by Carolina Mac
“No answer. It went to message. Are you still at her place?”
“Yep, just about to go to our hotel. Hammer and Greg are coming on to relieve us.”
“Go knock on the door. Are there any lights on?”
“None.”
“Fuck, this is bad. Something could be so wrong, or she could be away, and nothing is wrong.”
“I’ll call you back.” To Fletch: “Boss wants us to knock on the door.”
They strode up the sidewalk, stood on the front step and rang the bell. Nothing.
“What are you guys doing?” Greg had jumped out of the junk truck and come up behind them.
“Blacky said to knock on the door. We ain’t seen her all day.”
“Oh, fuck,” said Greg.
Travis called Blacky back and gave him the scoop.
“Go in the back way and just take a look,” said Blacky. “If everything looks normal, leave and lock the door.”
“Yep. Call you back.”
“We’re taking a look,” Travis said to Greg. He ran to his truck, grabbed the lock tool and a Maglite and tore down the side of the house to the gate. He opened the gate, shone the light in front of him and looked for a back way in. Garden doors. A dog was barking at him. Sounded like a small dog. Using the wizard, Travis had the door open in a couple of seconds and led the way inside.
“Damn it,” said Travis, “I just stepped in something.” He shone the light on the kitchen floor. “Dog piss.”
“The dog’s been locked in for hours,” said Fletcher. “You’d probably piss on the floor too.”
“No doubt,” said Travis. He turned on the kitchen light, then lights throughout the house as they searched for Mrs. Bromwell.
“Oh oh,” said Hammer. “Living room looks like a war zone.”
Travis came barreling down the stairs. “She ain’t up there. What have you got Hammer?”
“Busted table, a couple of smashed flower holder things, and her purse. Her purse is dumped here on the sofa.”
“They grabbed her,” said Travis.
“The guys that want the money?” asked Fletch.
“Has to be.” Travis had his phone in his hand.
Doug Robertson’s Residence. Las Vegas.
DOUGIE woke up around five in the afternoon and took a shower. He’d been at the clubhouse until midnight the night before, then busting his ass around the city all night trying to make a buck. All he could think about was Annie. He’d never been in love before and he damn well shouldn’t be now. No time for it, not with a deal this big going down for his club.
Now that the fuckin Rule was out of the way, he could take over both their drug business and their gun run from Mexico. The B team had been congratulating him and giving him praise the night before and he couldn’t let them down.
Next on his list was a meet with the boss of the cartel. He’d have to go to Yuma in a couple of days and meet on this side of the border, or on the other side, that hadn’t been worked out yet.
The cartel was still hot—madder than hell that they lost two truckloads of guns plus the money because of the Rule. If Langois wasn’t dead already, the cartel would cap him in a nanosecond.
Dougie toweled off his hair and tried to sort out his problem. He talked out loud. “We have to pay up front for the first shipment and we haven’t got enough in the safe. We need more—at least two hundred K more. We’d have it in a week or so, but I need it for the meet. How am I gonna get it that fast?”
He lit up a smoke. “A big private game might do it. I usually win, but how do I get on a list with high rollers who have the bucks I want? There must be a way. I need to ask around. Some of the boys will know who to talk to.”
He butted out his smoke, pulled on a pair of boxers and reached for his jeans.
I bet Annie could get into any of those games.
He picked up his keys and flicked off the kitchen light. “Maybe if I tossed her name around, that would be enough to get me a seat at one of the tables.”
He strode into the garage, put the overhead door up and started his bike.
Red Rock Casino. West Las Vegas.
THE POKER ROOM at the Red Rock wasn’t crowded this early—early in Vegas meaning any time before midnight. A good time to get a seat. The poker boss seated Annie at table four, and Blaine and Farrell were at table two.
They could see each other across the aisle, a situation satisfactory to Blaine, because he never liked to lose sight of Annie. He often wondered if there was something wrong with him. Therapy wasn’t something he was willing to try. He’d known a few shrinks and they all seemed to be crazier than their patients.
At nine they took a dinner break and tried the steaks at T-Bones. After a great dinner, they returned to their seats with renewed energy and enthusiasm.
Blaine’s cell rang, and he had to leave the poker table to answer it. “Find her?”
“Negative,” said Travis. “Signs of a struggle in the living room. Dog locked in all day. Pissed on the floor. Her purse is here, dumped out on the sofa. She’s been snatched.”
“Do a door to door. Somebody must have seen something. I’m calling her lawyer. He might know something—or not.” Blaine searched for the number and called. “Mr. Simms, Blaine Blackmore calling. Sorry to disturb you so late, but my men are at Mrs. Bromwell’s residence and she’s not there. Have you talked to her today?”
“No, I haven’t. Maybe she’s out for the evening.”
“There seems to be signs of a problem in her living room. She may have been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?”
“The money Reg Bromwell produced for the settlement could have been stolen,” said Blaine.
“What? No, I don’t think so. That’s not possible.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’ve been Reg and Barb’s attorney for years, and I know them well.”
“If you hear from Mrs. Bromwell, would you call me?”
“Certainly. Let me know when she’s been located.”
