The Devil Be Damned

by Ali Vali

  “Ah, lassie, you have no debts with me,” she said, her heart hurting that Emma felt she had something to prove.

  “It’s not something I owe you,” Emma said, taking Cain’s hand and putting it over her abdomen. “It’s something I owe myself because I knew you from the first day. You never lied to me, never tried to pass yourself off as someone you weren’t, and it was my fault I stood on the sidelines and stupidly judged what I didn’t think was right.”

  “Why are you telling me this now?” Cain asked. When Emma started to lament over things she couldn’t change, she usually worked herself into tears Cain couldn’t walk away from even if the house was on fire. “I love you with all that I am, and what happened isn’t all your fault.”

  “I’m telling you because I want you to go out there and take off the shackles I’ve put on you,” Emma said, her eyes clear. “Sometimes I realize that you know the most expedient way and you take another course because of what I might think. It’s like that night I saw you with Danny’s blood on your hands and I thought the worst. Your first instinct was to kill him, and you were right. Now the best thing for us, for our future, and for our family is for you to shed blood, and you’re afraid I’ll see and run.”

  “I’ve taken care of plenty of problems and you’re still here, love.”

  “You’ve got a lot more waiting for you, and it’s time for some of that old Cain to quit hibernating. These people are proving that they can hit you over and over, and the consequence isn’t enough to keep them from doing it again. This is our future,” she pressed their hands harder against her middle, “and when it’s our children’s turn, I want them to inherit a clan that only has to roar a little to send the assholes running.”

  “My mum would have a statue built in your honor for that little pep talk,” Cain said, kissing Emma. “The world is changing since I took over from my da, and I don’t mind getting my hands bloody if it’s necessary. But this killing has become senseless. People back then didn’t fill five boxes with innocents who no more deserved that than a pack of nuns, but scum like Juan changed that. They kill because they like it and because they don’t have anything that makes life precious.”

  “That’s what scares me the most, and it terrifies me to lose you.”

  “Don’t be scared, but I don’t think I could kill for no reason, like Juan.”

  Emma shook her head and pressed her nose to the side of Cain’s neck. “I shouldn’t be laying all this on you right before you go out.”

  “I don’t want to leave and you don’t have to ever fear saying what’s on your mind. The future might be bloodier than I’d like, but it’ll still belong to us because I plan to do what has to be done until I solve all our problems.” She rubbed her hands along Emma’s back. “You understand what I’m saying?”

  “I do, and do you understand that I’ll be here with the soap when you get home?”

  “Soap isn’t the best thing to wash away the blood,” she said, smiling when Emma raised her eyebrow as if in question. “Loving me like you just did, that’s what washes it away and keeps my soul light.”

  “You’ll be careful, right?”

  “No heavy lifting for me, and I don’t have too much time to get creative, so we should be back soon.”

  “Creative?”

  “It’s like playing Russian roulette, only I load all the chambers and I don’t take a turn,” she said as Emma helped her put on her jacket. “If you’re the one playing, it’s a great motivator to talk.”

  “That’s my devil.”

  “A little beat up, but good to go.”

  *

  “Katlin called and said she’d meet us there,” Ramon said as they drove out the front gate behind the heavily tinted windows of one of the Suburbans she kept in the garage. “Carlos recognized the guy as Lorenzo Mendoza, one of Rodolfo’s men who’s recently gone missing.”

  Cain was glad Muriel was back in her life, but right now she was still aggravated that they had to take ridiculous measures to talk to someone. They’d left the house forty minutes earlier but were still driving, making sure they didn’t see any surveillance because of Shelby’s midnight raid of Muriel’s office.

  Once Lou was convinced they hadn’t been tailed, he headed to the warehouse deep in the east side of New Orleans. The area was devoid of traffic and any movement, so Lou turned into the large entrance and Katlin was waiting to close the door behind them. When she got out she heard only the ticking noise of the engine as it cooled. This place would replace their wine-storage warehouse.

