She followed the bus not knowing its route or destination.

  Linc wouldn’t have a clue where the bus was going. He’s not from Austin.

  As she crawled along behind the bus, she saw the Jeep in her rearview. She had company doing exactly what she was doing—only the reasons were different.

  The bus pulled to the curb, stopping in front of a strip mall and Linc got off with several other passengers. He walked through the parking lot and into a Budget rental.

  Renting a car. Good, he’s leaving town.

  Fifteen minutes passed as Annie sat parked in one of the spots where she could see the front of the store, and she could also see the line of rental vehicles down the side of the building. The bikers in the Jeep sat three vehicles away from her doing the same thing.

  A guy in uniform walked Linc from the store front, down the line of available rentals to a Chevy compact. He pressed the key fob, opened the door for Linc and handed him the keys. Linc pulled the car out of the line and gave the guy a wave as he headed for the street.

  Annie watched the Jeep drop in one vehicle behind Linc, then she waited her chance and did the same. They had a convoy now—heading where?

  Linc headed west.

  He is nuts if he’s going back to Vegas.

  A few twists and turns through the city and it was obvious, Linc Bolivar was going home. He flicked on his blinker and took the ramp for the I-10.

  Annie followed, waiting for the Jeep to make a move on Linc. If he hadn’t made his club brothers in his rear view, he was a bigger idiot than she thought. Maybe he was armed and ready to stand his ground. Possible but not probable. She’d seen Linc’s true colors—Linc Bolivar was a coward.

  The July heat was vicious, but Annie chose wind over air conditioning as she cruised along the interstate, watching and waiting for something to happen.

  Twenty minutes out of the city, just past the blue rest stop sign, Linc pulled into the turning lane at the last possible minute. The Jeep, three vehicles behind him, eased off the road in front of Annie.

  She followed the Jeep when it bypassed the arrow for vehicle parking and headed into the far parking lot designated for campers and big rigs. The bikers chose a spot behind three semis, near a copse of trees and out of sight of the building.

  Annie backed in next to the Jeep on the driver’s side. Before either guy got out, she opened her door, leaned forward displaying a large helping of cleavage and smiled at the biker in the driver’s seat.

  He smiled back and opened his door, his mission temporarily on the back burner. “Hey, baby, help you with something?”

  “Sure, can.” Annie offered a big smile as she pulled her Beretta with the suppressor from behind her back and shot them both in the head.

  Pop. Pop.

  She kicked the door of the Jeep closed, picked up her brass and was gone. She caught the first turn-around and headed back to the city.

  As she sped back to Austin, her cell rang. “Kevin, what have you got for me?”

  “Offer coming in on the building. My competition is excited that there’s going to be a little bidding war.”

  “I’m twenty minutes from Smithville. You can buy me lunch.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll make a reservation and meet you at the steakhouse.”

  FARRELL AND TRAVIS spent all morning interrogating members of the Latin Princes and had little to show for their efforts. The esteemed leader of their violent little family was in the lockup and they weren’t talking to cops.

  “Let’s get some lunch,” said Travis. “All that talking for nothing made me about starved.”

  “I could eat,” said Farrell. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Don’t care. Waterburger is good.”

  “Sure thing.” Farrell drove the three blocks and they got a table.

  They ordered, and Travis’ phone rang. “Hey, boss, how’s the vacay going?”

  “Not worth a damn, Trav. Rather be working.”

  “Heard you were reviewing reports and statements.”

  “I am. Reviewing material and looking for something—anything we could use. That’s why I’m calling. I couldn’t get Blacky. I think his phone is turned off.”

  “He’s with the DA this morning.”

  “Yep, so anyway, on one of the old arrest records for Aldana—the Prince dude—his address was listed as an apartment on Fourth Street. Write this down. I checked and he’s still paying rent on that place.”

  Travis pulled out a pen and scribbled on a napkin. “Good digging, boss.”

  “Find out if the warrant was for all his holdings and if it was, toss the apartment. He might be using it as a safe house.”

  “Fantastic,” said Travis. “Going back to headquarters now. Let you know.”

