Fight Game - Debt Collector 11 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  “That’s what you want to do?”

  “Yeah, if Pope would give me a shot. I’ve been waiting over a year. When I’m not cleaning homes, he has me running errands in the day for him. He doesn’t think I’m ready but I think that’s bullshit. I train at his gym; well I did until Nicky got injured. Nicky told Pope that he needed someone to spar with but he doesn’t know that he was training me in that time. You see, I couldn’t afford the monthly fees and now that he’s in the hospital, well…” He kicked at the ground in frustration and several loose rocks shot ahead of them.

  “Big money. What kind of money are we talking about?” Jack asked.

  “If you’re an unknown, just starting out, a couple of hundred but that can go up real fast. On the low end of the scale you can be looking at five grand for a fight, ten if you’re real special and…” He looked off towards a group of women and raised his hand. They waved back. “I’ve seen it as high as a hundred grand but that’s only for the cream of the crop, the real contenders, and you’d probably have to fight your way through a small army, and be willing to go with Pope to Albuquerque for that kind of money. It all depends on who’s fighting. The pot is based on bets. Just like in MMA, the bigger the name, the bigger the draw, and the bigger the bets. Nicky has made a name for himself. His last fight was meant to bring in six figures as he did a double or nothing deal but he lost. So he got nothing except a hefty medical bill.” He gritted his teeth.

  Jack nodded giving thought to it.

  They made it into the downtown and Tyson took him to the Plaza Café — he said it was one of the best in Santa Fe — a historic building right across from the Plaza, just off Lincoln Avenue. Tyson yammered on about how it had had been in business since 1905, and how nothing came close to their Plaza breakfast. When they arrived it didn’t look like anything special, just an ordinary run-of-the-mill café on the outside. Inside there was a breakfast bar with red stools, and tables filling up nearly every inch of space. It was traditional, simple and packed with tourists. They took a table against the wall, near the window where Jack could get a good view of the square Plaza, the heart of Santa Fe. It was a central park lined with trees, benches and a marketplace with an obelisk-style stone monument for the Battle of Valverde at the center.

  A waitress came by and Jack ordered the Plaza special for breakfast, which was coffee, two pancakes, two eggs, two sausages, two strips of bacon and hash browns. She returned a few minutes after taking the order with his Americano.

  “So does Shanice know about you fighting?”

  Tyson pulled a face. “What my ma doesn’t know doesn’t hurt her, right?” He took a sip of his coffee. “Look, Jack, medical bills aren’t cheap, and the money from cleaning homes is shit. It doesn’t even cover our bills. That’s why I run errands for Pope. It’s a little extra on the side until he’ll give me a fight. The way I see it, I could run through half of the guys that show up at these events. Total amateurs. Soft, stiff, predictable. Total chumps.”

  Jack cupped his hands around his coffee and nodded. “Like those guys the other night? Who were they?”

  “Nobodies. They run with a fighter here in the city that Nicky beat a few weeks back. Sore losers looking to settle a score because we exchanged a few unsavory words leading up to the fight. It’s par for the course in this game. People get heated and well instead of settling it in the cage they’ve been out to get me ever since. I’ve managed to dodge them but they finally cornered me the other night.”

  “So when you stepped outside your plan was to fight them all?”

  He offered back a mischievous grin. “Something like that.”

  The waitress came over with their steaming hot food, the aroma made Jack’s stomach grumble as she slid the plates in front of them.

  “So where did you learn to fight like that?” Tyson asked digging into his food.

  “New York.”

  “Oh yeah, I hear it’s rough out there.”

  Jack buttered some toast. “It’s rough everywhere. I used to work for a guy much like your boss. He ran a boxing gym out of Jersey called the Pig’s Ear. He had his fingers in all kinds of business. In fact I used to do odd jobs for him, much like you.”

  “Like deliveries?”

  “No, collections.” He chewed on his food and looked out the window, his mind drifting to the past. The violent memories came and went like clouds. Jack didn’t like to linger.

  “Shit. So you were the muscle?”

  Jack glanced at him but didn’t respond.

  Tyson continued chewing slowly. “So you learned in his gym?”

  “No, a close friend taught me. Someone like Nicky.”

  Tyson smiled and shook his fork at Jack. “You know, Jack, my ma believes God has a path for us all. I’m not sure I believe her half the time but if I wasn’t mistaken, I’d think our paths crossed for a reason.”

  “Maybe. So what does it take to get a fight?”

  Tyson stopped chewing and a grin spread on his face.

  Chapter 10

  After checking into a two-star hotel on the main strip in Telluride and listening to Zach whine about getting two rooms instead of one, and finding the cheapest hotel in the town, she’d finally got him to give up the full forwarding address.

  She shook the paper in front of his face. “A PO box? You made me come all this way for a PO box?” Kelly said. “We could have phoned and asked them if it was still in use. Hell, we could have—”

  They stood out in the hallway. Her room was directly across from his and since arriving he hadn’t stopped pestering her by coming over and wanting to go get drinks. He was treating the whole trip like one big vacation.

