Rogue Alliance Read online

  “Ricardo? What are you talking about?” Victor asked.

  “Ricardo’s girlfriend turned up dead in a pig trough just south of LA…”

  “Yeah, I heard about that. Ricardo’s got a history so I called and checked up on him, made sure he didn’t do it. But he rolls with some questionable thugs so any one of them could have done it if Ricardo pissed them off enough. He says he’s got no idea who killed her, seemed pretty choked up about it though.”

  “Yeah, I bet he was choked up,” Cougar chuckled, “he was probably shittin’ his pants when you called, worried that he’d be next.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about, Coug? Are you saying that people think I killed Ricardo’s girlfriend?”

  “Sammy. Her name was Samantha. And, now that you’re talking like that, I don’t. But I sure as hell bet that Ricardo did.”

  Another pause.

  “Okay, Coug, why would anyone think that I had anything to do with this, and why would Ricardo worry about being next?”

  “Well, Boss, word is that Ricardo has been doin’ ya dirty- scrimping off the top, mixing your blow, not to mention the fact that he’s been using too. He and his girlfriend were both snortin’ your powder and spending your cash faster than a watery shit. I thought you knew, which is why I, and others, assumed you had handled the girl and were probably looking for Ricardo.”

  Only a thin static filled the air.

  “Uh, Boss?”

  “That’s fascinating news, Cougar. I appreciate you sharing. I wish someone had filled me in earlier, though. I had no idea.”

  Shyla heard the festering rage in Victor’s voice.

  “Well, I’m sure they would have,” Cougar said, “as I said before, we all assumed you did, and thought it was you who took care of the girl.”

  “Well, it wasn’t. But I do want to have a chat with Ricardo. Now I understand why he was so sketched out the last time we talked. I chalked it up to bereavement. Now I know better.”

  Shyla hit the pause button. Shit. They were heading to LA to have a talk with Ricardo. This was not good at all. She had no idea whether or not Ricardo would recognize her. She’d been on his tail for the better part of the past year before she’d been relocated to Redding. The prospect of blowing her cover left her heady.

  But she couldn’t afford to not go either. Victor had just discovered how Ricardo had been stealing from him, taking advantage of him. She was sure he meant to do more than just have a harmless chat. If there was any possible chance she could prevent a murder, she had to go.

  Her heart was racing and her mind was trying to catch up. The sounds of the plane engine shifted. They were in descent. Time to think was running out.

  She tossed the blanket aside, sat up, and hid the recorder in her bag. She took a deep sigh and pulled her pony tail tighter. There was a meeting to attend. She’d better get her game face on.

  *

  It was amazing how only an hour flight could make such a vast difference in weather. LA, as usual, was brilliant with sunshine. Heat beating down from rays of the sun reflected off the city of black asphalt and sweltered up in shimmering waves.

  Home, sweet home, thought Shyla as they drove through town in a black limousine.

  Victor sat to her left. Brennan sat across from them, eyes glued to the window, staring at the outside world as if for the first time.

  “Where is he meeting us, Brennan?” Victor spoke up.

  Brennan peeled his gaze from the scenery flashing by.

  “The warehouse where he works during the week, in the industrial district. It’s closed on the weekend. He said it was closer than his place.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

  Victor pulled Shyla closer.

  “Are you feeling okay now?” he asked, “maybe I shouldn’t have dragged you along after all. You should stay in the car.”

  She nodded.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right, Victor. The headache has passed but I still don’t feel quite myself. Besides, I don’t want to intrude on your business meeting. I’ll just wait in the car and enjoy the sunshine. I don’t mind. It’s better than waiting on the plane.”

  Victor looked pleased. Brennan looked suspicious.

  They pulled into the industrial quadrant of town; buildings which had been around for decades and had played a role in the growth of the city. Most still bustled with activity and production, a few were abandoned and desolate.

  She waited until Victor and Brennan slid out of the limo, walked across the empty parking lot and into the side door of the building before she pulled out her cell phone. Grateful that the divider window was up to keep her conversation private from the driver, she dialed Eli Straton’s personal number.

  “Eli, here. What’s up, Shyla?”

  “No time to chat, Straton. Victor and his right hand man are meeting Ricardo downtown for a little ‘come to meet Jesus’ conversation. I need you to send units to Third and Convention in the industrial district.”

  “Whoa, whoa, wait. What’s going on?”

  “Jesus, Eli, this is no time to question me, just send your guys down here before it gets ugly and Ricardo winds up like his girlfriend.”

  “I’m on it, Shyla, just hold on a sec.”

  Shyla waited while he put his cell down and made the call.

  “Okay. They’re on the way. Now fill me in.”

  Shyla gave him the run down.

  “So where are you now?” Eli asked.

  “I’m outside in the parking lot with our chauffeur.”

  “Good, stay put.”

  Shyla heard shouting from within the metal building.

  “I gotta go, Boss,” she said.

  “Shyla, wait…”

  She hung up the phone, opened the car door and bolted across the parking lot. Going into a situation like this without a gun was possibly suicide, but her call to duty was too strong to ignore.

