by A. R. Case
“Told you, no.”
“Are you saying some of your fancy friends are connected?” Redd asked.
Chris glanced at Redd. “I’d never say that.” He wouldn’t. Not ever. His father drummed that lesson into his skin. You don’t snitch, you don’t tell, and you don’t know what you know.
Redd smiled. “Well, whatever you don’t say, it might cost me, and that what I need to get you to see. My connections tell me he has been planning to cut me out for a while. You know, permanently. I take offense at that.”
He paused and sipped his coffee. He’d loaded it with creamer. “Then Whitehead turned up. Now that he showed he can take care of problems like that, they’ll be ready to deal. That means he needs money, and I’m left as offended and cut out. That means I am listening to anything you and Crank want to tell me.”
Chris nodded. He had a lot of questions. Crank held his cards close to the vest and only told Chris what was necessary to get him to jump a certain way or the other. Redd was less devious. Up until today, he’d also had no interest in Chris. It was beneficial to know what he could about Redd’s business, but certain information was more important.
“Do you think he got enough out of the club when he took over?”
“I know he didn’t. They were barely making dues. I took that over when Crank stepped aside, and they’ve been short or late almost every time for about three years. That didn’t change when Ghost took over. It gets any worse, we’ll close the chapter.”
“How much do you think he’ll need to muscle you out?”
“At least a hundred grand.” Redd looked around. Everyone was busy with their food and conversations. No one seemed to be listening. “That was our last offer. Then the docks got raided before we could set up the buy. It put my connections on edge. But that wasn’t our fault. The gooks on the boat were stupid. They paid, I’m sure.”
Chris flinched inside. He’d forgotten so many things about the life he’d left behind. A glance at his brother confirmed the slur had been noted. “Would we need that amount to lure Ghost out?”
“If you had it. I mean, I know the property could get sold, or the business fund raided, but then the old man would have a fit. That’s supposed to be legit money only. Which is where we need you at, Prince. You’re not a fix-it man.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Tony said to no one in particular.
“If I got you a hundred grand, would it be able to lure him out?”
Redd considered Chris’s offer. “Maybe. He’s a bit hot on your girl, though. I think he’d come out of hiding if she were attached to the offer.”
“No.”
“Hell no,” Tony echoed Chris.
“Maybe we just stick a blue wig on some chick,” Redd mused.
“And then what?” Tony asked.
“He disappears.” Chris didn’t look at his brother. He was talking to Redd.
“Do I get to keep the hundred grand?” Redd asked.
Chris dipped his head in affirmation.
Redd pursed his lips, considering it.
“Chris, I’m going to be the voice of reason here,” Tony started. “One, we don’t have a spare hundred grand lying around. And two, you’re repeating Dad’s mistakes.”
“I don’t have a family to leave behind.”
“Yeah, I guess you don’t, me being just your brother and shit,” Tony mumbled.
They’d lost a lot that year. And it had been his fault. The brand-new colors on his back were insulted. Instead of minding his own business, he told those gangbangers to go fuck themselves. Then added, if it were possible considering their tiny dicks. Another exchange, and whatever Chris had replied with made the scarred, lanky one pull his gun. He didn’t remember what he had said to piss them off, but he did remember to tell his brother to take the contraband strapped on his bike. He’d gotten one strap loose. Then the bullets hit, and there was a lot of blackness and pain.
Two weeks later, their younger brother, Gio, was beaten to death outside his special needs school. Two days after that, all hell boiled over. Both his father and uncle retaliated. In the raid, his father was shot sixteen times and his uncle arrested. The pain continued for a long time. And it all would have been avoided if he hadn’t put the club and his ego first. “Tony, leave.”
His brother stood up. “Maybe this guy can talk some sense into you. Hey, Mills.”
“Ah, Dog has a name. Is it his first one or last one?” Redd leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles. There was a wariness in his eyes as he scanned Daniel Mills.
Today’s outfit was jeans and a black Metallica T-Shirt.
“Slumming again?” Chris asked. Mills was embracing his undercover role.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
“Do I need to call my lawyer again?” Chris pulled out his phone. He’d reached saturation. Redd had shut down whatever he was going to tell him, and Chris needed more information. The agent wasn’t wanted. He was an obstacle rather than a nuisance. It made Chris cold. So what if he outed Mills in front of Redd?
“No, but the police are outside your condo. Ghost did a drive-by. Apparently, Alexis made the guard call 911.”
Chris’s heart dropped to his feet. The phone in his hand felt heavy.
“She okay?”
“Don’t know, she’s not at the condo.”
Chris fought the urge to panic. “And Ghost?”
Mills studied him carefully. “He drove off.”
“Was that before or after Alexis left?” Maybe he truly was his father’s son, because his voice was even. His insides had gone glacial, but his brain was moving.
“Before.”
Chris didn’t put his phone away. He texted Alexis’s number. The message was short. “Stay safe and away.” Then he tucked his phone away. She was smart, street smart. If she needed to disappear, she could, easily. It wasn’t what Chris wanted, but he knew it would be the best thing if Ghost was hunting for her. What he needed was help. And the more help, the better. The plan in his head changed. He didn’t bother assessing the men at the table. He knew their weaknesses and strengths. And despite their allegiances, Chris knew his path.
