Saint (26 page)

His blunt question stunned her for a
moment. “Matter of fact, I am.” She stepped aside and flung the door open, her
message clear. “Have a nice trip.”

He reached above her and pushed the door
shut, letting his gaze roam down her body and back up again. “Change my mind.”

“What?”

“Give me a reason to send Francis after
your friend instead of going myself.”

“I thought you were going after Hocksteder.”

“Not without that roster. Even though his
name’s not on it, it’s still leverage. Juarez’s partners won’t be so
predisposed to help him once they find out he stabbed them in the back.”

And he expected her to fall into his arms
just like that? “Ask Joan for directions to the nearest whorehouse. Better yet,
wait ’til you get to L.A. There, women there won’t expect you to do anything
more strenuous than hold out a hand full of money and grunt.”

The last thing she wanted was for Harris to
go to L.A. For any of them to go. “I’ll have my friend overnight the key. You
can get what you need from the Miami box.”

He shook his head, the right corner of his
mouth pulling upward. But the chilling smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Too risky.”

“Those are my terms.”

“Have it your way. But you better hope I
find her before Juarez does.”

* * * * *

“Change of plans,” Seth informed the group
in the study. “Joan, cut the phone line. Now.”

When Joan finished the task and Gabe was
stationed at the bottom of the stairs, he lit a cigarette and started. “Francis,
your Angelface has decided to play hardball.” He explained what Maria had told
him about the roster. “The three of you are going to L.A. Track every bank until
you find one with her safety deposit box. Whoever’s listed next in line on the
clearance list has the key. Get it. I want that list. Tell Gabe to pull out his
fireworks, slap the DEA’s name on them and blow something up of Juarez’s.”

* * * * *

It was past midnight when the door to Seth’s
room opened. He was leaning against the headboard, smoking and waiting.

She kicked the door shut, unconcerned with
the resulting echo. When she spoke her voice shook with fury. “Do you enjoy
manipulating me?”

Seth dragged on his cigarette. “Not
particularly, no. But you didn’t leave me much choice.”

“You ran a game on me. You threatened to go
after Juarez just to get a confession out of me.”

“A confession that will save your life. You
didn’t actually think I’d let you warn your friend we were coming?”

Apparently, she had. “There’s no reason to
waste time going to L.A. She can send the key here. Why isn’t that good enough
for you?”

“I prefer surprise visits, they’re much
more informative.”

“I don’t want her involved. She’s sticking
her neck out as it is.”

He blew a jet stream of smoke into the air
and watched it billow upward through a shaft of moonlight. “While you’re
busting my balls over the details, Juarez is searching for a way to bring you
to your knees. Unless you give me a name, he stands a good a chance of getting
to her before we do. He’s not stupid, Maria. He’ll run your bank records, just
like we’re going to do, and eventually come up with a winner.”

Her mouth thinned. The door slammed behind
her again as she left.

* * * * *

“Maria.” Francis eyed her sternly as she
entered the living room, where the group was gathered. “This habit of keeping
secrets ’til the last minute has got to stop. How do you expect us to help you
if you won’t cooperate?”

“You can’t just barge in on her like a
bunch of thugs. It would be nice if all of you would consider cooperating with
me
for a change. I know what I’m
doing. I don’t want you scaring the bejesus out of her. She’s a very nice
woman.”

Gabriel was busy digging around in his
duffel. “Spit it out, sister. Who is this chick?”

“She was a source for a series of articles
I did last summer.”

“On what?”

“Never mind what.”

“Are you gonna get around to a name anytime
soon, Angel?”

“Uh…well…I don’t exactly know her real
name. She works the night shift, so if you want to talk to her you’ll have to
ask for her at work, by her stage name.”

“Jesus, Mary and Josephine!” Gabriel threw
her a disgusted look. “Just tell us what you do know.”

“Stage name?”

“She’s in the entertainment business.”

