Snatched (11 page)

This world wasn't for civilians
. In this world civilians
easily
became collateral damage. If shit blew up tonight, that's exactly what she would be.
At least tonight, he was packing.
Not his standard issue, another piece. He'd grabbed it after hearing the roars of the bike and discovering that she was gone from the room.

And as much as Rez liked his
Bowie
knife, he would be carrying much fire power tonight. As would the Jamaicans.

Dele kept to the line,
the
strong
smell of diesel kicking back from the bikes ahead.
She coughed
behind him
and he felt the spasm of her body against his back.
At that moment
the remaining
anger dissipated. Which actually was unfortunate becau
se anger gave him an edge, something he was going to need in the next few hours.

The bikes roared along the canyon road toward Laguna.
On either side looming hills absorbed the lights from the bikes' high beams, but each biker instinctively maneuvered the bends and curves. This was a familiar route and night was often a convenient cover.

Nearly an hour later
the bikes
snaked along the edge of Shaw's Cove. Southward
,
hanging precariously on
rising cliffs
,
stood oceanfront villas that provided a stark contr
ast to
weather-washed
clapboard cottages.
Waves moved in from the Pacific, the usually white foam of the water
now a deep blue gray.
Even this late, the night was
illuminated
with ligh
ts of hundreds of homes that dotted the hills.

Straddled along the stairs providing access to the cove stood silhouettes, maybe twenty or more, just waiting, menacing in the darkness. The Jamaicans.
The members of the cartel were expected to show soon, adding to the numbers
of possible guns
.

The Demons wer
e nearly seventy strong tonight, but they would still be outnumbered, which meant they would be outgunned and outmaneuvered.
Whatever was going to happen would have to happen quickly. In a few hours, early morning surfers and divers would start arriving. Too many witnesses.

Even as the bikes stopped, a
voice boomed from the nearest stair
landing.

"Ya man, wha' ya doin' here?"

Dele recognized the voice of the Jamaican gang leader. Russell Corrall.
The file on him was
pretty
extensive and included not only drug running, prostitution but several low-profile murders.
The Feds had been trying to get a hook on him for at least three years.

Despite his bulk, Rez moved nimbly off his bike, leaving
Clare
still straddled. He really should have left her
back
at the house, but knowing
Clare
, she'd probably whined about
being bored
and insisted on coming
.
Well
, she was about to get
more
excitement
than she'd wished for
. Might
even
get a bullet to the brain. The thought wasn't exactly an unpleasant one.

Rez took a few steps toward the landing.

"I think the question is what the fuck
you're
doing here?
There's
a
rumor about
a deal going down tonight
, supposedly between you and the spics. Now
I said to myself that couldn't
possibly
be 'cause we
're the ones
supposed to have a deal
down
with
you raffa muthas.
I said to myself, '
No, those tree hangin' muthas wouldn't be stupid
enough
to pull that
kinda
shit.
'
"

One of the silhouettes separated from the others, came forward. The emerging
figure
of Russell Corrall
featured a man light enough to pass for white
,
his
complexion
contrasting oddly
with deep black dreadlocks. The man was
Hollywood
handsome
– at least that
was
what the bitches claimed -
despite two fierce scars along his right cheek.

"Now jus' who you callin' a monkey?" The Jamaican's voice was tight, barely controlled with anger.

"If the tail hangs, it must be yours," Rez said, which
garnered
several snickers from the Demon contingent. A ruckus of angry murmurings
came
from the
silhouettes on the
staircase.

"Now why ya gonna go and step on a monkey's tail because this sure shit monkey gonna rip you several holes. And for the info, we got
oth
er
biz with the cartel.
O
ur deal with the D
emons
is still in place. W
e good on our word
here
. More than I can say for a D
emon mutha
fucker
."

"I don't know, man. I like to believe there's go
od and honor in this world, especially amongst us thieves, crooks and murderers. But then again, we're thieves, crooks and murderers and honor is only as good as the next brown bag
in hand
."

Rez was feening for the several kilos of brown heroin the Jamaican's were shipping in from the islands. The street value was estimated to be several hundred thousands. Not chump change and something that Rez wouldn't take too kindly to losing out on.

"You're gonna get your junk like promised.
'Cause like I said, we good on our end. But we're also entrepreneurs which means we're diversified
in our wares
. We got other business ventures.
Other items that need to be brought in and sold.
"

"Do tell. So what's
this
rumored
deal with the cartel?"

The Jamaican smiled. "Now
why should I be tellin' ya that?
That's one way to get cut ou
t of a deal,
spilling too much info."

Rez wasn't deterred. "Let me think now. If it ain't junk, leaf or LBJ, what else could it be? Or could you be bringing in some hardware 'cause that's somethin' we
might be interested in."

