Primal Heat

by Piper Davenport

  “Table for two?” the hostess, an attractive young blonde woman, asked us in a heavy Russian accent.

  “We’re friends of Steve,” Sundance said, and the hostess smiled, nodded, and led us to a doorway on the opposite side of the dining room. She opened the door to reveal a staircase leading down to what appeared to be the basement. Sundance led the way, and once we reached the bottom of the staircase, the hostess closed the door behind us, leaving us alone.

  “What the hell is this? Who’s Steve?” I asked.

  “Didn’t I tell you to keep your mouth shut?” Sundance snapped. “These guys are touchy and don’t trust anyone.”

  Just then, the door at the bottom of the staircase opened to reveal a giant man wearing what looked like an expensive suit. In the background was a cacophony of cheers, stomps, and a strange whirring sound.

  “What the fuck you want?” he asked in gruff, broken English.

  “We’re friends of Steve,” Sundance said, just as he did before.

  “So, the fucking what?” he replied.

  Sundance pulled the orange strap of a stack of hundred-dollar bills from his cut pocket.

  “So, we came to race,” Sundance replied, peeling off three bills from the stack and handing them to the giant, who paused briefly before taking the money and stepping aside.

  Once inside, I could see the source of all the racket. Fifty or so excited men lined the walls of the basement, most of them waving wads of cash and shouting excitedly. In the center was a miniature race car track. I say miniature only compared to an actual track. This thing took up almost the entire basement. It had to be over fifty feet long, eight lanes wide, and was full of twists and turns.

  No sooner had we entered then a voice announced, “Final bets. Place your final bets, now,” whipping the crowd into an even bigger frenzy.

  I studied the room and noticed the walls were plastered with racing and movie posters and one man was the subject of all of them. Steve McQueen.

  Sundance leaned in. “Slot car racing.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “The Bulykin brothers are crazy for this shit,” he said. “They’re also obsessed with—”

  “Steve McQueen,” I replied.

  “You noticed,” he replied with a chuckle. “C’mon. Let’s go find Bullwinkle.”

  “Betting is closed, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said. “Drivers, get ready.”

  “Hold up,” Sundance said.

  A hush fell over the room as eight, middle-aged, sweaty men stepped forward and placed brightly colored race cars at the track’s start/finish line. Each driver held an electronic controller that matched their car’s livery. These guys clearly took this shit seriously.

  “Drivers, start your engines.”

  Each man powered up his controller and waited for the signal lights. Five short red flashes followed by one green and they were off. Cars whizzed by so fast, I could barely keep track of them. Slot car technology had clearly advanced since the fifties. The crowd roared as the first car flew off the track, followed by another. Spotters quickly placed their driver’s cars back into their respective slots which zipped back into the race. This went on for several minutes and God only knew how many laps. I was right there, and I can’t tell you how the winner was determined, but in the end, the green car, number three, would take the victory lap in this low-ceilinged arena.

  Just as the race was ending, one of the “Slot Club’s” patrons caught my eye. He didn’t seem at all interested in the race and instead kept looking in the direction of the DJ booth in the corner. Besides the track, it was the only other thing within the basement space. The man wore a baseball cap and thick glasses and I struggled to make out his features from across the room.

  As soon as the race was over, Sundance and I headed in the direction of the DJ booth. As we got closer, I got a better look at the man in the cap.

  “Oh, shit,” I said, grabbing Sundance’s arm, and spinning him around.

  “What the fuck?” he growled.

  “It’s Luca,” I said, as quietly as possible.

  “Luca? Sabrina’s brother?”

  I nodded. “Yup.”

  “No fucking way. Did he see us?”

  “I don’t think so,” I replied.

  “Where is he?”

  “Baseball cap and Clark Kent glasses.” I motioned over my shoulder and Sundance casually turned to look.

  “I don’t see him,” he whispered.

  “He’s right over there—” I said, turning around to find myself face to face with Luca.

