess. Recognized him from the news. A few years back the cops wanted to arrest him for indecent exposure.”

“Did they?” Amy asked.

“Nope. Mooning inside a private office isn’t grounds.”

Flashes of Les images went off in her mind. There and gone, she panted. “The guy with the gun might still be around.”

“He’s not after me. I’m heading back home. Sweet Pea will be waiting for me on my porch. The little sneak.” She looked down the hill. “By golly, there he is, playing in the leaves.”

“Can I walk you down?” Amy examined Dolly, who seemed to be calm at the sight of her dog.

“No thank you, dear.” Dolly’s voice was clipped. “My condo at Straight Arrow is within smelling distance. I’m making lasagna.”

Amy sniffed. “Mmmm. With spinach and scallions?”

Dolly sighed. “Hope it isn’t burned. I’m expecting a dinner guest.”

“Don’t you mean a lunch guest?”

“No, dinner. I’ll warm it in the microwave.” Dolly glanced at her watch. “Have to catch the senior bus. We’re heading for an art show at the Saddleback Inn.”

“In the tent?” Amy asked.

“Yes. My niece is their new curator.”

“Have fun.” Amy tried to let go of her protective instincts. “The moss is slippery. Be careful, Dolly.”

“I will. If you see those thugs, give them a couple of hard pinches in the butt.”

“Sure thing.” As she turned, she sent a text message to both Finn and Bayliss telling them about a young man in the woods with a Kel-Tec and the two beards. Thinking about the third guy gave her a headache. As she shuffled along, she heard a ping. Finn.

His message warned her to stay under the radar.

She texted K and made her way back to the hikers’ path. Hazy light slanted through trees and highlighted the tattered orange and red leaves. She was under the radar and emerging from the life of a tattered wallflower. She kicked twigs aside, stepped over stones, and made her way like the force of change she knew herself to be. Moments ago, she gave Dolly a helping hand, and in turn, her heart swelled and lightened. Once she arrived on the path, it took her eyes a few minutes to adjust to brighter light.

Everyone stared at her.

“Who screamed?” Bayliss asked. Erring on the side of caution, she didn’t not ask about the guys in the woods.

Amy forced a smile. “A woman from Straight Arrow Assisted Living slipped. She was looking for her cocker spaniel.”

Spencer chuckled. “Sweet Pea?”

“You know her dog?” Amy asked.

“Sure do,” Spencer said. “Dolly gets a senior discount for the fine. The shelter tells her to get him fixed.”

“Aww, my fiancé volunteers at the shelter.” Cassidy wound an arm around Spencer’s waist. “We’re looking forward to a blissful life walking little rescues.”

“Sweet,” Amy said, but her fingers tingled. Something horrible happened yesterday. More could, but she refused to have a panic attack. Breathing in and out, she gained control. “Sorry for the delay. When we round those boulders, listen for the waterfall.”

Brown-eyed Tori said, “The sky is so blue up here.”

“Makes you want to cry it’s so blue,” Vivienne teased.

* * *

The hike ended, and Bayliss summed it up. “Spectacular. One view looked like stained glass!”

“When I’m right, I’m right.” Amy said.

“Beautiful,” Vivienne said, but then made a sudden dash to Bayliss’ side. “Look who’s here!” She focused on a woman standing next to the Onyx Summit sign.

At ten feet away the woman’s persona was demanding.

“Oh no! Your mom.”

Tori fell in beside Vivienne.

Bayliss’ mouth hung open. “Mrs. Rourke?”

The woman wore the darkest purple lipstick she’d ever seen. “You tell my shit-ass daughter and niece to get their lazy asses over here. Good for nothings!” Her message was clear, but she slurred her words.

“Drinking isn’t good for you, Mrs. Rourke.” Bayliss’ psychoanalyst voice lulled the wildest psychos to sleep. “Your daughter and your niece are staying at Bearwood.”

Amy experienced massive sweating of the armpits. She sent Finn a message. “Your mother, Fiona Rourke, is here.” As she typed she felt the pulse of her heartbeats in the pad of her thumb.

“Come with me now!” Mrs. Rourke saw it her way and spoke with a determined set of her mouth.

Moving in front of the girls, Bayliss stood solid. “Not today.”

Mrs. Rourke swayed and waved a bottle of Bombay Sapphire. “Vivienne, your father was shot. Where the hell is Sean?”

“I don’t know, mother.” Vivienne glanced around the quiet woods.

“Tori?” Mrs. Rourke’s voice grated.

Tori shrugged. “University of Riverside is my guess.”

Amy walked up to Mrs. Rourke. The woman’s smell hit her, and her stomach rolled. Her salt and pepper hair fell in greasy strings around a grayish complexion. “Mrs. Rourke, you, your daughter, and niece, need protection.”

A trail of spittle sat at the corner of the woman’s mouth. “From that Arab gang, you mean?”

