by Cheri, Ann
I stopped listening. My hand drew the pistol from my purse automatically, transferring it to my left hand and swinging the door outward. Ash let out a little sound of protest but it was already done. I leaned out past the door, standing on the side rail with the gun hidden as a man raised a shotgun in my direction.
“Black!” I shouted, the fear draining out of my body.
“Get in the truck Kattlyn,” Black called back, stepping carefully out of his van with his hands raised. I wasn’t listening. My ears rang, the world crashing down around me. Ash’s hand gripped my arm, hauling me back up into the seat with unexpected strength.
“You trying to get somebody killed? He’s handling this. Let the man work and maybe we’ll all get out of this in one piece.”
Above me, I could hear something scraping along in the cabover space of the truck. I rolled the window down, ignoring Ash’s protest.
“So this is how you’re gonna repay good service?” Black said, his voice carrying softly in the desert wind.
“You’ve gone soft Black. A little birdy tells me you’re not going to be running our product anymore. Did you think you could just drop things off and walk away? Your father would be ashamed.”
The white haired man paced menacingly around Black, an evil smile plastered on his face.
“I’m not my father. You know the score Carcetti. I’ve been moving the club out of drugs since I took over.”
I glanced over at Ash, his hand pulling a weapon from the edge of the seat. It was larger than a pistol, with a large clip extending out the bottom. My fingers shook against the Beretta in my hand. I’d seen an UZI in movies, never in real life. Ash flashed me a little smile that did nothing to help my nerves. “I fucking love this stuff,” he whispered under his breath. The voices drifted up from below, my eyes swinging forward again. The man was insane…
“You did us a little favor coming here Black. Goddamn shame I can’t let you live. Why don’t you call your little friend there over, and have those two step out of the truck for me? Get them to put down their weapons and I’ll let them walk away.”
Carcetti nodded toward DJ who had climbed out of his vehicle. His hands had been in the air the entire time as one of the Italians kept a gun pointed in his direction.
“And what about me, Carcetti?” Black asked, drawing attention back.
“Your head is worth more than your body. Now tell them to put down their weapons or I’ll start by putting a bullet in your fucking girlfriend up there in the truck.”
“I can’t do that Carcetti. You know if you don’t pay for this drop the Los Locos will gut you,” Black shouted angrily at the circling man. “They will hunt you down, and they will fucking end you.”
“So dramatic Black. All the Locos care about is getting their money, and I’ve already paid them every last penny just this-morning. You’re nothing but the middle man. We’ve made new contacts for shipping and receiving. I don’t need you.”
“In that case, look into my eyes,” Black said, turning his head to stare at the tall elderly Italian with the silver hair and the impeccable suit. “Look deep Carcetti. Look deep inside and know you’re already dead.”
The white haired man started laughing, a deep penetrating laugh as his hand reached into the suit jacket and pulled a long barreled pistol free.
“Black… I’ve been dealing with your bullshit for too long. You bit the and that fucking feeds you, and this is your just reward. There’s just one last thing,” Carcetti said, the grin widening on his face. “Jude wanted me to say hello.”
Black must have flashed recognition, because a deep laugh overtook Carcetti again, building with every breath. He wasn’t the only one laughing. The whole lot of them were laughing. A great cacophony of laughter rolled up, and I saw it even if they didn’t. Black was laughing right along with them. He was laughing louder than any of them.
And the world ended. Explosions went off above me like so many fireworks. The windshield flashed white but didn’t break, a bullet lodged in the glass just in front of my face. Ash pulled me down on the seat, gunshots ringing out from every angle. He kicked the door open and rolled, his old weathered body falling out of the truck with a sickening sound, the sudden buzz of machine death rattling out of his firearm.
Get out there… I thought, my brain fighting my reflexes. Every part of my body wanted to curl up into a little ball, but I knew what I had to do. Black was out there. He needed me. My fingers wrapped tightly around the Beretta and I reached out, pulling the door open and stepping out onto the edge of the truck.
Carnage met me.
Seeing the two dead men inside the clubhouse couldn’t prepare me for this. High powered weapons had dropped most of the Italians, and Black was crouched down next to Carcetti’s body, pulling something from his bloody suit as a burst of Ash’s submachine gun felled a limping man trying to get away from the killing field.
“Two more!” Ash shouted and my head swiveled. The sheriff’s Bronco was bouncing across the field, a man stretched out the passenger seat with a long black shotgun aimed toward Black. I didn’t have time to think, only to react. The Beretta rose up, lining the iron sight on the brown and gold just as I’d done so many times at the gun range. There, I’d imagined Jude, a little fantasy to get me through my days… Now, I couldn’t see anything.
A stream of bullets poured out to the tune of my scream as I pulled the trigger wildly. The truck swerved, lifting up and crashing down on its side, the man hanging out the side smashed into the ground as an eery silence fell. The only sound was a sputtering engine that quickly died.