  The side door where Victor and Brennan had entered was heavy. She pulled it open and was surprised when she saw only an empty warehouse, not a place of work. She should have known Victor was purposely misleading the conversation. He was probably the one who suggested the meeting place, not Ricardo.

  Staying low, she crept along the far wall inching toward the one set of stairs. There was movement above.

  She took each stair quietly, holding her breath, listening for any clue as to what exactly was happening up there. When she reached the top it opened up and a long hallway stretched the length of the warehouse. It looked like it had once been the offices of the old abandoned building.

  Again, the sound of an argument reached her ears. Voices were raised in anger and she knew immediately that there were more than just Victor, Brennan, and Ricardo. Ricardo had been smart enough to bring a few friends. Shit, this was going to get out of hand fast. She hoped the units would arrive soon.

  Like a panther, she crouched down and followed the sounds. When she came to the third office on the right, there was a dusty window which looked in. Daring to sneak a peek, she caught sight of what looked like a stand off. Victor and Brennan stood side by side with their backs to her. She noticed Brennan’s rigid stance and thought he looked ready for action.

  Ricardo stood facing them with two of his street thugs on each side. There were three more on the far left side of the room with weapons aimed directly at their guests.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve Ricardo,” Victor said, “stealing from me, lying to me, and now having your goons hold me at gun point. Not cool, not cool at all.”

  Even with guns pointed at his head, Victor was an arrogant ass, thought Shyla. He seemed to have no fear, or maybe he thrived on it, she wasn’t quite sure which.

  “What did you expect me to do,” Ricardo asked, red-faced and wild-eyed, “just show up and let you off me like you did Sammy?”

  “Now you know I didn’t have anything to do with that, Ricardo. But that really doesn’t matter, now does it? What matters is that you and I have business to settle and
that’s what we’re going to do. Now why don’t you calm down and have your guys put their guns away.”

  Ricardo looked frantic.

  “Nope. No way,” he said. He raised his revolver.

  Shyla’s mind was racing. She needed to turn the tables on the situation fast. She noticed that the office was lit only with one fluorescent light straight above; without it, the room would be nearly pitch-black. There were no windows to the outside.

  In one swift move she burst through the door and flicked off the light, kicking the door shut behind her to prevent any light from filtering in. Ducking down she scampered against the wall before anyone could take aim.

  “What the hell?” she heard Ricardo say. There was a lot of cussing and commotion but no one fired their weapon. She was breathing heavily and hoping her eyes would adjust just a little. But then again so would everyone else’s.

  There was a guttural choking sound to her left not far from where the three men had been standing against the wall. Someone dropped their gun and it clanged against the linoleum floor. The distinct crack of bone rang out and she imagined a punch landing on a jaw or cheekbone.

  Her eyes began to adjust and she was able to make out the hint of shadows moving in rhythm to the violent scuffle which was taking place. She heard footsteps approaching her in a dead sprint. Jutting out her right leg she took down one of Ricardo’s men. He landed hard while another man ran past and threw open the door. Thin, gray light filtered in allowing only slight visibility. Now the shadows were much clearer.

  The man she had tripped looked her direction and with a vicious glower on his face he reached out and grabbed her by the leg pulling her to him. She didn’t fight it. When she was close enough she raised an elbow and brought it down hard on his right temple. He flinched and blinked. She brought her elbow down again and again until his body went slack.

  Once again, she turned toward the sound of a fight. At first she thought that Brennan was being attacked by the other two of Ricardo’s friends, but a closer look revealed that it was the two men who were being attacked by Brennan. He was moving at an incredible rate, his movements almost too quick to distinguish. He was fluid and violent.

  She scrambled across the floor hoping to get to one of the guns that had fallen in the commotion.

  The sound of sirens tore through the dark.

  “Shit. The cops,” someone said. Suddenly everyone scattered.

  Heart pounding in her ears, she glanced up to see Ricardo dash toward the door. A gun shot rang out and Ricardo suddenly jerked to floor grabbing his left side down low. “Agh,” he groaned.

  She looked back and saw Victor aiming his gun at Ricardo’s head.

  “No, Victor!”

  The lights suddenly flickered on. Victor turned and gave her the oddest look as police officers rushed into the room.

  “Get your hands up,” they shouted.

  *

  Though most of the police officers recognized her, they protected her identity and handcuffed her with the rest of the men. They escorted her out of the building first.

  Outside, the glaring sun was nearly blinding. The chauffer was already cuffed and in the back seat of one of the cruisers. They pulled her aside and began questioning her.

  One by one, officers began to file out of the building with their arrests. Paramedics had already entered the building to address the injured.

  When Victor emerged, hands cuffed behind his back, his jaw was set and defiance was in his eyes. He refused to look her direction. Brennan remained calm and alert.

  Ricardo was strapped to a gurney and frantic.

  “I didn’t do anything,” he yelled, “they were gonna kill me. Arrest them, not me. I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything.”

  He was looking back and forth between the two EMT’s who were at his side. She could tell he had only a flesh wound. He would be released by nightfall and locked behind bars.

  Shyla wanted to get out of sight. She started to turn a second too late.