“She a movie star?”

“Movie stars don’t work the night shift,
Joan,” Francis commented.

Apparently, Gabriel found what he was
looking for in the duffel. He sat on the couch and balanced the square piece of
clay on his legs to fiddle with the wires.

Maria leaned over his shoulder. “Is that a
bomb?”

“Not if you’re gonna start a brouhaha about
it, it isn’t.”

“Yes it’s a bomb.” Harris put a hand on her
shoulder and spun her back around. “Stop stalling. What’s her name?”

“Lolita.”

Francis pulled a cigarette from the pack in
his shirt pocket and lit up, inhaling deeply. “Where can I find her?”

“Calypso’s,” she told him. “There’s only
one, just ask anybody where it is.”

“She works at a bar?”

“Something like that.”

“I need details, Angelface. Spill it.” Blue
smoke curled upward around the preacher’s dark head.

Maria switched her gaze up at the ceiling,
chewing the edge of her lip. “She’s an exotic dancer.”

“You mean she’s a stripper,” Gabriel corrected.

They could call it whatever they wanted.
Lolita had a heart of gold and she had agreed to protect the most precious
thing left to Maria, no questions asked. “So what if she’s a stripper? There
are worse things in life to be. I can think of four offhand.” She turned on her
heel and left them to do what they did best, plan their next raid.

* * * * *

Los Angeles

The exquisite Ming vase went flying from
the table. “What do you mean they’re all dead and the woman is missing? Do I
have nothing but incompetent fools on my payroll?”

Jared heard Benito’s raging tone and knew
Nina’s newly wedded bliss was fast fading. His contact had finally come up with
the reason for it. Maria Carvania was a thorn in Juarez’s side. She was set to
testify against him in less than a month, though rumor had it through the
agency grapevine the case was weak. So why was Juarez so warped out of shape?

Jared had spent the last six months
undercover, infiltrating Juarez’s ring, and still hadn’t been able to catch him
making any deals. Nina had been his last hope. When things weren’t going well
between her and Benito, she tended to talk. But as soon as that wedding ring
went on her finger the Venezuelan beauty had clammed up.

Maybe now that Benito was spending most of
his time worrying over Maria Carvania’s whereabouts, he might be able to get
somewhere with Nina.

That night she came to him out past the
garden where he was on guard duty. Her face was bruised, her mouth swollen
where Benito’s fist had smashed against it. As usual, she made excuses for the
violent behavior.

“It’s the woman. She is driving him to
this. If she were dead, I could be happy.”

“Until the next one comes along?” He knew
he was walking a fine line with her at the moment by the glitter in her dark
eyes.

“I am his wife. He loves me. He will not
leave me. But this woman, she taunts him. She does not respect his power.”

“Of course he wouldn’t leave you. I guess I
just don’t understand why he wants her dead. He’s powerful enough to buy
freedom if he chooses. You worry too much, Nina. She’s only one woman. What can
she do?”

“She can hurt me. Take away everything I
love.”

“How?”

But she was done talking. She wanted his
friendship. Wanted to be petted. Jesus, he didn’t know who was more twisted,
Benito Juarez or the mistress-cum-wife. Nina thought love consisted of pain and
degradation, while friendship was pleasing another man sexually in an almost
childlike demeanor.

Didn’t kids grow up normally anymore? He
reasoned Benito had probably taken Nina out of a life of misery at a young age,
where she was abused or mistreated, and she looked on him as her savior. A god
to be revered, catered to, worshipped.

For months he’d teetered between being Nina’s
friend and thinking up new excuses to avoid doing drugs like the others. What
really amazed him was the fact Benito didn’t yet suspect what was going on
right beneath his nose.

“Perhaps we should wait,” he suggested. “Your
mouth is bruised. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can please you in other ways.”

God, he didn’t even want to think about
that.

When Benito stepped out of the shadows,
Jared knew he wouldn’t have to.

