by Ali Vali
She described the checklist and what her son had done so far. He let his head drop back as she spoke, thinking that Juan hadn’t inherited his stupidity only from his father. “I thought this would shake up the power structure and get them off their game.”
“More like you galvanized two of the three families into hunting down whoever did this. Brilliant plan,” he said, dropping the towel to search for clean clothes.
“Juan told me—”
“Get it through your head, Juan will never have the brains to run a pig farm, much less something as complicated as the operation you have in mind.” He shoved his legs into a pair of jeans so savagely he thought they’d rip. “I realize he’s your son, but face the truth before you get us all killed.”
“He only needs a little guidance,” she said, trying to put her hands on him. “My brother was a horrible influence, but the two of us can change that. With your help he can become the man I know his father was.”
“Are you kidding me?” He grabbed the first shirt he found in the closet and left it unbuttoned as he looked for his shoes. “Juan isn’t a leader. He’s more like someone who needs to be kept on a very short leash.”
“Did you forget you’re a guest in my home? Keep talking like that and you won’t forget the last seconds of your life when I have you flung off the back of the house to the beach.” Her chest was red from anger and she showed no modesty as she stood naked in the middle of the room.
“How long do you think the men you’ve surrounded yourself with will stay when you tell them you plan to put Juan in charge? They’ll fight over who gets to call Rodolfo and beg to go back, and I’m not telling you this to be cruel.”
“Really? You have a strange way of being nice.”
“You can have me killed, but then you’ll have done away with the one person who can keep you intact.” Pushing the rumpled sheets aside, he sat on the bed. “Dreams are one thing, but now we’ve got to deal with reality. What you did concerning Rodolfo was a good move, but giving Juan his way was not.” When she sat next to him he took his shirt off and offered it to her. “We need to redirect everyone’s thinking now.”
“What does that mean?”
“You let Juan go after Casey by having five of her people killed, and Remi by taking out one. Did he tell you exactly what the theatrics were all about?”
“So Cain could picture herself in one of those boxes soon,” Gracelia explained, like she was describing Juan’s role in the school play.
“And Jatibon’s delivery?”
“He said she’s another freak of nature.”
“Jesus Christ,” he said disgustedly. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths so he could calm down enough not to take his anger out on Gracelia. When he was centered he got up and dipped the small golden spoon into the dish of coke Gracelia kept in the bedroom. One a day was all he allowed himself, sure he could keep from becoming an addict.
“We have a fucking disaster, and there’s only one way to turn it to our advantage,” he said, zeroing in on a plan of his own.
“Do you plan to tell me or do you need to insult Juan some more? He is, after all, in New Orleans making sure nothing can be traced back to us.”
“Casey’s like a bloodhound when threatened, and she won’t stop until she’s found and destroyed whoever went against her. The only way to redirect her is for her to become the hunted.”
“That’s Juan’s plan.”
“Juan’s plan is to take Emma Casey, who said no, and who’ll rip his balls off the first chance she gets if he’s lucky enough to succeed. No, the pressure has to come from someone other than us.”
The plan was different, and if everyone involved put it together it would make theirs much easier to bring to fruition. He was certain, though, that it would produce the results he was after.
“Are you sure about that?” Gracelia asked.
“Think about who’ll be blamed, babe, and when that happens, Casey will have other problems to think about.”
“I hope you’re right, because if you aren’t, you’ll create the perfect storm against us.”
*
The sun bled through the teak slats of the plantation shutters covering Dallas’s bedroom window. In the streaks they created she watched the little particles of dust that floated in the air, but it was hard to concentrate on the sight. She’d woken up with Remi’s head between her legs, and the light touch of her tongue on her clit was driving her insane.
“God,” she said, the only word she’d been capable of since she’d opened her eyes and her clit was so hard she was afraid it would pop. Remi had her ready and wet, and she lifted her bottom off the bed by pressing her feet into Remi’s back, but Remi refused to give her what she wanted.
When chasing Remi’s tongue didn’t work she slapped the side of Remi’s head with her foot. “Do you intend to finish what you started?” she asked, looking down at Remi’s unique eyes. The one blue and one green were full of that mischief she loved to see because it was such an important part of Remi’s personality. In a way Remi embodied Dallas’s permission to break all her own self-imposed rules.
Remi suddenly changed what she’d been doing and sucked her in—hard. When she let go Dallas heard a popping noise. “Are you sure you’re awake?” Remi licked gently again. “I don’t want you to sleep through what’ll hopefully be an awesome orgasm.”
“Do you think you’re funny?” she asked, reaching down and encouraging Remi to come up and pin her to the bed.
“I’m trying to be romantic,” Remi said, pressing her pelvis into hers, which made her want to be touched. “I woke up with my hand between your legs and you were wet.”
She ran her fingers along Remi’s jaw until she hooked them behind her neck. “See, even in my sleep I can’t get enough of you.”
