Dirty Money (17 page)

“Not when you own it.”

“Oh, right.”

When we came to a stop, I got out and went around to the back door. After opening it, I held out a hand to help Alexis out of the limo. She smiled very briefly at me. A second car of her men was parked in front of us. The sound of car doors slamming echoed through the parking structure. Sal and I stood close on either side of Alexis, and two more men who each had a foot and about two hundred pounds on us, came up to shadow behind. We all wore nearly matching overcoats. Adorable. In front of us, just past the cloud of our frozen breath and Sal’s cigar smoke, a similar group of men waited to meet Alexis. She held out a hand to the one in front, the shine from her heavy pinkie ring was no match for the bling on his hand, but hers had a certain amount of delicacy and class, where his was just gaudy.

I was curious what exactly was going on, what crime I’d be accomplice to this time. Sal had only told me basics―stand by Alex, square your shoulders, keep your coat open for easy gun access, be quiet. That was it. If I thought I was going to get more information, I was wrong. After a greeting in English, Alexis and the guy she was meeting broke into a rapid exchange in a language I didn’t recognize.

From what I could tell, based on their tones alone, the meeting went well. At first. Halfway in, the dude Alexis was talking to became visibly agitated. His men started shuffling their feet and glancing nervously at each other. Next to me, Sal’s jaw tightened. Alexis, however, was unmoved.

“I’m sorry, that’s the best I can offer.” Finally, something I could understand.

He spat an answer back at her. One word. And I was guessing it wasn’t a nice one.

Alexis shifted back into whatever language they were speaking, and I caught some more not so nice words, this time from her gorgeous mouth. He came back with a litany of some sort. She slowly shook her head.

One of the other guys put his hand into his coat. Sal and I copied the movement. My Beretta felt warm in my cold palm. Behind us, I heard our other two guys do the same. Very subtly, Sal took a step forward and guided Alexis a half step behind him. She placed a hand on his forearm to restrain him.

“Come.” Alexis pointed to a spot a few yards from us. “Let’s make this a little more private.”

The dude didn’t look happy at being told what to do, but with a glance between her men and his own, he nodded.

After a few minutes of fast, quiet whispering, they finally shook hands, turned, and went back to their respective cars. Again, I held the door for Alexis, handed her in, then joined Sal up front.

“See?” Sal spoke once we were back on the road. “You stand there, look scary, and that’s it. Now we go home.”

“What language were they speaking?”

“Russian.”

“For real? Could you understand what they were saying?” Sacramento had a fairly high Russian population, but I’d never heard it spoken before.

“Some of it. But I try not to listen,” he said.

“If my job is to look menacing, maybe I should start working out.” I wasn’t serious.

“It’s not about muscle. We have guns. Muscle is kinda pointless, you know?”

“So what’s it about?”

“Looking like you mean business.”

Descriptive. Thanks for that great advice.

We drove north in silence, presumably toward Alexis’s house. Not surprisingly, the place we stopped in front of was brick and all old money looking. The inside probably was designed to be modern and comfortable while maintaining the clear history of the house. I imagined one room would have a classic bar, small, but art deco, reminiscent of the late twenties. Alexis would sit in front of one of her many fireplaces with an old school cocktail from said bar, a sidecar, in a dressing gown, silk, to contemplate her day of felonies. Then, only then, would she light a slim cigar, Cuban, and think about tomorrow’s felonies.

“Are you walking her to the door?” Sal broke in on my reverie. He looked at me all expectantly.

“Oh, right. I got it.” Quickly, I climbed out and went around to Alexis’s door.

“Thank you, Cooper.” Alexis took my arm as I led her up the steps as if she were some fragile woman. “Come in for a drink?” she asked as she slid her key into the lock.

“I’d better not.” I smiled to let her know it was nothing personal.

She smiled back, fleetingly. “Good night then.”

“Good night.” I waited until the door closed then returned to the limo.

That was it. Really. My life for months, though it seemed much longer. Alexis would attend meetings, some in boardrooms, some in dark alleyways, parking garages, warehouses, even one on a wet dock. I would accompany her. Sal was usually there. So were the thick-necked dudes. Some meetings I wasn’t invited to. Same with Sal. We were all varying degrees of interchangeable.

