Snatched (21 page)

"Yeah, she's gone.
One
slit through
her
throat took care of business. She lied to me about the money, so I had to make it
especially
hurt."

Rez was a bloodthirsty bastard and Dele could tell by the leer in the man's face that he was playing the scenario in his mind.

Dele did an internal sigh of relief. He'd gotten away with Nailah's murder and seemingly Roach's killing. No one was pointing fingers and if Rez
wondered
where the man was, he obviously wasn't worried about. Which led Dele to believe what he'd earlier
guessed was correct: Roach had come after them on his own. For all Rez was concerned,
Roach
the bug was simply laying low which would come with its own consequences if he didn't show up in time to ride out with the crew.

Rez stood up, pushing Dele back with a hand to his chest
to clear the space
. Dele hid the grimace arising from the sudden pain of
contact. At least the pain was dulled a bit with the bandage
, cleaning
and painkillers.

"
Murray
…" Rez turned to address the member he'd been talking with when Dele came in, "you take
first
column, Leo'll take the west column. I'll take the last.
I got a reliable source saying that the Jamaican niggers
have
a place near the Valley
. They plan to trade some wares, some heat, mostly blow. And we're going to provide a welcome wagon, in reverse. We get rid of the middle men, deal with the Mexicans directly. More lucrative that way for us.
"

Dele listened and knew immediately that he should call in. He alone couldn't forestall this upcoming slaughter and all in the name of closing a case. Well, several
cases
including
the murders of
members of another
L.A. gang
. And
the buried bodies were
not just gang members, but innocents
as well
. One a
seventeen-year-old
girl snatched by a crew on her way to school. Raped and supposedly discarded in the Mojave, dumped like the others.
Leanne Strauss. A s
mart student headed for Harvard who unfortunately caught
the eye of
one of the
crew
and didn't live to bring charges.

He'd seen
her
graduation photo in preparation for a ceremony she wouldn't attend.
Red haired, green eyes, captivating smile, all wiped away by a piece of shit. He had an idea of who it might be, but no clear cut evidence. And he'd had the audacity to
personally promise
her parents
that he would do everything in his power
to bring justice
for their daughter
.
Unfortunately, it didn't seem that it was likely that he would ever solve her case.

F
or
Leanne and the others buried like garbage, both innocents and criminal,
he had determined that
the Demons had to be taken down. But he
couldn't let tonight happen
.

He stepped closer to Rez
.

"Wouldn't it be better to keep the Jamaicans as buffers?" he offered. "Let them deal with the hassle of doing business with the
cartel?"

Rez turned a scathing
look
on him. "Man, have you been drinking the stupid juice or what? What did I just say? We're getting rid of them damn Jamaicans and we're doing it tonight. If you're not damn stupid then you forgot to put on your balls tonight. Speaking of ball-less wonders, where's Roach? Haven
't seen him since earlier today.
Probably hiding out somewhere at one of the bars, drinking himself under the table."

"Or snorting some
smack
," Dele added taking the opportunity to redirect Rez's suspicions onto the now dead gang member. "After all, he
's come into a big stash."

"Says you mutha," Rez mouthed
bitterly but Dele could see by th
e change in the gang leader's expression
that
he
had considered the possibility
and not for the first time. Roach was
seen
by the crew
as
loyal but weak.
Unfortunately for him, h
e'd picked up a habit
that constantly kicked
his ass. Rez knew at least this much. The thought that Roach had betrayed him couldn't be a new idea.
T
he possibility that the missing
-in-action
Roach
might have set up the new blood wasn't
a farfetched conclusion either
and his glaring absence might be a testament to that fact.

Dele kne
w that right about now there were
a few cleanup guys moving Roach's body from beneath the bed where
it
would be placed on ice until matters could be settled. Only then would Roach's relatives be notified of his unfortunate demise, the nature of his death
deliberately
left open to speculation.

"Yeah
, says me," Dele pressed on.
"I'm simply telling it like
you know
it is. Especially about
the stupidity of going after the Jamaicans.
If y
ou think they won't retaliate after tonight
,
you're underestimating them
and that may get you killed
. You're starting a full-out war
Rez
.
W
hat do you think is going to happen after tonight? Some of them will take some of us out
when we're not expecting it.
Then
we'll go after them again and from there the fighting will
just
escalate
until it's a full-on war
. And you can be sure
a gang war
is going to bring in the Feds.
Those of us not killed tonight will end up in
Avenal or some other lockup.
"

Dele could tell by some of the faces looking on that his message was getting through to at least some of the crew. This move by Rez wasn't exactly going over totally with all of the gang. They knew some of them would probably die. And for what?

