03_Cornered Coyote

by Dianne Harman

  Jose nodded and one of them opened the door for Barbara and then stepped back, closing it once she’d entered the large room. There was a desk on one side of the room with couches and chairs on the other. Large green potted plants had been strategically placed throughout the room along with blooming orchids on the tables. Standing in the middle of the room was one of the handsomest Mexican men Barbara had ever seen. The pictures in Jack’s file hadn’t done him justice. He literally took her breath away.

  She wanted to walk over and give him a kiss on the cheek, but instead she stood there and smiled. “It’s been a long time, Chico. You look good.”

  He checked her out with deep, black eyes that seemed to pierce right through her. What on fucking earth is going on here, he thought. He knew he was being played and play along he would, for something like this didn't come along too often.

  "Let's cut the small talk. Whaddaya want?"

  “I need you to do me a favor. I have a dear friend who’s been arrested for murdering her husband. The papers were full of it several months ago. You may have read about him. His name was Jeffrey Brooks. He’s the one who invented an anti-aging formula and was fired by Moore Labs for giving it to his wife, Maria. They left the LA area and bought a motel near Blythe. He also invented a “feel-good” drug he called Freedom in his lab at the motel, but over a period of time he drifted into insanity. Maria feared for her life and shot him when he threatened her with a knife. She escaped and went to Provence, which is in France, in order to hide out from the authorities.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Maureen. I know Provence is in France.”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t patronizing you. An art theft detective from the LAPD was sent there on an unrelated case. They met and fell in love. He persuaded her to come back to California and live with him.”

  "Keep talkin’."

  “She was able to hire a well-known attorney and he thinks she can get off with a defense of ‘justifiable homicide.’ ”

  Chico continued to look at her. The heavy gold bracelet he wore clanged against his glass as he lowered it to the table.

  “So what's the problem? A few months from now she'll be scot free.”

  “Chico, that’s the problem. The trial will take a few months. I want Maria to be safe while she’s in jail. She’s in an isolated cell but time’s running out. She’ll be forced to mingle and live with the general jail population soon. She’s a beautiful woman and I’m sure every lesbian and male guard in the system will be lusting after her when she's removed from isolation. I know you can give out orders to keep her safe. Please help me,” she pleaded.

  He barely moved a muscle. She walked over to him, sat on his lap and gently caressed his battle-hardened face. She inched forward slowly and kissed him on the cheek, a sweet sensuous kiss that cut right through his defenses. It had been a long time since he'd last seen or spoken to her and here she was at his mercy, ready to do anything to save a friend. He couldn't resist any longer.

  He slowly began to unbutton her dress. He put his other hand behind her back and pulled her to him, kissing her. She hadn’t realized she’d be meeting a man with such animalistic magnetism and would have willingly kissed him even if she hadn’t been paid $50,000. The whole time she’d been pleading Maria’s situation, she was imagining what it would be like to feel his hands all over her. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. He was dangerous, sexy, and brutally masculine.

  Chico unsnapped her front closure bra with an expertise that indicated this wasn’t the first time he’d done it. She wiggled out of her dress and bra and stood before him. He kissed her and began gently caressing her breasts with his thumbs and forefingers. Within seconds her nipples were hard. He kissed her again, this time deeply as he ran his hands over her body. She unbuttoned his silk shirt, feeling the thick mat of hair beneath her hands. She felt his hardness against her. He stepped back and his eyes lazily caressed her body from head to toe. She was glad she’d chosen the cream La Perla underwear. The silk and lace panties couldn’t hurt.

  “Maureen, not a week goes by without me thinking of you,” he said in a ragged voice, sliding her panties down. “Holy crap, you’re wet already,” he said, pushing her onto the couch. His tongue made lazy circles around her nipples as he gently stroked her clitoris.

  “Chico, oh God, Chico,” she said, unzipping his fly and moving her hand up and down his fully erect penis. “Chico, hurry, I can’t wait much longer.”

