Battle Axe

by Carsen Taite

  I started to feel like my family wasn’t mine. Only the bloated old man sitting across from me punching out beer cans. A strange desire to solidify our relationship caused me to offer an invitation I hadn’t planned on. Amato and Picone could wait. “You up for a little road trip?”

  The buzz delayed his response. “Road trip?”

  “You know. Just me and you. How about it?” I glanced at my phone. I had seven hours before Dalia was supposed be home from work.

  “I think I’m supposed to see Maggie later.”

  “Maybe you can buy her a nice prize with your winnings. I have work later. I’ll get you back long before the bar closes.”

  He was already out of his seat, surprisingly nimble for an old guy who’d sucked down as many beers as he had. I knew I wouldn’t have to do any more convincing. I packed him in the Bronco, and we took off for the hour and a half trip to the casino. Maggie would be pissed, but I didn’t care. Dad was family, and right now I needed that, more than I wanted to admit. The road to hell, and casinos, is paved with good intentions.

  *

  I took advantage of the ride to pump Dad about Bingo, but instead of background, all I got from him was the suggestion we go by his place and catch a game. “I’m craving a drive,” was my lame response. I wanted him to go to Bingo’s, but I didn’t want to have to explain that I wasn’t welcome. I had the evening to figure out a way to get him to go there and find out why Bingo was pissed off at me. This trip was just to whet his appetite for more. He didn’t argue. He liked Bingo’s place just fine, but he preferred the Winstar Casino for their better looking dealers. He was right about that.

  I did learn he hadn’t been to Bingo’s in a month or so, probably due to Maggie’s watchful eye. When my father had been married to my mother, he’d had to sneak out to fulfill most of his vices. Maggie wasn’t at all like my mother, thank God, but she did have a bit of maternal instinct about her, which led to the healthy meals and no beer before noon rule. Dad was one of those guys women just loved to take care of. He’d had the Widow Teeter, from down the street, on a string since my mom had walked out years ago. I hadn’t pegged Maggie as one of the ones who’d line up to care for the old guy, but love does strange things to people. A good reason to stay far from it.

  The casino was hopping for early evening on a Wednesday. No sharp-dressed high rollers. Mostly grizzly looking folks, likely gambling away their government assistance. I didn’t judge. Not like I had a retirement plan other than dying early. If death cheated me, one day I’d be old, right there with them, pulling a lever from my Medicare approved scooter. I’d sooner shoot myself. But I could see Dad in their place. Maybe hooking up with someone like Maggie would save him from such a fate.

  I settled him at a poker table and left to get us drinks. I didn’t make it far before I ran into a surprise. Literally.

  “Geez, Diamond, you think the United States government wouldn’t want their agents gambling with the common folk.”

  She grabbed my arm and steered me to a not so quiet corner. “What are you doing here?”

  “Bonding. You?”

  “Any progress on Vedda’s guys?”

  “Your contract employee has nothing new to report. Except that I’m taking a few hours off, which considering you’re not paying me, is none of your business. Don’t you have some strippers to hustle?”

  She tried to fake a puzzled look, but I saw through it. Now she knew that I knew she’d had more on her mind when it came to Laura Tanner than helping me catch a jumper. “Care to tell me why you were interested in a two-bit stripper?”

  I watched her face while she went through the mental gyrations, wondering if I already knew what she’d told Laura, what she’d gotten from her. Her features settled into resignation. “I can’t help it if cases sometimes overlap.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences.” I mentally scrolled through the improbable list. She’d tailed me to one of the cases Hardin had given me and gotten me to commit to looking for a couple of his other jumpers. She’d followed me to Bingo’s, followed me to the strip club. And she conveniently disappeared when her faux old flame, Yuri Petrov showed. She was using me for something, and it was time for her to spill. “I have a few questions for you.” I shot a look over at the table where Dad was steadily losing money. Any second now, he’d start wondering where I was with the drink I’d promised. “Wait here.”

  She followed my gaze and nodded. “I’ll meet you in Paris.”

