by Jon Grilz
Three guns aimed at the door when Charlie knocked, and Trey pulled him inside quickly, spun him against the wall, and patted him down. When they were sure he didn’t have any weapons on him, they spun him back around, till he was facing Rook, looking down on him since he was a few inches taller.
“Where’s the stuff?” Rook asked. “The boys went to get the last of the shit from the bunker, and it was gone, along with The Baker.”
“Well, as you can see, I’ve got neither on me,” Charlie said, “though your boys did forget to check my ass. Want me to bend over so you can check for yourself?”
For being a wise-ass, Rook punched him right under the diaphragm, and Charlie fell back against the wall, wheezing for breath. “I’m not gonna ask again,” Rook said as he pointed his Colt .45 at Dee Dee’s head.
“It’s outside of town,” Charlie said with a cough.
“Where?” Rook asked.
“Not really an address. I just sorta ditched it, so I’ll have to take you there if you want it.”
“You trying to play me?” Rook asked, moving his face up next to Charlie’s.
“No,” Charlie said. “Just let Dee Dee go, and I’ll take you to the stuff. If you touch her, there’ll be no reason for me to say another word, and that shit will never be found. If that happens, I’m guessing I’ll only have to wait a few hours in hell before you show up.”
Rook smiled a little; he kind of liked the guy’s attitude, not that it changed his mind about having to kill him.
“Rook,” Dee Dee said from the bed, her voice pitiful, drawing all eyes to her, “I want to go now.”
Dee Dee regretted her tone as soon as her words met the air, but it was too late. She just wanted it all to be over.
Rook looked back at Charlie and took too much delight in the expression on the man’s face, an expression of a man betrayed.
Charlie didn’t move, but Dee Dee wasn’t so sure that it was because there was a gun to his head. For just a second, he looked surprised to see her talk to Rook, but whatever that look was, it disappeared as quickly as it came.
“So that’s it?” Charlie asked. “You get your pound of silver and leave me to hang?”
“Don’t you dare try to turn this on me. You tried to use me to hide from Damon and didn’t tell me what kind of danger you were in,” Dee Dee said as she walked over to Rook. “Those guys I told you about at the club were asking about a guy in a porkpie hat.”
“That’s a two-way street, darlin’,” Charlie said. “You weren’t exactly forthcoming about your social life. Or did you think I wouldn’t notice the subtle text messaging and abbreviated phone calls? At least you have taste in dapper-looking guys.”
“You should have told me about this guy sooner,” Rook said and gave Dee Dee a deep kiss.
“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry,” Dee Dee said. She knew Rook was mad, but there was no reason to do anything other than put on the sweet-face routine till she could get out the door and forget Charlie Kelly had ever stepped into her life. She couldn’t believe she’d let Charlie sweet-talk her. She felt so stupid. She should have known Rook was her best chance to get more out of Bluff Falls. Dee Dee ran her fingers up Rook’s chest, just the way he liked it.
Rook looked her up and down with that look Dee Dee knew well. “You should get out of here. You don’t need to see this,” Rook said. “Meet me back at my place.”
“Oh come on,” Charlie said as he looked back and forth at the guns pointed at him. “I think she should see this through to the end. She’s a big girl. She made her bed, and even though she’s already slept in it…well, you know what I mean.”
Dee Dee’s heart started to pound so hard that she was sure her tank-top was bouncing. She looked over at Rook and saw an expression she could only compare to as a ticking time bomb, one she needed to defuse.
“What’s he talking about?” Rook asked.
“Nothing, baby. He’s just scared, so he’s talking nonsense,” Dee Dee said. Her eyes shot daggers aimed at Charlie’s head.
Charlie laughed. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t bother to ask her how she knew me? Do you think I was just crashing on her couch? Jesus. Some guys really believe their Columbus, huh? Tell you what. If you want, I’ll do my best to imitate that little noise she makes just after she has an orgasm.” Charlie looked Rook right in the eyes. “Unless maybe you don’t know that noise. I mean, I’m not here to judge or anything if you haven’t been able to flip her switch yet.”
The son-of-a-bitch sounded like he was having fun, and Dee Dee just wanted someone to shoot him to shut him up. She even thought about grabbing one of the guns and doing it herself.
Rook looked over at Dee Dee, then at Charlie. “Are you kidding me? You slept with this guy?”
In that instant, panic washed over her face. “No. I swear, he’s lying,” Dee Dee pleaded. “He’s just trying to save himself by confusing you and throwing me under the bus.”
“Darlin’, if I remember correctly, I was on top of that ride just as much as under it,” Charlie said, adding insult to an already ruinous situation.
Rook shook his head and stared at Dee Dee. “I think you’re the one around here who’s confused, Dee. The jazzman here does have a point. How is it that you know him so well? Was he just on the couch or what?”