“They take hostages,” Amy said. “You’re in danger of kidnapping.”

With her back turned, Bayliss was on her cell.

Avery, on his cellphone, looked directly at Bayliss. A second later, they clicked off at the same time. Avery paced toward Mrs. Rourke and took her elbow. “Ever eaten at the Mandarin Garden, ma’am?”

“Yes, dear. It’s the only Asian joint on the mountain.”

“You’ve tried their steamed dumplings?” Avery’s invitation just might work.

“You’re so damn endearing.” Mrs. Rourke’s voice dropped to softness, but shot Vivienne a lethal stare. “I’ve been so alone. I’d like a little company.”

“I’m sorry, Mother.”

Amy knew the restaurant, off the beaten path in the village of Blue Jay, a good place to tuck someone away. To ease tension, Amy reached for a pine branch, broke off a sprig, and smelled its freshness. With an hour to kill before driving to Finn’s place, she glanced at a coffee hut next to the kayak rental slips. “Anyone up for coffee?”

“Heck, yeah,” Cassidy said with Spencer in tow.

A redhead came up the path. “Drat! I missed the hike.”

“Brooke!” Amy gave Finn’s receptionist a brief hug. “You didn’t miss coffee.”

Brooke held up a plastic bag. “I found your earring.”

Amy stepped back, stunned. “Oh, Brooke. Let me buy your coffee.” After all that had happened, Brooke boosted her confidence in human nature.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Amy thought of another way to pay her back. “Would you like to join us tomorrow? We’re sorting through prom dresses for Bearwood Closet.”

“Gosh, yes.”

Amy didn’t think what people had, who they thought they were, or where they were necessarily made them happy. Doing something worthwhile with others was always uplifting.

When her relationship with Finn took a fizzling back road, she’d need friends to keep her going. She’d spent too many evenings curled into a corner of the sofa wrapped in Grandma’s afghan. Wondering and worrying over Les taught her something. The cycle of over-thinking becomes weirdly normal when you don’t get out with friends.

Bayliss married her white knight. Grandma and Granddad were enjoying a happily-ever-after. Amy fell for men who didn’t reciprocate. She didn’t need a man to feel successful.

Chapter Seven

Obscure but potent, that’s how Sean Rourke liked it. His weak eye, that one that bugged him, twitched. After his father’s beating, he orchestrated real life drama. Why not gain control?

A few hours ago, when tracking Lester Kelly, two knife-wielding recruits chased after the trickster. The nerve of Les never ceased to amaze him. This morning, after stealing Takbir’s cocaine, he tried to sell it to recruits.

To save Les’ ass once again, he pulled out his gun and used his Indiana Jones voice against them. “I ain’t got time for this bullshit.” His beef was not with Takbir unless they killed Les before he did. The aspiring jihadists dashed up the hill with their lives intact. They knocked down an old lady who made a call with her cell.

He guessed Les headed downhill. With every deal, he skimmed cream off the top, but Les wasn’t playing God. He was!

It all began after Sean overheard a bit of his family’s blarney, this time eloquent and true. A few years ago Les Kelly set up a secondary Edward Smithson account. Money laundering had never been easier, and the Roaches entrusted their hero with a map. For Les’ personal use, he siphoned money from his investment partnership. The Irish weren’t bothered until he stole from them. Bragging and greed got the best of Les. The Irish decided to hunt him down, and Sean grabbed one of their guns. When Waterfront Roaches go after someone, they Facebook, Instagram, tweet, and upload to YouTube. Scare tactics worked on Les, and the pathetic, nervous Nelly visited the bank.

Irish shooters tracked Les who parked and left his twin brother, Liam, in the car. Did the shooters not know about his autistic twin? Agitated was Liam’s middle name. Before Les returned, Liam stormed from the car in search of his brother.

What a stroke of luck! Twins, how convenient! Sean shot Liam, and the shooters assumed one of them took Les out. With all the commotion, Les slipped out a side entrance and fled down the alley.

Mistaken identity cost Liam his life. Les escaped with his. On the run from the Irish mob, he didn’t even have to fake his own death. The press had a heyday.
Random Drive-by Shooting. Lester Kelly Caught in the Cross Fire.
Now the cagey bastard faced his eleventh hour.

Sean pricked up his ears to rustling.

Behind him, a voice said, “Thanks for interceding.”

Sean turned to see Les, sloppy with his desire to live anew and walk in broad daylight. “You’re welcome. Swords are making the news. I felt the need to protect myself.” Sean shaved his beard. Omar al-Anbari understood his reasons for blending in. Heck of a lot of fun being a friend to so many.

“Have we met?”

“Maybe. I don’t know where.” Sean dismissed the idea of making an introduction. Being more or less dead, Les faced a challenge. With rival gangs after him, this was the wrong time for Les to birth himself.