  She wasn’t envisioning a romantic rendezvous under the Eiffel Tower, not the real one anyway. We were in the Winstar World Casino and faux French architecture was just one of the cheesy landmarks. I shoved one of the beers I held into her hand. “Hold this. Makes you look less like a cop. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  I delivered Dad’s drink and told him I was going to give the slots a try. He barely looked up from his cards, but wished me good luck. I don’t play slots—too mindless—but leave it to him not to remember details about his oldest child. I shrugged his inattention off and left for gay Paree.

  Diamond was waiting. I’d had my doubts she’d stick around. She was a wily woman. Before I could get out a word, she grabbed my arm and led me to the far end of the casino, to a bank of elevators. I didn’t question our destination. Figured there wasn’t any point. I was just encouraged she hadn’t taken off the minute I turned my back.

  We got off on the twelfth floor. A long walk down an empty hallway, a dip of a card into the lock, and next thing I knew, we were alone in a hotel room. Not what I’d had in mind, but a bonus for sure. I sat on the bed. “You wanted me so bad, you followed me to Oklahoma? Hell, Diamond, I would have given it up in Texas. You want to answer my questions before or after?”

  She paced the room. Nervous, not excited, pacing. Not exactly a prelude to hot sex. On her third lap, I reached out and grabbed her arm. “Sit. You’re making me dizzy.” I didn’t wait for an answer, but pulled her into my lap, circling her waist with a strong grasp, rubbing her skin when her shirt came untucked. She gasped at my touch. A swallowed moan, really. That was all it took. Within seconds, I was totally turned on, and the only question I cared about was how fast I could get Diamond undressed and begging beneath me. I rolled us over and started unbuttoning her shirt.

  She stilled my hand with hers and panted, “Wait.”

  “Don’t want to,” I managed to say before I covered her mouth with mine. I craved closeness. I tugged off her shirt, then mine, and pulled her close, but I couldn’t erase the feeling she was still distant.

  “Take off your pants.” I spoke the words into her mouth and held her tight while she complied, surrendering to my pressing need. I nipped and sucked her lips, then moved to her breasts. She unbuttoned my jeans and inched her hand inside. I groaned when her hand slid down to finger my wet center. My clit hardened. It felt good, but I needed more. I bucked against her, forcing her hand where I wanted it most, but none of my thrusts brought me close enough. Close enough to Diamond. Close enough to coming.

  She entered me, one finger, two fingers, three. My jeans were halfway down my ass, but I didn’t care. I could feel my walls closing. I was going to come, but something was missing. I felt the orgasm building, but I could’ve bluffed anyone watching into thinking I was playing cards instead of coming at the hands of a beautiful blonde vixen.

  I kept the rhythm, fighting to drown out my ticking brain. Why did it matter? Why was I even noticing this? I’d had my share of one-night stands where orgasm was the only goal and any stray emotions were only strings to be cut as quickly as possible. I buried my face in her tits, hoping the taste of skin would force me somewhere physical. Some place where I didn’t care who was fucking me. It didn’t work.

  Maybe all the talk lately about relationships and marriage had frozen my emotions so all I could manage were rote physical reactions. I needed to shut down the computer running through my brain or I was never going to enjoy a sexual encounter again.

  She was pumpin
g me hard now. Stretching me, pulling me, demanding my attention. Or at least the attention of my clit. It agreed with her. I came quietly and rolled over. She sat up, shot me a questioning look, and then started to get dressed. I waved her back. “Your turn.”

  “I’m good.”

  She wasn’t and neither was I, but I didn’t want to talk about it. We both dressed in silence. I waited until she was all buttoned-up before I asked my first question, figuring I should at least get half of what I came for—information. “How do you know Laura Tanner?”

  “I don’t. At least not well. I got her name from a contact. Heard she had a lead on Vedda’s guys, so I showed up at the club. Imagine my luck when you were there to bring her in.”

  “And you took her prescription bottle because you were in need of some pain relief?”

  “All I did was tell her she was going back in, not to fight back. She gave up the bottle to keep from having it on her when she got booked in. Smart girl.”