  Farrell ate his last onion ring. “What’s up?”

  “Jesse thinks we might have missed one of Coronado’s properties. Got to get on it.”

  “Let’s go. I’ll call Blacky while you drive.”

  ANNIE WAS LATE.

  “I’m joining Kevin Bennett,” she said to the hostess and hurried across the steakhouse to the table by the window where he’d already consumed half a draft. Her beer waited for her in a tall glass beside her napkin.

  Kevin jumped to his feet like the polite Texan he was, pulled out her chair for her and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Thanks, sugar. Busy morning. It’ll be nice to have a bit of down time with you.”

  “I’m always happy to spend time with you, Annie. You’re one of my favorite people.”

  “You’re a sweet man, Kevin Bennett.” She picked up the menu and then put it aside. I think I’ll have the lunch special. It’s usually good.”

  “You don’t know what it is. What if you don’t like it?”

  “I’m an optimist.”

  He chuckled and finished his beer. “Do you want to talk business or wait until after dessert?”

  “How do you know I’m going to order dessert?”

  “I don’t. It was a rhetorical question.”

  She winked at him. “I thought you were showing me your psychic side.”

  “I do have visions, but they’re too personal to share.”

  “How much has the purchaser offered on the building?”

  “They haven’t made the offer in writing yet, but they’re talking eighty-seven thousand.”

  “Tell the vendor I’m offering ninety-five.”

  Kevin set his beer down and smiled. “What in hell are you doing, Annie?”

  “Doing my job, Kev. Just doing my job.”

  BLAINE CHECKED his cell after leaving the DA’s office and saw the missed calls from Jesse and Travis. Before he even scrolled to Jesse’s number Chief Calhoun called.

  “Where are you, Blacky?”

  “In the truck in front of the DA’s office. What’s up?”

  “I’ve secured a warrant from Judge Thomas on an apartment still held by Juan Aldana. Jesse came across it on an old arrest record. Travis and Farrell are picking up the warrant and they’ll meet you at this address.” Blaine grabbed a pen from his briefcase and jotted it down.

  “We’ll need forensics too,” said Blaine.

  “Yep, they’re on their way.”

  Jack pulled out into traffic. “Where to, boss?”

  “I’ll punch it in,” said Blaine. “Be faster.” He called Jesse to thank him. “Hey, good find on the apartment. Heading there now, partner.”

  “Might be empty, but I’m hopeful. He’s paying rent on it for a reason and I’d love to be there to check it out with my crew,” said Jesse. “A few more weeks and I can drive.”

  “We miss you, Jesse,” said Blaine, “Take care of yourself.”

  He pressed end and called Farrell. “Get the warrant?”

  “Have it in my hand and we’re almost at the address. Meet you there.”

  “Roger that,” said Blaine, “I’m about ten minutes behind you.”

  FARRELL PARKED at the curb in front of the apartment building, and the squad pulled in behind. A yellow brick ten storey in a low-rent area with colorful graffiti decorating all four sides.

  They stood in a knot at the front door making a quick plan. Farrell pointed, “Back door, front door. Check for a fire escape. If there’s anybody in the apartment, the bastards are gonna run.”

  “Yep.” The uniformed officers took off to seal the exits and Travis and Farrell stepped into the small glassed-in space between the two sets of doors.

  Travis pressed the button for the super and they waited until a gray-haired man in coveralls plodded across the lobby and opened the inside door. “What do you want?”

  Farrell held up his creds. “Police. Open the door, sir.”

  “Who do you want to see?”

  Farrell pushed the door open wide enough to get through and said, “None of your business, sir. Go back to your apartment.”

  “Why?” The old man stuck his chin out, bristling with gray whiskers. “I want to know what’s going on in my building.”

  Farrell pushed the elevator button. “Ain’t your building, you just work here. Go on back to your place.”

  “No cops are gonna tell me what to do. I’m coming with you.” He pointed to the ‘super’ word embroidered on his pocket. “I’m the boss in this building.”