  He rammed his penis into her and she couldn’t help but respond to his passion. He pounded her time and time again, but she didn’t care. His climax was pure rage, hers was pure ecstasy. They lay there quietly for several moments. Even though he was done for the moment, his hands had a mind of their own as they travelled up and down her body and then his finger entered her, stroking her. Barbara shuddered with desire as he slowly brought her to a second and more powerful orgasm.

  They both fell asleep. One of them would wake up bound and never know if it would be their last day on the planet.

  CHAPTER 27

  “What’s your name bitch?” Chico thundered as Maureen opened her eyes. She was startled to find her hands and feet tied together with nylon rope. A cold stab of fear spread through her as she lay naked and hog-tied in bed.

  “Barbara Jenkins,” she answered softly. She noticed five other men in the room, looking at her.

  "I can tell you something, you fucking whore, you’re not going to see tomorrow's sunrise," Chico snarled, as the others burst out laughing.

  Barbara burst into tears and begged for her life. "I'll tell you everything, anything, please, I beg you, I'll do anything for you. Please don't kill me, please."

  "Who put you up to this?"

  "A guy named Jack," Barbara answered, trembling with fear.

  “How did you get involved in this?”

  “I was a barmaid at Naughty’s in the valley. One night after I got off work I got in my car and Jack was hiding in the back seat. He put a gun to my head, told me he wanted to talk to me, and that he wasn’t going to hurt me.”

  "Give her a fuckin’ phone. I want this Jack on the line. Listen bitch and listen good. I've killed for a lot less. One false move and your brains will be splattered all over the floor."

  Hands untied, she shook as she took the phone Chico gave her and nervously punched in the number Brad had given her. "This is Barbara,” she said, her voice quivering with fear. “Chico found out I'm not Maureen. I need to speak with Jack within five minutes or I’ll be dead."

  "He'll call you back at this number within five minutes." Brad ended the call and turned to Slade. "Don't know how the fuck he did it, but he knows Barbara isn’t Maureen. He told her to tell you that he'll kill her unless you call him back within five minutes."

  Slade was stunned. He sat in silence as he sifted through the possibilities available to him. Tucker had been right; sure as hell dark clouds were swirling up above. Only Papa could save his nuts now.

  He placed a call to Papa Romano. "Let me speak with Papa. Tell him Slade’s callin’." After a few seconds of silence Papa’s voice broke through.

  "Slade, it’s been awhile. How are you? Gino tells me you ain’t been there in a long time. He’s got a pizza that has your name on it. I know you can't be seen much at his place or with me when I’m in town, but I miss you, figlio mio, my son. Actually, there's a rumor floating around that the feds are checking Gino’s out. Trying to make some connection to me. Probably best if you're not seen there. Anyway, what can I do for you?"

  "I need a favor. Need ya’ to call Gino and tell him you’ve okayed a meetin’ at his place tonight. Can ya’ do that for me?"

  "Sure, figlio mio, for you, anything. Let's make it 11:00. He closes at 10:00 and I’m sure he don't want to attract attention during business hours. Gino’s bodyguard, Mario, will let you in. It’ll be after hours so Gino will be in the back room. Wanna tell me the name of the man you're meeting?"

  "Yeah, Chico Ruiz. Ring a bell from the past?"
>
  There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone. "Slade, I probably don't need to tell you that he's now numero uno of the Mexican Mafia in Los Angeles. That tattooed teardrop he sports under his left eye don't even begin to indicate how many men he's offed. You sure you need to meet with him? Twenty years have gone by. Let the past stay in the past."

  "Papa, ya’ know I've always listened to ya’ and looked up to ya, but I gotta meet with him. Believe me, I'd rather do jes’ about anything else, but I ain't got a choice in this one. My nuts have never been twisted this bad before. A woman's life depends on it."

  "I don't like the sound of any of this, but I know you wouldn't risk it unless it was important. I'll do what I can to help you on my end. Gino will be waiting for you."

  “Thanks. I’ll be there at 11:00.”

  CHAPTER 28

  The fog got thicker and thicker as the night wore on. Pockets of it blew in from the ocean, making night driving hazardous. The city was ominously quiet with very few cars or people on the streets. Brad thought how surreal it looked as he followed the red tail lights of the car in front of him. He drove slowly, making his way into an area of Los Angeles where Mexican and Italian immigrants had long ago decided to call home.