  She was lying. Big time. I didn’t know why, and an hour ago I may not have cared, but now I cared deeply. Maybe it was because the lie came on the heels of something sweaty. What had gotten into me lately? Intimacy wasn’t something I relied on in making judgments in my everyday living. This slow bleed of caring needed to stop now. It was only going to get in the way of my ability to do my work. And my work was all I had.

  Chapter Eight

  I rolled out of bed the next morning with the second fuzzy head in less than a week. The only difference today was that I had money in my pockets and the bed wasn’t mine. Oh, and there was a guy snoring in the other bed.

  Dad. With empty pockets.

  Diamond had shoved the room key in my pocket the night before as a down payment for helping her out. As pissed as I was that she wasn’t being truthful with me, I kept it. I planned to do some serious drinking and, since Dad was tying one on, staying the night in Oklahoma seemed like a great idea. I wasn’t in the mood to track down Shaw anyway. Too distracted to take on a dangerous felon. Instead of a bounty, I earned my living at the tables and had apparently managed to make it back to the room with my winnings intact. I did feel a little funky about staying in a room that had been bought on government dollars, but I figured all the surveillance cameras were likely to catch was footage of two drunks, snoring off a night on the town.

  I roused Dad and we were on the road, munching on to-go food in the car. Dad didn’t have a big win to brag about so he was pretty quiet. He did moan a bit about how Maggie was going to wonder where he’d been. I pointed out they weren’t married and he had a right to do what he wanted in his free time. He sighed and I wondered again about DNA. Thank the stars I hadn’t gotten the pussy-whipped gene. No one cared if I came or went. Fine by me.

  As we pulled up to Dad’s house, I pulled out a wad of cash and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. “Those tables were rigged. Go to Bingo’s. He’ll set you up nice.”

  He smiled and patted his pocket. “Thanks, Luca. I’ll do you proud.” I’d woken the beast and there was only one way to tame it. He’d be at Bingo’s within twenty-four hours. Surely, Bingo wouldn’t be able to resist sharing gossip about why he’d kicked me out. All I’d have to do is pay another visit to dear old Dad and get some answers.

  My plan for the day was ambitious. First, lose the tail. Next, track down Shaw’s girlfriend, find Amato and Picone, and trace the prescription bottle Laura had given me. By midnight, I’d have some answers. Winning got my blood flowing.

  I was certain Diamond or one of her lackeys was following me, and I decided to have fun with them. I drove by Chance’s place three times, approaching from different angles each time. My stomach clenched when I saw Dr. Deveaux’s car in the driveway. It was ten o’clock and I was sure Jess was at work, because, using my keen detective skills, I’d called there and hung up when she answered. What was the doctor doing in Jess’s house all by herself? I considered going to the door and feigning surprise to find her there, but instead resigned myself to being satisfied by the fact the Feds were probably running her license plate. I laughed when I thought about them doing a background check, and the idea was so funny that on my next drive-by, I slowed to a crawl and snapped a few pics of the car with my camera phone. Then I took off to my next stop.

  Hardin had been in the bail bond business for thirty years. He’d bought this building, a former combo convenience store gas station, when he first opened, and he hadn’t made a change to it since. The awning was tattered and the windows still boasted that tobacco, gas, and “candie” were all for sale. Hardin and I were a lot alike. Don’t fix it unless it’s broken. Don’t buy new when the old works just fine. But Hardin was rich, and I wasn’t. I’m thinking that’s because he confined his gambling to criminal defendants instead of cards.

  We can’t all be perfect.

  I parked the Bronco in one of the bays he liked to leave open in the cooler fall weather. Once a year, he hosted a big party for his best clients. Lawyers in suits and a judge or six would stand around in the garage and gnaw on ribs and chug from beer bottles they pulled from icy metal tubs. Every other day of the year, he parked his dually in the first bay. His missing pickup signaled he wasn’t in. Good. He wasn’t who I wanted to see.

