“Now that waste of time is settled, back to my question. What do we have on her crew?” Sal asked.
“Nothing, and I'm getting pissed about it,” Galletti said. “She was in the car with another woman. Not much but a start. We need to get serious about learning everything we can. Sal, I want your man to climb through the computer files on this broad. Our history with her goes back a couple years. She worked for the organization with private outsourced hits.”
“You’re saying she was an employee?” Sal asked, surprise in his voice.
“An independent contractor. We have photos of her.”
“What about the others?” the pimp asked.
Galletti light a cigarette and blew smoke. “There’s some history here. A while back she took out our guy and his crew in Anglewatts. It was a revenge deal between her and our guys out there over some shit happened several years ago. Anyway, she cleans house and next we hear, she took over the street hookers. We had a guy working a deal when she took over but he got caught in some street shit and was killed. As far as I can see, he didn’t get any pictures of this broad’s crew. We don’t got shit on them.” Galletti turned to Sal. “But we do have pictures of this broad Michelle. I want those pictures put out to all of your people and contacts on the streets.”
“You got it,” Sal said. “Any price on her crew?”
“No. None of them is anything without her. It ends when we kill her.”
.
Seventeen: Almost Snagged
DEJA HIT THE REMOTE garage door opener, waited for the door to rattle and roll open, and parked her rented Nissan next to the Honda CRV. Inside, she and Baby‑Sister joined Michelle and G‑Baby at the kitchen table. “We found their place. Easy peasy just like you told us,” Deja said
“Any problems?” Michelle asked.
Deja poured herself some milk and took the empty chair on the back side of the small four place table. “Nope. Our parking spot was darker and better hidden than it looked when we checked it out yesterday afternoon. There were no lights in the alley, and a tree blocked the light from the street light.”
Deja grinned and held both hands up looking innocent, “Just like the rest of my life, we were in the dark.”
“Did you see any of the women from Billings?” Michelle asked.
“No sign of them at the pick‑up. But we did see your favorite asshole, Jack‑Move. In fact, he was the guy we followed back to their place.”
At the mention of Jack‑Move, a small shuffling went around the table.
“Are you sure they live there?” G‑Baby asked.
“Yeah, he had a car full of women with him,” Baby‑Sister said. “All fair skin, White, upscale, working women. We couldn’t hear them, but they looked European, Russian.”
“How could you tell they were Russian?” G‑Baby asked.
Baby‑Sister paused and looked up. “Individually I couldn’t. But together they act different than American women. Closer, more relaxed body language is the best I can describe it. That and they all have that real pale skin, even the one with darker hair.”
“I agree.” Deja took a drink and wiped the milk mustache off her lip. “They look Russian, whatever that is, but for sure they’re working women. They were still in work clothes, but were tired, clearly at the end of a long night.”
“Any sign of our girls at this place?” Michelle asked.
“No, but I do think our girls are in there,” Deja said. “Nikky texted. Jelena’s girls are keeping a twenty‑four seven check on their Chicky net. One of the posts said, 'New women are not working.' Or at least that was what their translation seemed to say.”
“Chicky Facebook? What’s that?” G‑Baby asked.
Deja winked at Michelle and turned to smile at G‑Baby. “It’s a girl thing, you wouldn’t’ understand.”
G‑Baby rolled his eyes. “Try me.”
Michelle took pity and explained. “Most of the Russian women, who are caught up in this prostitution ring, have a loose collection of Facebook pages and websites they keep up with each other on. It’s mostly gossip but they also keep tabs on each other. We call it the Chicky net.”
G‑Baby got up for fresh coffee. “I should have guessed.”
“Anything else in the post?” Michelle asked
“No, and they're not posting near as much as before. From what Nikky can understand from their crappy English, they think the regular girls here in Tulsa are using their john’s phones to post. My guess is someone has taken their smartphones away.”
“Any word from Jelena or the others with her?” G‑Baby asked.
“No,” Deja said.
Looks passed between several of them.