  Travis nodded and let the old guy shuffle into the elevator. He pulled his cuffs off his belt, grabbed one of the old man’s skinny wrists and cuffed him to the safety bar in the elevator. The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and Travis and Farrell got out.

  “Hey, you fuckers can’t leave me in here.” His voice faded away as the elevator doors closed.

  Farrell pointed. “Four-ten. Down this way.”

  The hot, stuffy hallway smelled of grease and burnt food. The carpet was worn through to the subfloor in spots and stuck up in others trying to trip you up in the dim light.

  “No air in the hallways,” said Travis. He stopped in front of four-ten and pulled out his gun.

  Farrell stood on the other side of the door with a shotgun in his hand. He gave Travis a nod.

  “This is the police,” said Travis. “Open the door.”

  They waited for a response. “Hear anything?” asked Farrell.

  Travis nodded and winked at his partner. “Somebody hollered for help.” He took a step back and smashed the door a good one with his boot. It splintered around the lock and crashed open.

  Farrell ran in with the shotgun levelled and ready to fire. A knife whizzed through the air from behind him, caught his shoulder and stuck in. Farrell spun around and pulled the trigger. He fired low. The deafening shotgun blast hit the kid’s legs and he went down screaming.

  “Gun,” hollered Farrell, but Travis had drawn a bead on the second kid already and pulled the trigger. The kid’s Glock flew out of his hand as hit the floor, rolling, screaming and clutching his blood-spurting knee.

  “Anymore of you assholes in here?” hollered Farrell, waving the Winchester in front of him.

  “Jesus Christ,” hollered Travis. “You’re bleeding like a fuckin fountain, partner. We gotta get that goddam knife out of your back.”

  “Best leave it until they get here,” said Farrell, spitting out the words through clenched teeth. “I’ll clear the rest of this hole while you get an ambulance for those fuckers.”

  “You need one too,” yelled Travis, hyped high on adrenaline. “Calling for two.”

  Farrell searched the rest of the small apartment leading with the shotgun. Bedroom was empty. Unmade bed. One dresser with a couple of drawers half open. Nobody under the bed. Nobody in the closet.

  Metal boxes in the closet. Could be.

  Next, he checked the bathroom and as he opened the door he thought he heard the rustle of plastic.

  Shower curtain.

  “Come on out of there with your hands on your head and I won’t kill you.”

  No response, but he could hear the kid breathing. “Do it now.”

  “Don’t kill me,” the kid said in Spanish. He stuck a leg out of the tub and pushed the curtain back. His hands were on his head.

  He’s about fourteen. Fuck.

  Noise in the other room signaled the arrival of the medics from the first ambulance. They loaded up the two shooting victims, started IV’s and wheeled them out. Travis sent a pair of uniforms to the hospital with them.

  Farrell marched kid number three out to Travis. “Take my cuffs and secure this little dude for me, partner.”

  Travis nodded. He’d used his own cuffs on the super. Travis cuffed the kid and pointed to the floor. “Sit over there and don’t move and keep quiet.”

  The kid plopped down and leaned against the wall. “You rotten cops kill my amigos?” he yelled in Spanish.

  Travis waved his gun and hollered back, “Yep, dead like you’re gonna be if you don’t shut up.”

  At that point, Blaine arrived with Jack and Greg. “Shit did we miss all the excitement?” Then he saw the knife sticking out of Farrell’s shoulder. He turned to one of the paramedics from the second ambulance and said, “Help my brother. He’s got a knife stuck in him.”

  The tall medic with Ryan on his name tag examined Farrell’s shoulder and said, “We need to take him to the hospital. That’s buried deep. I can’t pull it out here.”

  “Take him,” said Blaine, “and I’m coming with him.” To Travis: “Take the scene until the lab people get here. I’ll send one of the uniforms up from the lobby to take the kid to headquarters.”

  “Metal lock boxes in the closet,” said Farrell in a whisper. His face was losing color rapidly.

  “Okay,” said Travis. “We’ll check the boxes along with every inch of this place.” Something caught Travis’s eye on the kitchen table and he grabbed it up. “Brochure here for Misty’s house, boss.”