  I pulled the bay door down and walked in the side door to the office. Sally Jesse, Hardin’s right hand, was on the phone, but she waved me into a seat close by. She was way young, but she’d worked for Hardin since high school, accompanying her mom to work. Her mom had been forced to retire last year when emphysema took hold. Sally’s mom had never liked me. She didn’t think bounty hunting was women’s work, didn’t understand why I wasn’t home, barefoot and pregnant. But Sally and I saw eye to eye. More than her mother would ever realize. I remember the first time I’d ever seen Sally out at the bar, gyrating with a crazy regular that the patrons of the place had nicknamed Liquor Lucy. Sally had seen me watching and we bonded instantly. And that’s why I knew I could count on her for a favor.

  She hung up and lit up. “What’s shaking, Luca?”

  I pointed at the cigarette dangling from her lips. “Those kill people.”

  “Lose all your vices and then you can lecture me. You come by for cash? I thought you were all paid up.”

  “I am. Just need a favor.”

  “Name it.”

  “Let me borrow your car for a few hours.”

  She hesitated, and I knew it wasn’t because she thought I would mistreat her ride. She drove a beat-up Chevy. Wasn’t much I could do to it that hadn’t already been done.

  “And when someone comes in wanting to know where you are?”

  She was even smarter than I’d pegged her for. “You could tell them I’m in the restroom?”

  She laughed. “That should work for a bit. Seriously, Luca, you in trouble?”

  “Not a lick.” At least not yet. I mentally flashed on the Russian, but I doubted he’d had me tailed this morning. I’d only noticed one suspicious car, and it was plain vanilla Fed. Besides, the Russians liked Hardin and used his services regularly. They weren’t going to cause Sally any trouble. And what would the Feds say? She borrowed your car—that’s illegal! No, I wasn’t in the kind of trouble she was worried about. “I just need a new ride for a few hours.”

  She shot a skeptical look my way and then tossed me her keys. “Tank’s full.”

  “Got it. Thanks.” I started to walk to the back, then stopped. “Got a cap I can borrow?” She pointed to a drawer. “Hardin keeps them in there. Don’t tell him I gave one up.”

  I shoved my hair up high, pulled the black baseball cap low on my brow, and took off out the back door. I slunk behind the wheel of Sally’s trashy ride and escaped down the alley. A few blocks away, I was finally satisfied no one was following me. Step one down. A dozen more to go.

  *

  Ladies who work at night usually sleep in. I was counting on that when I knocked hard on Dalia’s door. I heard a healthy dose of cussing and banging around before the door finally opene
d an inch. “Whadda you want?”

  “I have a package for Dalia Franklin.”

  The door swung wide. No one can resist a package; it was like Christmas. Except this time it wasn’t. The only package I had was a Colt .45 that I kept out of sight for the moment. She’d obviously just rolled out of bed. Her hair stood on end and her gown was on backward. She had the sour expression any caffeine addict has before their first cup of black gold for the day. She thrust a hand in my direction. “Give it here.”

  I grabbed the door with my free hand and pushed my way in. Only took her a sec to spot the Colt and the sight was like a jolt of espresso right into her veins.

  She did the one thing I can’t stand. She started screaming. Loud, I’m being murdered screams. I slapped a hand over her mouth and prayed the neighbors wouldn’t come running. “Shhh, shhh, I need you to be quiet and listen to me.” After I repeated the chant several times, she finally settled down.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m looking for Otis. I work for his bondsman and he missed his court date. We can get it all straightened out if I can talk to him before the cops do. Do you know where he is?”

  She just stared at me for a minute and I wondered if she’d scared herself senseless. Finally, she nodded her head.

  “Okay, great. I’m going to move my hand. Don’t scream. Okay?”

  She nodded again and I moved slightly, but remained on alert in case she decided to resume her role as a human alarm system.

  She crossed her arms and morphed instantly from scared to defiant. “How do I know you are for real?”

  Because I’m standing right here? I knew what she meant. “His bondsman is Hardin Jones. You probably met Sally when you went in to post the bond? How would I know all that if I wasn’t real?”

  Her features wrinkled in thought as she considered my hard logic. She settled on another nod to indicate she believed me. She’d nodded so much since I’d gotten here I figured her neck muscles were worn to shreds.