  As they walked behind Katlin she saw Ramon glance at his watch, his lips pulling into a grim line, obviously because his phone was as silent as a stone. “You know her and Mano, so you know they’re fine.”

  “Remi’s capable, I’m not worried about that, but she isn’t as focused as usual because of Dallas. This man is dead, or soon will be, but I hope she doesn’t leave anything behind that’ll be a problem because her rage has made her sloppy.”

  “That’s why Simon, Sabana, and Mano are there. Sometimes we have to give in to our fears and anger when it comes to the ones we love, but that’s how it is when you give your heart,” she said, noticing the small office at the back and the large box at its center.

  “Do you think this is the last ghost left to haunt Dallas?”

  “Life can’t always give us guarantees, but if it isn’t, we have some work left to do,” she said, feeling the slight chill through her jacket. “I do believe Johnny is the worst as far as Dallas is concerned. The rest are just opportunists we’ll deal with if they decide to be stupid. But I’m willing to bet they don’t haunt her dreams like her father does.”

  “Good, because I like Dallas and she’s good for Remi. This is what she needed, and Dallas will make her happy since she seems as devoted to her as Marianna and Emma are to us,” he said, and she nodded, her attention more now on the man strapped to the office chair.

  Lorenzo was what Katlin said his name was, and Cain figured it was the white hair along his temple that made him appear relaxed. Experience counted for a lot when it came to courage, more sometimes than heart and guts, but she doubted it would last because the age that had given him the gray hair hadn’t put him on the receiving end of this kind of meeting. When he noticed her he lifted his chin and glared at her as if daring her to do something.

  “Do you speak English?” she asked, and his expression remained unchanged. “The silent type, huh?”

  “A Benjamin he does,” Ramon said, making her laugh at his willingness to bet on anything.

  “Guys like Lorenzo here need motivation to shed some of that machismo they do so well when they’re standing in front of their posse. Alone, they’re like frightened little boys ready to piss themselves and ready to spill their guts so fast you can’t get the information quick enough.” When Ramon laughed at her insult, Lorenzo’s spittle landed close to her shoe, a hint that he’d understood her.

  “I usually go with the seven-bullet rule,” she explained, removing her gun from its holster. “But I’m willing to make an exception in your case. Who’s in the box?” she asked, but Lorenzo stayed defiantly quiet. “Katlin, any clues?”

  “We opened it, but it’s hard to tell with the big hole in his head. From what we could make out it looks like Santos Esvillar, the head guy Rodolfo put in Biloxi. We met with him a couple of times to talk about his moving on from the casino.”

  “It took more than once?”

  Katlin nodded, her legs swinging as she perched on the edge of the desk. “These guys have the learning curve of a retarded slug, so it takes us having to get bitchy, and you know how much I hate bitchy.”

  “Why kill him?” she asked Lorenzo, who sucked his breath in hard through his nose, gathering the phlegm at the back of his throat, she was sure to spit again. Since he was strapped down, she rested the muzzle of her pistol on the top of his right hand and pulled the trigger before he could spit.

  It was amazing how quickly he went from
arrogance to hysteria when she opened a hole in his palm. “When I mentioned varying from the seven-bullet rule, that didn’t mean using fewer bullets, genius.”

  She was sure the pain was still there, but he bit his lip and tried his best to breathe. “You kill me if you want, but I don’t tell you nothing.”

  “I owe you, Ramon,” she said, peeling a hundred-dollar bill out of her money clip and handing it to him before she shot the other hand. “You’re going to die tonight. That isn’t a question or something to bargain over, Lorenzo, so bravery will cost you a fast path to it,” she said over his yelling.

  “Kill me now, I don’t tell no matter what,” he got out through his tears.

  “Do you remember Jesus?” she asked, referring to one of Juan’s men who’d met a similar end.

  “Yes,” he said, rocking as much as he could as if it’d help with the pain.

