Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (24 page)

Glove-covered hands zoomed up.

“You carrying?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“I-it’s in the car.”

“Where?”

“On the passenger’s seat.”

“Where’s your cell?”

“In my pocket.”

“Did you call this in to whoever is making you follow me?”

Pause. “Not yet.”

“Lucky for you.”

Crunching tires signaled Jimmer’s arrival.

The guy lifted up, caught sight of the muzzle I’d 243

aimed at his head, and lowered back down.

The cold settled into my bones on a number of levels beyond the air temp.

Jimmer climbed out of his Hummer with a

Remington 870 Wingmaster shotgun in hand. He sauntered over, held it aloft, and pumped it.

The man yelped at the distinctive sound.

Impressive.

Jimmer said, “You know who he is?”

“No. We skipped formal introductions.”

“What’s your name, boy?”

The guy turned his face to the left. “Dietz.”

“What’s he told you so far?”

“Just that he’s got a gun on the front seat.”

While Jimmer checked it out, I crouched five feet from my captive. “Who do you work for?”

No answer.

“Don’t piss off a woman with a short temper and a big gun, Dietz. Who do you work for?”

“I-I can’t tell you.”

“You can, and you will if I have to shoot it out of you. Tell me who the fuck you work for.”

“You don’t understand. He’ll kill me.”

Jimmer said, “Start talking or
I’ll
kill you.”

“Do it. Because you don’t scare me as much as he does.”

“Wrong again. Talk.”

I had a bad, bad feeling.

Dietz babbled, “Do you know what he’ll do to 244

me when he finds out she picked up on the tail right away?”

“Actually, your buddy fucked it up last night, so I was on the lookout for another tail this morning.”

Dietz looked me in the eye. “What?”

“Your buddy, in the Blazer last night at McDonald’s.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Today’s the first day we’re supposed to—”

“Bullshit. I didn’t imagine that snoopy fucker cruising by my house
eight
times last night. So try again.”

Jimmer put the small gun he’d found in the Toyota at the base of the man’s skull. “Answer the question.

Who told you to follow her?”

No hesitation. “The Hombres.”

Fuck.

“You a member? Or a hire?”

“I’m a pledge, man, I just do what I’m told.”

“Who’d the order come down from? Did you ver-ify it?”

I hadn’t considered that. What if Martinez hadn’t given the order?

“PT passed it along to me after the meeting last night.”

There went that idea.

Jimmer dug the gun deeper into Dietz’s neck.

“Still don’t answer the question, boy. Who gave the order?”

245

Dietz mumbled.

“What?”

“Mr. Martinez.”

I slowly released the breath I’d been holding.

Why did the mysterious
Hombres shit
he’d mentioned in passing somehow involve me to the point I needed constant surveillance?

“Why’d he pick a dumb fucker like you?”

“He was looking for a guy she wouldn’t recognize.

He thought I had experience.”

“Why’d he think that?” I demanded.

“I lied and said I did, okay?”

“For that Martinez’s security team will eat you for lunch.”

“I know.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Because I wanted to prove I was worthy of the patch. I tried to do something that’d get me noticed.”

“Got you noticed, all right. How do you think El Presidente is gonna react when he finds out you lied to him? And because of that lie, he trusted you with
her
. With her safety.” He leaned in. “Do you
know
who she is?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re supposed to be protecting her? Did you even see me following you?”

“Ah. No.”

“I’d be doin’ you a favor if I killed you right fuckin’

now,” Jimmer snarled.

246

Dietz flopped on the ground. Probably wet himself.

Jimmer removed the gun from Dietz’s neck. “Get up. Rush me, or try to take off, and I’ll tell Martinez you were friendly with her. He’ll slice off your shriveled cock before he feeds it to you.”

Yikes.

Jimmer led me aside. “So now you know.”

“But I don’t know why.”

“
Why?
Why are you fuckin’ surprised, Julie? You know what he’s like.”

I turned away. Yeah, I knew what Tony was like, probably better than anyone, but something else was going on.