“Right now I want you to get just enough of me.” With her weight held up by one arm Remi slipped her fingers deep inside, touching Dallas in a way that made the walls of her sex clamp down. The sensation was so good that she pressed her feet to the bed to get as much of Remi’s fingers inside as possible.
The way Remi held her hand made the side of the knuckle of her index finger rub the length of her clit on every down stroke. Dallas could hear her heartbeat in her ears, but the moaning she couldn’t help muffled it. It’d been like this from the first time they were together. Remi touched her and the rest of the world was locked out so nothing could hurt her, not even her memories.
She held the tide back as long as she could, but her orgasm came when she pushed up against Remi so hard that she almost knocked her off.
When she begged Remi to stop, Remi reversed their positions and held her against her chest. In these moments Dallas knew with certain clarity that she’d share her life with Remi.
“Will I see you at the studio later?” she asked when she was able to speak again. “I don’t think I can tell you enough how much I love you in the little time we have this morning.”
“I really like it when you get sappy on me,” Remi said, squeezing the cheeks of her butt and making her laugh. “Actually I’ve got a few meetings outside the studio today, but Dwayne and Steve will make sure everything turns out okay,” Remi said, mentioning her law partners who helped her run the studio. “I should be finished by dinner if you and Kristen are interested.”
“We’d love to.”
They shared a shower and went down for coffee. Remi was wearing the suit she kept in her closet, but she’d put on a robe since it would be hours before she had to be anywhere. She smiled when they found Kristen talking to Emil and Simon. Everything seemed normal in an abnormal way, since not too many people found a couple of armed guards in their kitchen.
When Remi left, Emil excused himself to the coolness of the patio, leaving Dallas alone with Kristen, who didn’t have her orientation tour of Tulane until ten that morning. Her sister was on her second piece of toasted French bread with strawberry preserves, and Dallas was reminded of one of the few happy me
mories from when her mother was alive. They would spend the morning picking wild berries and the afternoon making preserves.
“Why are you so quiet?” Kristen asked between bites.
“I was thinking about when Mama made preserves. I buy the strawberry kind all the time, but none of them taste the same as hers.”
“Right before I go to sleep every night I spend time thinking about her. It was like she was there one morning making us breakfast, then when we got back from playing she was gone.” Kristen took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes, her face suddenly a reflection of sadness. “After that I used to pray like she taught us that you wouldn’t go away too and leave me alone.”
Their mother had left when she was twelve and Kristen was seven. She’d been old enough to hear the nightly arguments and the sound of slaps that would mean her mama would have new bruises to add to the ones she always had everywhere. It hadn’t taken long after she left for Johnny to start visiting her room. At first, shame, not bruises like her mama’s, had marred her life. The bruises, though, had come not much later, since Johnny couldn’t help himself.
“I hated her for a long time after she left us there,” Dallas admitted softly, making Kristen push her plate away so she could hold her hands. “Her life with Johnny was hell, but I always wondered what kind of mother leaves her children with someone like him.”
“Do you still hate her?”
She looked at Kristen and shook her head, her eyes blurry with tears, as they always were when she thought of their mother. “I did for so long, but one day I wondered why. The answer was the same one I’d give you if you asked why I’d leave you. The only way I’d do that was if I was dead.”
“That’s what I think too,” Kristen said, squeezing her fingers. “And I think dear old dad killed her.”
“That’s the main reason I decided to run with you when you were eleven. I really thought we’d get caught,” she said out loud for the first time. “That rat hole we lived in was all I knew, and I figured we’d only get so far and he’d find us and drag us back.”
“Dallas,” Kristen said, coming around the counter so she could hug her, “it’s why I thank God every day that you found Remi. You discovered this place, and you have your career, and you’ve given me a life that’s as far from where we started as you could’ve, but you’re still running. Aren’t you tired after all these years?”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are,” Kristen said, still holding her. “You need to be fair to yourself and to Remi. She’s the one last gift that fate has given you, and it’s time you told her your remarkable story. And that’s how I see you.”
“I’m far from it.”
“How many people start as a runaway and end up with your life?”
If she couldn’t face the truth of what it had taken for them to have this moment, how could Remi? It hadn’t come because she was remarkable, but simply because she’d used what Johnny had taught her against her will and made it work for her. The men she’d had sex with in those tapes had disgusted her to the point that she’d never felt fully clean again, but it was the one sure way for a seventeen-year-old to keep a studio apartment and feed and educate her little sister.
Cain might’ve found the tape she had a starring role in, but there were others. She doubted anyone would ever recognize the skinny girl with jet black hair as Dallas Montgomery, but that was no guarantee in an industry that loved to dig up dirt and expose it to the world.
“You need to start getting ready,” she told Kristen. This was as far as she could go on this subject today, and Kristen must have understood when she kissed her temple and left her alone with her coffee.
Maybe she should stop running from all the things that in reality weren’t her fault. Admitting who she really was and what she’d been capable of doing, though, seemed more of a gamble than running from Johnny. And if life had taught her anything, it was that fate had a way of catching up no matter how hard and fast you ran. But she couldn’t build a future on a shaky foundation.
