by Неизвестный
“Angel, we need to talk.”
She stepped out of the bathroom.
“I don’t have a lot of food,” he said, putting a box of cereal on the table. “And the milk went sour.”
“I’m fine.” She sat down at the table and reached into the box, stuffing a handful of cheerios into her mouth.
He slid over a water bottle and a pill. She stared at the pill as if he was trying to get her stoned.
“It’s an antibiotic. Considering where you’ve been, I don’t want an infection starting. I have enough until we can get you to a doctor.”
She took it with the entire water bottle. She didn’t realize how thirsty she had been.
“What do you want to know, Jake?” she asked.
“What happened tonight? Are you in trouble.”
She laughed. “Obviously.”
“Are you in a gang? Dating a gangbanger? What’s going on?”
“What do you think?”
“Cut the sarcasm.”
“You obviously think you know me. You tell me.”
“A cop is dead, another is in surgery, and the police are looking for you. If they think you’re a cop killer — ”
“I wasn’t doing the shooting!”
“How did they know you were there? Were they trying to get you out?”
“They were trying to kill me.”
“Why?”
“Why do you care?”
He stared at her like she should know the answer. Then he said, “I’m your father.”
“Bullshit. You screwed my mother and I’m the result. You didn’t want the responsibility of raising a kid. Neither did my mom, but at least she stuck around.”
His eyes darkened and his whole face got hard — harder than normal. He said, “I’m going to tell you this once. I didn’t know about you until you were five years old. I served two tours in the Marines, didn’t come back to L.A. until I was on leave before my last tour. Gina tracked me down, told me I was your father, and I didn’t believe her until I saw you. I was in no position to be a father — but I’ve paid child support every month since that day, and while that’s not the same, you wouldn’t have wanted me in your life.”
“You fucking liar. You never paid child support. You never helped. You never did anything because you’re a prick.”
Jake said in a low voice, “I don’t care if you believe me; I will never lie to you.”
“Then tell me why you were in prison.” She smirked. “Yeah, my mom told me about that, too. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far.”
A vein pulsed in his jaw and maybe Angel should have been scared, but she wasn’t. She was too mad, and too tired, to be afraid of this man. “After the Marines I became a cop. Found out my partner was turning his back on an underage prostitution ring. Not only getting paid off in cash, but paid off with girls younger than you. I beat the living shit out of him. He still can’t see out of one eye. I took a plea agreement rather than stand trial because here, cops don’t always get fair trials. I did twenty months in federal prison so I didn’t get whacked behind bars. Now I’m a bounty hunter, of sorts.”
Angel believed every word. She didn’t want to, because believing him meant that her mother was a liar. But the way he spoke, the way he looked her in the eye, told her he was telling the truth.
She’s been lying to me my entire life. What do you expect from a drunk?
Or maybe Jake was the best effing liar in the world. He didn’t live like he had a job, let alone could part with five hundred bucks every month. He did, however, look like he could beat a guy half to death.
“Tell me what happened tonight,” he said.
Angel hesitated. She munched on a few more Cheerios as she thought it through. “It’s a long story.”
“We have time.”
“For the record, I’m not in a gang. Or screwing anyone.”
“Good.”
“I’m not seeking your approval.”
“Okay.”
She bit the inside of her lip. “Last summer, my best friend Marisa got involved with George Garcia, who’s the dopey idiot younger brother of Raul Garcia who runs the G-5 gang. George is seventeen, Marisa is stupid. Two weeks ago, Marisa called me because she was scared, and I went to go get her. And we witnessed something real bad. We ran. I convinced Marisa that we had to go to the police.”
“What did you see?”
“Raul Garcia killed two women. Possibly prostitutes, I don’t know. He said they deserved it. So we told our story to the police, then again to a prosecutor, but Marisa got cold feet and told George she wasn’t going to testify. That was Tuesday, after our talk with the lawyer. I haven’t seen her since.”
“Why didn’t they put you in protective custody?”
She shrugged. “Why would they? The lawyer told me to keep a low profile and be accessible. But my mom got picked up for drunk driving — again — and was in mandatory detox. Some creeps were hanging around my apartment, so I disappeared and missed my follow-up meeting with the DA chick. I guess she sent the cops to find me because she was afraid I wasn’t going to show up Monday. Yesterday morning they put me in juvie, and then I was transferred to the group home. When I got there, people started shooting. I ran.” She bit her lip. “I’m really sorry about the cops. They were jerks, but I’m sorry they got shot.”
Jake didn’t say anything for a minute. “Who knew you were there?” he asked finally.
“I don’t know. I thought the prosecutor was going to keep me in juvie. There’s a court hearing I have to be at, eight thirty Monday morning. That’s when I’m supposed to tell the judge everything I saw. And Marisa is supposed to be there too.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.” She picked at a gouge in the table. “I think she’s dead. She’s never been good on the streets. She tends to do stupid shit. I thought she might have gone to the warehouse you found me at, but when I asked around, no one had seen her.”
“Someone there ratted you out.”
“Kai. The Garcias control everything in this area, though when Owen ran the warehouse they had an agreement and Garcia stayed away.”
