VOGEL TECHNOLOGIES, November 12
The midnight silence of the Vogel trailer park was cut by the muffled ping ping ping of stolen pliers snipping through chain-links. A roguishly handsome thief peeled back a section of fence. He stalked the rows of flimsy-ass trailers, searching for the Trailer of Destiny.
A swift kick, and the trailer door flew back on rusty hinges, the mangled bolt-locks left hanging on their screws. The sexy intruder flicked at a swinging lock, sending it spinning. He didn't have to; he was just fucking cool like that.
The thief, a scrappy Boricua with a heart of gold and a dick like a sequoia, stepped into the cluttered interior of the shoebox of a trailer and began a methodical search.
Heart of gold?
OK, so my mantasy reveries were way better when they featured Dante, not my own heartless treacherous burglarizing ass. But I didn't need a heart where I was going: to Riyadh to murder her, and then, to an eternity with the Demon.
I rifled through kitchen drawers, a cookie jar with a chipped lid, a rancid pizza box on the counter. Nothing.
The bathroom cabinet, the bed's lumpy mattress, the holey pockets of Robby's clothes. Nothing.
Where did he put his thousand dollars? Stupid motherfucker was probably terrible with money; maybe he'd already spent it.
Hurling cushions over my shoulder, I dug hungry fingers around the edges of the sofa. Nothing but handfuls of desiccated Cheetos, coins, and old shreds of kleenex emerged as I delved. No fucking money.
With minutes to go until a midnight Vogel security patrol passed, I sat on the bare springs of the creaking sofa wracking my brain-mush. Where would Robby keep a thousand dollars?
At that moment my phone flashlight decided to betray me by illuminating a framed photograph on the coffee table. A pretty Asian woman looked back at me from the photo. Jing, I guessed. She wore the biggest smile and was holding a newborn baby-bundle, nothing but a wisp of black hair swaddled in a blanket. Jade.
I couldn't tear my eyes away. Jing looked so happy. How could Robby's entire universe fit into a little photo?
Still, I needed that thousand dollars.
The fucking photo kept calling me, derailing my thoughts. I couldn't help but swivel my eyes back to Jing's smile, the tufts of baby-hair, the tiniest brown hand peeking outta the blanket.
Fuck.
I snatched up my phone and dialed. It went to voicemail. I dialed again.
"Jay?" Robby screamed over distorted power chords and the screech of a banshee. Band practice with Black Dahlia seemed to be going well.
"Hey, acho. I stopped by and...someone's broken into your trailer. Looks like nothing's been taken, but you better get over here."
"Fuck! Good timing, Jay! You musta scared the thieving assholes. Thanks, man! How the fuck did they get past Vogel security? Did anyone else's trailer get burglarized?"
"No idea. I gotta go." My fingers hovered over the red icon on my phone screen, praying that he wouldn't ask.
"Wait a second, Jay."
Double-fuck. Of course he'd ask.
"Why are you at my place at midnight?"
No excuses came to mind. Except that one. And no way was I gonna stoop to that. No way. No fucking way.
Fuck my dumpster fire of a life.
"I just, you know," I cringed into the stained armrest of the sofa, "wondered if you were horny."
Robby wouldn't buy that shit. I'd been pushing him into Jing's arms and brooding over Dante since we got outta jail.
"We can't do that anymore. It was always a casual thing, right? I'm sorry, man."
Oh. So he actually bought that shit.
"No problem, acho. Understood."
"Hey, Jay. I just wanted to say that...you were right, man. I shoulda focused on Jing and Jade all these months. I'm playing catch-up. So, I gave Jing the thousand dollars prize money, for Jade."
Triple-fuck.
Stealing a kid's child support. Inventive. I added that to my disgraceful asshole bucket list.
"I'm gonna show Jing that even if she doesn't take me back, she and Jade come first. Thank you, Jay, for giving me the kick up the ass I needed. I owe you one."
"That's awesome." I broke into his trailer and he owed me one? Way to flush me down the shit-streaked toilet of guilt, Robby. "You'll get Jing back, I know it."
Security guards' flashlights swept the dusty windows. I tumbled out the door and slunk into the shadows between trailers. The flashlights roamed toward trailers further into the park. I zig-zagged back to the perimeter fence, praying that no evidence led to me. Having witnessed Robby punching the living shit outta other inmates in María Penitentiary, he couldn't ever find out I'd wrecked his trailer.