Alexis and I dined together sometimes, but she never asked me to come in again. I was sort of relieved at that.

Sometimes, I’d get a phone call, always inexplicably at three in the morning, from Esau. He’d spirit me away to some random city to invent new kinds of pain for some poor dude who’d sneezed incorrectly in front of the wrong person. His victims were always depraved in some way. Or depraved according to Esau. Theft wasn’t enough. Hell, murder wasn’t enough. I realized, months later, that his reason for killing Caruso had been the perceived disrespect to the DiGiovannis. Esau was like that, he followed his own little code. He didn’t kill for the pleasure of it. That’s what the torture was for. But the kill he didn’t enjoy.

Specific details of his process were unchanging. The Thai food and beer was one. He liked to enjoy a leisurely meal while his victim sweated. In between bouts of pain, he’d have another beer. I watched too many men break from the suggestion of pain. Esau loved that. Romance.

Other details differed. His method of torture was never the same. Thematically similar, maybe. But it was always tailored to the victim, their crime, the information Esau wanted. It wasn’t always physical. I spent one very long night in a room plastered with photos of a sixteen-year-old girl. Esau caressed the photographs as he spoke. He detailed in every touch what might happen to her if her father didn’t submit. The girl was orphaned by morning.

The killing never changed. Always with a single bullet. Back of the head. I learned to keep my distance, but my Chucks still went from gray to rusty brown. Just like Reese’s eyes.

I got a sad little apartment. It was my first away from home and nothing like it should have been. No Ryan. No Reese. No Austin or Carson or Derek to leave beer bottles on the table. My dad wasn’t there to move in my non-existent furniture. Adriana wasn’t there to complain that it was too small. My mom didn’t come over to do my laundry. Some milestone.

I recreated my lesfic library. It had been lost somewhere between EDH and San Felipe. Reading was the only thing that kept my mind from wandering. If that happened, I might think about what Alexis’s meetings were about. I might start to make sense of the coded language used. I might begin to wonder what I was contributing to.

I might think about Reese. That couldn’t happen.

Of course, that was only when I went back to my joke of a home. Most the time, I walked the streets late at night. Probably not smart, but better than sitting in an empty apartment gazing at the bare walls. Sleeping was a luxury I knew I couldn’t afford. I still had the dream, but now it was populated with an audience of all the men I’d watched Esau kill. Every night, it was like dying just a little bit. Not enough to kill me, and it damn sure wasn’t making me stronger. Just enough to know I was dying.

I wished I had a photo. Any photo. One of Reese. But I would have been happy with one of Ryan. Or anyone. Even Derek. Even Adriana. Then I might have known it was real, that life I’d been living. Without those gentle reminders, it was all just a nightmarish haze so it felt like this had been my entire life.

I’d given up on finding the twins. They were in Thailand by now. Or Peru. It didn’t matter. They weren’t here. They’d moved on. And that was what hurt worst of all. Vito’s plan was going to fail. He didn’t know it yet, but I did. They weren’t going to take the bait.

Late one night, I got a call. I was expecting Esau because of the hour. It was Alexis.

“Bobby will be there in ten minutes to pick you up.”

“You realize it’s two in the morning?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll see you soon.”

I said good-bye, but she’d already hung up. Urgent. That should have been a bad sign, but I didn’t notice. For me, it was just on the bad end of a bad scale.

I took a fast shower, tried to clear my sleep-deprived mind a little, pulled out a suit the color of Alexis’s eyes when she was mad. Bobby pounded on my door as I was tucking in my shirt.

“Bobby?”

“Yeah.”

I unlocked the door. “Come in. I’m almost ready.”

He opened the door, but hesitated on the threshold. “We gotta go, man.”

“I know.” Hurriedly, I closed my belt. “Grab my jacket out of the closet.” I pulled on my Chucks.

“Which one?”

“The one that matches the pants.” He looked confused, though to be fair, he always looked that way. “The dark blue.” I did a superficial check of my Beretta before settling it into my holster.

He tossed the jacket to me. I shrugged it on and grabbed my overcoat as he pulled the door shut behind me.

“So what’s going on?” I asked once we were in the car.