“Hey,” she said into the phone. “Do you have time to talk today?” It was like throwing the dice Remi loved so much, but it would take a while before she knew if they landed on snake eyes and the game ended.
Chapter Thirteen
“You ever get tired of that?” Sabana asked, pointing behind them.
The surveillance had picked up considerably all of a sudden, and Cain felt like everyone was in on a secret no one had bothered to share with her. A bunch of dead delivery men who, after a couple of days of searching she still couldn’t identify, didn’t explain the two cars with tinted windows in front of the van she was used to. They were getting close to the office and her gut told her to keep going.
“Lou,” she said, after glancing back through her own tinted windows, “keep driving. I feel like breakfast out today.”
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“I feel a little hinky surrounded by so many Feds, so let’s change our routine a bit.” Next to her, Sabana couldn’t seem to stop looking back. “This happens every so often,” she said.
After Sabana’s mother had come to talk to her she’d decided to be an active participant in Sabana’s training. In Sabana’s short time on the job, Lou had reported what a good shot she was and, despite her size, a good fighter.
It was apparent now that Rick had started his sister’s training long before she’d asked for a job. Most encouraging, Sabana’s anger toward the world had cooled considerably. Cain’s intuition told her this wasn’t the time for an overzealous hothead on her payroll.
“To answer your question,” she told Sabana to make her stop staring at the pack of hunters behind them, “you learn to work around it.”
“Unless you’re good at shaking these idiots, I don’t see how.”
“That’s why she has people like us,” Lou said, “and don’t ever think they’re stupid. That’s the fastest way to get caught. Where to, boss?”
When they passed the office the lead car behind them broke from the line and pulled alongside them as if trying to get a look inside. That was less likely to happen than for her to see through their dark windows.
“Lou, try to find a right turn somewhere,” she said, putting her hand on the armrest. They were in the middle of the block and the car next to them sped up and passed them as the one behind them took its place at their side.
“They’ve got us boxed in,” Sabana said in obvious panic, reaching for her shoulder holster.
This wasn’t the movies, so if these weren’t Feds, then there weren’t any bulletproof barriers to stop the fire of whoever was on the other side of the glass. If they had fully automatic weapons, Cain and the others would look like the guys in Sept’s stack of photos.
“Wait,” she said as Sabana drew her gun. There was a grocery at the end of the street. “Lou, pull in there.” She pointed to the parking entrance. The car in front stopped and blocked their path forward.
“What the hell is this?” Sabana said, almost screaming and fighting Cain’s grip on her wrist.
“Calm down,” Cain said, but was ready to let Sabana’s hand go if this wasn’t what looked now like an arrest. “Are you okay?” she asked, making Sabana look at her.
“Yeah.” Sabana divided her attention between her and the cars now surrounding them.
“Put that away,” Cain said, watching the doors of the car open and the two men in gray suits get out. “You too, Lou. I don’t know what this is, but call Sanders and Muriel, and tell them to be on standby.”
Two more agents walked up on the other side of them and knocked on the glass. The guy was as big as Lou and he didn’t seem to care that he was about to break it with his fist.
“Open the door and show your hands.” The two on Sabana’s side drew their weapons, and while they held them with both hands in a defensive posture, they pointed them down at the street.
“Do what he says but stay inside,” Cain said to both of them. “I doubt this has a
nything to do with you.” She cracked her door a little, allowing the big man who’d been knocking to finish the job for her. “Can I see some ID?”
“Sure,” he said, laughing as he produced his FBI credentials. His head took up much of the photo, but before she could read the name he grabbed her by her jacket lapels and practically lifted her out of the car.
His strength was impressive and she couldn’t stop her face from slamming into the trunk when he spun her around and pushed her head down. When her bottom lip crashed into her teeth, splitting it enough for her to taste the blood, the pain was explosive. Her right eyebrow was the first point of impact when she did lift her head, obviously too far for his liking, and he slammed her head down again while his partner handcuffed her.
She felt woozy when she was stood back up and was herded to one of the cars. Her head was bleeding now so she had to close her right eye to keep it from stinging.
“What exactly is this about?” she asked the agent who’d cuffed her and was helping his partner guide her. Instead of answering, he read her her rights and asked if she understood. Before they managed to get her in the backseat she noticed that the regular surveillance team never got out of the van. When they started moving she could see the look of fury on Lou’s face but she was grateful that he’d kept his head, as had Sabana.
The car made the trip to the federal building in short time, heading into a basement parking area. Her face was still bleeding from both places and the taste of blood was making her nauseous. This was new—new agents, new procedures, and a new set of rules, or disregard for them. Muriel had warned her about the changes after September 11 and law enforcement’s newfound freedoms at the expense of the individual’s, but that had to do with terrorists. She was many things, but no terrorist.
“You don’t look so smug without backup,” the big man said when he opened the back door.
“Tough talk for someone who had to handcuff me and who travels in a pack.” He was rough pulling her out but she was glad to be away from the car and off her hands since the cuffs were too tight.