“Were the shooters there when you arrived?”
She nodded. “Hiding in the van. Anyone could have told them — the cops, the group home, the prosecutor, the judge, the warden at juvie — I have no idea. I don’t know who to trust.”
“Trust me,” Jake said.
Angel wanted to, but fifteen years of believing he didn’t want anything to do with her was hard to forget. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“Get some sleep. At dawn we’ll track down that prosecutor.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Angel said. She put her head down on the table.
“Take the bed.”
“I’m okay.”
“Do it. I’m not sleeping anyway.”
Angel hesitated, not knowing whether she should trust this stranger, dad or not. Finally, she got up and lay on the bed, eyes open. “Thanks,” she said quietly.
Jake watched Angel — his daughter — battle her natural tendency to mouth off. A defense mechanism. The dangerous situations coupled with meeting him after ten years had unnerved her. He didn’t blame her. The police had fucked up by not putting her in protective custody, but that probably would have meant juvie, where there was no guarantee of safety if the gangs really wanted to get to her. And unless there was a pending trial, the city didn’t have the money or manpower to put her in a safe house.
Jake poured himself another cup of coffee. Angel was his responsibility now. He would have taken the responsibly ten years ago when he first heard she existed, but Gina wouldn’t let him. She didn’t want Jake in her life, and didn’t want him in Angel’s life. And Jake had been stupid, young, and a Marine on temporary leave when he found out. He could have ended up dead overseas. Angel would have been taken care of because as soon as he found out she was his, he put her as his next of kin. If he was killed in the line of duty, she
would have gotten his death benefits.
Though maybe she wouldn’t have. If Gina hadn’t told her he’d been sending five hundred dollars a month for the last ten years, maybe she wouldn’t have told her about the death benefits.
He wanted to throttle the woman.
“Jake,” Angel whispered. “I heard something.”
He froze, then heard a car door shut in the alley. How the fuck had they found her?
He turned out the solitary light, went to his door and listened, then held up three fingers. He glanced at Angel. She nodded her understanding.
Jake quietly put a chair against the door, under the knob. There was only one way in or out from the hall, and if he were the bad guys, he’d have someone downstairs guarding the door into the bar.
“How’s your ankle?” he whispered.
She gave him a thumbs up.
He slid up the old window and winced at the creak it made. There was a small balcony, not much wider than a fire escape. Below was a narrow walkway. It went through from the alley to the street. A couple locked doors and that was it. No place to hide. If whoever was after them blocked it off, they were dead.
“Roll when you drop. Don’t put all your weight on your feet,” he said.
“Sounds like something I’d need to practice,” she snapped.
The knob rattled.
“Now,” Jake mouthed.
Angel got out on the balcony, climbed over, and was hanging there. Jake followed. The balcony creaked under their weight.
“Drop!” he commanded.
Gunfire erupted at the door and Angel dropped. She tried to roll, but fell on her ass. Jake dropped, pulled her up and they ran toward the alley.
An idling car blocked his Charger. The driver leaned out when he saw them and laid into the horn, then drew a gun. A kid, younger than Angel, with a damn gun.
Jake slid across the hood of the low rider, feet first, and kicked the gun out of the kid’s hand. He pulled him from the car and ordered Angel to get in.
She jumped into the passenger seat as two of the three outside his apartment came running down the back stairs.
“Down!” Jake said as he slammed the car into reverse and drove straight back, down the alley, scraping against a Dumpster, until he was on the street. The glass shattered on Angel’s side, but she was huddled on the floor. He slammed on the brakes, put the car in drive, and sped forward.
“You hit? You okay?”
Angel climbed back into the seat and said, “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“I said I’m fine. What do you want? An inventory?”
Sarcasm was a good sign.
She continued. “How did they know I was with you?”
“Did you know that kid? He wasn’t older than you.”
“No. How did they know I was here?!?” she repeated in a panic. “Did they follow us? Did you tell somebody? Who knew I was with you? Who did you tell?”
“Calm down.” Jake understood her anxiety, but he had his own right now.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! They found me at the group home, they found me at my apartment — okay, I get that. But the warehouse? Here? Everyone’s conspiring against me!”
“We need to dump this car,” he said.
He hadn’t told Cutler he was going to bring Angel back here, and Cutler damn well knew that Jake’d kill him if he betrayed him. But Jake couldn’t risk going to Cutler’s. If they knew Angel was with him, they knew who Jake worked for.
Which meant that someone in the system — someone with access to all Angel’s records — wanted her dead. This wasn’t a simple gang hit.
“Who knows I’m your father?” he said.
“No one. Not even me. I mean, I knew your name, but that’s it. And it’s not like I told anyone, ‘yeah, my deadbeat dad is Jake Morrison, who’s yours?’” She stopped, then said, “I’m sorry, I know now it’s not all your fault.” She huddled in his USMC T-shirt.
“Someone had to know.”
“Who did you tell?”
“One person knew I was looking for you, and he’s the one who told me about the shooting in the first place. He didn’t know I’d found you, and he would never have thought I’d bring you back to my place. It’s not Cutler.” He hesitated. “What about your juvie records?”