“So, Redd here thinks Ghost needs money because he’s got a drug deal coming up, and we need a decoy that looks like Alexis to deliver it. You think your friends in the Bureau can set it up?” Chris had no illusions about the ramifications of his words. He’d just outed the agent to Redd.
Mills turned his attention from Chris to Redd. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “That’s the trouble with my job. You find out who the criminals are too easily.”
Redd’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck me sideways. What kind of cop are you?”
“He doesn’t have to answer that,” Chris said.
“Your coat cleared forensics. I’ve got it if you want it.” He looked at Redd. “The FBI lab is so much faster than the local guys.”
The biker’s head nodded. “You’re after Ghost, I hope.”
“Longport thinks he’s involved with the murder of Conrad Whitehead,” Mills said, without exactly answering Redd.
“I’m supposed to know who the stiff is?” Redd pretended to be curious.
“He’s the one that was after my step-son.” Tony’s face relaxed from the frown he’d had on earlier. He glanced at Chris.
“That asshole?” Redd’s hands fisted. Then he unclenched them. “For the record, not a soul on our side was involved in that.”
“So Ghost didn’t do it?” The agent’s voice was mild, but he was watching Redd carefully.
“Never said Ghost was one of ours, despite what it says on his back. He’s an asshole, too.” He tapped his fingers on the table in front of Chris. “Let me know when you need that investment money added to the account. My wife’s uncle, fool he is, had a hundred grand stuffed in a mattress getting moldy. A
bout time it gets back to work.”
“It will need to be reported to the authorities at that amount. There’s also estate taxes that will bite into it,” Chris observed for Dan’s benefit. Redd was being stupid bringing up money right now, especially offering Chris the money he needed in order to lure Ghost out. Doubly so, since Chris’s plan had already changed.
Redd shrugged. “Mills, what would you do if you found a hundred grand in a mattress?”
“Report it.” He didn’t hesitate.
“That’s fucked up.” Redd gave a belly laugh. “I suppose I should pay taxes on it too?”
“Better than getting investigated for money laundering,” Mills observed.
Redd made a sound of disgust. “Maybe I’ll throw a party with it instead. Fuck ya later.” He patted Chris’s shoulder. “You’re on your own, Prince.”
Mills waited until he was gone. “What did I interrupt?”
“Nothing,” Tony said and walked away.
Chris watched for a reaction from Mills. The agent smiled. “Crank told me you’d try to order a hit on Ghost.”
Instead of speaking to the obvious, especially in front of someone who could arrest him for anything he said, Chris asked, “How in the hell are you stupid enough to get sucked into his games?”
“Just lucky, I guess.” The agent’s smile got wider.
“I wouldn’t call that lucky.” Chris got up to leave. Mills stood up with him.
“You want your coat?”
Chris knew his answer but hesitated for effect. Gauging enough seconds had lapsed, he spoke. “Lead the way.”
He stared at his back, wondering if Mills was smarter than he seemed. Chris was counting on it.
He sent another text to Alexis.
Chapter 23 — Paying debts
Chris dropped the dogs off with Tony. He drove past the warehouse where Alexis practiced. It was dark. He circled twice to confirm no one was inside. Then he moved on to the Cave. He parked in the lot two blocks away out of habit. He pulled his leather jacket out of the passenger seat and swapped out the wool dress coat he was wearing. He’d forgotten the feel of the heavy leather. It was tight through the shoulders. He’d been smaller when he was nineteen. It creaked with the movement of his arms as he tried to work it into place. And it smelled like Alexis’s perfume.
Hopefully, she’d wouldn’t here, but he had to check. He set out for the bar, his feet crunching on the ice and snow. The sound of another set of boots joined his. He stopped in his tracks. Ghost slipped out of the shadows, hands in his pockets.
“Look who’s gone all bad-ass. Ya slumming?”
“Says the man who’s been following my dust since eighteen.”
“Fuck you. You’re the one who wussed out. One little bullet wound and you go pansy. Now, look at you. Getting nostalgic for the bad old days?”
“Maybe. Looking for a good fight, you game?”
“Nope.” Ghost laughed at him.
“Aw, come on, you have got to be itching for a rematch since I got you on the floor here a few weeks ago.” Chris pointed toward the bar entrance. “What do you say?”
“Still nope.”
“Now who is the pansy?”
Another laugh. “I guess you can’t figure it out. Everyone always went on and on how smart you were. But I knew. You’re not smart.”
“Everyone who?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Ghost dropped all humor from his tone.
“It does to me. See, I don’t know who was talking shit behind my back, seeing as I’m not smart and all.”
“Fuck you, DeSantos. Not going to play that game with you.” He displayed the gun in his hand. “This way.”
“Why?”
“You and me gotta talk.” Ghost motioned in a direction away from the Cave.
“About?”
“About that fucking company you set up for her music contract money. I’ve got a business proposition. You might like it. It goes like this. I get a hundred grand, you stay alive, and your little blue-haired chickie gets left alone. See? Triple win.”
“I want interest if I’m going to invest.”