  “Fantastic,” said Blaine. “Shows premeditation.”

  Travis leaned closer. “Looky here, another one for an address out in West Oak.”

  The paramedics were wheeling Farrell out the door.

  “Write the address down,” said Blaine. “I’ve got to go.”

  BLAINE RODE in the ambulance with Farrell. He sat on the other side of the truck and watched the young medic try to stop up the bleeding as much as he could around the blade of the knife.

  Sirens blared, as they raced through city streets and they arrived at the hospital in under six minutes. Blaine timed it. Farrell was whisked out of the bus and straight through the Emergency doors.

  Blaine took a seat in the waiting area and scrolled to Annie’s number.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” she said.

  “Mom… Farrell got hurt. You better bring Neil.”

  “Bring Neil?” Blaine heard her breath catch. “Baby, how bad is it?”

  “Knife wound to the shoulder. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  “I’m coming. Where?”

  “Saint Mike’s.”

  “Neil will go insane.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Next, Mary.

  “Mary, this is Blaine.”

  “What’s up? More gangers biting it? My boss is loving the series on the gang clean up. It’s selling papers.”

  “Yes, but that’s not why I’m calling. It’s Farrell.”

  He heard her take in a big gulp of oxygen. “Where are you?”

  “Saint Mike’s. He’s in Emergency, but I think he’ll be moving to surgery shortly. Don’t rush, you won’t be able to see him for a while.”

  “Surgery? Is he… shot?”

  “Nope. Knife in his shoulder. A kid threw it at him.”

  “Oh, my God. I’ll be there soon.”

  Blaine turned to Jack who sat next to him, “How about some coffee, Jack. We might be here for a while yet.”

  “I’ll go to the cafeteria. I’m not drinking the vending machine poison.”

  “Good call,” said Blaine. He pressed Lily’s contact. “Hey, Lil, are you lonely in the office?”

  “Nope, Andy and Rick are lurking.”

  Blaine chuckled. “Can you find us a cook for a couple of weeks?”

  “I can cook.”

  “Shit, Lil. Carm said you were taking care of it, but we have a lot of people to feed. Get somebody to help.”

  “Know what? Rick and I were talking about it and he loves to cook. He’s been eyeballing our gourmet kitchen too—in secret. We’re going to share the cooking.”

  “Okay, if it’s what you want to do. If you get tired of it, we’ll call an agency.”

  “Okay, deal. Where are you now?”

  “At the hospital. Farrell got stabbed.”

  “No. Does Mary know?”

  “She’s coming. He’s in surgery getting sewed up. They might be giving him a pint too. He lost a lot.”

  “Damn it.”

  ANNIE FOUND NEIL behind the house hitting fly balls to the kids. Farrell’s little brother who had come to her when he was thirteen, was home from college for the summer.

  She watched him play with Jackson and Lucy for a minute, then interrupted. “Neil, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

  He turned and leaned the bat against the picnic table. “What’s up, Mom?”

  He pushed his blond curls back and wiped the sweat off his forehead. “How hot is it? Like a hundred?”

  “Hundred and four,” said Annie. “We have to go to Austin.”

  Neil froze and stared at her. “What happened to Farrell?”

  Annie held up a hand. “He’s okay. It’s not too serious.”

  Neil dropped his head into his hands. “He’s shot. Somebody shot him again.”

  “Nope. He has a knife wound in his shoulder and the doctor is fixing it right now. He’s going to be fine.”

  Neil lost color, but he pulled it together. “Let me take off my cleats and put some boots on.”

  MARY ARRIVED FIRST, pale and weepy over Farrell getting hurt. Blaine sat her between him and Jack and tried to make her feel better, but it wasn’t working. Farrell was the moon and stars to Mary Polito.

  “I’m going for more coffee,” said Jack. He wasn’t good with tearful women. He’d almost made his escape when Annie arrived with Neil.

  Neil took a stance in front of Blaine and said, “Where was Travis in all of this? Wasn’t he watching my brother’s back?”

 

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