  “Listen, I told you the trip was going to be pointless, that’s why I said book into the Madeline Hotel & Residencies. At least that way we could have been sipping on champagne instead of drinking out of dirty cups. Instead you book us into the most run-down hotel on the strip.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “Do you know there is pubic hair in my bed, the washbasin looks like someone has taken a piss in it and I swear I saw a cockroach in my room?”

  “No, Zach, that was just your reflection in the mirror.” She turned and walked back into her room with him in her shadow. He scampered in before she could close the door. “I can’t believe you,” she said.

  “Would you have come if I’d told you?”

  “No.”

  “Exactly. Look, Armstrong, if she was living in Telluride, someone is bound to know her. This is a small town.”

  “It’s a huge tourist location, Zach. It might as well be San Francisco!”

  He brushed past her and went over to the mini fridge. “Ye of little faith.”

  She turned and then pursed her lips. She was so close to speaking her mind. It was only because of his buddy-buddy relationship with Johnson that she refrained. When he opened the fridge he cursed. “No alcohol? No light?” He searched around the back and pulled out the cord. “It’s not even plugged in and look at how frayed the cord is. Oh man, this place is a joke. If it wasn’t for the fact that you paid up front and didn’t opt for the refund package I would be out of here in a New York minute.” He sighed. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to drop by the liquor store.”

  “We’re here to work, Zach, or have you forgotten that?” she said unzipping her bag and filling a drawer with some clothes.

  He got this grin on his face as he perched his butt on the edge of the dresser. “Anything lacy in there?”

  “Geesh, do you not have an off switch?”

  “Do you have an on?” he shot back.

  She glared at him. Zach walked over to the thick drapes and pulled them back, dust filled the air and he began coughing. “Ugh. When did they last open these, a decade ago?” She ignored him and finished unpacking. She checked her phone for messages from the office, and Tom Hudson. He was an English teacher at one of the local schools, he taught sixth grade, had been married once and had a ten-year-old daughter. Of course he’d held that back. She�
�d started dating him a couple of months ago. As she was caught up in pursuing her career in a new city, her friend Megan had set her up on a blind date and well it had gone pretty well, at least Tom thought so. He was a nice guy, polite, well dressed and the kind of man any mother would have been proud to meet but he was… well, odd. It hadn’t taken her long to get beyond the thin veneer of pleasantries and talk about his career to realize that perhaps they weren’t suited. It wasn’t that he didn’t have interests outside of work, he did, probably more so than her but it was what he was interested in. Larping he called it. She had to have him repeat it because she thought he said laughing. Nope, had it been that, they might have connected. She had a sense of humor as skewed and dry as the best of them but that wasn’t it. Oh no. Larping stood for live action role-playing. She’d never heard of it. Although she really didn’t want to know, nevertheless she asked. His reply couldn’t have been any more clear or disturbing. Twice a month on weekends he got together with people who dressed up in period costumes, and fought them with foam weapons. To say that she nearly spat her drink over his face would have been an understatement. She thought he was joking until after a minute or so she realized he was the only one with a straight face. By the silence at the end of that night she assumed he’d taken offense and that would be the last she’d hear of him. If only she’d been that lucky. Instead, for days after he’d bombarded her phone with affectionate texts written in old English. It was absurd. The kind of shit that would have made Hallmark writers want to gag. And to be frank she didn’t have time for that kind of nonsense. She’d tried her best to make it clear in the nicest possible way that she wasn’t interested and would never be his Maid Marian but for all her trying her words fell on deaf ears. Next she’d considered blocking him, even changing her phone number but that seemed a cowardly thing to do and why? He was the one stepping over the line. Instead, prior to leaving for Telluride she decided to send him a simple text — something straight to the point, something that left no room for doubt and made it clear that she and he were never going to be.

  She told him to fuck off.

  It was coarse, vulgar even and no doubt her mother would have raked her over the coals for it but it had worked like gangbusters. Zero messages returned in the past twenty-six hours. That was a record since he’d been sending her upwards of thirty in a given day.

  “Aha, you do have someone on the side,” Zach said peering over her shoulder.

  “It was a one-off date. Well, two dates but I don’t exactly count the second as…” She shook her head unable to believe she was telling him about it. “Look, let’s just go.”

  She ushered him out and closed the door behind her.

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you,” the clerk said behind the counter at the U.S. Post Office as he slipped the fifty-dollar bill back to Zach. “That information is private.”

  “Well then you have a nice day.” Zach turned on the balls of his feet with pursed lips before cursing under his breath. Kelly was leaning against a post a short distance away with her arms crossed and a smile on her face. She knew he wouldn’t make headway but he wouldn’t listen. Zach passed her and jerked his head towards the door. Outside he screwed his hand into a ball. “That snarky little twerp behind the counter acted like his shit didn’t stink.”

  She stretched out her aching back and breathed in the clear mountain air. “He’s doing his job.”

  “And I’m doing mine. Come on, let’s go get ourselves a drink.”

  “You give up too easily.”

  He turned and looked at her.

  “Yeah, and how do you expect to figure it out?”

