by Roxie Rivera
"I'm getting my daughter back," he stated and shoved me into the house. "They won't let me see her, but they can't stop me if I have you with me."
"Are you crazy?"
"A father's love makes a man do crazy things." He gave me another shove, stepped into the house after me and shut the door behind us. He pushed me toward the dealer and pointed the gun at him. "Pat him down."
I did exactly as he told me. Worried I might be stabbed by a needle or worse, I was careful in touching this stranger. The noise of music coming from somewhere else in the house covered up the sounds coming from the entryway. There had to be other people here. What if they came looking for this guy? Would they shoot us? How the hell was I going to get out of here?
Hands shaking and thinking of the baby depending on me to survive, I finished frisking the dealer and handed over the knife and small revolver I had taken from him. The judge shoved the knife into his pocket but kept the revolver in his hand.
Armed with two guns, he motioned for us to head into the house. "Walk. Now."
Standing beside the dealer, I matched his steps. We crossed a living room filled with crates and boxes of supplies like plastic bags, mannitol and caffeine powder. I didn't have to be a genius to figure out was going on in this house. I wrinkled my nose in the filthy dining room where empty takeout and pizza boxes covered every flat surface. There were energy drink cans stacked nearly to the ceiling in one corner.
We finally entered the kitchen, except it wasn't being used as a kitchen. This was the center of their drug dealing operation. Everywhere I looked, there was lab equipment. Two long tables draped in clear plastic supported piles of tightly wrapped bricks of white powder. The bright red stamp on the brown packing tape sealing them shut was a symbol I knew only too well. It belonged to the Guzman cartel, the same cartel my father had worked for most of his life. The same cartel he had given the finger and fled after killing that cartel witness in January.
A woman a few years older than me with stringy brown hair stood next to another Asian guy. They were both high and working like fiends to bag up the mound of loose powder in the center of the kitchen island. Judging by the empty bottles of caffeine and mannitol powder, the duo had cut the pure product to make cheaper blow that low-end users could afford. They filled tiny bags, weighed them, sealed them and tossed them into a waiting box. Neither of them noticed us at first, not until the judge finally spoke.
"Julie, honey, it's time to come home."
Her head popped up, and she blinked three times, almost as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. The briefest flash of a smile curved her mouth before her expression turned angry and dark. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I'm here to take you home." He kept his guns trained on the two men in the room. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's go."
"I don't want to go with you."
"Yes, you do." He swallowed loudly and tried to reason with her. "Honey, you're sick. You need to come home and rest. Let me take care of you."
Like an irritated child, she stomped her foot and slapped at the white mountain in front of her. "I don't want your help! I'm not sick!"
I held my breath, suddenly afraid to inhale the air for fear of ingesting even a single particle of cocaine. I lifted my shirt to cover my face and prayed none of the drugs would make it into my system. Anxious and desperate to escape this rapidly deteriorating situation, I glanced around the kitchen and then back at the door we had used.
Was I fast enough to get away from the judge? Probably. But then what? He had the keys in his pocket. All of the houses around here were empty. I could run, hide and call Nikolai, but it would take him time to reach me.
"You need my help, honey. You need to come home."
"I don't want your help! I'm fine."
"Fine?" The judge repeated in disbelief. "Julie, look at yourself. You're wasting away. Your skin is a mess. Your hair is falling out. When was the last time you had a real meal? When was the last time you showered? When was the last time you saw a doctor?"
"I don’t need a doctor!" Like a dog trying to get the last few dregs of gray from its bow, she licked at the white powder coating her hand. It wasn't enough to satisfy her craving. She picked up a small plate that held her own private supply and scooped up half of a line with the corner of a credit card. She dotted the tiny mound on the skin stretched between her thumb and forefinger and then brought it to her nose. After inhaling a noisy bump, she rubbed at her nose and licked her top lip. "Bobby takes real good care of me."
Judge Walker looked like he was about to shatter right in front of me. Distraught, he shouted, "Bobby Pham doesn't give a shit about you! He's using you, Julie. Don't you see that?"