Martinez never pulled that I’m-the-big-bad-ass-biker-bossman-do-what-the-fuck-I-tell-you bullshit with me. He didn’t treat me like property. Ever. Maybe he let the Hombres members believe he lorded over me, especially since I never voiced my opinion to him or any other Hombres member in public. I didn’t give a shit what his brothers assumed about me or us; I knew the truth and that’s what mattered.

Jimmer slung his arm over my shoulder and lowered his voice. “The arrogant bastard is so crazy fucking in love with you he’ll do anything to keep you safe, little missy. Is that so bad?”

“No.”

“So forget it.”

“That’s the thing. I can’t.” Would my reasoning sound fucked up and petty and . . . female?

247

“What? Why not?”

“I warned Martinez if he ever sicced his goons on me again without warning I’d retaliate.” My glance at Jimmer was a silent plea for him to understand. “If I don’t follow through, it’ll look like I pussed out, not only to Tony, but to his security team. I don’t wanna be seen as the type of whiny-assed woman who makes idle threats.”

“Yeah? What’d you threaten to do?”

“Shoot up the next car he sent after me.”

After about a ten-second pause, he handed me the shotgun. “Go for it.”

“Seriously?”

“Gotta stand on principle. Or as Martinez is fond of saying: gotta have rules or chaos rules.” He yelled at Dietz. “Whose rice burner is that?”

“Belongs to the club.”

Jimmer grinned. “Perfect.”

It was. I slapped the Sig in his palm, lifted the 870, and took aim.

Dietz scrambled back. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Proving a point.” I squinted. “I don’t wanna blow it up. Where should I put the first one?”

“Gas tank is back half of the driver’s side. How

’bout takin’ out the side window?”

“Sweet.” I braced the buttstock inside the ball of my right shoulder, locked my knees against the kickback, and pulled the trigger.

248

Crack
. Glass shattered. My ears rang. I wandered around to the right side and shot out the other back window to keep things symmetrical. Put a bullet in the front right quarter panel, reloaded three more shells, put another in the left front quarter panel, and two in the tailgate.

Jimmer didn’t say a word when I swapped the shotgun for my 9mm and continued shooting.

I destroyed the headlights. And taillights. And fog lights. Eying the driver’s side, I considered marking it with the letter
J
, but ultimately settled for
H
on both doors.

“Nice touch,” Jimmer said.

“Thanks. Think he’ll be pissed?”

“Oh, yeah. But I know that’s how you like him best.”

I grinned.

Jimmer motioned Dietz over. “I’m keepin’ the gun. You tell
Mr
. Martinez I’ll be in touch.”

“That’s it?”

“You want some more of me, boy?”

“No.”

“Then get yo ass goin’. Ya got plenty o’ other shit to worry about besides who I’m havin’ pie with.”

Dietz zoomed off. Jesus. He’d be damn lucky if he didn’t get pulled over by the highway patrol before he made it back to Rapid.

Not my concern.

I returned to my truck. Jimmer gave me a push 249

to get the back end out of the ditch. He scowled at the snow-covered junk poking out of the truck bed.

“Don’t you ever clean this shit out?”

“Never know when you might need something like a—”

“—pink emergency makeup case?” he asked snidely.

“No, a crowbar, a log chain, and bullwhip for smart-ass men who get out of line with me.”

“You ain’t half as scary as you pretend to be.”

“Wanna hear something really scary?” I belted out the chorus to
Cherry Pie
by Warrant.

Jimmer laughed until tears rolled down his face.

Then he followed me to the Road Kill Café for a slice of the real thing.

250

The lunch rush was over and we were the only ones in the joint.

Jimmer wolfed his pie. He’d started with cherry, eaten a slice of apple, and finished with blueberry.

Red, American, and blue, baby; the man even ate patriotically.

I smoked, filling him in on all the not-so-fun stuff in my life. “So, Dad’s not talking to me—nothing new—but I guess he’s not talking to Trish either.” I sipped my coffee. “What’s your take?”

“Doug’s a mean bastard. The hired guy pissed him off, he lost his temper and killed him.” Jimmer shrugged. “Probably didn’t mean to. Hid the body thinking it wouldn’t be found for a coupla months.

Then his ace detective daughter accidentally uncovers it and fucks all his plans nine ways ’til Sunday.”