  “Follow me.”

  A few minutes later they walked into the local police station and Kelly approached the counter. Zach hung back in the waiting area with a face like a cat’s ass. It hadn’t been the first time Kelly had gone this route in order to get information. It was underhanded and liable to land her in hot water but at times work as a reporter called for that.

  Behind the glass was a burly guy, clean-shaven, five foot nine, in his mid-forties with flecks of silver at the sides of his temples.

  “Can I help?”

  She blew out her cheeks and acted like she’d just run a marathon. “I hope so otherwise I’ve traveled an awful long way for nothing. I’m here from San Francisco to find a close friend. A family member of hers passed away and the only phone number I have no longer works, and the last known address for her is a PO box here in town. The funeral is coming up soon and I know she’d want to be there. I was hoping to speak with someone down at the city, or perhaps you can help? Her name is Dana Grant.”

  It was a long shot but in the past it had led to all manner of leads.

  Sometimes when it came to a person’s welfare or family, strangers were more than willing to go the extra mile. Throw in a sob story and she could get people to eat right out of her hands.

  The cop stared back and then raised a finger.

  Dana’s name had triggered something in the cop’s expression.

  The cop got up and disappeared around a corner. Kelly looked back at Zach who’d spread his arms wide in exaggerated perplexity. As if to say, well?

  The cop returned with another guy who appeared to be his superior. He approached the counter. “I’m Chief Wilkerson. May I ask who you are?”

  “Kelly Armstrong. I worked alongside Dana. We go way back. After she left California we fell out of touch but her family wanted her to know that her sister has passed. We came up here to let her know.”

  He looked around her to where Zach was.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. But you might be out of luck.”

  “Excuse me?” Kelly asked.

  “Unfortunately…”

  Before he could say anything, Kelly wanted to ride the wave of familiarity with Dana’s name. “Is there something wrong, chief? Is Dana okay? Because we’ve flown here specifically to see her and bring her back to California.”

  “You’ll have some difficulty doing that.”

  She sighed. “She’s moved, hasn’t she?” She turned and yelled to Zach. “I told you it was a waste of time coming up here. Jillian is going to be devastated.” She looked back at the chief. “Jillian is her mother. She was beside herself when we left, that’s why we offered to come up as she was in no state. Dana is her only surviving child.”

  Kelly laid it on thick.

  “Oh, I see. That’s a long way.”

  “You’re telling me. And between you and me.” She jerked her head towards Zach. “The company hasn’t been that great either.”

  The chief nodded. “Well as I said, it’s going to be difficult. Dana is missing.”

  “What?”

  “Her boyfriend filed a report after their home burned down.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “She never mentioned having one?” Wilkerson asked.

  “Not that I recall.”

  Her stomach was doing flips. Was this the man they were looking for?

  “You wouldn’t have that address, would you? Maybe he can shed some light on the situation.”

  “Not much to see really and I doubt Jack will be there. He’s probably holed up in one of the hotels around town.”

  “Jack…?” she fished for a second name, praying under her breath for a break.

  “Winchester.”

  It was like the heavens had opened up and an angel had kissed her. There was a strong possibility that he wasn’t the man they were searching for and that Dana had met him after arriving in Telluride, but in light of the strange circumstances surrounding her disappearance, and the home burning down, she was beginning to think that they were on to one hell of a story.

  After getting the address, she thanked the chief, left her name and number just in case Dana showed up and headed out the door with Zach falling in step.

  “Well?” he asked.

  She shook the piece of paper with the address. “We might be able to kill two birds with one stone.”
<
br />   Zach was all questions on the cab drive over to the address. Kelly was equally excited. “She’s missing? And he said her home had burned down?”

  She nodded. “And he mentioned a name. Jack Winchester. Does it ring a bell?”

  “I’ll have to check with my source,” he said getting on the phone while the cab weaved its way through the valley heading north of the town. While waiting for the call to connect, Zach kept running away at the mouth. “The police? The goddamn police? How the hell did you manage to extract that information from them?”

  “Can you believe I went in looking for directions?” she replied.

  She was as surprised as him. She thought the cops would direct her to town hall and she’d spend the next ten minutes trying to convince some gray-panted government official that it was critical that she get an address. The fact was being a good reporter required hours of research, plenty of lying and a fair amount of luck.

  Zach shook his head as whomever he was calling picked up on the other end. The fact was the police might not have given out the information had the circumstances not been unusual. Then again it wasn’t normal protocol to have someone travel over a thousand miles with news of a funeral. If they knew where she was they would have likely taken her details and passed them on to Dana but it was clear they had no idea.

  On the short ten-minute drive out to the home, Kelly went through a series of questions in her head. The questions vanished as the cab veered around a corner and they came upon the aftermath of the house fire. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as it came to a stop outside. Kelly got out. Zach remained in the cab on the phone.

  She walked over to what was left and gazed around. The home was remote and if the foundations were anything to go by, huge. This was no run-of-the-mill suburban house. It spoke of value. Her thoughts went back to what Zach had said about the money going missing. What money? And how much?