Then the man stepped out of the shadows and she realized he wasn’t ‘the man.’ Burroughs had said the ringleader was Cuban. This guy was so white he almost glowed in the pale illumination from the streetlamp.
Jenny put a little sashay into her walk as she closed the distance and graced the men with a smile. Leon smiled back, but the Day-Glo man didn’t. Neither did Frank.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I’m here now.” Jenny fought to keep the smile in place and not dissolve under the intensity of his gaze. His expression didn’t change. Just a flicker of something in his eyes that told her nothing. I’m screwed.
The moment seemed to stretch forever, then a hint of a smile touched his lips. She let out her breath and tried not to drop in a faint. Then he made a vague hand gesture. “You got the money?”
Jenny opened her jacket to reveal the money belt. She didn’t miss the hesitation as his eyes traveled down her chest to her waist. A shudder followed the path his eyes had taken, but she ignored it. Just play the game. That’s all it is.
“What else you got there?”
She took off the jacket, letting him see there was no room for anything between the tank top and her. Frank motioned to the Day-Glo man with a nod and he stepped over. Another shudder passed through her as he patted her down, lingering a little too long on the insides of her thighs.
Swallowing some bile, she glared at him. “Don’t worry. That doesn’t bother me a bit.”
The man took a half step back. “She’s clean.”
“Check the belt.”
Jenny put one arm across her stomach. “Been ripped off once. Not going to happen again.” She raised her chin. “You get to count the money when I see the goods.”
They faced each other in silence, then Frank gestured to the other man. “Look, but don’t touch.”
Jenny unzipped the belt and held it open so he could clearly see the money. She held her breath for the entire time it took him to step close and glance inside. If he touches it and feels the gun, I’m dead.
His expression reflected a desire to disobey Frank and she forced herself not to look away in panic. “Nice stack,” he said.
A mixture of relief and revulsion washed over her as he again let his eyes linger on her breasts.
“Pick your dick up off the ground and let’s move.” Frank stepped away from the building and headed toward the corner.
Jenny pulled her jacket closed and followed Leon and the other man. Frank stopped at a black Lexus and opened the door on the driver’s side. “Get in the back with Leon,” he said to Jenny, then turned to the other man. “You ride shotgun.”
After they were settled, Frank started the car and eased into the street. Traffic was no problem. A battered white pickup was the only vehicle in sight, and it turned off a block before it reached them.
Main Street looked lonely in its emptiness as they drove slowly east. Jenny found some security in knowing that the deputies posted at the intersection of Main and the loop to 720 couldn’t miss the car.
The other little niggle of worry she pushed back into the recesses of her mind. She had to trust that Scott had obeyed her and gone home.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Steve hunched by the rear tire of the car that was pulled to the side of Highway 720; a spare rested on the ground next to him. Linda sat in the passenger seat, playing the role of the patient wife. With the lug-wrench in hand, the charade of a flat tire was complete. Traffic was so light, they’d been here close to an hour and only had to wave off one car whose driver slowed to offer help.
“Anything yet?” The question crackled through his two-way radio, but he recognized the voice of Burroughs who was stationed with two of his men near the gate of the ranch.
Steve clicked back. “Nothing.”
A few minutes later another voice came over the radio. “Coming your way. Black Lexus.”
“Roger.”
Steve stared into the darkness until a glow of headlights approached from the Loop. He keyed his connection to Burroughs. “I think we have action.”
The light grew brighter as a vehicle approached and paused at the stop sign. The glare from the lights prevented Steve from seeing what kind of car it was, but an instinct told him this was it. That instinct was proven right as the car crossed 720 and slid past him like some great dark beast, heading down the road in the direction of the ranch.
Steve activated his radio. “We have contact. ETA fifteen minutes.”
“Roger.”
As soon as the car was far enough down the other road, Steve quickly threw the spare tire and tools into the yawning cavern of the trunk and slammed it closed. Then he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Ready to rock and roll?”
Linda snapped her seatbelt. “Let’s go.”
~*~
As the car turned off the highway onto the sweeping gravel drive, the ornate iron gates swung open and they passed under the large metal arch. Jenny wondered if Frank had some kind of remote that had opened the gates. She also wondered where the DEA guys were but kept her eyes straight ahead, lest some move on her part create suspicion.
The car rolled slowly down the drive, the crunch of tires on stone abnormally loud in the still night. But maybe it just sounded that way because all her nerves were on high alert.
Finally they pulled into the half circle in front of the house and stopped. When Frank turned off the engine, the silence was so complete Jenny could hear the rasp of her own breathing. Frank tapped the horn twice and turned on the interior light. Not expecting the flash of light, Jenny was momentarily blinded. What the...?