  “Hey. Hey you,” Ricardo shouted.

  She didn’t have to look to know who he was shouting at. Pausing, she chanced a glance at him, anyway.

  “I know you,” he shouted, “I’ll talk to you! You know me! Let me go and I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.”

  Her head felt like it was going to explode. Everyone, including the other officers, stopped in their tracks and stared at her expectantly. The look on Victors face was like steel. Brennan’s expression showed recognition and understanding. She turned and slid into the back of the cruiser, out of sight.

  What a goddamn mess.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Shyla’s footsteps echoed down the hall as she followed the security guard to the visitors’ area. She dreaded seeing Victor, but she needed to see him face to face. After the incident the day before, she assumed he at the very least had some questions.

  “You have ten minutes,” the guard said.

  Shyla nodded and stepped into the small room, taking a seat in the only chair, opposite the spot where Victor sat with only glass between them. She picked up the phone.

  “What in the hell is going on, Victor,” her voice trembled.

  His eyes were intelligent, hyper-alert.

  “I was hoping you could tell me,” he said.

  “I don’t know. I’m so confused. I mean, one minute I’m waiting in the car, the next I hear shouting. I didn’t know what to do, but I was worried. I went to find you and saw those men with guns and knew you needed help so I turned off the light.”

  “You shouldn’t have been up there,” he said, his tone sharp.

  Shyla cringed.

  “What was I supposed to do? What was going on up there, Victor? Why did those men have guns?”

  He shook his head, gaze narrowed.

  “I’m still not sure of that myself. It’s all mixed up. What I can’t figure out is who put a call in to the cops. I mean, I’m glad they were there, who knows what could have happened had they not shown up, but still…”

  “Who cares who did?” Shyla cut in, “all I know is that I’ve been worried sick. I was taken into custody and questioned till late last night. I’m so tired. I had to call into work because I obviously can’t show up today, and I have no clue why my boyfriend is behind bars. What’s going on?”

  She let a tear slide down her cheek.

  Victor’s eyes softened. He bent his head and sighed.

  “I bet it’s been scary for you, Shyla.”

  He looked up again.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean for our weekend to end up like this. I know it’s confusing, but don’t worry, this will all work out. I can’t say much right now, but I promise I’ll explain it all when I get out. My arraignment’s on Wednesday.”

  “Wednesday? But I have to get home. I have to go to work.”

  “I know. I’ll talk to my pilot. He’ll get you home this afternoon, okay?”

  “Okay,” Shyla sniffed, nodding.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I get home. I promise.”

  *

  Shyla was spent by the time the plane hit the tarmac at the Redding Airport on Monday evening. She considered calling Hal but quickly tossed the thought aside. When she’d called Sunday evening to say she wouldn’t be in Monday morning, Hal had been concerned. In order not to worry him, she explained that there had been a slight change of plans but everything was okay. She knew he’d be furious when he found out that she’d lied, but there was too much going on to be adding more to the chaos. He would have told Shawn and Jason and then all three of them would have been up in arms about the mess she was in. No need to get them all worked up when she could handle it on her own. Plus she had Eli on her side. And there was very little they could have done from Redding, anyway. So, she figured they could sit tight and wait until she got home.

  As she hailed a cab, her mind was tired and dull. She concluded that one more night before talking with them wouldn’t hurt. She’d need her wits about he
r to deal with those three.

  The idea of her bed was alluring. The thought of a strong shot of whiskey was tempting. All day, visions of her mother had been haunting her; the way she tilted her head to the right when she laughed, the melodic rhythm of her soft voice, all the happy memories of when she’d been alive. She rarely thought of her mother. Not because she didn’t like to, but because of the inevitable thoughts of her father which always followed; the link between them seemed unbreakable and she mourned being able to think only of her mother, only of the good.

  But all day she’d felt the odd sensation that her mother was somehow with her, following her around and watching her every move. She wondered what her mother would think of her career, her choices, her life. Would she be disappointed that she was mixed up with criminals? But she was trying to rid the world of them, she reasoned.

  Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she paid the cab driver and walked toward her apartment.

  “It’s about time you got home.”

  Carmen was sitting at the top of her stairway. For the love of God, why can’t I catch a break? Shyla thought.

  “We were supposed to have a workout tonight after you got off work remember?” Carmen’s voice was harsh and accusatory. It set Shyla’s nerves on edge. She shifted the bag she had slung over her shoulder and stepped around Carmen, pulling out her keys. Exhaustion reigned supreme and she had no sympathy.

  “Gee, I must have forgotten. Come back later. I’m going to bed. I suggest you go home and do the same.”

  Carmen stood up and stared her down.

  “I’m not going to bed. It’s only eight o’clock. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Fine. Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

  Shyla turned to close the front door and caught the look on Carmen’s face. Sheer pain and vulnerability occupied every feature. Yep, Shyla thought, I’m a huge disappointment.

  “I’m sorry Carmen,” she sighed, “I didn’t mean that. I’m just tired. I’ve had a shitty day. Come in.”

  Carmen hesitated, but finally shuffled forward with puppy dog eyes.