I didn't know who the hell Bobby Pham was, but I assumed he was the boyfriend. This wasn't a very good tactic. Trying to turn her against her dealer and boyfriend? It was never going to work.
"Bobby loves me! He loves me! He takes care of me. You don't know anything. Just leave!"
"No! I'm not leaving without you, Julie."
"Get out!" she screamed like a banshee.
"What the hell is going on in here?"
With all of the shouting between father and daughter and the music blaring in the background, none of us had heard the front door open. Two men appeared in the doorway behind us, one of them Asian and the other Latino. I assumed the Asian guy was Bobby Pham, but there was something vaguely familiar about the dark-haired, brown-skinned man at his side. I had seen his face somewhere, but I couldn't quite place it.
Guns were drawn in a flash, and Judge Walker was quickly overtaken by the two men who were part of the Vietnamese crew. His guns were stripped, and he was shoved down to his knees. I hastily flattened myself against the closest wall. The Latino man glanced at me and then jerked his head back in my direction. He looked me up and down and narrowed his eyes as if he recognized me.
"Bobby, it's just my dad and some girl. They're leaving." Julie hurried to Bobby's side, her bare and dirty feet slapping against the tile, and slid her arm around her boyfriend's waist. "They're going. It's no big deal."
"No big deal?" Bobby thundered angrily. "He has guns on me and my boys. He's disrespecting me in my home."
"Respect? You want my respect?" The judge actually spit at Bobby. "You stole my daughter, you little bastard. I'm here to take her home."
"The hell you are. She loves it here. She's mine." As if to prove his point, Bobby cupped Julie's bottom and gave it a lewd squeeze before kissing her noisily on the cheek. "Julie is happy here. Right, baby?"
"Right," she said, her eyes devoid of any emotion. Still she clung to Bobby as if he were her lifeline. As her dealer, he very likely was the only thing keeping her alive.
"Julie." The anguish in the judge's voice made my heart ache. "Come home, honey. Come home with me."
For a moment, I thought she would break, but in the end, she shook her head. "I love, Bobby. I'm staying."
"You'll die here," her father warned. "You'll die in this godforsaken drug den."
She didn't have a reply ready for that one.
"And who the fuck is this?" Bobby pushed away Julie and sauntered toward me. He waved the gun at me and I blanched. My hands flew to my stomach in a futile attempt to shield the baby.
"No." The Latino guy stepped in front of Bobby and put his body between mine and his cohort's. "Don't touch her."
"Jesus, you're hot on her already, Hector?" Bobby leaned to the side for a better look at me. "She's too short and scrawny for my tastes, but if that's your thing—"
Hector? Oh God. I finally remembered why his face was so familiar. I had seen it in Mexican newspapers and on the blogs that followed the Mexican underworld. This was Hector Salas, the cartel's top enforcer. If anyone in this room had bad blood with my father, it was going to be Hector.
"Shut the fuck up, Bobby," Hector snapped. "Do you know who the hell this woman is?"
Bobby shrugged. "Some tramp that the old man is banging?"
"No, yo
u fucking idiot. This is Nikolai Kalasnikov's wife."
The entire room went still. Everyone looked at me, and my skin prickled as a nervous heat raced through me. I wasn't sure what would happen now. In some circle's Nikolai's name would get me a free pass. In others…
Bobby lowered his gun away from me but whirled around on the judge. He hauled the older man up by his shirt and slammed him into the island. Judge Walker cried out in pain as the thick marble slab cut into his hip. Bobby shook him like a ragdoll. "What the fuck is wrong with you, old man? Bringing the Russian's wife to my house? Do have any idea what you've done?"
"Bobby, stop!" Julie tried to intervene. Despite her earlier protests, it was clear she still loved her father a great deal. "Stop! He just wanted to help me."
"Help you? He's just signed our fucking death warrants! Do you know what Nikolai is going to do when he finds out that I waved a gun at his wife? Do you have any idea what Romero will do if he gets his hands on me?"