“Oh, yeah, blame it on the bad kid.”
He sighed and worked to control his temper. He asked with exaggerated calm, “Did your mom put my name on your birth certificate?”
“Yes,” she said quietly.
His name would be in the file, and it wouldn’t be difficult to find out where he lived. But that initial information had to come from someone with access. The corruption went way up the ladder.
He didn’t have a lot of friends in L.A., but he had a few. He mentally ran through his list. He had one cop he was still close to, Tommy Lind, but calling him would put his friend on the spot — Jake would save that for a last resort. He had one Marine buddy who lived in Sunland. But Lucky had issues, and Jake hadn’t seen him since he got out of prison eighteen months ago.
Jake really didn’t have much of a choice. He had to dump the car fast because the cops were likely looking for it. And he didn’t want to dump it near Lucky’s house, in case the cops canvassed the area.
Angel wasn’t talking. She was staring out the open window, not caring that it was raining. He turned the heat on high, but she didn’t blink. She was a tough kid, but a night like tonight could wear down even the toughest.
He circled streets near the Burbank airport. Many of the side streets didn’t have security cameras, and people often parked there who didn’t want to pay for parking. He just needed to find one he could hot wire without a fuss.
“What are you doing?” Angel asked.
“Looking for a car.”
“You’re going to steal a car.”
“Borrow.”
She snorted.
He pulled over behind a beat-up sedan and tossed Angel a rag he’d found under the seat. “Wipe down the car,” he said. “I don’t want to make it easy for the cops to track us. Inside and out.”
She did what he told her to do, and Jake checked out the sedan for an alarm. He could disarm one, but if someone had an early morning flight or was getting to work early — it was nearly five a.m. — he didn’t want to draw attention.
He made quick work of hotwiring the car, and it purred into life. Purr might be an exaggeration. The car didn’t sound well.
“Angel, in.”
She complied. He wished he knew what she was thinking. He didn’t know what to say to make her trust him, but right now all he cared about was finding a safe place to stay while he figured out what to do.
He took back roads around the Verdugo Mountains into Sunland.
“Where are we going?” Angel finally asked.
“A buddy from my unit.”
She didn’t say anything else.
“Angel, I’m going to figure this out.”
“Just — you know, maybe find me a place to stay for the next day and I’ll be fine. Once I get to the courthouse Monday morning, there’s nothing anyone can do to me. I’ll tell my story, and that’s that.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
She wouldn’t look at him. His fingers clutched the steering wheel. Hard. He wished he could just drop her off at a shelter and say good riddance, but now that he’d met her, he couldn’t walk away like he’d done ten years ago. He couldn’t keep an eye on her from afar. Angel was his kid. His daughter. That meant something. Maybe he didn’t realize it when he was a twenty-three-year-old Marine who’d just found out during his two-week leave that he had a five year old, but he damn well knew it now.
Jake circled around Lucky’s neighborhood until he felt confident that there was no one who shouldn’t be here hanging around. The sixties and seventies era homes looked tired, a mix of
old and remodeled, of chain link fences and low stone walls and dying rose gardens. Lots of motorcycles and trucks and cars up on blocks. A blue-collar, working class neighborhood. As the homes went higher into the mountain, so did the quality and the prices.
Lucky’s house was up a street that twisted and turned. Jake parked two streets over, off the main road. This time, he wiped down the car, including the wires, and Angel stood in the damp air and watched with blank eyes that reminded him too much of his own.
“It’s not far,” he said as they walked.
She didn’t complain, and Jake almost wished she would, telling him she was on her game.
Two blocks later, they were at Lucky’s house. It was a small seventies ranch house set back from the street with faded siding, a carport, and prominent no solicitors sign. The only indication that anyone was living there was the Harley in the carport and a shiny flagpole in the middle of the dead lawn.
The sun had just begun to light up the eastern sky, but the street was still quiet. If Lucky was the same paranoid bastard that he’d been in Afghanistan, he would know someone was at his doorstep before Jake knocked; but he knocked nonetheless.
He didn’t hear much of anything inside, except for the faint hum of a radio. He took a step back and put a protective arm near Angel.
A sound around the side made Jake turn and put his body between Angel and the threat. “Lucky, it’s Jams.” He used his nickname.
“Really? Jams? Wow.” Lucky stepped out of the shadows, though Jake could barely see him because his skin was so black. He had a knife in his hand, which he dropped to his side. “What are you doing here?” He eyed Angel. “Isn’t she a little young?”
“She’s my daughter.”
“No shit?” Lucky stepped onto the porch and opened the door. “Come in.”
Lucky hadn’t changed. He was still a rock solid former high school football star with a buzz cut. Like Jake, he’d joined the Marines right out of high school. He’d been discharged six months before Jake on a medical disability — they’d been in a convoy and were ambushed. Two of their unit killed, and four seriously injured — including Lucky. It hadn’t been the worst they’d taken over the years, but it had been bad. Before that, Jake had planned to reenlist, but he decided to take the six years and run.