Текст книги "Haunted"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER 14

IT’S AMAZING HOW PERSPECTIVE CHANGES WITH circumstance. A week ago, when I heard Culebra’s story for the first time, a threat from his past might have evoked a reaction of ambivalence. After all, you lay down with cartel dogs, you get up with cartel fleas.

Now, all I see is the look in Culebra’s eyes when he asked me to leave. I recognize what it was now. He wanted me out of harm’s way. He knew if he became combative or ordered me to leave, I’d dig in my heels and refuse to go. He chose the one way that guaranteed my cooperation.

He asked nicely.

Shit. I’m on my feet. “We need to get back to Culebra. Now.”

Max doesn’t argue. “Let me get my gun.”

He disappears into the bedroom and returns a moment later with a jacket and his weapon. The Glock is in a compact Blackhawk! slide holster with a pouch for an extra mag. A lot of firepower. Makes me realize he takes the situation seriously.

“Do you need a gun?” he asks me, clipping the Glock to his belt. He grabs a duffel bag from the corner as he talks.

I shake my head. The last time he provided me with a weapon it was a big 45 that I ended up getting shot with. No. Vampires come armed. Naturally.

“Let me drive,” he says, steering me toward the alley in back. “Ramon will know your car. He hasn’t seen mine.”

His vehicle is a big Ford Explorer, a couple of years and a lot of miles old. It’s covered with dirt on the outside, littered with fast-food containers and empty coffee cups on the inside. There’s a tarp pulled over the cargo section in back and even that’s littered with papers and old newspapers.

I scoop an armful of stuffout of the passenger seat and toss it into the back. I don’t have to say a word. My obvious disgust is evident in body language as I rub an old napkin over the seat and gingerly lower myself onto what I hope is not a sticky surface.

“Sorry,” Max mumbles, tossing the duffel into the back on top of the debris. “Been on surveillance most of the last two weeks. Wasn’t expecting company.”

“Obviously.”

He cranks the engine over and lead foots it into the street. He flips a switch and above the visor, red and blue LED lights start pulsing.

“Pretty slick. Didn’t even see them.”

He shoots me one of those disdainful looks that states the obvious. You aren’t supposed to.

We blaze our way toward the freeway. Max concentrates on the driving. I concentrate on what I can do to this Ramon to make him talk. Vampire stirs in anticipation.

Once we’re clear of city streets and on our way to the border, I ask Max about Ramon. Had Max come in contact with him in an official capacity?

Max keeps both hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road when he answers. “No. My focus has been primarily on the area here, near Tijuana. Ramon and Culebra operated out of the golden triangle—Chihuahua, Durango and Sinaloa.”

“But you recognized the name.”

“Culebra mentioned a Ramon as someone he grew up with, someone who came up with him through the ranks.” He shakes his head. “It’s a common enough name but from the way you describe Culebra’s reaction when he saw him, I’ll bet it’s his old cartel buddy.”

“How did he find Culebra? What’s he doing here after all these years?” The questions are more to give voice to thoughts twirling around my head than directed at Max.

Still, he answers. “There’s a lot of infighting going on between the cartels. Who knows what old vendettas are being stirred up? Culebra left a lot of enemies behind. Maybe not everyone believed he died in the car wreck. Culebra goes into Tijuana occasionally. Maybe someday recognized him. The guys he crossed don’t give up easily. They may have been trying to track him down for years.”

His tone suggests he knows more about Culebra’s past than what I learned on Christmas Eve. “There’s more? Tell me.”

“I don’t know all of it.” His eyes slide toward me. “I think it’s best if you ask Culebra.”

He shuts down. The set of his jaw tells me I’m not going to get anything more. I turn back in my seat and face the road. We’re approaching the border. I fish my passport out of the pocket of my jeans in preparation but Max pulls around the tourist lanes and into the law enforcement turnout lane. He exchanges a few words with an officer on duty, flashes his badge, and we’re once more on our way.

I slide my passport into the glove compartment with my wallet. No sense taking a chance of losing them.

This time when we head into Beso de la Muerte, the street is deserted. I get the gut-churning feeling that we may be too late, that something bad has already happened. Max slips his gun into his hand and we approach the bar’s swinging doors, noiselessly, both of us on alert.

I touch Max’s arm and he stops. I lift my face, sniffing for a scent of human, listening for a heartbeat, probing to pick up the stray thought of a vamp or shape-shifter inside.

Nothing. A shake of my head and Max and I push open the doors.

The bar is empty. The quiet presses in, an unnatural quiet. The tables are still littered with bottles and glasses, some half full.

Culebra sent everyone away.

The gut churning gets more intense. I’d found the bar abandoned like this once before. It was not a good omen then. Odds are, it’s not a good omen now.

CHAPTER 15

MAX PICKS UP A BEER BOTTLE FROM ONE OF THE tables, swirls the contents. “Still cold.”

“Let’s try the cave.”

We get into the car and drive around to the mouth of the cave. I know before we get out, though, what we’ll find. When I call out for the doctor, I get an empty echo in reply. We make a cursory sweep, but just like the bar, the cave has been abandoned.

A light is on in one of the living areas, a cup of coffee, still hot, sits on a table in another.

“Can you pick up a trail?” Max asks me. “You know Culebra’s scent. Is there anything you can follow?”

Only the obvious. I lead Max out to a space near the back door of the bar. Where the scent ends. I point to tire tracks. “They took his truck.”

“That’s a start,” Max says. “You can track a truck, can’t you?”

“I can’t. Vampire can. You’ll never be able to keep up.”