ANOTHER hour passed, and a couple of bikers came in and waited at the bar for seats. Annie had been getting cards all evening and had a huge stack of chips in front of her. The bikers filled seats at her table when they became available and she strained to get a look at their cuts.
Yep, that’s Dougie’s club. Wonder where he is?
About one a.m. Blaine came to Annie’s table. “Farrell and I are beat, Mom. How long are you staying?”
“I’ll cash out. We can leave.”
In the parking lot, they had almost reached the Cherokee when a rumble sounded close by.
“That might be them coming in now,” said Farrell. He peered down the paved road leading in from the highway and said, “Yep, seven Harleys.”
“Stand close to the Jeep and let’s see if one of them is Dougie,” said Annie.
They waited while the bikers parked their bikes and walked from the parking area to the front door of the casino.
“Yep, he’s there,” said Farrell. “His men all around him.”
“Want to go back in, Mom?” asked Blaine.
“Nope. Let’s go to the hotel and get some sleep, but on the way, Farrell can run into Dougie’s house and see if he turned all the lights off.”
Barb Bromwell’s Residence. North Dallas.
TRAVIS and the surveillance crew conducted door to door interviews up and down Barb Bromwell’s street. They banged on doors, rousted people out of bed and most of it was for nothing.
Mrs. Anderson, an older lady in her seventies, who lived directly across the street from the Bromwell house wasn’t asleep when they knocked. She was doing a Netflix marathon, watching season after season of zombies eating out people’s brains. While she watched she was knitting a blue baby blanket at the same time. She invited Travis and Fletcher to come in.
“Have a seat. Would you like some tea?”
“No, thanks, ma’am,” said Travis. “I wondered if you saw anyone at Mrs. Bromwell’s house yester
day?”
“Let me think. Barb was outside with Scott, that’s her little Yorkie, and I waved to her.”
“What time was that?” asked Fletcher.
“Morning, dear, right after breakfast. Around nine.”
“Then later in the day?”
“I usually take a short nap in the afternoon. Helps me stay awake for my nightly marathon.”
“You might have missed seeing visitors in the afternoon?” asked Travis.
“I almost missed them,” she said. “I woke up and looked out the upstairs window and I saw Barb leaving with a couple of gentlemen in suits.”
“Did you notice what kind of vehicle it was?”
“How could I not? It was one of those long things that rich people take to parties.”
“A limo?” asked Travis.
“Uh huh. A limo. And I thought to myself, good. Some nice man is paying attention to Barbie. She deserves some fun after that awful Reggie left her. What a piece of work that man was.”
“Only one more question. Did you happen to notice the tag on the limo?”
“Do you mean did I write down the license number?”
Fletcher smiled.
“Yes, that’s what I meant,” said Travis.
“Of course. I write down the numbers of all strange vehicles on our street, because you see, I’m the president of the neighborhood watch.”
“Fantastic,” hollered Travis. “You made me very happy.”
“I’m glad, dear. You did look a bit miserable when you came in.”
Fletcher chuckled and punched Travis in the arm.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sunday, February 1st.
Bellagio Hotel. Las Vegas.
ANNIE woke alone in her suite and it was perfectly quiet. She wondered what had wakened her so suddenly, then thought it might have been her phone. She checked for messages and there was one missed from a minute before.
“I smelled your perfume last night and I’m missing you.”
“I saw you at the Red Rock.”
“You’re in Vegas?”
“That’s where you are.”
“You stalking me?”
“Yes.”
“What a turn on.”
“Breakfast?”
“No.”
“Info center in the canyon at noon?”
“Yes.”
Annie showered, dressed in her leathers and jogged along Las Vegas Boulevard until she came to the Harley dealer. They rented bikes by the hour or the day to tourists. She chose a black Softail much the style of her own baby, laid down her Amex card and it was hers until the following day.
The boys in the garage out back, gassed it up for her and she headed west. She took I-15 out of town then turned west on route one sixty. There were two vehicles parked at the information center when she arrived in the canyon, but no bike. Dougie wasn’t there yet.
He won’t come alone. He’s number one. They’ll be watching him.
She felt for her Beretta tucked snugly in her waistband and wondered what Dougie was carrying. Was he a good shot? She knew nothing about him. Everything she’d learned so far had been lies. Not surprising. Bikers were professional liars. Russ Coulter had been one of the best liars ever born. Race was a close second, although she could read him a little better. They told you what they wanted you to know. Nothing more and nothing less.
Should I have told the boys where I was going?
BLAINE KNOCKED on the door of Annie’s suite to see if she wanted to go downstairs for breakfast and there was no answer. He tried her cell and it went to message.
“Where the hell is she, bro?” he asked Farrell. “She’s not off somewhere doing something off the wall, is she?”
“Jeeze, I hope not.”
“I got us an appointment with Keith Vargas to talk about the B squad, so we better have breakfast and a couple of coffees and move our asses.”
Blaine’s cell rang in the elevator and it was Travis telling him about the witness who saw the men and the limo. “You got a BOLO out, Trav?”
“I had it out by three a.m., but I don’t know if DPS will pick up a limo that easily.”