The Jamaican stood silent, giving Rez time to continue.

"Maybe
we might be interested in gathering
a few heaters, maybe some macks, a few tray deuces, tray eights, AKs, even some Kevlars.
At a discount, of course as we're good customers.
"

The Jamaican didn't answer for a beat or two
then broke out into a
n
earnest
laugh
. "See what I can do for a good customer. This here…monkey…knows the value of a good
dime
even when comin' from a white-shit-smelling-ain't-seen-soap-in-a-decade-hillbilly-mofo."

Rez's face wasn't something that could be readily
scrutinized
in the dark, even with all the ambient lights around. Dele knew he wouldn't take too kindly to the adjectives but Rez was a businessman before all else. Pride couldn't outprice inventory.

Dele felt a release of breath near his cheek. He had been so wrapped up in the conversation between the two gang leaders that he had nearly forgotten about her.
Her whole body was trembling and it wasn't due to the drop in the temperature.
At least the situation had de-escalated. No fight tonight. Which meant
both of them
wo
uld live to see another day
.

But the clock was still running down on him. Rez dealt with thieves with succinct and deadly finality. He might still be seeing his grave in a matter of days.

Which meant she would be seeing hers in the same time frame if not sooner.

Rez gave the signal. Each man hit the throttle. The bikes roared as the Demons prepared to leave. Dele looked up at some of the wooden decks facing the ocean
side. Other silhouettes were present, looking down on the scene. Some of the onlookers might be observing in dread that their pricey neighborhood was getting just a little too much traffic these days. Other residents would probably be looking on with more than a dose of curiosity. Something to break up their privileged, jaded
live
s. Dele figured not one of them would be calling the cops tonight. Again fear, cowardice and most likely the thrill of seeing a bit of dirt and grit in their pristine environment.

As Dele held to the line on the exit, he realized even facing a death knell he didn't envy those pallid, anemic
souls with their martini-on-the-rocks existences, with everything given to them on silver trays. Even the drugs that were being negotiated on the sands below their million dollar homes.
After all, it was the privileged who were the Demons main customer base.

And that's the main reason no one would have called the police. Even if the guns had blazed on their doorsteps.

They were back in his hotel room.
And this time he was taking no chance
s
with her
.
The handcuffs that held her to the head board chafed against the skin of her wrists
.

"You don't have to keep me tied up like this," she pled.

He
silently
sat in the chair
barely offering
her a glance before turning to stare out of the window
.
The
light in the room
along
with the
darkness outside
reflected his image in the dirty pane.
She looked at t
he reflection of his face
which
was
hard,
inscrutable. The stone expression unnerved her.
His silence unnerved her
even more
.

More minutes passed. Already, the first light of dawn was muting the
blackness outside.
Just a slight pale pink in the eastern sky.
She'd been handcuffed for almost thirty minutes, ever since they had returned. He hadn't brook any resistance from her, his hand a vice around her arm, the slight pain a tacit threat that he wasn't to be played with. Not anymore. They had survived yet another
close call and she knew he wouldn't take any
further
chances of her trying to escape.

When he turned to her again, she saw a tiredness
in the hard set of his face
. No, more of a weariness that extended beyond the physical lack of sleep. There was something going on there, something other than him babysitting her. Her instincts told her that there was some other trouble brewing just beneath the surface. And her presence was more than complicating things.

"You should try to get some sleep," she said
hesita
tingl
y.

He smirked. "And give you another chance to run out on me.
You must think I'm a total idiot. I trusted you once. I'm not gonna make that mistake again.
"

"Where the hell you think I'm going to go handcuffed to this bed?
" She shook her cuffed wrists for effect.

"
By the way, these damn things hurt. And forgive me for thinking of my life. I'm not the kidnapper here."

"I told you
that I would get you out of this mess! You just have to
give
me
more
time
!"

"I don't have more time to wait. Those animals can decide to kill me any moment. Or something worse. You
can't protect me from them and you
know
it
!"

He was up from his seat, pacing.
A
t least she had his attention
now
.
She just had to reason her way out of t
his.

"I panicked before. I realize you can't just let me go. That's why we both have to leave. Go to the police."

"I can't do that."

"Why can't you? It's the only thing
you can
do
to save me
.
To save us.
"

Just seconds before she thought she'd gotten through to him. His expression had seemed thoughtful when she stressed that he couldn't protect her no matter how much he wanted to. But something in that expression changed when she mentioned going to the police. It occurred to her at that moment that for him going to the police was even riskier. Obviously he had a criminal background. She could only imagine the stuff he'd been involved with. Drugs, obviously. Was it possible that he
'd done something worse than that?
T
hen again he was a gang member which meant that he could be capable of
just about
anything.