And I still didn't have a thousand dollars.
If I got desperate, I could always reduce my sub-zero dignity even further by begging Leila's boring French billionaire fiancé for a thousand dollar loan. Or I could convince Hamish McCloud that I needed money. Wouldn't even have to hide the fact that I was going to Saudi to kill his ex-fiancée. Hell, if he knew he'd probably buy me a suit, a rifle, a round of ammo and a Business Class flight right there.
Cat food hung in a slimy trail between bowls on the counter. Lover wound her legs around my calves as I worked, I assumed to make me trip and crack my skull on the countertop so she could feast on my brains.
The tinkle of the doorbell had Lover shooting through the cat-flap to safety, Slinky appearing outta nowhere and following on Lover's heels with a frantic miaow.
Expecting Sylvia's cat-starved expression to greet me at the door, my heart sank at finding myself inches away from an annoyingly perfect Romani face, a perfect Italian suit, and perfectly polished brogues. The sudden wish to be dressed in slightly more than Hamish McCloud's short-shorts and plaid slippers came over me.
A twist of his hips, and I swear Vinnie Russo disappeared from in front of me and reappeared suddenly in the hallway before I'd even let him through the door. What the fuck kinda office rat was that agile? No way was he merely some everyday corporate control-freak.
"I'm here to offer a deal, Red Demon." Vinnie held aloft an embossed leather wallet. He slid out ten crisp benjamins and counted them in front of me. "A thousand dollars."
"What...what's going on?"
"You know exactly what this deal is for, Red Demon. This thousand dollars is all yours. Use it to get out of María, and set up in San Diego. Or Puerto Rico. Or anywhere away from my cousin."
My eyes bulged. A thousand fucking dollars! My flight to Riyadh, plus a little spare cash to get contraband hardware. All I had to do was never see Dante again. I was probably gonna die in Riyadh anyway. I could stay away from Dante for the few days it took to get me onto a plane. Easy.
But, what if I didn't die in Riyadh? Where would I go?
Only one impossible, beautiful future came to mind. Staying in María to be close to Dante somehow. And, thinking about it, not seeing Dante one last time before leaving for Saudi was enough to make me refuse a thousand dollars. A million dollars, even.
I'd get to Riyadh some other way.
Vinnie thrust the stack of cash at me, his eyebrows cutting a deep valley into his forehead. There it was, hidden in those black eyes: terror for his cousin's safety. "Take the money, Red Demon. Please."
Wasn't gonna lie. I was fucking terrified of Vincenzo Russo. But I got him. I was ex-Alcor. A felon. Something wicked. Keeping me away from Dante was a no-brainer for him. But, since I'd lost Mamá, being close to Dante was the only thing that didn't hurt. And, in a little way, I knew that being close to me soothed Dante too.
I shook my head. "I don't want your money, Vinnie. Dante's friends are his business, not yours."
"You're not listening to me, Red Demon. Dante isn't—"
"Please, don't call me that. I'm not the Red Demon anymore."
Vinnie's disgusted laughter grated so hard that I was tempted to snatch the fucking wad of dollar-bills and prod him out the door.
"This Stockholm Syndrome shit that Dante's going through right now? He's going to get over it real soon. So, I suggest you get out of María before that happens. Take the money and go. I'm not asking you. I'm telling you."
Needle-sharp pricks of rage rose goosebumps on me. "You don't know shit about me and Dante. Keep your money."
The pure night-black terror that burned under that perfect mask gave way to a torrent of swirling emotions that I couldn't make out. He slipped the banknotes back into his wallet, spun around and marched out.
I didn't know what hurt more, the thousand dollars leaving out the front door, or what Vinnie had said. Stockholm Syndrome.
OK, so maybe everyone thought that Dante doing fieldwork with the crime family that killed his fiancée was in poor taste. But that was Dante's fucking prerogative. Debs and the rest of María PD were OK with me, so why couldn't Vinnie just hold his nose and tolerate me for the sake of ending Alcor?
And I still didn't have a thousand fucking dollars.
Bass filtered through to the back offices of La Perla Negra. Two giggling women in spray-on dresses tottered along the corridor between the VIP lounges and the balcony bar, champagne flutes splashing. Hamish McCloud's tie chafed my neck as I tipped my head to them.