Judge Walker laughed right in Bobby's face. "I’m counting on it, you miserable little shit."
Bobby growled with anger and pistol-whipped the judge so hard that blood splattered across the kitchen. The droplets landed on the refrigerator and dotted the mountains of white powder sitting on the island.
"NO! Bobby, leave him alone!" Julie attacked her boyfriend, but she was too weak and strung out to be effective. He backhanded her with so much force that she was thrown to the ground. I watched in horror as the judge launched himself at Bobby. The pair started to fight viciously. Bobby's crew rushed in to help him—and in the ensuing scuffle, a gun discharged.
The blast ricocheted in the kitchen, and I screamed. The memories of the blitz attack where Nikolai had been so badly beaten and where I had been kidnapped overwhelmed me. Panicked, I thought only of the baby and ran.
Hands clutched at me, but I shook them off and kicked out hard, catching my attacker right in the balls. I managed to get free of the kitchen just as another round was fired and then another. The bullets ripped through the drywall. Glass shattered behind me. I scrambled for the closest piece of cover I could find and dove behind a heavy couch.
Crawling on hands and knees, I scurried across the dirty living room floor and desperately tried to reach the entryway. The fighting and shooting continued in the kitchen behind me. Julie's screams and the judge's bellowing voice sent a pang of guilt through me, but I didn't dare go back for them. I had to stay alive for the baby.
Just as I made it to the entryway, the front door was violently kicked open. I curled up into a ball and covered my face and neck with my arms. Tears sprang to my eyes. I was going to die here. My baby was going to die in this terrible, disgusting drug hellhole because I had made a stupid, stupid decision.
"Vee!"
My head popped up as Nikolai's deep, loud voice registered. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I blinked my watery eyes and nearly fainted with relief as he rushed through the door he had just kicked open and into the house. He dropped to his knees with enough momentum that he slid across the hardwood. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me in front of him and shielded my body with his own.
All hell broke loose in the house. Men ran through the front door and into the kitchen. There weren't any more shots fired, but the smack of skin on skin told me that the fighting was still at a fever pitch. Finally, Kostya's voice filled the house as he called out to Nikolai in Russian, telling him it was all clear.
Nikolai's arms relaxed around me, and he slowly stood. Grasping my shoulders, he guided me to my feet. I found the courage to stare up at him, but the expression on his handsome face made my stomach drop like a runaway elevator. The softness and tender heat that always warmed his eyes had vanished. He looked at me with the same cold indifference that he showed everyone else. That icy wall he used to keep others out had suddenly appeared between us.
Ten walked up behind Nikolai. The bruises on his face from his fight with Eric were even darker and more pronounced now. There were fresh blood stains on his shirt and jeans. I didn't even want to think about the ways he had earned those. "The judge is alive. So is the girl. The Pham crew is dead. Hector Salas took a bullet to the shoulder, but it's nothing our doctor can't fix." He glanced at me and winced. "There's fucking llelo everywhere, boss. It's not safe for her to be here."
His business-like rundown of the mayhem didn’t surprise me. This was Ten's element. This was what he did best.
Turning away from me, Nikolai clenched his jaw together so tightly I could see the muscles flexing in his cheek. He stared at Ten for a moment before finally speaking. "Get her out here."
"Da." Ten stepped toward me as Nikolai pivoted toward the living room.
"Kolya." I reached for my husband in a desperate attempt to make him stop, to make him come back and talk to me. Shaken up and in shock, I needed his strength. I needed to feel his arms around me. I needed to hear him whispering gently in my ear, reassuring me that everything would be all right.
But he didn't stop or slow down. He just kept walking—away from me.
I tried to follow him, but Ten stopped me. "No, Vivian. He doesn't want you now."
Ten didn't speak with malice or cruelty. He was speaking matter-of-factly. Nikolai didn't want me.
"Dorogaya moya." He wrapped a brawny arm around my shoulders and carefully held me back. Lowering his head, he spoke in a low tone only I could hear. "Leave him. Give him some space. He'll come around."