“What company is it registered to?”
“Big-D Limo Service. I’m on my way there right now.”
“Let me know what you find out. Meantime, I’ll Google them and see who owns it.”
Red Rock Canyon Info Center. Nevada.
DOUGIE knew she was dangerous. He could feel it every time he was near her, and still he wanted her. Would she try for him in the canyon or did she want to meet for another reason? He had backup. There was always backup for number one, but shit happened. Graveyards were full of bikers who made mistakes. He hadn’t made too many so far, but that had been due mostly to luck, and not good judgement.
He rode into the info center parking lot and saw her sitting on a bike at the side of the building. A couple of tourists were parked, sitting in their vehicles looking at maps and wondering which way to go. He knew the canyon like the back of his hand. He and Race had ridden here hundreds of times. He’d been searching his memory trying to think if Race ever talked to him about Annie. Race hardly talked at all. Probably not.
He parked his bike next to Annie’s, kicked the stand down and set it on the hard-packed dirt. She smiled at him, the red bandana barely holding all the wild black hair. She leaned close and kissed him, the scent of her making him instantly hard. Her tongue explored his mouth and he groaned with wanting. He’d thought of little else but how she felt in his arms since they’d had crazy, wild sex that last time in the hotel. “I love you, girl,” he whispered.
“Let’s ride.”
He followed her down one of the tracks that led off the paved road, one of dozens that wound through remote areas of the canon. He figured she’d picked out a spot to kill him. His boys weren’t far behind and they had scopes if there was a problem. They’d told him it was a bad idea to meet her way out here, but he was the boss and any idea he had wasn’t all bad.
Annie parked her bike and hopped off near a patch of green grass under one of the few trees. She opened her saddlebag, pulled out a blanket and spread it on the ground.
Dougie laid down, took her in his arms and kissed her. “Are you going to kill me way out here?” he asked with a smile.
“I could, but I figured you’d have protection, so I thought for starters, I’d just fuck you blind.”
“My boys might watch us through their scopes.” Dougie chuckled as he unzipped his jeans. “I couldn’t get you out of my head since our last time at the hotel. I’ve never felt like this before. Scared and crazy hot, all at the same time.”
Annie showed him no mercy, and when she was done, Dougie lay naked and exhausted on the blanket. A cold wind blowing out of the east made him shiver and he reached for his clothes. “I need something, and I don’t know if you can help me or why you would want to after all the bullshit I’ve laid on you.”
“What is it you need?” Annie pulled her sweater over her head and reached for her jacket.
“I want to get into one of the big games in town.”
“Why?”
“I’m short of cash.”
Annie smiled. “You need money for the cartel because you’re taking over the Rule’s gun business?”
Dougie stared at her and didn’t answer.
“Got any prospects under eighteen?”
Why is she asking me that?
“Maybe two or three. No more than four.”
“Let them go. Just kick them out of the club and I’ll help you get into a game.”
“Okay, it’s a deal.”
I don’t get it, but I can do it.
“I’ll pick you up at your house at nine.” Annie tugged on one of her Harley boots.
“You know where I live?” Dougie’s eyes were wide and staring in disbelief.
“I’m a professional, Dougie, just like you.”
“Jesus, I can’t get my head around it.”
“Got any clothes?”
“You mean better clothes?” he asked with a grin.
Annie nodded.
“I’ll have some designer threads on my limp and tired body by the time you pick me up.”
She winked at him. “We’re going on a date.”
Dougie reached into his pocket and pulled out her bracelet. “Would you wear this while we’re dating?”
“Sure. I was sad when I had to give it back.”
Dougie wound it around her wrist and did up the clasp.
“Who was the kid riding your bike?” she asked.
“One of the kids I’ll be letting go.”
He was telling the truth, and for that Annie kissed him. “I’ve got to go the hotel and make some calls, then go to the Fashion Mall and buy an outfit.”
“Dinner first, if we’re all dressed up?”
“Sure, why not. I’ll come to your place at eight.”
Las Vegas PD.
THE GANG SQUAD office was almost deserted when Blaine and Farrell arrived for the meeting with Detective Keith Vargas. His whole crew was out of the office in the streets—most of them on the strip where the gangs found unlimited opportunities bilking tourists. His men battled every shift against the prostitutes luring marks towards the thieves and drug pushers that lay in wait in droves for the fun-seekers.
Vargas stood up and offered Blaine his hand. “Blacky, nice to see you again.”
“This is my brother, Deputy Farrell Donovan.”
Vargas, a short dark haired Hispanic shook Farrell’s hand with enthusiasm. “Nice to meet you, Donovan.” He pointed to the two guest chairs against the wall and Blaine and Farrell sat down. “You’re interested in the B team, you said on the phone?”
“From your information online, I saw their address was near Red Rock, but we couldn’t find the building when we drove out there and the GPS didn’t have a clue where the clubhouse was.”
“Hard to find,” said Vargas, “and that’s just the way the Dog likes it—or did like it before he went AWOL.”
“Did you believe that story when you heard it?”
“Not for a second, although there were reports of some attempts of mayhem on him. None successful.”