“Fuck interest. This ain’t an investment. You won’t get the hundred grand back. I’ll just shoot you and get the money from Crank after I find Blue again. He’ll pay.”
“It’s bad business. You know Crank won’t do it.”
“He’ll pay. He likes her.”
“You could kidnap one of his dogs and he still wouldn’t pay. You know he gave away most of what he owns so his own kid doesn’t get money when he dies. Why would he pay for Blue?”
The man hesitated. “Bullshit. He’d pay for the dogs.”
“No, he wouldn’t. You know, while I was laid up in the hospital all those years ago, not able to go to my brother’s or father’s funerals, he visited. He sat with me every day. Do you know why?”
“I fucking know why. You DeSantos fucks are something special.” Ghost’s face twisted.
“That’s not why.” Chris watched him closely.
“Walk.” Ghost motioned with the gun. Chris kept his pace slow.
“He sat with me because I was high as a kite, and he was afraid I’d talk.”
Ghost stopped in his tracks. Chris stopped with him.
“So what?” He finished sorting things in his head and pointed the gun at Chris. “He was protecting the club.”
“Yes. Protecting, in the form of being ready to murder me in the hospital if I sounded like I was going to talk.” It took Chris years to figure that out. By that point, he was too far in debt with Crank to dig out. He’d taken the help, the money, the advice, because at nineteen he’d been too stupid to figure out Crank wasn’t there because he had a soft spot.
“So, tell me again how he’d pay for Blue. He’d pay to have you killed, and not because of Blue, but because you took something that belongs to a brother. But you already know that. Why else hide? That’s what you’ve been doing for the last few days, isn’t it?” Chris asked. “That’s why Redd can’t find you.”
He had Ghost’s attention. “Fuck you.” He raised the gun.
“You’re better off working with one of my connections in New York or Atlantic City to get a hundred grand than Crank. For that, they’ll want proof I’m alive. Heck, my ex-girlfriend’s father would probably pay because his daughter would be fingered if I showed up dead.”
“How’s that?”
“Bitch keyed my car, has been stalking me. Sending me nudes. Turning up on my doorstep. Cops and my lawyers know all about it. That means she’s got motive to see me dead.”
“How much is this father worth?”
“Over four hundred million taxable income last year. In just one year.”
Ghost whistled. “Hell.” The gun dipped.
“Yeah, makes that hundred grand look small, doesn’t it?” Chris tried not to wince at his error. The last thing he needed was Ghost to think he was making fun of him.
“Know anyone else like him? Maybe we could pinch a few more people?” Ghost was finally thinking, his tone became calculating.
“I know a few. You think I liked dating stuck up bitches? I did it to get those connections. Money makes money, but if you don’t have it, you need someone who does.”
Ghost was still thinking.
Chris began listing off contracts. “These folks drop a hundred grand for advertising. They’ve got the cash. Trick is, finding ways for them to think it’s legit cash being spent. Or,” Chris paused, “finding ways for their not-so-legit cash to look legit.” He winked at Ghost.
“That’s why Crank kept you around.”
There was nothing to say. Ghost had gotten to the destination Chris wanted him to reach. Even if he had lied his ass off to get him there.
“Do you have access to a hundred grand?”
“If there’s interest involved.”
Ghost put his gun away. “It’s fucking cold out here. Let’s go inside and talk targets.”
This time, Chris went willingly.
~~~~~~~
The casino hotel was hands-down the poshest place Alexis had slept. When she left the condo yesterday, her first call was to Ellis Franco. She explained the situation, with an added, “I’m not making this up, I swear.” In answer, he set her up in the penthouse. There was a private elevator, twenty-four-hour room service, and she was certain there were strings involved.
The thought made her hands shake.
Ellis was in the next room, on the phone. He was worse than Chris with the calls and deals. She’d counted seventeen conversations. Two were to the hospital. He’d gotten through to Crank’s room.
“He hung up on me.”
“Crank?” Alexis asked.
“No, someone named Redd.” Ellis was staring at the phone in his hand.
“That’s the leader of the Philadelphia Brigands.”
Mr. Franco cut his eyes to her. “You have strange friends.”
“Oh, they’re not my friends, they’re Chris’s.” She breezed through the words and ignored the pitch of her voice.
“I never knew Chris to be anything but honest,” he mumbled under his breath.
“What? Like criminals only know other criminals? I’m certain you have a few friends you’d like to see behind bars.” To only herself, she muttered, “I know I do.”
He watched her instead of moving to the next phone call. That wasn’t a good thing. Alexis learned very early in her life on the streets, the only time someone should notice her is on stage or when she had control of the stage. Beyond that, attention was a bad, bad thing. It put you in situations. With capital S’s. Like this one. “How much do I owe for this swanky place? I’m on a budget.”
“No charge.”
Band-aid ripped off or picked at? Alexis was never subtle. “Not even in sex?”
Ellis Franco stopped in his tracks. “I do not do that.”
“No? Never date a chick because she’s hot and then buy her things? Same deal.”
His face darkened. “You know it is not. If I decide to provide gifts, it is only because they are just that, gifts. And, for your information, I’ve never had to pay for sex.”