Les gazed at Sean’s ball cap with the Scotty the Bear motif. “Go to Riverside?”

“Yeah, but taking a study break.” He lied. Taking the semester off allowed him to follow Les around.

Les asked, “Have family up here?”

“Doesn’t everybody?” Some believe blood is thicker than water. Family values are a snore. More powerful than fathers and sons is gang loyalty. Or in his case, self-loyalty and personal gain
.
“What about you? Have family?”

“A former girlfriend.”

“Hope it works out.” Sean didn’t think it would. With no contact, his girlfriend would be more angry than happy to see him. “Does she have a name?”

“You wouldn’t know her.”

“Probably not,” Sean slipped his hand into his jeans pocket and clutched Amy’s driver’s license.

“She proved herself worthy.” Turning, Les waved goodbye.

Worthy, what does it mean? Takbir considered themselves worthy. The Mexicans didn’t share their dedication to Allah’s cause. This made them unworthy. One of these days, Omar al-Anbari would challenge them to a sword fight, one by one. Omar enjoyed being the world’s greatest swordsman.

Some days Sean felt worthy. He liked spending time with his artsy girlfriend, Georgia. Other days, he felt nothing at all. Everyone lied about something. Everyone kept secrets, and he kept his from Georgia.

Les told Omar about the map. The Takbir leader got grumpy when he didn’t get his way. He turned on underlings, beating them into submission. Omar saved beheadings for infidels. Where was this map that pinpointed the Irish’s stash, Omar wanted to know. Les told him it was at his girlfriend’s place. Woot!

Sean got a boost of worthiness. He’d outsmart them all, get inside her place and come out with the map.

When all this was over, he might enjoy the changing fall colors on the East Coast or in Ireland.

* * *

Time was of the essence. Finn picked up Papa and left for Los Angeles at once.

“Plenty of leg room. Power to the gills.” Papa liked riding in his old GTO.

“How do you like your portable oxygen concentrator?” Finn brought the POC which took air and converted it into concentrated oxygen.

“Cool,” Papa said about the lightweight, compact tank. POCs ran on batteries lasting more than twelve hours. “If the batteries run low, we can plug into the car’s AC/DC adapter.”

“The best thing? Doesn’t need refilling.” Finn pulled to drive-up ATM machine to check his company balance. He saw the amount, the same as his deposit. Not having to tap into his savings was good, but his problems were bigger than money.

“Getting out cash?” Papa asked.

“Yeah.” Finn turned onto Plymouth Boulevard. “Thought we’d ask the Kellys to lunch.”

Papa leaned toward the dashboard clock. “We’re ninety minutes early.”

“Catching them off-guard is good. The early bird gets the worm.”

It wasn’t more than five minutes before Finn spotted their address on a bronze plaque. “This house is a McMansion.”

Papa squinted at the upscale home. “Rose and Dean Kelly had a one-story. Are you sure they still live here?”

Finn unbuckled his seatbelt. “Shall we find out?” He got out and stepped around to help his dad with his portable oxygen concentrator.

“Took more than a little love to transform their place.” Papa made his way along the brick herringbone pattern walkway.

“I’d say so.” Finn rang the doorbell.

When the door opened, Papa said, “Hello Rose. Didn’t hit much traffic.”

“I’m just tidying up. Come in.” Rose wasn’t alone. Behind her, Dean Kelly sat in his comfortable chair.

“Don’t get up.” Finn crossed the room to shake his hand. Papa followed his lead.

“Long time, no see.” Dean Kelly shook hands from his chair and looked as excited as a gravestone.

How do you excite a gravestone? Give it a corpse.

Les’ mother moved pillows to corners of a long sofa. “Sit.” She took a moment to speak with Papa about his COPD condition.

Finn said, “How about lunch at the Bungalow? Our treat.”

Rose turned toward her husband. “What do you think of that?”

Dean’s expression was flat. “I’m besotted with a problem.”

“Open up. Let’s hear it.” Finn noticed the man peering out the window.

Dean clutched the arms of his stuffed chair. His forehead went into a groping frown. “Rose made homemade macaroni and cheese. Let’s eat here.”

“Going out can be a miserable chore,” Papa the Charmer said. “Parking sucks over there. Besides, Rose gives better service.”

She blushed and dropped her head for a moment before heading to the kitchen.

Finn heard her banging about. Was she throwing together the casserole? The radio volume turned up.

“Dean, darling,” Rose yelled from the other side of swinging doors. “Can you move our guests to the dining room? I’ll bring in the tea.”

“Sure, we’ll chat there.” Dean struggled to lead the way. Soon the men sat at a formally appointed table.

“Here we are, dears.” Their hostess joined them, bearing scones, butter, and jam. She returned with a hot pot of tea.

“Your house, very nice.” Finn glanced at Dean, who leaned to light the gas fireplace before turning back around.