A steroid-head with a buzzcut stood to attention outside the office door looking like a giant steak squeezed into an Italian suit. The Don had lowered his standards after losing me.
"Il Signor Genovese non ha un minuto vero?"
The steak-in-a-suit gave a mocking snort. "Chi sei?"
"Jason Torres."
He straightened, and took me in more carefully. Looked like I had me a reputation to uphold as the Don's favorite ex-bodyguard.
"Lo dirò al Signor Genovese."
Steak-boy knocked at the door and shuffled into the office, poking his head out after a few moments to beckon me inside.
I slid into the room, eyes averted, and knelt before the long desk that took up much of the room. The tap tap tap of a quartz-tipped cane on tiles, and a withered hand slipped into mine. I looked up into the familiar crinkled face of il Padrino of my first crime family, Don Rocco Genovese.
He'd seemed ancient back then, and three years in jail had left him looking like nothing but a shrunken little ghost. Still, I was almost thrown backward by the sheer weight of his presence.
"You look well, ragazzo mio. The Family tells me that Inspector Payne is taking care of you."
"Thank you, Signore. I'm using María PD to hunt Alcor. They...my mother... They killed her."
"I see. This is about vengeance. You have every right to seek it. But," the Don gripped my palm tighter at the news, his handshake still as strong as a vise after so many years, "how can I put this? You remember your nickname here?"
"Yes, Signore. Il mattone. The brick. Because I was reliable."
And red, and easy to throw at my enemies. Funny that I'd been Alcor's brick too.
"Strong, reliable, but above all, simple."
Fuck, I'd forgotten the Don's love for dumb metaphors and his habit of talking lofty philosophical shit, pretending like he was Dante Alighieri when he was just a weapons-smuggler in a suit. When were we gonna get to talk about money?
"Alcor's leaders are too cunning for you, Jason. What do you need from me, and what do you plan to do with it?"
"A thousand dollars for a one-way flight to Riyadh, and weapons."
The Don raised wizened eyebrows. "What's the strategy?"
"I know Alcor's security structure and protocols, Signore. I designed most of them. I can infiltrate Alcor's leaders and end them."
The Don digested my words for long moments, then began to pace the room, his cane tap-tapping as he went. "You know, the Family is collaborating with Alcor for a very minor project."
"I know, Signore. A medical equipment project with Vogel. It's critical to Alcor's survival as an organization. Zaki, a high-ranking Alcor member, has come to María, possibly to see it through."
Don Genovese laughed, the effort of it sending him into a coughing fit.
"Casper Vogel assured me of the secrecy of this project, yet everyone in the world seems to know about it. What does Sylvia Payne know?"
"Not everything, Signore. She knows that Casper Vogel is the middle-man for Alcor's access to the USA medical equipment market, and possibly global markets. I overheard some medical words: extracorporeal membrane, and hormonal instability."
The Don's eyes glittered; he'd figured something out.
"I had some trouble last year." He tapped a wrinkled finger to his chest. "A tired heart valve. I was on a life support machine during the surgery. Life support machines work using an extracorporeal membrane, and hormonal stability was always being checked during the procedure. This Alcor equipment must be some kind of new life support system."
I didn't get it. Life-saving medical equipment was rushed through trials to hit the market as soon as fucking possible. Nobody would buy illicit life support systems from sketchy organizations like Alcor.
Unless it wasn't to maintain someone's life during a heart operation. Perhaps it was to prolong someone's life. Just like she had prolonged hers somehow. She was forty-five years old, but had the looks and vigor of a twenty-year-old. Had she used a prototype system to prolong her life, and now wanted to sell the finished product to rich, vain assholes hoping to stay young?
She'd make billions.
The Don waved a hand, like he was dismissing Alcor's schemes from his mind. "The type of product doesn't concern the Family. Our job is to maintain top security during equipment deliveries, and to check that medical facilities are not being watched. And we are demanding a high price from Vogel for providing that protection. We haven't talked about our price from you, Jason."
"What are the terms, Signore?"
"I won't be around much longer. My sons need reliable men. You weren't ambitious. You weren't keen to meddle in the Family's strategies. You simply put your body in front of mine every time I was in danger. A true brick. If you survive Alcor, I want you to come back to the Family as my children's protector."