“Jesus Christ sweetheart… Remind me never to piss you off.”
I looked to the left, Black staring up as my finger kept right on pulling the trigger on the long since empty pistol.
“I just killed a cop…. Black… Two cops! Oh my god…”
He was moving toward me slowly, his damaged leg tender with every step.
“Those are Carcetti’s men. They stopped being cops a long time ago,” Black said, reaching out for me.
“I don’t want this… I don’t want any of this Black,” I sobbed, drawing myself in hard to his embrace.
“You’re part of this now, for better or for worse,” he said, pulling the gun free of my death grip. “Get your head on straight.”
I jumped at the sound of the metal door on the back of the moving truck rolling up, three men stepping round the edge of the vehicle slowly with guns drawn and swinging across the field. I recognized Dig even with the handkerchief tied round his face, the others turned before I could identify them.
“Ash, you ok old man?”
A coughing laugh came up from the ground on the far side of the truck. “Snapped an arm trying to play Rambo.”
My head spun round as Black held me, looking toward the other vehicle.
“DJ!”
Black let me go as my legs carried me toward the man slumped over the hood. It was only once I closed in that I heard his breathing.
“You hit?” Black shouted from behind me. DJ Lifted himself up painfully.
“I’ll be fine. Fucker grazed me.”
I stared at his side, a plume of red pouring out from a slice in his jacket.
“Let Dig take your ride. Get in the truck and get that shit wrapped up before you bleed out,” Black said, having come close enough to see the damage.
I turned round to Black, a new panic setting in as I listened to his words.
“He knows Jude…” Black whispered. “We’re in some deep shit. Least now I know who’s talking to the fucking Kings.”
“Won’t they come looking for us?” I asked, staring at the bodies spread out across the field.
“The Italians? Don’t you worry sweetheart. Carcetti is just another in a long line of middle men. Nobody wants to know the whole supply chain. Too much exposure. There’s no honor in thieves anymore. Anybody still breathing from Carcetti’s crew is going to be busy stuffing his pockets with the leftovers and get
ting the hell out of Texas.”
I helped DJ off the bike. He threw an arm over me, walking slowly back toward the truck. A part of me felt sorry for him, empathetic to the pain. The other part of me needed this little embrace. His arm around me was the only thing that felt safe. I looked back at Black as he surveyed the horizon, a smile plastered across his face.
He’ll never change… I thought, my conscience playing devils advocate.
Black pulled a cellphone from his pocket, dialing a number and lifting it to his ear. I listened quietly as I walked.
“Drycleaning for pickup. Eight bags. Blue and red ink spilled all over it. Yes. I don’t fucking care what it costs.”
His voice drifted as we closed in on the truck, nothing but a series of quick directions to the ranch.
Red and blue… He’s calling someone to clean up this mess.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
The ride into Austin was tense. Ash and the gang split off and headed north toward a Rampant safe house, while I sat silently next to Black as we continued alone into the city. The plane ride back into LA was something I dreaded. I could barely hold my hands calm, let alone get through TSA screening without screaming out loud. They knew, they had to know. They could smell it on me. The death, the lives I’d taken…
They let me board the plane.
They let me get off it too.
A pair of men were waiting near the entrance at LAX, clearly keeping an eye on us, but they let us out of the airport as well. There was nothing to do except follow Black as he walked slowly leaning heavy on the wooden cane. A cab sat waiting and we climbed on board. Black seemed disinterested in our tail, asking the driver to go easy for the sake of his leg. I sat back and pretended everything was OK all the way to a building I’d never visited. It was in the seedier part of LA, close to hollywood. The side was painted a garish pink, clearly the makings of some kind of adult business…
A strip club… One of Black’s ‘legit’ businesses…
Everything was not ok.
The club was in an uproar and it didn’t take a genius to see we had serious problems as I followed Black into the open space. Ash wasn’t back yet, and without a boardroom table, Black wasn’t taking any time to honor the dead.
“Rampant, you know we’re at war now,” Black said, his voice silencing the room. Men stood round a dance platform with solemn looks on their faces. There were new recruits and veterans, but all stood with concern evident on their faces.
“Carcetti’s dead. The Kings moved in on two of our properties in LA. Before we blew his fucking head off, Carcetti mentioned Jude. I’d have to be blind and stupid to not see a connection.”
“Jude shot up a room full of Kings, why the fuck would they take him in?” Acre asked, voice raised above the murmurs of the crowd.
“We were there Acre. No Kings left that meeting alive. Dead men tell no tales and we sure as fuck didn’t tell the rest of them that one of our boys shot up their buddies.”
A murmur of sound rocked through the men, and Acre was the first to speak up again. “We never should have let him walk the fuck out.”
“We live and die by our honor,” Black said, cutting Acre off. “You fucking know that.”