  “He was bright enough not to make it to seven,” she said, putting the next one in his wrist. His scream died when he passed out, and she looked through the names in his phone while Katlin cracked a vial of smelling salts under his nose. Gracelia’s number was listed first, but the chances that it was still a working number were nil, since one of the guys in the van had gotten away. “No sleep tonight, Lorenzo, because while I’m sure these hurt like a mother,” the other wrist splintered with the next shot, “they’re not life threatening.”

  She didn’t know the other names in the phone, but they were a good starting point. When Lorenzo jerked his head away from Katlin, Cain pulled up a chair to sit across from him. “I think you missed that last part. I’m going to take it a few inches at a time before I put one right here,” she said, putting her finger to the middle of her forehead. “Hands, wrists, elbows, and so on will bend your mind from the pain, but that shit won’t kill you.”

  “You kill me now,” he said, shaking his head violently enough to make tears and saliva fly off his face. “I no talk.”

  “I want you to listen to me,” she said, standing again. “Every time you repeat that line, it’ll cost you another bullet.” To prove her threat she picked his lower forearm and shot regardless of his protests.

  “Unless you have a weak heart, amigo, this is going to be a long night,” she said, watching him as he mumbled and cried.

  “Why kill Santos?”

  “Santos loyal to Rodolfo and Carlos,” he said, crying harder as he wet his pants.

  “See, that wasn’t hard,” she said, signaling Katlin to hit him again to perk him up. “You had me confused for a long time wondering why Gracelia Luis had you kill five of my people, and even though I know who did it now, I still don’t know why. Why five of mine and one of Ramon’s?”

  Lorenzo laughed like the pain had made him crazy. “You stupid or something?”

  She gladly handed her gun over when Ramon held out his hand. Lorenzo widened his eyes when Ramon put the gun in the bend of his arm so the bullet would exit through his elbow. It took two vials to bring him around after that one.

  “That ‘stupid’ comment will cost you every time, so try and control yourself,” she told him, the gun back in her possession. His sobs were loud and she doubted he’d cried like that since he was a baby. “Why kill my people and Ramon’s?”

  “To show you how easy we could,” he said loudly, as if he couldn’t control his volume either. “No one want to work for Rodolfo no more, and it going to be like that for you. Work for Casey or Jatibon and you die.”

  She glanced back at Ramon. “That almost makes sense in a bizarre way.”

  “Sure, until we figure out the ‘who’ and wipe you and everyone down to the janitor working for you out,” Ramon said.

  “You never catch Gracelia,” Lorenzo said.

  “Well, right now we won’t because we don’t know where she is,” she said, smiling. “But that’s about to change. Where is she, Lorenzo? I don’t take out the other elbow if you tell me, so it’s up to you to stop the pain.”

  “Don’t make me tell,” he said. “I can’t tell…please.”

  “You had to know that by hitting me first, I would hit back with help from the Jatibons. Those people you killed and defiled by stuffing into boxes and throwing out like the trash had nothing to do with our businesses except for one, and that young man was special to me. He worked for me in security but never carried a gun, never presented a threat to you, and didn’t deserve what you did to him before he died. Knowing anything about our businesses won’t help you, since once the breach is found, we plug the holes so fast you’ll hit the wall we have around us hard. Tell me where she is and I promise we’re almost done.”

  “She where Rodolfo stay,” he blurted. “Now kill me.”

  “What name is she staying under?”

  “Gracelia Luis,” he said, just as fast.

  “Katlin, could you call the Piquant and ask.”

  He looked panicked. “I tell you, so kill me.”

  “No one by that name, Cain, and we ran the other aliases, no luck.”

  Lorenzo’s head shook back and forth as he rapidly repeated the word “no,” but she shot through the other elbow. “I told you it was up to you, and lying isn’t the way to make this stop. Obviously your hands and arms aren’t all that important to you, but I bet I know what is,” she said, and Lou cut through his belt and pants, leaving him naked from the waist down. Next he untied one leg and pulled it away from the other one.

  “Please, no,” he said, looking down at his groin.