“Baby, it’s always been only you,” Dee Dee said, but Rook had the look of a man on the edge, and she had no idea what words to utter to make it better. She did the only thing she could think of: she swatted at one of the thugs and wrestled the gun from his hand. It wasn’t nearly as hard as Dee Dee would have thought, the guy was shorter than her and shell shocked that she would make a play for his gun. She needed to shut Charlie up and end it all before Rook could piece together that Charlie was telling the truth. If only Rook would listen. If only she could make Charlie shut up, she could explain how to Rook how nice and sweet Charlie acted, how confused he made her. It was a mistake, and she’d known better. She knew Rook was the one to take care of her, but Charlie had said all the right things at all the right times. He’d messed with her head, and now it was time for her to return the favor.
It was only the second time she’d ever held a gun in her life, but she moved it next to Charlie’s head, hoping that a pull of the trigger would solve all her problems. She wanted to see the fear in his eyes before he died so she would know that he regretted messing with her life. The trouble was, she didn’t see any fear; he just kind of stared at her with those lazy eyes and didn’t say anything.
She heard the sound of a hammer cocking behind her, like that long, drawn-out, exaggerated sound from every action movie she’d ever watched. It was a scary sound in person, she realized, so it made sense that Hollywood used it to amplify tension. She thought about doing the same thing to Charlie, to scare him and kill him before Rook had the chance to. She knew Rook was the only one who could have cocked the gun behind her, and she knew he was pointing it at Charlie, he’d kill Charlie so she didn’t have—
Bang.
There was confusion all around, and Charlie could feel the strain on the walls of the room itself. If it had been the first time he’d seen someone shot, he would have been a little more tense himself, but as it was, he just hoped none of that tension would inspire the itchy trigger fingers of any of the guys around him. Rook had put one in the back of Dee Dee’s pretty little head before she could raise her gun all the way, and Charlie wanted to thank the man, but he was pretty sure that would only make matters worse. He couldn’t deny feeling some pity as he looked down at what was left of the dancer though. At least it was quick way to die, should they all be so fortunate when the time came.
“Now,” Rook said, his gun back at his side, “the question is what to do with this guy that tramp was whoring around with.”
Charlie had endured more than his fair share of loquacious moments. Fortunately, his filter worked pretty well when guns were involved, so he opted not to make any suggestions.
Rook took a c
ouple steps toward Charlie, eyeing him up and down. “I’m thinking you’re going to tell us where the product and The Baker are, or we’re going to make you jealous of how easily and relatively quickly this little bitch died.”
Charlie weighed his options; he was long on odds and short on options. There were five armed men, and at least one of them was a decent shot. Charlie thought he might be able to take out two, maybe three, but there was no way he would make it out alive if he actually made a play.
“I can tell you where the drugs are, but The Baker is a little tied up at the moment,” Charlie said.
Rook stood there solemnly, either weighing his options, or deciding how he was going to hide Charlie’s body. He really hoped that Rook’s attire was suggestive of his business mentality over his desire to rack up a body count.
“Okay,” Rook said and motioned for the others to lower their guns. “We start with the drugs.”
“Fine. Then take me to your leader,” Charlie said. He could remember wanting to say that kind of line as a kid, but as soon as he said it, he couldn’t for the life of himself figure out why that line ever sounded good to him.
“What?”
“You personally escort me to meet Damon.”
That made Rook smile, not the reaction Charlie would have expected. He was a dark-skinned black man, and his bright smile was almost mocking. Charlie figured that it must be annoying to be a black man in North Dakota, kind of a proverbial sore thumb, especially surrounded by a cracker barrel full of meth dealers. He was sure that kind of thinking just stirred up more angst in an already angry man, and even though Rook hid it well, Charlie was sure he was brimming with a roiling whirlpool of angst and anger at the moment. “You’re in no position to make demands,” Rook said as he shook his gun at Charlie.
“It’s not a demand. It’s a provision.”
“I don’t care what you call it. You’re not in charge here. I am.”
There it was, the ray of light Charlie knew he needed to make a grab for. “I’m aware of that,” Charlie said, “but my eyes ain’t brown because I got shit for brains. I’m not gonna try anything. I just want to see the guy who got my sister strung out,” he said, knowing it was time to start laying cards on the table.
Rook looked between the faces of the gang members standing around Charlie. His eyebrows twitched, like he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to laugh or not. “You’re kidding me. That’s what this is all about? You came here and stirred up all this shit just because of some woman?”
Charlie looked down at Dee Dee’s lifeless body. “Yeah, women can make us do crazy things.”
Rook looked down, too, and his eyes narrowed into slits as he thought about it. “Fine. I’ll tell you what. First, you show us where you stashed the drugs. Then we’ll take you to Damon—not that the order of events is going make any bit of damn difference for you in the end.”
“What about The Baker?” Charlie asked, assuming it was a loose end Rook should have cared about.
“What do I care? Once the deal is done, what the fuck do I need with that whining little punk? I’ll be on an island, sipping a Mai Tai, forgetting this worthless state even exists.”
Charlie had to admit that it was a far nicer-sounding scenario than what he’d gone through over the last week. He nodded in agreement. “All right. I’ll take you to the drugs.”
Rook continued staring at him with that hard look in his eyes and that strange smile on his face. “Isn’t this about the time when you ask if you can trust us?”
Charlie shrugged. “I’m not sure what all Dee Dee told you about me, but the way I figure it, a bullet from you will be a lot quicker and less painful than the brain tumor that’s killing me anyway. You’re gonna have to do a lot better if you’re trying to threaten me.”