Months ago I'd have jumped at the offer. But now, if I made it outta Saudi, there was only one person I'd want to protect. And the only way to do that was to leave the criminal world forever.
"Signore, I'm honored to have served the Family, but please ask me anything but that."
"Why won't you join us? The Family would honor you if you came back."
"Signore, there's...a man."
Don Genovese stopped mid-pace. "A man?"
"If I survive, I want to...be with him. Or stay close to him somehow. Coming back to the Family would put him in danger. I could never risk that."
The Don patted my hand with a pitying smile. "Lovers come and go. You get your money and weapons, and if Alcor don't kill you, you come back to protect the Genovese Family. I will not offer this job to you again."
"I'm sorry, Signore. I've already lost my mother. I can't lose him too."
"Can you keep your man hidden from your enemies forever? He will always be your weakness. The moment your rivals find out what he is to you, they'll attack him to get to you. Just like Alcor attacked your mother. Staying away from him is the only way to keep him safe." A snort, and the tap tap tap of il Padrino's cane resumed. "What I don't understand is...Alcor is a risk-averse organization. They would never target a US citizen; the repercussions are too great. Why murder the American mother of a mid-ranking ex-guard? Why all that risk, just to harm you personally? What did you do to them, ragazzo?"
The question was more what I'd done to her, that monstrous fucking spider of a woman. I'd fought her, and bested her. I'd seen her at her weakest, in bed. Whatever billionaires and presidents and industrialists she claimed were in love with her, I was the only man she'd ever shown herself to. It had dawned on me that first night together that she'd never let me stay alive after what we'd shared. The clock had started ticking on my life that night. Any Alcor member cooperating with the police would have been targeted, but she must have felt my betrayal personally.
I shrugged. "I cooperated with the police, so they took my mother."
The Don grunted in disbelief. I didn't care what theories he dreamed up about my beef with Alcor.
"I have other people to see, ragazzo. But I'm glad you came to me. Thanks to you, I know what a risk this Alcor-Vogel project is to the Family. I will minimize our involvement in this brewing catastrophe."
I tilted my head goodbye and reached for the door knob.
The Don pulled at my sleeve. "One more thing, ragazzo. During the meetings with Zaki and Casper Vogel, I saw a logo on equipment labels and glassware."
I held my breath. Looked like I'd earned myself a tip.
"The product's name is Demon Star."
"Demon Star?" It couldn't possibly be.
"Demon Star," Don Genovese repeated before wafting me out the door.
Chills sizzled through my body, like I'd been hit by a bolt of lightning. Her words screamed in my ear.
You can't hide, Ahmar. The Demon Star is rising.
The lights of container ships winked below me in María Bay. An evening of treading circles around my lack of a thousand dollars was almost over, but I didn't feel like sleeping.
I hauled myself up, dislodging Steph's wooden box from under its crumbling gargoyle claw as I rose. Like touching the ghostly box had cast a spell, Dante swooped outta nowhere. He folded himself next to me, jaw grinding and eyebrows knotted.
"You OK?" I reached out for his hand. "What's wrong?"
He shrank away from me. "Rayan told me. Were you just gonna go without telling me?"
Rayan, that loudmouthed little brat. So much for our private conversations. Still, Rayan had been scared as hell to find that Zaki had arrived in María. Figured it'd only be a matter of time before he blabbered to everyone in a blind panic, including Dante.
"Please don't go to Saudi, Jay. Please."
"I gotta. You know that."
Dante searched my face, relief ironing out the furrows in his forehead. "You don't even have the money for a flight."
What the fuck was written on my features that he could map my every failure?
"I'm working on it."
"Please, Jay. They'll kill you."
"I need to end Alcor."
"Aren't you scared of dying?"
"Yeah. So was Steph. So was my Mom." I stood up from the platform, reaching for a crenelation. "I need to end this."
Dante clutched at my jacket. "Would you stay for...a night with me?"
"What?"
"You heard me."
I could hear the words Dante was saying, but they didn't make sense.
"A deal. You don't go to Riyadh. I'm yours for a night. We go our separate ways after that."
I repeated the words to myself in the hope that they'd make sense. To keep me from going to Saudi, Dante was offering himself for a night. My heart stilled in my chest. "I...I don't know what you're..."
"You know what I'm talking about, Jay."