  “Who’s right over there?” Luca asked.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I whisper shouted.

  “That’s not how this works. You don’t ask me questions,” he said.

  “Bullshit, we don’t,” I seethed. “You said you had no idea where Felix was and now you miraculously show up here?”

  “I’m not obliged to share any information with you whatsoever. I told you I would handle this.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re handling it now,” I said.

  “Like hell you are,” Luca said, motioning us closer. “This is a police matter, and I will haul you both in for obstruction of justice if you mess with this investigation.”

  “And they’ll have to haul you out in a body bag if you fuck with my club,” I said.

  Luca raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

  “In a betting place like this, I’d call it a sure fucking thing.”

  “The two of you better knock it the fuck off before we’re all made,” Sundance said.

  We relaxed our postures, created a little space between us, and carried on as if we were having a casual conversation.

  “How the hell do you even know about this place?” Sundance asked.

  “It’s my job to know about places like this.”

  “How did you get in here looking like that?” Sundance asked Luca through a phony smile.

  “Same way I’m assuming you got in,” he said. “Money opens doors.”

  “You’d better have brought more than just the cover charge if you’re expecting to get Felix back tonight,” Sundance said.

  “Tonight? What are you talking about?” Luca asked.

  “We’re here to get Felix back, what the hell are you here for?” I snapped.

  “To survey. I want the same as you, but if we don’t do this the correct way, the District Attorney and my boss—”

  “This isn’t about law and order, Luca. This is about getting Felix back to Sabrina. Back to the only family he has. And if we don’t get him back tonight, we’re gonna lose him forever. If we’re not already too late. So, if you want to blow your cover and arrest me right here, go ahead and try, but the minute you flash a badge in here, you’re a dead man.”

  “I only want Fox back home, safe and sound,” Luca said.

  “Then trust us,” Sundance said. “We don’t have time for surveillance and search warrants. We know these people and what makes ’em tick. We also know what’ll happen to Felix if we don’t get him back soon.”

  “You think I don’t know how this guy operates?”

  “Guy? Aren’t there five or six Bulykin brothers?” I asked.

  “They’re all in prison. All except the youngest,” Luca said. “He’s in charge of the races now and it looks like he’s trying to step into his brothers’ footsteps.”

  “Yeah, well thanks for the update. We’ll take it from here,” Sundance said.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m letting the two of you—”

  Once again, Luca’s protests were interrupted, but this time it wasn’t by me or Sundance.

  “Gentlemen, please. Join us,” the announcer’s voice rang out through the PA system, causing every head in the place to turn toward us.

  I looked to the DJ booth to see a tall, blonde man, motioning to us.

  “I see new faces. Please come introduce yourselves,” he continued.

  “Follow me and don’t say shit,
” Sundance said, making a bee line for the booth. Unable to protest, Luca silently fell in line and I followed, keeping a tight grip on the duffel bag.

  Just as we arrived, the booth door swung open to reveal the man behind the microphone. He was dressed as though we were on the set of Bullitt and he was Steve McQueen’s stunt double. Black turtleneck, brown jacket, suede shoes. The whole nine yards. He was even wearing a black-dialed Benrus watch. Two exceptionally large, suited, most likely armed, bodyguards flanked him.

  “Welcome, gentlemen to our track. My name is Sasha. I’m the official race announcer and event host. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting any of you,” he said looking us up and down, before adding. “I’m sure I would have remembered.”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Sundance said. “I used to come around when Uri ran the place. That is, until he...didn’t.”

  “Yes, that was a pity about my brother. Our family was quite ashamed of his behavior. Naturally,” Sasha said, as if reciting a well-rehearsed line.

  “Uri was your brother? Good,” Sundance said cheerily. “Me and my money were always welcome at Uri’s race. I’m hoping my friends and I will be just as welcome tonight. I’m assuming Thursday is still big money race night.”

  Sundance elbowed me and I unzipped the bag enough to show Sasha its contents.