“Does that mean anything?” Baby‑Sister asked.
“Not necessarily. It could be nothing more than they're keeping them from using any computers,” Michelle said. “It doesn't speak to where they are. But if you guys saw Jack‑Move, it's a pretty good bet Jelena and the girls are here.”
G‑Baby checked his watch and pushed back from the table. “It's almost time for the sun to come up. I'm going to make some breakfast. Pancakes okay?”
“Want some help?” Baby‑Sister also pushed back from the table and stood up.
“No, I'm good.” He sat a mixing bowl and ingredients on the kitchen counter.
She snuggled up behind him. “I know you’re good. I wanted to know if you needed help making breakfast.”
G‑Baby held her hands and pulled her tight against his back. “Not in front of the children.”
“Right,” Baby‑Sister said. She let go of G‑Baby and picked up the coffee pot. “More coffee anyone?”
Michelle, PJ, and Deja shook their heads. Baby‑Sister poured herself a cup and returned to her chair.
“Tell me about their place,” Michelle said to Deja.
“It's an older three story wood building,” Deja said. “The restaurant, kitchen and maybe a back office fill up the ground floor with apartments upstairs. A front door opens to some stairs on the left side of the restaurant. It looks like there are stairs on the inside on the back but without going inside, we couldn’t be sure. There is no back yard. Just the back door and some space for a couple dumpsters.
“Is it on a corner or in the middle of the block?” Michelle asked.
“It's the third building from the corner. The other two buildings are about the same age. The one in the middle is only a single story building so is lower than theirs and the one on the corner.”
“What about the other side?”
“Next door is construction,” Deja said.
“Oh?”
“Well, more destruction than construction at this point,” Baby‑Sister said. “They are taking down two old buildings. One is mostly gone, the other only partly left.”
“Fences?”
“Nope,” Deja said.
G‑Baby brought over plates, syrup, and butter.
“Uncle G, you ready to take a trip to check this place out?” Michelle asked.
“Sounds like a plan.” He returned with a plate piled high with golden brown pancakes.
“Mmmmm those smell heavenly,” Deja said.
“They taste as good as they smell,” Baby‑Sister said. “He puts a little vanilla in the batter.”
During the next few minutes, a shuffle of buttering pancakes, pouring syrup and sounds of the pleasure of the first bite filled the room.
After breakfast was done, everybody piled into the CRV for a look‑see.
A dark sky threatened rain. “Baby‑Sister, can you pull up the weather on the GPS screen?” Michelle asked.
“I’m sure the weather channel is somewhere in the menu,” Baby‑Sister leaned forward to touch the screen.
“Go ahead, but I have it on my phone,” Deja said. “It says eighty percent chance of scattered thundershowers. What’s a thundershower? What’s so different from regular rain?”
“I take it you’ve never spent any time out of California?” G‑Baby asked
.
“Nope and proud of it,” Deja said.
“In most of the rest of the county, thunder showers means the rain will come in a stronger storm with thunder and lightning.”
“Yeah, so? We have lightening back home.”
“Right, but here the rain is almost always stronger, heavier, generally worse. It can be dangerous,” G‑Baby said.
“But it says showers,” Deja said. “Isn’t a shower softer than rain? Don’t they go in order of mist, sprinkle, light shower, and rain storm? And don’t they all mean keep your butt inside so your hair doesn’t get screwed up?”
“Now that’s a Deja question if I ever heard one.” Michelle winked at her friend.
Deja stuck her tongue out at Michelle. “It’s just rain. How is rain dangerous? I mean, it rains, the water goes down the drain. What’s the danger?”
“Let’s hope we don’t find out,” Michelle said. “Uncle G, take the next exit, and turn right at the light.”
They did a successful drive‑by catching a lucky break with a double parked taxi holding them up. It gave Michelle and Deja, sitting in the back seat, a great opportunity to take pictures. From there they stayed on the surface streets scouting the larger neighborhood.