I crashed back down onto the limestone lintel next to him. "Is...is that what you think I want from you?"
How could he think I'd ever make that kinda deal? Over the past month Dante had saved me, stitched me up, lied to Sylvia to protect me. He'd taken so much care of me. I'd taken care of him. After everything, how could he think so fucking badly of me?
"I know how you feel about me."
"The whole world knows how I feel about you, Dante. So, why would you think I'd ever..? Who do you think you're talking to?"
"The Red Demon."
I didn't believe that for a second. There was no way he thought I was some mindless Alcor bodyguard, tearing my way through rivals with a kris and fucking my way through colleagues without a care. There was more to it than a deal.
"Think about it, Jay. One night together. Then we go our separate ways. And you don't go to Saudi."
I clutched at my hair. This was fucking madness. Dante knew me so well. How could he think me capable of..?
Unless...it was Dante who actually wanted this deal.
Maybe this was the only way he thought he could have me without feeling like he was betraying Steph. Maybe convincing himself that he was forced into a deal to save me from Alcor would absolve him of the guilt of moving on from her.
"I know it's hard, letting go of Steph. But—"
"This isn't about Steph."
"If you can only let yourself be with me by pretending it's some kinda deal, then fine. I'll play along. But, you know it couldn't ever be just one night with us, right?" I reached out to him, tracing a gentle finger along his wrist, searching for his tripping pulse. "So here's my counter-offer. I don't go to Riyadh. I stay here. And we can be together."
"No." He reclaimed his wrist and turned away from me. "We can't be together. I'm sorry, Jay."
"We could try." I inched closer. "Sure, it might not work out. But if it does..."
"It won't work out."
"Dante, nobody is gonna judge you for being with me after Steph."
Beautiful eyes peeked out from under windswept tufts of hair. "I'm sorry. The deal is all I can give you."
He musta been so afraid. I couldn't begin to understand how he felt. Grief and revenge had driven him for a year, until he met me, of all people. I guessed it terrified him to want someone other than Steph, especially an ex-Alcor member. But I could guide him through it. I'd take so much care of him, just like he took care of me.
"I know I'm not exactly a catch. Vinnie hates me. And I know I'm never gonna replace someone like Steph. But, I really, really wanna be with you. If this deal is what you need to get over Steph, then...I'll have anything you're willing to give me. We can take it a day at a time."
"You're not listening." Dante stood, fists clenching and unclenching, throat rolling to hold back tears. "Just one night. And you don't go to Riyadh to die."
"Can't you see what that would do to us, Dante? You're not gonna just...get me outta your system in one night. Neither of us will."
"I know." Dante's face rippled with repressed sobs. "It's all I can offer."
The sight of him had my heart shuddering with total fucking dread, like I was scrambling at the edge of a precipice, about to fall into nothingness.
There was no hope of being with Dante. There never had been. I'd been stupid to think he'd ever take that kinda chance on me. The most he could risk was one night, even then on the condition that we never saw each other again.
The number of times I'd fantasized about a night with Dante. As much as the idea washed over me, thick and sweet and glorious, I knew that it could never be just one night. My recent fantasies of Dante had been of endless nights together bleeding into days, months, forever.
"You know I can't take that deal. You shoulda just asked me not to go."
Dante lost the battle with his tears, his beautiful eyes alight with a fury I'd never seen in him before. "I'm asking you now, Jay. Don't go. Please, don't go."
"I'm sorry." The one thing that could possibly extinguish the flame of my vengeance was a chance to be with Dante. But he couldn't give me that. So, vengeance it would be. "I'm going to Riyadh."
Dante jumped up with feline grace, grabbing a crenelation above him. "Sometimes, I wish you were still the Red Demon."
"Wait!" I clambered to the edge of the platform, reaching for him. "Am I gonna see you before I go?"
"Bye, Jay. I'm sorry." He shot out a slim hand to catch an outcrop of masonry, then swung in an elegant arc into the starless María night.
Translations:
Il Signor Genovese non ha un minuto vero? - Italian, "Does Mr Genovese have a minute free?"
Chi sei? - Italian "Who are you?" (actually this is a little rude in Italian, kind of like "who the hell are you?")
Lo dirò al Signor Genovese - Italian, "I'll tell Mr Genovese"
il padrino - Italian, "the godfather"
ragazzo mio - Italian, "my young man"