  Sasha smiled wide. “Yes, of course. Please allow me to escort you to the high roller suite. I think you and your associates will be much more comfortable there.”

  “Sounds good,” Sundance said, and we were shown to a door behind the DJ booth which lead to a swanky lounge area that looked like something straight out of the seventies.

  “What do you think, huh?” Sasha asked proudly, his arms raised.

  “Pretty groovy,” Sundance replied.

  “Check it out,” Sasha said, pointing excitedly to a dark wood dining set.

  “It’s a nice table,” Sundance said.

  Sasha’s face lit up. “It’s the actual table from the Jazz club scene in Bullitt! Can you believe that? This was the chair Steve McQueen sat in, man.” Sasha paused, his eyes darting from chair to chair. “We don’t know which chair was actually his...but it could be any of these.”

  “I remember you boys being big fans of ol’ Steve. Looks like nothin’s changed,” Sundance said, glancing around the room.

  “We got this and the watch at auction last year,” Sasha said, pointing to his wrist.

  “Wait, that’s not a replica? That’s his actual watch?” I blurted out and Sundance shot me a look.

  “The real deal, baby,” Sasha said, proudly.

  “So,” Sundance said, shifting gears. “How does the race work these days? Like I said, it’s been a while since I’ve been here. You look like you may have been a little too young to remember those days.”

  Sasha smiled wide. “Even in my youth, I’m sure I would have remembered if two idiot bikers and a cop walked into our place.”

  Before we could move a muscle, Sasha’s bodyguards dew their guns, aiming them directly at us.

  “Whoa,” Sundance said, putting his arms up, and Luca and I followed his lead. “You’re right. He is a cop,” Sundance said, motioning to Luca, “but he’s not here to bust anyone. We’re here to talk business, and filling us with holes would be an expensive mistake on your part.”

  “What kind of business?” Sasha asked.

  “The serious kind. Let me show you what’s in that bag and you’ll see,” Sundance said.

  “How about I kill you and the cop and take whatever is in the bag?”

  “Because whatever is in there could be more,” Sundance replied. “Besides, given your family’s history in Monument, I’m not really sure executing a cop would be your smartest move.”

  “Why the fuck should I listen to you?”

  “Because I speak Russian,” Sundance said, rubbing his thumb, index and middle finger together, making the international sign for money.

  Sasha paused and motioned for his guards to lower their guns. “Open the bag. Do it slowly,” he ordered Sundance.

  Sundance took the bag from me and placed it on the floor before opening it wide. “There is one million in clean cash in this bag.”

  “What exactly are you looking for?” Sasha asked.

  “Not what, who,” Sundance replied. “You have a young boy. A boy named Felix. I want him.”

  “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but—”

  “I wasn’t lying when I said I knew your brother, Uri. I’ve done business with your family in the past. Before I knew you were in the skin trade. I know all about your operation and how much a life is worth to you. One million is way over market price and avoids the heat a dead cop will bring down on you.”

  “If I had such an item, it would be worth more than one million to me,” Sasha replied in a tone that made me want to rip his throat out.

  “That’s why I’ll arrange for another million upon delivery of the boy. That should more than make up for any of your business losses.”

  “And what about him?” Sasha asked, pointing at Luca.

  “He’s only interested in getting the boy back to his family. Nothing more. You have my word on that.”

  “You said you speak Russian,” Sasha said. “You should know promises mean nothing.”

  “That’s why I brought you a gift as well,” Sundance said. “It’s in the side pocket of the bag,” he said, bending over.

  “No. Wait,” Sasha said, stopping Sundance before motioning to one of his guards to retrieve the item. The guard unzipped the side pocket and produced a small white gift box wrapped with a red ribbon which he then handed to Sasha.

  “What’s this?”

  “Go ahead, open it,” Sundance said.

  Sasha pulled the ribbon off the box and opened it to reveal a severed finger wearing a silver ring adorned with the Los Psychos emblem.