251

“Great.”

Jimmer shoved the empty plate to the edge of the table. “So Kevin’s found a new fuck buddy?”

“I wish. I suspect sweet thang is more than just a fling.”

“Yeah? Why’d you say that?”

“Because Kev’s being reckless, which is very un-Kevin-like, Jimmer. I’m pretty sure he’s thinking of breaking some business rules to make her happy.”

“No shit?”

“If that happens he and I are gonna have some big-ass problems.”

“As far as the business is concerned? Or personally?”

I scowled at him. “What do you think?”

“You jealous of this baby chicklet, little missy?”

“No.”

“What’s she like?”

“Young. Pretty. Smart. Determined. A tall—”

“—blue-eyed blonde, strong-willed, yet with a hidden sweet side that makes the hardest men go all softhearted and protective?”

“Sounds like you already know her.”

Jimmer leaned closer. “No, Jules, she sounds exactly like you.”

That left me tongue-tied.

“Think on it. Give me a heads-up if it gets bad with Kev. I’ll try to knock some sense into him, okay?”

“Okay.”

252

He slid out and ruffled my hair. “Gotta run. You need anything, and I mean
anything
, you call me.”

I smoked another cigarette, wondering when I’d hear from Martinez. My phone flashed and nearly vibrated off the table. Not him. Not yet, anyway.

“Hello?”

Trish said, “I need to talk to you. Can I come over right now?”

“I’m not home. I’m at the Road Kill Café.”

“Even better. Don’t leave. I’ll be right there.”

Trish was true to her word. She scooted across from me five minutes later. Misty automatically brought her a cup of coffee. Weird to think Trish was a regular here, too.

“The county slapped Doug with a Disturbing the Peace.”

“He’s lucky.”

“I don’t know what he was thinking. It was so unlike him. I’ve never known him to beat on someone for no apparent reason.”

My teeth sank into my tongue to keep from setting her straight. Then again, he
had
beat on me for no apparent reason, so her statement did have a bizarre ring of truth to it.

Trish sighed. “Everything is a mess. The kids are confused. I’m confused. Doug won’t talk to me or to our minister. There’s tons of work to be done and without a hired man, it’s twice as hard on him.”

“Is that your justification for thinking he didn’t 253

have anything to do with Melvin’s death? It would make extra work for him?”

Fire flashed in her eyes. “No. He wouldn’t kill someone because it’s against—”

“If you throw a Commandment at me as your reasoning for his innocence, I will walk out that door.”

Her mouth shut.

Good. “Why was it so damn important for you to see me?”

“Because you have experience in this stuff.”

“Meaning that I associate with jailbirds and murderers?”

Trish’s back snapped straight. “Stop baiting me and quit being such a pain in the ass.”

Whoa.

“And give me a damn cigarette.” After she lit up, she sank back into the booth.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t. I used to. I used to do a lot of things.”

She squinted at me through the smoke. “What I meant before you so rudely jumped to the wrong conclusion, was that you have experience in investigative work. I want to hire you.”

Any time now Ashton Kutcher would jump out because I was being
Punk’d
, I just knew it.

Trish maintained a bland expression.

“No fucking way.”

“Doug is too proud to ask you for help.”

“He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust me and he 254

didn’t want my help.”

“But I do. I need your help.” She sucked in a mouthful of smoke and exhaled slowly. “Doug doesn’t have to know.”

“You want me to lie and sneak around?”

“Yep.”

“Even if that lying and sneaking around reveals Dad killed Canter?”

“He didn’t.”

I stared at her giving her, a chance to recant.

She continued on, “I know you think the worst of him.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No. That’s why I’ve never pushed you to be part of his life. Which is why I’m confused you’re willingly spending time with Brittney.”

I shrugged.

“I’m not making excuses for his behavior, or offering explanations or apologies that aren’t mine to give.

But you have no idea how much he regrets what he did to you after your mother was killed.”

I sparked a cigarette and realized one already smoldered in the ashtray.

“People lost in grief . . . everyone reacts differently.

Some shut down. Some drink. Some become cru-saders and some . . .” Trish’s hazel eyes sought mine.