G‑Baby drove. They checked‑out most of the downtown area and several of the adjacent neighborhoods. At Michelle’s instructions, Deja and Baby‑Sister took notes of anything they noticed. “I’m good with what we’ve seen,” Michelle said. “Anybody need more?”
“No, but I want to get gas before we head back,” G‑Baby said. He pulled into a Shell station.
“I’m gonna run in and get something to drink,” Deja said. “Anybody want anything?” To which everyone shouted “No” to her back. She walked through the convenience store to the refrigerator section against the back wall. On the way, she passed two young men standing by the microwave, condiment and coffee station. They were bangers and didn't fit the middle-class neighborhood. She checked them out through the glass door while reaching for drinks in the cooler. At the register, a plump woman with multicolored hair in a Tommy's Shell smock met Deja's eye. Deja nodded back toward where the two bangers stood.
“Regulars?” Deja asked.
“Never seen them in here before,” the woman said.
Deja glanced over at the two men. One had his back to her. The other boldly stared at her. It wasn't sexual, but rather the open challenge of a dare to say anything. Deja had grown up seeing that attitude every day at school, after school, on every corner and street back home. She looked through the man letting her gaze slide off without flinching or meeting the challenge. Her expression and posture said she wasn't afraid of him but wasn't interested in causing trouble either.
“Here's your change,” the cashier said.
“Thanks.” Deja picked up her bag and left. She headed to the end of the store toward the gas pumps out by the sidewalk where the CRV sat.
Deja sensed someone too close behind her. She started to spin around when one of the men grabbed her pinning her arms to her side in a bear hug. Turned sideways, pinned against the man’s chest, her kicks couldn't land with any force. She head butted him and only hit his shoulder.
“Grab her legs! Grab her legs!”
“Fuck you!” Deja shouted and kicked wildly at the man trying to grab her legs.
“Hey! Stop! Let her go!” The clerk bolted out the door and yelled into her phone. “They're grabbing her right in front of the store! Tommy's Shell off Florence.”
Whack! Deja’s foot landed a blow on the man’s arm.
The second man grabbed a foot. She kicked him in the side of the head with her free foot. “GHUNGH! Fuck!”
He dove in again grabbing for her other foot.
Clack!
Something clattered on the cement walk.
BLAM!
“They're shooting! Oh My God! They're shooting!” the clerk screeched and ran back inside the store.
BLAM! Running from the pumps toward Deja, G‑Baby shot a second round into the sky.
BLAM!
The man holding her staggered back a half-step, lost his hold on her, and fell to the ground.
Deja fell on top of him and rolled over still kicking at the other man gripping her foot.
He dropped her foot and took off running.
Sirens wailed not too far away.
G‑Baby got to Deja and pulled her to her feet.
“DEJA! Over here, go, go!” Michelle had spun the CRV around from the pumps. Deja and G‑Baby dove into the open back door.
They shot out of the gas station and down a side street.
Michelle focused on driving, turning left at the first corner, right at the next.
“Are you hurt?” Baby‑Sister held Deja's hands in a death grip.
“No. I don't think so.”
“Uncle G, look on the GPS for a way out of here. Try to find an outlet close to a freeway.
“What the fuck was that all about?” G‑Baby asked?
“Later, find a way out of here. Now!” Michelle shouted.
Forty minutes later Michelle pulled into the two car garage at their rented house and closed the door behind them.
“MY GUN! Where's my gun?” Deja dove back into the back seat of the CRV. She jammed her hand under the front seat then the back seat. “Oh shit! Oh shit! Where the fuck is it?” Her voice was loaded with panic. She climbed in behind the back seat frantically looking everywhere, and then, face covered with sweat, sat back on her heels and looked up at Michelle who stood at the open door. “It's gone.”
“You sure you had it on you when you went into the store?”
“A hundred percent sure. It's heavy, and I'm not used to it. I had it in a clip-on holster on my belt. When I headed inside, I slid it around to my back so it would be hidden better. I'm positive I had it.”