  “What the fuck is this?”

  “That’s a piece of Jocko, the Los Psychos member you sent to kill the aunt of the little boy you kidnapped.”

  “Is this supposed to scare me? Are you trying to prove how tough you are?”

  “Not at all,” Sundance replied coolly. “We’re still talking business. The Russian way. Just in case the cash offer isn’t enough to sway you, I wanted to make sure I had some leverage as well.”

  “Leverage?” Sasha asked.

  “We know Los Psychos supplies you with all the heroin and cocaine that you sell here in Monument. We also know you were paying Jocko off the books to take the boy and kill his aunt.”

  “So, the fuck what?”

  “We’re gonna send a fresh piece of Jocko to Los Psychos every day with a note to remind them that you’re responsible.”

  “Me? I’m not the one who wants to cut him up!”

  “No, but you’re the one that got Jocko involved and that’s all El Cacto will care about. He’ll cut off your supply and your drug trade in Monument will be done.”

  Sasha paused for a long time before finally speaking, “And if I know where the boy is?”

  “Then all you have to do is bring him safely to me. You’ll get your two mil in cash, Jocko is sent back to Mexico with nueve fingers, and the cops will stay away from your racetrack.”

  “And no more trafficking,” Luca added.

  Sasha started to protest but Sundance cut him off. “He’s right. This ends your little foray in the skin trade.”

  “You’re out of your mind,” Sasha said.

  “You want to go to prison like all your brothers? Take the money and be happy running your McSpeakeasy. Hell, start a whole franchise for all I care. But tell us where the boy is.”

  Sasha sighed heavily. “Go get him,” he said, to one of the guards who then disappeared through a curtained doorway.

  “He’s here?” I asked.

  “I have a couple girls taking care of him.”

  “I swear to God, if he’s hurt at all—”

  “He’s fine, relax.
We fed him peanut butter and jelly and mac and cheese. He’s been watching Sponge Bob and playing GTA. He’s happy.”

  Just then the bodyguard returned with Felix.

  Only he wasn’t lucid. “Why the fuck is he unconscious?” I demanded.

  “He started to get a little bossy,” Sasha said. “We needed him relaxed.”

  “So, no mac and cheese or GTA, then,” Sundance deduced.

  “You fuckin’ asshole,” I hissed. Sundance gripped my shoulder with a beefy hand and squeezed. I took a deep breath and collected Felix from the man holding him, pulling him close.

  “392 Saber Creek,” Stoney said.

  “What’s 392 Saber Creek?”

  “The location of the other million. It’ll all be there, every dollar, just like I said, only don’t forget our deal.”

  “My family may not have the juice we once had in Colorado, but when we do, I predict we will meet again and renegotiate our terms.”

  “Until then.” Sundance said with a nod, and we made our way back upstairs, and out of Norman’s Chop House.

  Luca had already called an ambulance and once I handed Felix off to the EMTs, Luca climbed in behind him.

  I trailed them, arriving just behind the ambulance and following them inside.

  Sabrina

  My phone buzzed, and seeing it was Luca, I answered it immediately. “Did you find him?”

  “Yeah, sissy, we’re at Memorial.”

  “How bad is he?”

  “He’s actually okay. He was drugged most of the time, but doctors want to keep him overnight for observation.”

  “I’m coming now,” I said.

  After grabbing Felix a change of clothes, I made a run for my car.

  I probably broke every speed law getting to the hospital, but I didn’t really give a shit. I had to get Fox in my arms before I’d fully believe he was okay.

  Luca had texted Fox’s room number, so I rushed to the elevators and was grateful a car came quickly. Riding up to his floor, however, took what felt like forever.

  Following the signs to the pediatric unit, I almost ran into a nurse, I was walking so quickly. After a quick apology, I was back on my way and finally, fuck, finally, I was pushing the door open, finding Stoney sitting in a chair by the window, my brother nowhere to be seen.