“We love our home.” Rose smiled with pride.

Papa said, “Expensive add-a-level.”

Dean’s eyebrows jumped. He picked up a fork with his softball-sized hands.

“Don’t be humble, sweetheart.” His wife turned to Finn. “He raised a son who made a splendid living. Of course you know all about that, Finbar.”

Finn’s anger bumped up a notch. Your son, the thief. “Company income went downhill after he was gone.” He gazed at a swan container on their mantle. It gnawed at his curiosity. “Is that an urn for ashes?”

Neither Rose nor Dean answered.

Papa cleared his throat. “Liam liked feeding swans at the pond.”

Finn noticed a photo of Amy, Spencer and Les. “They look like happy.” He found himself lifting his chin and puffing up his chest. A couple of days ago, he wouldn’t have turned into a strutting peacock. His face reddened, and he turned toward Rose. “What did you think of Amy?”

“In the beginning Amy was a nice toy for Les. Cute. Sweet. When she got pregnant, that was the end for Les.”

“So she told him?” Finn watched Les’ mother grimace at his question.

She nodded. “He mailed her a check for five hundred. She was still in her first trimester.”

“Kind of like removing a wart.” Finn said.

“Amy wanted to keep the baby. Maybe the stress made her miscarry, I don’t know. She broke it off with Les just before he was shot in the drive-by.” She threw up her hands.

Finn asked, “What about your other son?”

“Liam,” she said. “Don’t judge me.”

“Why would I?” Finn glanced back at the photo. “Spencer’s grown up now.”

“Soon to be married to Cassidy Holloway.” She shook her head. “Another gold digger.” Before she said more, the kitchen door slammed. “Oh my, must be the wind.” Rose stood abruptly.

“I’ll close it for you.” Finn dashed to the kitchen and looked toward a ravine. Branches held as still as stalks of wheat on a calm day. A bearded guy tossed a backpack over a low stone wall.

Finn raced down the steps. Vaulted across the lawn to catch up.

The guy was about to leap the wall.

Finn grabbed his jacket. “Dropping this off? Hand it over.”

The mid-twenties kid retrieved it. A laptop fell from his pack.

Takbir recruit. Finn patted him down, took the knife from its sheath, twirled the blade to get a better grip, and used his foot to shove him against the wall. “Don’t move.” On the other side of the wall, thick trees were spotty with lichen and smooth with moss. Gnarly branches caught pale light. Finn picked up the faint sound of a male voice followed by a couple of murmurs in reply. Perfect ambush.

The recruit jerked his head up and focused his eyes above Finn.

A shadow fell. Finn pivoted, dug the blade into the thigh of the recruit coming at him from behind. Coming from either side, he took out two more. A sideswipe punch to the jaw and an uppercut knocked them out. Finn fueled his speed and strength by bitter anger. He grabbed his cellphone, dialed 911, stated the need for an ambulance for the kid he knifed, and gave the address.

His peripheral vision alerted him to someone moving fast. He recognized the red beard of their leader Omar al-Anbari. Another robed man, about a click away, crept along. The ravine went silent. No gasp, no call, no feet ripping through undergrowth. Finn squatted on his haunches to debate his next step.

For the second time he pulled out his cell. This time he dialed Guhleman’s emergency line and left a voice message. “Got a situation. Omar al-Anbari is in the Kelly’s back yard. 1811 Plymouth.”

Less than five minutes passed when the ravine erupted with yelps of dogs and gunfire. Finn saw blinks of movement through tree trunks. Except for the four beside him, a handful of terrorists ran from police. When Finn heard the rumble of a motor, he knew they’d split ahead of the cops. Finn loaded the laptop back into the backpack.

A blue uniform and two paramedics came from the shade into the sunshine. “Donahue, you called!” the officer said. “Nobody, not even your buddy at the bureau, saw this coming.”

“Insane,” Finn said but in another way, the incident unfolded in a logical manner. Takbir joined a Mexican gang in order to take over Irish territory. To accomplish this, they needed an insider, a skilled dealmaker. Les fit the bill.

Paramedics loaded the injured recruit onto a stretcher. An officer cuffed the two who blacked out and asked, “What about him?”

“He’s coming with me. Give me fifteen minutes. Come back for him.” Finn looked down at the guy with the backpack. “Get up.” Finn wore the backpack and pushed him ahead.

They walked across the Kelly’s spacious enclosed courtyard with lush landscaping. More relaxed now, he noticed the custom stonework, wood-burning fireplace, and fountain. Did Les fund the masonry and structures?

Until Amy arrived, his life was all about his company’s drain. He’d gotten used to uneventful periods of nothingness. Occasional bursts, such as the gang bust at Burlie’s Jazz Club, enlivened things. You can leave the army, but what you know doesn’t leave you. Not ever.