“Uncle G, can you take another look? Search the whole inside of the car, okay? Deja, go take a shower to settle your nerves. Then we can all sit down and figure this thing out.”
Michelle walked into the kitchen. G‑Baby stood at the sink washing his hands. “Anything?”
“Nothing. I checked the front, middle, and back. It's not there.”
Deja came in wearing clean jeans and a V‑neck t-shirt. “Anything?”
“Nothing.” G‑Baby shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Deja honey, come here and let me bandage those skinned up elbows,” Baby‑Sister said. A prepacked first aid kit lay open on the table. She opened a bottle of alcohol from the kit. The astringent odor wafted up punctuating the memory of the close call.
Deja joined Baby‑Sister raising her elbows for some nursing care.
Michelle leaned against the counter and sipped a protein drink. “Let's review what we know. First things first. We're all here, and we're all okay. That may seem like a small thing, it isn't. We don't know what happened, but never forget we're going against an experienced leader with the men and money to do about anything he wants. I've said it many times, and will again, we're outclassed, so we have to be smarter and luckier than they are.”
“Since we can't count on luck, being smarter is the smart choice,” Deja said. “I'm so sorry about losing my gun.”
Michelle met Deja’s eyes. “Not your fault. We’ll figure it out. Now, let’s consider the attack in the context of everything else. Go back to the store. Was there anything unusual that would cause those guys to jump you?”
“I don't think so.” Deja shook her head. “They were at the microwave heating something up, I could hear it making that whir‑blow fan noise. They were bangers but didn't seem to be casing the place or doing anything other than buying something to eat. They didn't do anything when I walked past either going, or coming back. Then one of them started staring at me when I was paying. It was almost like he knew me from somewhere.”
“Did you recognize him?” Michelle asked.
“No. Not at all.”
“Okay, first he checked you out then followed you outside. T
hen for no apparent reason, they jumped you.” Michelle summarized. “Is that about it?”
“No, wait, there’s something else. They didn't jump me.” Deja pointed her finger, shaking it to make a point. “When people jump someone, they start by trying to knock your ass down so they can kick the shit out of you. These guys didn't hit me. They were trying to pick me up. Why would they want to do that?”
“It sounds like they wanted to take you away,” G‑Baby said. “Like kidnapping for ransom.”
“That's crazy. Who would want to ransom me?”
“Good question,” Michelle said. “Let's think about it a minute.”
“Are you serious? I don't have any money.”
“Right, so what do you have? What do we all have?”
Deja, G‑Baby, and Baby‑Sister looked at each other and shook their heads. “We don't know.”
Michelle pulled out a chair, spun it around backward and sat down leaning her arms on the top of the back. “Us. We all have— us. They know we're here. We're pretty sure we had a tail yesterday. Galletti will figure on us following Jack‑Move, so he’ll be looking for us. He may know we're here, but not much more than that. He shouldn’t know who or how many we are or really anything else. You guys could be stone cold amateurs or hired pros. We could be two people or an experienced crew of twenty. He's in the dark, and anyone of us can put him in the light.”
“You're saying this was a kidnap to ransom me for what I know?” Deja’s eyes opened wide. “You mean like with Nikky?”
“Exactly, beat the information out of you, or use you to flush the rest of us out. My bet is those bangers were looking for a payoff, and you were the prize. Still, some random banger bullshit is possible, but I seriously doubt it.”
“No. It wasn't banger crap,” Deja said. “I've seen plenty of wangsters—“
“Who?” Baby‑Sister interrupted.
“Who what?” Deja asked.
“Who you just said, wangster.”
“Really, you’re from the hood and never heard that?” Deja smiled at Baby‑Sister. “Wangster, wannabe gangster, you know, kids building up the nerve to earn some stripes. These guys weren't wangsters, they were way past all that. No, this wasn't random, it was directed.”
Hard Run: Action Adventure Pulp Thriller Book #4 (Michelle Angelique Avenging Angel Series) Page 12