Mostly Rez's pride. He didn't like having to deal with the Jamaicans, considered them beneath him.
And Corrall had pissed the gang leader off one too many times.

"Whaa, whaa, whaaa, get out the fuckin' violins!
You chicken
shit coward, you think you gonna stop tonight, you're gonna
be the first
one
down, and
I'll make sure of that
!"

Dele knew better than to press the point. Tonight was going to go down, no matter how much he tried to make them see reason.
He'd been stupid to think he could do this alone. He'd had his own selfish reason, including protecting Nailah. But he couldn't stand by and let this happen. Men were going to die tonight and it was his duty to prevent it any way he could.

Somehow, someway he was going to have to get word back to Judson at the
precinct
. Give him the lowdown and
get
some backup.

The logistics of how he was going to do that now escaped him though.

"Since chicken shit here has had his say, we're going to head on out. Are the rest of you chicken shits or are you men? Let me know now!"

Whoops and yelps went up in one accord, reverberating through
out
the warehouse.
Even Clare was yelping and screaming in glee, her face set with a vicious determination. If Rez allowed women on the front, she would be riding sentry.

Dele was on his own. Except when he looked toward the rear of the building
, he could see Carolyn standing
like a distressed doll next to a whooping Skeets.
The black of her eye was startling against her pale skin. L
ooking around
further Dele
came across another face, reserved in its
pique
, not rejoicing like
the others.
Sid, one of the oldest crew member, and someone who had seen too many of these fights, too many of the deaths. Right now he seemed a tired old man, too tired
to do this shit
once
a
ga
in
.

Dele knew from his
file
on
the Demons
that they'd had one other
major
war nearly two decades
ago
. After it was over, several hundred gang members on either side had made the coroner's roll call.
And there had been extensive collateral damage. That was what was so wrong; it was one thing for a member to be shot down because he had chosen that life and its consequential death. However, innocent people sometimes got caught in the crossfire. Sometimes those people were nothing but kids.

The noise settled down as Rez turned toward the crowd and continued giving instructions.

"The Jamaicans don't know we're coming. When they see our numbers, they're gonna know there's no way out.
We'll
go in playing nice, like we want to renegotiate the terms of our previous dealings. When he ain't looking, I'm going to
drop
Corrall
so fast he want get the chance to
sing
'Day-O.' That's when
the rest of
you go after whoever is nearest. Once they realize we're attacking you can expect those sneaky muthas
to d
ouble down. But we're Demons! They can't take us down!
We're Demons!" he yelled and the whoops started up again.

"OK, men…" then looking specifically at Dele, "and chicken shit…let's head on out!
Oh here chicken shit, this is for you.
"
Rez tossed Dele a
Glock
, one of the weapons of choice for tonight.

The bodies moved in a flow toward the door, pressing into each other. Dele
stood
still
, but the motion of the men
moved
his resistant body with the wave. Outside, the sun had settled and there was only a bright line on the horizon. Night was moving in. Over a hundred men got on their bikes and Dele, knowing he was being watched, got on the Harley provided to him by the ATF working
in conjunction
with the
LAPD
to bring down this gang
.

Dele
slammed
on the pedal, and the sound of his motor joined the chorus of a hundred more. A hundred bodies going into hell
and pulling him along with them.

The silhouettes of Demon riders melded into the horizon as they headed
to the highway that would take them to a
showdown
near the
San Fernando
Valley
.

###

Nailah
paced the neutral carpet
, her rapid pulse refusing to allow her to
sit down on one of the chairs and
relax.
The
whole room was an easel of neutral colors: tans, browns and beiges. The
beige silk
duvet over the bed, the white walls, the tan entertainment center with the HDTV,
everything
put together
to soothe the
Elan's
guest
s. It wasn't a high-
end hotel
and it was
located on a
less-than-ritzy
side of Beverly Boulevard
in West L.A.
B
ut
they hadn't chosen it for anything but hiding her until after things get settled. What "things" Dele
did
n't elaborate about, but right now she didn't care so much about her safety.

He
r pacing, her revved nerves, were
all about him
now
. In her mind, a variety of scenarios played out, none of them good. In some of them,
Rez
knifes Dele in the back
. Or
one of the Jamaicans
clips him
with a bullet
. Or
a stray bullet
pierces
him
right between the eyes. In this scenario Dele's face morphs into Roach's frozen visage, a clean hole in his forehead, his half-lidded eyes glazed over.

She imagined Dele on a coroner's table or in a casket.