I stumbled out of the house with Ten guiding the way. By the time we reached an idling SUV, he was practically carrying me. I could hardly stand. He lifted me into the front seat and fastened my seatbelt. Not a word was spoken between us as we drove. There wasn't anything to say anymore.
With my forehead against the hot glass of my window, I closed my eyes and let the tears come. Ten's voice raced around my head. He doesn't want you now.
No, I thought sadly, he doesn't.
Chapter Thirteen
Sick to his stomach, Nikolai gritted his teeth and fought the urge to run after Vivian. The urge to shout at her for being so reckless, and the maddening desire to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until she was limp with pleasure gripped him like a vice. Somehow he managed to muscle control over his baser needs. He kept his back to her and his feet moving toward the kitchen. Ten would take care of her. Right now, he had more pressing matters to attend.
The kitchen looked like a fucking war zone. He stopped abruptly after two steps because of the growing blood pool and the haze of white powder in the air. His expert gaze took in the sealed bricks of product and the piles on the counter. He hazarded a guess at the weight and wondered how the fuck a low-end counterfeiter like Bobby Pham had scraped together enough cash to make the initial buy. This was millions of dollars in weight in pure Colombian candy. After cutting it, adding a premium to every gram and pushing it out onto the street, there was still a tidy profit in it for Bobby and his crew.
Or, at least, there had been.
He looked at the three bodies on the floor. Two of the faces he didn't recognize but the third he did. He would have to visit Mr. Lu personally to let him know what had happened here. It was a visit he didn't look forward to making tonight.
Judge Walker sat in a chair while his daughter knelt next to him and wept over the body of her boyfriend. Miraculously neither had been shot, but the daughter made Nikolai nervous. A coke addict with an axe to grind was a loose end he didn't like. He silently added her to the list he would be giving to Kostya. At the first indication that she might break, he would have to give the order. Vivian had been here, and he refused to put her at risk.
But what the hell had Vee been doing in this house? Why would she do something so stupid? Did she think of the baby even once? The bullet holes in the walls made him sick. He couldn't help but imagine the burning hot projectiles ripping through her soft flesh.
Finding her curled in a ball and unharmed in the entryway had been nothing but sheer dumb luck. He had fully expected to f
ind her shot and bleeding on the floor. His heart threatened to burst as pain unlike any he had ever known struck him. He could have lost Vee and the baby.
A grunt of pain dragged his attention away from the trouble that would follow him home. Hector Salas sat in a chair and pressed a wad of paper towels against his bleeding shoulder. From the looks of the wound, it wasn't too bad. He would live.
As if sensing that he needed to explain what had happened, the judge raised a hand in front of him. The gesture was one that pleaded for understanding. "Listen, Nikolai, I didn't think it would go like this."
"Not another fucking word out of you," Nikolai warned. His anger toward the judge threatened to erupt in a fit of violence. "I told you to leave this alone. I warned you that something like this would happen if you got involved, but you didn't listen. Now I have three dealers dead at my feet, and a crime scene that has to be cleaned up. Unless you plan to take credit for this fucking nightmare," he added meanly.
Judge Walker had the decency to glance away and look chagrined. He didn't say another word. He kept his gaze glued to the bloody, dirty floor.
Speaking in Russian so the judge, his daughter and Hector wouldn’t get involved, Nikolai started giving orders. "Kostya, call the Liquidator. Get his cleaner in here tonight. I want this place gone over with a fine tooth comb, and I want us out of it."
Kostya looked relieved to not be in charge of cleaning up this mess. "What about the drugs?"
"Call Zec. He'll take care of it for us. We'll consider it payment for all this trouble."
"And the bodies?" Kostya used the toe of his boot to lift the head of one man.
"We'll take them to Mr. Lu after they've been cleaned." The old man would want to bury his nephew appropriately. Nikolai couldn't be sure about his degree of relationship to the other two dead men. If they were close relations, they had to be returned.
Nikolai motioned to Hector. "Take him to see the doctor after you make that call."