“Coke deal.” There went my moral code. “They didn’t bring all the money, but still wanted the kilos. Dom called Alex and she got pissed.”

“So she’s going to make an example of them?” Fuck that shit.

Bobby shrugged. A gargantuan task considering the width of his shoulders.

We got to the warehouse a whopping sixty seconds before Sal and Alexis did. Dominic was yelling at a dude about twice his size. At first, I was surprised no one had their guns out, but then I realized they’d been relieved of their weapons at the door.

“Hey,” Bobby yelled out. “Everyone calm the fuck down.”

Bobby was real good with crowd control.

“Who the fuck are you?” the guy facing off with Dominic asked.

“He’s one of mine, Caleb,” Alexis explained as she strode toward him. She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t hurry, just walked purposefully toward him. “Now please tell me Dom was mistaken when he told me you asked for free product.” Casually, she unbuttoned her wool suit jacket revealing she wore no gun, as if this guy didn’t warrant the effort.

Where the hell were her coat and gloves? This warehouse was freezing. It wasn’t Sal’s job to make sure she was clothed, but I still felt like he’d failed in some fundamental way by letting her out when she wasn’t properly dressed.

“Well?” Alexis questioned Caleb again when he didn’t answer immediately.

As she walked past, I hurried to fall into place beside her. Sal did the same.

“Don’t give me shit, DiGiovanni. We always deliver.” Caleb didn’t seem to know if he was angry or begging, so he settled on irritated.

“Apparently not.” Alexis flicked a hand in the direction of the cash her men were counting on a nearby table.

“We’re good for it and you know it.”

“This isn’t a pawn shop. We don’t do loans.” Her eyes went from electric to dark in a second.

Between the two of them, I wasn’t sure who was more insulted.

“Why are you always such a cold bitch?” His eyes scanned her as he said it. Like her power over his livelihood meant nothing when compared to that body. The lovely Miss DiGiovanni did seem to have that effect.

“That’s it.” Alexis snapped her fingers at her men. “Dom, give them their change back. Pack it up, boys. We won’t be selling to Caleb anymore.”

Caleb’s face went white then turned all red and blotchy.

“Remember this in the future. Tell your friends. If you disrespect me then we simply won’t do business with you.” She spoke all slow in that husky tone.

“You tell ’em,” Bobby grumbled encouragingly.

“Fuck that shit,” Caleb said. It only took him a second to draw the knife. The dim overhead lights caught on the blade as he lunged at Alexis.

I didn’t really think, just moved. I picked her up like I’d done three months back, the first time I met her, pivoted and covered her body with my own. Her eyes locked onto mine, bluer than fucking any shade I’d ever seen. Sal tackled both of us, but not before I heard the tear of the knife.

From the pile the three of us made on the floor, I could see Bobby take Caleb down with a single shot. Above us, men materialized on the walkways ringing the second floor. The bright flashes from their weapons were strangely silent. Within moments, all of Caleb’s men were down, some silently twitching, others writhing and screaming until they caught a second bullet.

“Alex, Alex.” Sal started running his hands over Alexis as she lay stretched out on top of me. “Are you okay? Did he get you?”

“I’m fine. Get the hell off me.”

“Yeah, got it.” He pushed himself up and then helped Alexis to her feet. “How about you, Cooper?”

“I’m okay, just give me a hand.”

Sal pulled me to my feet. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I pulled Alexis closer to me and did the same as Sal had, ran my hands across her torso.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” I stared at the blood on my hand. It was dripping down my knuckles.

“Shit, fuck.” Sal reached for my coat and tried to strip it off my shoulders.

“What are you doing? Alexis is hit.” I tried to push him away.

“Where did he get you, honey?” Alexis had Sal guide me back to the ground.

“He didn’t,” I insisted. “He just got my coat.” For some reason, that really irritated me. I liked this jacket. It was warm and long and the collar stood up just right to keep the wind out.

“No. He got you.”

“I’m fine, really. See?” I ran my hand along my sleeve to find the hole, but when I pulled away, my other hand was covered in blood too. “But he didn’t get me.” Sure, my arm was on fire, but it didn’t make sense. I would have felt getting stabbed. I would have felt it.

“Lay back.” Alexis pushed me down. “Sal, get the car.”