Acre nodded, looking down at his hands. He was one of the few people I ever saw stand up to Black, but he also seemed to know when he was wrong. I respected him, maybe more than I should have.
“And that means we finish this. I’m not going to live scared and tuck my tail between my fucking legs. I want out of the shit. This club is going legit, Jude is going into the ground, I don’t care if we have to kill every goddamned last King in California to do it.”
“Just how exactly are we going to find him?” Acre asked.
“That’s easy,” Black said, tossing a cellphone down on the raised dance platform. “Jude left us a map.”
“Are you serious?” Acre asked, staring at Black’s hands as if he expected Black to pull a piece of parchment from his pocket.
“If Jude was talking to Carcetti, there’s a reason. He gave us to the Italians on a silver platter while the Kings swept down and pushed us off the dock. You damn well know they’re looking to catch the next inbound ship.”
“Mother fucker… There wasn’t supposed to be another ship.”
“We’ve been running product for twenty years now Acre. You think the wheel stops turning if we’re out of the game? That’s how Jude got his cut with the Kings. He sold them my head and the coke trade. He knew enough about club business to make the connections. I want to know what’s hitting those docks over the next few weeks. You know what to look for Acre, we’ve still got friends down on pier seventeen and I want them paid off no matter what it costs. Find me that boat, and we find Jude.”
I had to get out of here. I couldn’t hear this. Death, war, Jude, the Kings… My heart raced as I backed away from the group, fists pounding on the raised dance platform. All those dreams of a happier future were fucked. Black wasn’t going to save me. I wasn’t going to save him. Nobody stopped me. Nobody even noticed. I slipped round what would probably become a DJ booth, making my way to a curtained VIP room. My feet carried me faster and faster as I reached the back of the club, and with a quiet push, I burst out a side door.
Light crashed down on my eyes like I’d never seen the sun. The dark club was starkly contrasted by the noon high, and I raised an arm up over my forehead before setting out across the parking lot. There wasn’t really a plan, no direction. I’d just run. Not to my family, not to my friends, I’d just run and keep running until I couldn’t go any further. The sidewalk beckoned, the streets called my name. Terror and adrenaline and some mix of insanity coursed through my veins. The world was so bright. I was alive, I was free.
But I didn’t want to be.
I stopped on the sidewalk, just breathing. There was nowhere I could run where Jude wouldn’t find me. He would scour the whole goddamned Earth if that’s what it took.
And what about Black… I though to myself, a deep crushing feeling coming over me. I needed him… He needed me… All I had to do was get some air, turn around, and stand by him. I breathed deeply, blind to the world, hidden away in the safe little place I always went to when bad things were happening.
Then everything went black.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
When you’re thrown into pitch darkness, there’s a moment when you might wonder if you’re alive at all. I woke shivering, blinking my eyes without sight returning to them. My hands patted uselessly at my body, feeling around and trying to make sense of the inky black. I was naked, laid out on some kind of bed. I could feel the seam of the mattress, but no sheets or blankets lay atop it. To my side, a cool block wall rose upward. Crushing pain filled my head, and my hand instinctively swept through my hair, rolling across a large and scabbed knot. My breath came in gasps as I touched around the wound, wet warmth rubbing between my fingertips.
Someone hit me…
Panic came from the most visceral part of my being. I had to get out of here. My legs tried to move, aching as I lifted myself from the bed, but without anything to orient myself I found it hard to move quickly. My bare feet shuffled slow across the cold floor, coming to a stop as I hit another wall. Soon, a third wall slid beneath my hand, and as I moved across it, my fingers bumped against a seam.
A door…
I swept my arms over the door, trying to size up it’s orientation. One edge, the other, the door handle had to be there… My hand slid down along the side, coming to rest on a small square plate of metal. Four large screws bolted the panel over what must have been a hole left behind by the handle’s removal.
“HELP!” I screamed, pounding on the door. “HELP ME!”
I screamed until the breath refused to vibrate my vocal chords, my throat raspy. That’s when I noticed the weight round my neck. A hand snaked up, grasping the heavy leather band wrapped round me, sliding across it’s surface until I met with a metal ring that held it in place.
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Collared, like a dog…
My voice found itself again, a sobbing cry coming from my lips as I fell to my knees in the darkness. Hands grasped at the collar, trying to pull it free. There was no use, no hope. I forced myself to crawl round the room until I found the bed, lifting myself into it and curling up, springs squeaking beneath my weight.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
Light…
My eyes blinked wildly as a small bulb flashed on above me. With no way to gauge the passage of time, I only knew I was thirsty. The light was blinding despite it’s dim wattage, and as I adjusted my eyes gazed around the small space. It was something like a closet, the metal cot with a mattress pad beneath me, and a bucket in the center of the room. A small piece of metal slid open at the base of the door, followed by a metal pan being pushed under along with several bottles of water.