  As with many ethnic groups, the sons of these immigrants had formed street gangs. The Mexican Mafia got its start in the 1950’s in the California prisons and eventually made its way onto city streets throughout California, with Los Angeles being its headquarters. The gang controlled the drugs brought into the U.S. Because of its deep roots in the California prison system, the gang was notorious for its ability to act as an enforcer inside the jails and prisons across California. The murder rate in this area of the city spoke of the violence of the Mexican Mafia. The street on which Brad now found himself driving was its primary home turf.

  The American Italian Mafia started on the East Coast and made its way to the West Coast via Las Vegas. Papa Romano was reputed to be the head of the California Mafia, even though he lived in Chicago. Rumor had it that anything connected to the Mafia was funneled through Gino’s Pizzeria. Papa always visited it when he came to Los Angeles. It was also widely speculated that Gino was the number one Mafia man on the West Coast and that he only answered to Papa. If you wanted to take a contract out on someone, Gino was the man to see, but ultimately Papa would make the decision. The California Mafia was known for extortion, murder, and robbery, as well as any other type of criminal activity where they could make a quick buck. Many businesses around California found they had to do business with Gino and the California Mafia, whether they liked it or not.

  Slade knew he was being watched. Before he could even knock, the door swung open. “Not surprised,” he muttered to himself.

  He stepped inside, turned halfway, and saw the tail lights of Brad’s car disappear around the corner as he drove away.

  Mario, Gino’s longtime personal bodyguard greeted him. "Good to see you Slade. It's been a long time. Gino misses you. He's in the back room. Follow me." Even though the restaurant was closed, several of Gino's "employees" were scattered throughout it. Mario, who had the size and look of a mountain gorilla, led Slade through the restaurant and into Gino’s office. Mario was so big he had to turn sideways to get through the doors.

  Gino was sitting at an old cigarette scarred desk that had clearly seen better days while he peered at lines of numbers on a sheet of paper in front of him. Stacks of papers were strewn all over his desk. A glass of dark red wine was within easy reach. Gino stood up when he saw Slade and gave him a bear hug.

  He pushed Slade away from him. "Let me look at you. You sorta skinny. You need some of Gino’s good lasagna to fatten you up. If your uncle saw you lookin’ like this, there’d probably be a contract out on me for not takin’ better care of you."

  Gino turned to Mario. “A man called Chico will be arrivin’ shortly. If his cholos show up, throw them out, orders are orders. This here meetin’s between Slade and Chico and nobody else is invited. Got it?"

  "Yeah, boss, no problem," Mario said as he turned and walked out the door.

  “Slade, Papa and me got us a new little business goin’, so don’t want you lightin’ up in here. Some guys are havin’ trouble buyin’ C-4 plastic explosives. We’re helpin’ them solve that little problem. That file cabinet’s filled with it. Gonna’ be sendin’ it to my customers in the Middle East for a little bomb-makin’ business they got goin’ over there. Gonna smuggle it out of the country next week on a ship from the LA port. Jes’ wanted to give you a heads up ‘cuz if that shit ever blows, this whole place will go up like a fireworks display on the 4th of July.”

  "No problem, Gino. I’ve pretty much given up smokin’. The business I got with Chico’s private. Any chance ya’ still have that hidden basement room? Like to meet with him there if I could."

  "Sure. Let me slide the refrigerator out for you. Hasn't changed much since the last time you two were down there. What's it been, about twenty years?"

  "Yeah, jes’ about."

  They heard voices coming from the front of the restaurant. Mario opened the door to Gino's office and Chico walked in. He looked at Slade and smiled wryly. They stared at each other for a few seconds and then both of them burst out laughing.

  "You, God damn son-of-a-bitch! You probably would have pulled it off if it hadn’t been for the butterfly birthmark behind her ear. I should have known it was you. No one else would have had the balls, much less be clever enough to do it. I can't believe I fell for it, but I might have to thank you. That broad you sent me is one hell of a lay. I thought about killing her, but I decided to keep her around for 'entertainment,’ if you know what I mean,” he said, with a leering grin on his face. “Slade, this better be good. It was one hell of an elaborate scam. So what have you got and what the hell do you want from me?”