She focused on the window facing the house, hoping some of her night vision would return. Vaguely she saw what looked like two men step out on the porch and flank the door. They each held something dark and heavy looking that she suspected were guns. A third man, taller than the others, walked to the car. When he was close enough, their eyes met briefly, and Jenny was surprised to see an expression colder and harder than Frank’s. I’m gonna fuckin’ die.
A chill swept through her as the man headed around the back of the car. She shuddered and clutched her jacket tight across her chest.
Leon shifted beside her. “You cold?”
The concern for her comfort was so out of place, Jenny almost broke into manic laughter. It also made her take a second look at Leon. At that moment he looked like any ordinary young man, not some evil monster corrupting society. She wondered if he’d been in school with Michael. He was almost young enough. Could have even played football with him.
Something hardened in his eyes, and that image of innocent youth vanished. Jenny shook her head in response to his question, then turned to face forward. Don’t forget for one minute that he’s one of the bad guys.
She heard a light tap on the window next to Frank. He rolled his window down and there was a whispered exchange. Then Frank motioned to the Day-Glo man to get out. He did and opened Jenny’s door. “Come on.”
She slid out, and he put a hand on her arm. “Wait.”
Frank and Leon and the third man formed a human triangle around Jenny and the Day-Glo man and started walking toward the steps to the house.
Jenny repressed a shudder as they neared the two men by the door. Except for the slight movement of eyes sweeping the area, they could have been statues. The tall man at the point of the triangle opened both of the heavy, wooden doors, then stepped in and motioned the others to follow.
Under any other circumstances, Jenny would have gawked like some tourist as they walked through an entry that was magnificent. The paintings on the wall were probably the originals of some that Jenny had only seen pictures of, and they passed a Louis XIV marble-inlaid table that had to be worth more than her house.
The man gestured toward an arched doorway that opened into a spacious room that had one wall entirely of glass. As advertised in the briefing, the curtain had been pulled all the way back, allowing Jenny a glimpse of a pale blue ill
umination she guessed was from a swimming pool. Otherwise, the glass was as black as the night sky beyond the patio. She hoped the feds could see in better than she could see out.
She glanced around, noting that the room was sparsely furnished. One corner hosted a built-in bar cordoned off with a serving counter. The wall opposite the windows had floor-to-ceiling shelves of random sizes and she caught a quick glimpse of museum-quality sculptures. A small table with a marble chess set sat in front of that wall, two chairs positioned for players. A few other occasional chairs were scattered throughout, but the focal point was a dark table in the middle of the room that was nearly as large as the Oriental rug it rested on. There was a doorway slightly to the left of the table and a large sideboard directly behind it.
A man sat in a chair perfectly centered at one side of the table. He had thick black hair and wore a stony expression with his silk shirt and gold chains. Jenny figured him for the Cuban. Had to be. Even seated he commanded the room without movement or sound.
Two men flanked him. Much like the men who’d guarded the front door, they neither moved nor appeared to even breathe, and for a wild moment Jenny wondered if they cloned guards here.
The Cuban motioned her forward. “You the little lady who wants to do business?”
Afraid her voice would come out in a squeak, Jenny nodded.
“You have the money?”
She opened her jacket and tapped the money belt. “In here.”
“Show me.”
She unzipped one section and pulled a few bills partway out so the denomination was clearly visible. “They’re all the same,” she said. “Now I see the goods.”
When she’d practiced that line a hundred-and-one times with Burroughs coaching, it had felt strained. Today it felt okay, and she hated to think that it did because she was getting used to this. She’d sworn she’d never get used to this business of drugs.
The Cuban nodded to the guard on his left. The man stepped back to the sideboard, picked up an old-fashioned wooden roll-top breadbox, and carried it over. After placing it on the table, careful not to scratch the gleaming wood, he opened the box and pulled out a plastic bag filled with white powder.
Tapping the box, the Cuban flashed a smile. “The bread of life. Clever, no?”
A chorus of chuckles followed, and Jenny wondered what was supposed to be funny.
“What? You don’t have a sense of humor?”
The words had been mild, but the hard glint in obsidian eyes sent a chill skittering down her spine. The tension was so thick in the room she could’ve spread it on toast and eaten it. She remembered what Burroughs had said about deals going sour over the silliest details.
She forced the flicker of a smile. “I thought the fun started after the business was done.”
For a moment, the Cuban didn’t react and Jenny tensed. If weapons were drawn, would she even have a chance? Then he surprised her by laughing. “I like this woman,” he said. “She’s no pussy.”