“You really want me to do better?” Rook asked.
“I just want to meet this Damon before I die.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Rook said and pushed Charlie to the door.
Chapter 24
They drove for almost half an hour, out into the bare prairie land north of Bluff Falls. They didn’t seem to be looking for roads, but there were occasional paths of loose dirt along the way. Charlie had been put in the middle row of seats in the black SUV, where he could be covered from all sides. Stony drove, and the nameless guys flanked him in the back seat. Trey drove Rook’s SUV, he had a strange looking head, too big and wide for his shoulders, and round in the gut. Trey had fire-red hair like he was straight from Ireland and got ridiculed for it incessantly. Rook rode shotgun and Marcus, with his chipped tooth crooked grin, rode in the back seat. Rook wasn’t going to take any chances. The guy in the fashion-statement-hat seemed smart enough to put a lot of wheels in play and mess up their operations so far, but he’d come along too late to stop the deal, as long as they got the drugs back. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d make a move in a vehicle going forty miles an hour off road, but just in case, Rook rode in the SUV that trailed behind, where he could keep an eye on him. He gave explicit instructions that if Charlie made a move, they were to only shoot him in the leg. He was, after all, their only link to that much-needed grade-A meth The Baker had cooked up.
The longer they drove, the more agitated Rook became. He wanted to know where they were going, and he’d never liked surprises. He really hated having to sit there and think about shooting Dee in the back of the head. Sure, the cleanup crew could make her disappear easily enough, but for the most part, she’d been good to him. Rook hated most of the people he’d met since moving to North Dakota, mostly a bunch of redneck hicks who seemed like they were looking at a black man for the first time. He had grown to like the idea of using a power drill on the yokels, just to put the fear of God in their minds and make them leave him be. Dee Dee had been a good thing in the quiet times, a reprieve from it all, but he couldn’t abide that kind of betrayal.
“Where do you think he left the shipment?” Rook asked Trey as they bounced along. “There’s nothing out here.”
Within five minutes, Rook had his answer. The driver pointed up ahead in the moonlight. “Shit, it’s an actual trucker graveyard.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“Never been to one,” Trey said, his wide face catching the glow of the dashboard lights, his stomach bulging almost to the steering wheel. “I’ve just heard it mentioned before. Some crooked company used to buy old semis and trailers. They’d run it like a chop shop and sell for scrap. Disgruntled drivers would say the truck was stolen and file false police reports. Some guys actually cashed in. The cops caught on pretty quick, though, and they had to dump all their stuff. What better place to hide semis than right out in the open, in Middle-of-Nowhere, North Dakota?”
“It was more like some meth-head urban legend, some rumor,” Marcus argued. “They acted like it was some kind of Shangri-La. That was back in the days when they’d get so tweeked out they’d drink trucker bombs.”
Trey made a gagging noise, but Rook was lost.
“What’s a trucker bomb?”
Trey gave a little shiver. “Long-haul drivers have a schedule to keep, so instead of stopping to piss at a gas station or whatever, they’d just take a leak in Gatorade bottles or milk jugs and toss ‘em out the window. Splat. Trucker bomb.”
Rook shook his head in disbelief. He was about to make a lot of money off something that made people act like total freaks. There was either something poetic or ironic in it, though, even if he didn’t know which.
Both vehicles slowed down as they drove down into the bowl area that must have housed over two dozen trucks, with trailers scattered around. It didn’t look much different from a dump or junkyard. The place made Rook feel edgy all over again; he knew if Charlie did plan to try something, that would have been the perfect place to do it. Rook needed to keep him on a short leash. He told Rook and Trey to get out and cover Charlie from a distance, at least fifty feet away, as soon as the other SUV stopped.
The first SUV
slowed to a stop about a hundred feet from the closest abandoned truck. There were a ring of trucks and trailers around the outside, something like a circle of covered wagons, trying to defend from an Indian attack in the Old West. When they came over the ridge, they could see the scattered trucks inside the ring, but up that close, all there was to see was the outer wall of steel and rubber.
Rook sat, with gun in hand, and watched as the SUV doors opened. First one guy stepped out slowly, as if he was walking into a minefield. Then Charlie scooted out the side, with his hands zip-tied in front of him. He looked around and back at Rook, who sat there staring as the second man pushed Charlie from behind and prodded a gun into his back. Once Charlie was covered from three angles, Rook gave the okay for the two in his car to get out, but reminded them to keep their distance and a good line of sight.
Charlie looked up into the sky, toward the full moon, and exhaled a visible breath into the cold air. “Nice night, all things considered.”
“Where’s the product?” Rook asked from thirty feet away.
Charlie just stared back at him for a second, maybe considering trying to make a break for it, then tilted his head toward the graveyard. “This way.”
Rook made sure they all kept a wide perimeter around Charlie. They were in the open, and he had nowhere to run, but that didn’t mean a man with a gun trained on him wouldn’t make a bad decision and try to make a break for it. Charlie walked slowly, looking left and right before any direction change.
“You’d better not be stalling,” Rook’s driver said.