  "Let's go downstairs. I'm sure you remember the last time we were down there. Matter of fact, seem to remember that you tol' me you owed me big time and we were blood brothers. Well, guess what. I jes’ collected. See you when we finish, Gino. Jes’ don't want ears hearin’ this. Ya’ unnerstan?"

  "Yeah, boys, take as long as you need. Got a lot of numbers to check out. Think there may be some skimmin’ goin’ on. See you later."

  They walked down the steps to the basement. The room hadn't changed much since the last time they’d been there.

  "Okay, Slade, shoot. I don't think either one of us should spend any more time here than we have to," Chico said, sitting down at the poker table in the middle of the room under a bare hanging light bulb with wire wrapped around it.

  "Ya’ know most of it already, but I’ll repeat it. Here’s the deal. There's a broad, classy broad, in the Presley jail out in Riverside. She's been arrested for murderin’ her husband almost a year ago. She's a looker. Mutual friend wants to keep her from becomin’ someone's 'bitch'. I called in a couple of chits and was able to put her in isolation for a few weeks, but time’s almost up. I need ya’ to keep her safe the entire time she's in jail awaitin’ trial and if she has to go to prison, I want her to be safe there."

  "Prison! Man, you know what you’re askin’? Yeah, I've worked my way up, but if anybody finds out – some of my boys know who you are and they hate you for gettin’ the goods on Diego and helpin' the DA put him away for life. Your name’s mentioned on the street and not in a good way. They also know you’ve done some work for the FBI suits who’ve put a few of our best guys away. I called the jail a little while ago, but I don’t want any connection to you. It could get me killed, but yes, I know I owe you and I guess it’s payback time.”

  “Thanks, bro. We’re even now. Yer’ keeping her from getting’ raped or wishin’ she was dead. Debt’s paid in full.”

  Just as Chico was about to open his mouth to reply, gunshots echoed from above.

  "Son of a bitch! We've gotta get the fuck outta here double quick. Something’s gone wrong upstairs. I hope to hell that safe house is still there," Slade said as h
e and Chico sprinted across the basement and opened the secret door behind the bookcase, the same one they’d used twenty years earlier.

  Just as they were entering the concealed passageway, the basement door opened and Mario yelled down, "It’s the feds! Gino's been shot. I don’t think he’s going to make it. He told me to tell you to get to the safe house. I'm going to try and get him out. There’s explosives in his office and if they accidently get hit, this whole place is gonna’ blow. Run for your lives!”

  Two minutes later they heard a tremendous explosion rip through the building behind them. The explosion was so strong that the tunnel walls threatened to buckle and close off the escape passageway.

  "Hurry, Slade, if this thing collapses, we're gonna be trapped in here forever with no air. Keep movin’." They ran at full tilt, trying to put some distance between them and Gino’s building or what, if anything, was left of it.

  "Jesus,” Slade said, panting, “that blast musta done some real damage. Smoke’s comin’ in through the manholes. I can barely breathe." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his mouth and nose. "Don't stop. I think we're getting’ close to the stairs.”

  The farther they ran in the opposite direction of the explosion, the clearer the air became. "I see it," Slade yelled, racing up the steel stairs with Chico ahead of him. Chico opened the door on the back side of a bookcase and pulled Slade into the room. They put their backs to the wall and slid to the floor, gasping for breath.

  After a few minutes, Slade pushed himself up, shakily walked over to the sink, and poured two large glasses of water for them. He handed one to Chico. "Drink this. If yer’ lungs are as singed as mine are, they're gonna say thank you."

  A few minutes later they turned on the small television set on the kitchen counter and stared in horror at the devastation shown on the screen. A breathless TV reporter was describing the scene of an explosion that had occurred after a federal raid had gone bad. All of the local stations were carrying the story with live camera footage streaming in from helicopters circling above.