He glanced at the other men who obliged with more hollow chuckles. Then he pulled out an ornate silver pocket knife, made a small slit in the bag and pushed it closer to Jenny. “Premium stuff.”
She stepped to the table and dipped into it with the tip of a finger the way Burroughs had taught her. During the training she’d balked about this part, but he’d assured her that one little dab would not an addict make.
After touching the powder to her tongue, Jenny nodded at the Cuban. He motioned to the man on his left who pulled three more bags out of the breadbox. “You slide the money to me,” the Cuban said, “and he gives you the rest of the goods.”
Managing to still the tremble of her fingers, Jenny took the money out of the leather pouch and stacked it on the table. She hoped like hell the guys in the white hats were in place and were listening to this. They hadn’t rehearsed what she should do if they didn’t come busting in when the exchange was being made.
~*~
Steve hunkered with Linda and the two DEA guys in a high stand of grass about twenty yards from the edge of the driveway. As soon as they got the signal from the deputies on the west side of the house, they were to take out the men on the porch.
Well, the feds would take them out, Steve decided. He could interrogate the hell out of a suspect and brawl with the best of them, but he could barely shoot well enough to keep his badge. That’s why he carried a Magnum. Hard to miss with a piece like that, but it also announced to the entire world that a shot had been fired. Linda beat him at the range all the time, but even so, they’d agreed to leave the outside shooting to the snipers and their special weapons. They’d get their chance inside the house.
“Now.” A hushed voice spoke over the radio. The feds stood in unison and popped off shots, probably before their presence even registered to the men by the front door. Silencers muted the sound to a dull thump, and Steve and Linda were up running the moment the guards slumped in dark heaps on the porch.
The feds ran with them and the men launched their bodies at the double door, the lock giving under the impact. When the doors slammed into the walls Linda dashed in and took the first cover position as the men rushed forward.
~*~
As the sound of the crash reverberated through the great room, the men froze for the briefest of moments, then the Cuban rose, pushing his chair back so hard it toppled. “You bitch.”
The man next to him reached inside his coat, and Jenny dropped to the floor, rolling between two chairs and under the table. Steve had told her to look for the safest spot, and this seemed to be it. Then again, maybe not. She could see Frank and Leon running toward the table, expressions of grim determination hardening on their faces. She felt a spasm in her bladder. Oh shit. I’m dead. And I’m going to wet myself.
Would she even have a chance if she pulled her weapon? She reached behind the money belt and touched the smooth butt of the gun, then hesitated when a voice called out, “Grab the merchandise.”
She heard a rustle of movement, then saw feet and legs scurry around the far end of the table and disappear. Where are the rest of them?
“What about the broad?”
“Denny’ll take care of her.”
As she heard more movement behind her, another spasm tore through her bladder. God. Please don’t let me wet myself.
She shook off the crazy thought and looked over her shoulder. Nobody there. Must have gone through that doorway.
Okay. That’s good.
Unless Denny is one of those other guards.
Where did they go?
Scraping her cheek on the rough pile of the carpeting, she twisted again to face forward and saw the men move quickly toward the doorway, drawing weapons as they ran. Despite the fact that they were heading away from her, Jenny still felt the chill of vulnerability. One of them could cover the door and the other simply turn and shoot her.
Should she stay put or try to find better cover? But where?
Trying to still the incessant drumbeat of her heart, she looked around. Could she make it to that corner bar? If she could get behind that half-wall...
A sudden burst of gunfire thundered through the room and answered that question. Unadulterated fear flattened her to the floor. Did that mean the good guys had made it in?
She inched forward to get a better view.
Not a white hat in sight.
“Give it up,” a voice called. “The place is surrounded.”
Was it Steve? It sounded like Steve. The two men pumped more bullets down the hall, and Jenny realized they had the officers pinned. For a moment, she wanted to give in to the little girl deep inside that was trembling and calling for her mother to come rescue her. Then she realized that nobody was going to rescue her. If she wanted out of this mess, she damn well better do something.
Inching forward, she eased the gun out of her waistband and checked the positions of the men. Which one?
It doesn’t matter. As soon as you fire, you’ve got about three seconds to get off anothe
r shot.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly the way the gunsmith had told her, Jenny cradled the weapon and sighted down the barrel. Then her resolve faltered and the gun wavered. If she did this, she would never be the same again.
If you don’t do this, you’ll be dead.
She steadied her arm and pointed the gun at the back of the man on the left. She wanted to close her eyes, desperately needed to close her eyes so she wouldn’t watch herself kill a man, but shooting blind was not a wise option.
The report almost deafened her and in that near soundless void, she saw the man slump to the floor. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed as the other man turned, gun coming around in an arc.
ONE SMALL VICTORY Page 23