Chapter Twelve

Mississippi

Francis sat in the winged chair, wondering
why Maria had suddenly decided to tell Harris about her friend and this list.
He’d just finished wheedling yet another piece of gum from Joan. It hadn’t been
easy, Joan could be stingy with the hooch-gum when it suited him. Francis
popped the stick of gum into his mouth and chewed. “Why do I have the feeling
this trip to L.A. isn’t going to be as simple as Maria claims?”

“Why would you think that?” Gabriel said
sarcastically. “Up ’til now she’s been a regular Girl Scout.” He stopped his
fiddling with the clay bomb on his lap. “What I want to know is what’s this,
er, Lolita, getting out of all this? People don’t just up and do something for
nothing.”

“Women do,” Francis said. “You’re married,
you ought to know by now women do things for other women because of some cosmic
connection men can’t understand. I’m thinking it can’t hurt to do a little
reconnoitering while we’re there.”

“Whatever.” The Texan shrugged. “I’m just
going along for the pleasure of blowing up something. And just because I’m
married doesn’t mean I understand the whims of women. You don’t either, you
just like to pretend you do.”

“True,” Francis admitted. “But I make a
good show of it. Joan doesn’t even pretend. Joan, you ever ask your wife why
she did what she did?”

Joan didn’t seem particularly interested in
the subject of women, especially if the discussion was going to include his
dead wife and her ascension into hell. A step up for the murdering bitch, in
Joan’s opinion. “Nope.”

“Why not?” Francis persisted. “Maybe she
thought she had a good reason for going ahead with the procedure. Maybe her
health was at stake. I’m not saying you did wrong. You’re a man of principles
and men with principles will do what they have to do. I’m just wondering why
you didn’t ask, that’s all.”

Gabe stared at him incredulously. Both men
knew what Joan had done, but to date it was a topic no one dared to broach with
the black man. Not even the colonel mentioned it, but then the colonel didn’t
linger on his men’s pasts. If Harris mused the particulars of Joan’s violence,
he did so privately.

Francis couldn’t explain his sudden
curiosity. Maybe he’d just always assumed Joan had questioned her. More
probably, he was just bored and wanted some lively conversation.

“Your health is going to be at stake in a
moment,” Gabe warned.

“Joan’s a sensible man,” Francis replied
smoothly. “He’s not given to fits, like crazy people, and he’s not a serial
killer. He might have killed her because he doesn’t like kids following him
around. Most kids follow their daddies around, I know I did. Was that it, Joan?
Did you kill your wife because you didn’t want another kid following you around?”

Gabe’s eyes flashed a shut-the-fuck-up
message. “Francis, for the love of God! Joan, don’t pay any attention to him.
It’s that damn gum you gave him, it’s eating away at his sense. What little he
has.”

Gabriel fully expected Joan to come up out
of his seat by the window and end Francis’ life right there in the wing chair. The
stupid bastard would deserve it. He, for one, didn’t want to know why Joan had
killed his wife. If Francis had gall enough to ask Joan about something so
personal, the preacher would soon be on to
him
, wanting to know if he’d managed to overcome the perverted fetish
he’d picked up in China. He had enough demons of his own to fight, he certainly
didn’t need Joan’s or Francis’ crowding into the melee.

The last thing Gabe wanted to do was talk
about his fetish, and he sure as fuck didn’t want to hear Joan’s explanation.

Joan didn’t say a word. He rose from his
chair and left the room. They heard his footsteps on the stairs, slow, steady,
pausing for a moment when he reached the landing. Then the steps faded away as
he continued to the second floor.

“I guess Joan wasn’t up for conversation
this evening,” Francis mused.

“I’m not either, so don’t start. If you
want to contemplate the mysteries of life, do it in the den. I’m sacking out.”
Gabe put the clay pod back into his duffel and stretched out on the couch,
hoping Francis would take the hint and leave him alone.