  “Where is she?”

  “We staying at the Royal Sonesta in the French Quarter. The room in Jerome Rhodes’s name,” he said quickly when she pressed the tip of his penis to the chair with the muzzle. “I swear it.”

  “Katlin,” she said, not having to repeat the order.

  “Jerome had six suites booked but had to cut his visit short. He and his party checked out an hour ago.”

  “Who is Jerome Rhodes?”

  “He Gracelia’s man,” he said, and she heard his jealousy in his voice.

  “Her butler, guard, mule, lover, what do you mean?” she asked, leaving the role she suspected for last.

  “He her lover and he work for her,” he said, as if he’d forgotten the pain and that his manhood was on the line.

  “What else do you know about him?” She racked her brain trying to place the name.

  “He Americano and she trusts him.”

  “Where’s Juan?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ooh, do you think that was the right answer?” she asked, taking her gun away. “Lou.” He took out a switchblade that he worked through his fingers so fast he could have had an act in Vegas. “Since Mr. Lorenzo doesn’t have a good view of the family jewels, you want to show him?”

  When Lou pressed the blade to his testicles the muscles in Lorenzo’s legs stood out in vivid relief as he tried to slam them shut. “No,” he yelled. “Wait, I tell you.”

  “Where is he?” she asked, putting her hand up to stop Lou. “And remember there’s a big penalty for lying.”

  “He with his mother, but I don’t know where they go. Jerome make all those plans.”

  “I actually believe that,” she told him, and Lou stepped back. “One more thing, Lorenzo, does Gracelia know Carlos is Rodolfo’s son?”

  “Santos tell her and Juan kill him.”

  “Good journey, then,” she said as she stood and put her gun away. “Lou, I can drive us back if you want to help Katlin finish up,” she told him as Lorenzo’s eyes moved from Lou to her.

  “You got it, boss,” he said, following her out a short distance.

  “You still have plenty of territory, so see if our little friend has anything else to say, and I’ll meet you back at the house.”

  “So Gracelia is as stupid as her son,” Ramon said as she backed out. “From what he said the war will rage all right, but for now it’ll be between her and Carlos until one of them kills the other.”

  “My money’s on Carlos, but Gracelia sounds lik
e the kind of idiot who thinks she can fight a war on two fronts. She’ll still come after us to keep Juan happy. We need some more information,” she said, getting on the interstate and heading for the Quarter. “How about taking a side trip to the Royal Sonesta?”

  “Sure, the night desk clerk is an old friend of Remi’s.”

  “Don’t let Dallas know that, but befriending someone with access to great hotel rooms is admirable,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows and making Ramon laugh.

  “We were all young once,” Ramon said.

  “But beautiful women come with age too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Who are you people?” Timothy Pritchard asked, trying to roll himself onto his back. Sabana had hogtied both of them, leaving them ungagged when they promised to be quiet.

  “We’re from the government and we’re here to collect taxes on all that booze you got in those jars in the kitchen,” Remi said from her seat at the kitchen table.

  “That ain’t ours,” Boone said.

  “My partner and I saw you working out there, so don’t think you’re getting out of paying,” she said, smiling at Mano at how stupid these guys were.

  “We just work here,” Timothy said, “but the still belongs to Johnny Moores. He ain’t here, but it’s him you need to talk to.”

  She looked out toward the back, and if she wasn’t in this situation she could actually enjoy the sun rising over the mountains in the distance. The sky was taking on a pink hue and marked almost twenty-four hours since Dallas had been taken, more than enough time for Johnny to make it home if he’d been smart enough to go the speed limit and stop only for fuel.

  Gripping the side of the old Formica table rimmed in chrome, she tried not to think about the alternative. If he’d stopped somewhere, they’d be sitting here for a while. “Do you have any idea where Johnny went?”

  “I work for him, so he don’t tell me nothin’,” Timothy said.

  “I asked if you had any idea,” she said, glancing down at him and disgusted at the sight. “You do have those, don’t you?”