He frowns in irritation. “So, what are you telling me? You’re going off on your own?”

“I have to. Listen, stay here. I’ll call you when I figure out what direction they’re going. You can follow and we’ll connect up as soon as we can. They don’t have much of a head start. It shouldn’t take long.”

Max has enough knowledge of vampires to know it’s the only logical course of action. Doesn’t mean he likes it. His frown intensifies. “You will call me.”

“Yes. I will—”

As if channeling the telephone, mine rings. When I see who is calling, and realize that I’ve been gone much longer than the couple of hours I intended to be, I grit my teeth and open the call.

“Stephen. God, I am so sorry.”

“Where are you?”

He doesn’t sound angry, just puzzled. And he doesn’t wait for me to respond. “I got back early. I’ve been waiting at the cottage since two. It’s almost five. Are you on your way home? Susan wants us to come for dinner tonight.”

Inwardly, I groan. “I can’t. Something came up. You go. Give Susan my love.”

“Are you sure? Are you on a job?”

“Yes.” Sort of. “I don’t know when I’ll be home. Why don’t I meet you at your place when I’m done?”

“Will it be late?”

Most likely. “It may be.”

He makes a clucking noise in the receiver. “I’m only home one night and you run out on me. Good thing I’m an understanding kind of guy. Say hello to David and Tracey for me. And Anna?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful.”

He ends the call.

At least I didn’t have to explain that I’m not with David and Tracey. He doesn’t know Max or aboutMax. Wonder if he’d be so understanding if he knew I was with an old boyfriend? Or that I was on my way to track another old friend into Mexican drug territory?

God. There was no aggravation in his voice, no sarcasm. He trusts me completely. I get the sinking feeling that maybe he shouldn’t.

Max is watching me, having no doubt read between the lines of the conversation. “You’ve been with this guy, what? Five minutes? And you’re lying to him already?”

I feel the hair stir on the back of my neck. “I didn’t lie to him.”

He snorts. “Only by omission. You know fucking well there’s a good chance you’re not going to be meeting him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow night, either. Does he know about this place? About Culebra?”

I turn away, snapping my phone shut and slipping it into my jacket. The truth is, Stephen doesn’t know about Beso de la Muerte or Culebra. Not yet. When he’s in town, he lets me feed from him. When he’s gone and I need to feed, I come here. We haven’t been together that long. There’s been no reason to tell him.

When I don’t respond, Max throws up his hands. “Another stupid mortal under the thrall of a vampire. Yeah, I heard you tell Culebra he knows that you’re a vampire. At least that’s something.”

There’s that flash of bitterness again. He thinks I cast a spell to get Stephen? Does he think I cast a spell over him when we were involved?

I swallow back the anger. I’m not about to get into a pissing contest neither of us can win. This isn’t the time. I ignore Max and start to examine the tire tracks. They lead off to the south, away from the border and into the desert.

“I’ll call you” is all I say before trotting off, summoning the vampire to the surface. Both of us are happy to leave the confines of a mortal existence and the dark antagonism of the man I feel staring after me.

Freedom is in the rush of wind on my face as I pick up speed. Darkness is close, which makes tracking easier. Just as animals distinguish the tracks of predator and prey, I distinguish the marks of Culebra’s vehicle in the dirt. The right front tire has a nick in the outer rim. I pick up the smell of oil and exhaust.

I welcome full darkness when it falls. There is no moon, which makes senses more acute, vision sharper. The truck I follow goes deeper into the desert, shuns the lights of Tijuana and the scattered shantytowns on its outskirts. There are many smells here—animal and human. Cooking meat. Frying lard. Offal. Nothing tempts the vampire. I am well fed.

There are roads here, too, but the truck travels on none of them. It continues on dirt and hardscrabble going east. It will make the going harder and slower for the vehicle, faster and easier for the vampire.

It only takes thirty minutes to spot it. In the distance, a plume of dust. I run to catch up, careful to stay out of sight and when I see the silhouettes of two men inside, catch Culebra’s scent from the open window, only then do I stop to let the human Anna return.

I pull out my phone, call up Max’s number and hit send. He picks up on the first ring.

“Where are you?”

I look around. “I’m not really sure. About forty-five minutes east of Tijuana. The truck is a mile or so ahead of me.”

“Any road markers?”

“No road. Staying to the desert.”

There’s a pause. “That doesn’t make sense. The terrain is going to get too rough for Culebra’s old truck. They must be afraid someone’s watching the main roads.” Another pause while I assume he’s checking the map. “What are your GPS coordinates?”

I touch the “maps” app on the face of my phone, find the GPS coordinates and read what pops up on the screen. Max sends me his location and I scroll to it on the map.

“Look,” Max says finally, “this may be a long shot. But I think they might be headed for Tecate. There are a couple of private airstrips there.”

“What kind of private airstrips?”

“The ‘no questions asked’ kind of private airstrips. The kind you’d use if you want to reach the interior quickly and quietly. Do you know Tecate?”

“Not really. David and I tracked a skip to the border crossing at Tecate once, but we caught up with him before he made it across.”

“It’s not that big. Keep following them. If I’m right, they’ll be stopping soon. Call as soon as they do so I know where to meet you. If I’m wrong and they head in another direction, let me know that, too. I’m starting out now. Sticking to the main roads will make the trip much shorter. I can be there in forty minutes tops.”

The last thing I hear before he disconnects is the rumble of the Ford’s engine as he cranks it over.

Culebra’s truck is still moving. But I begin to realize Max may be right when the lights of a city I can only guess is Tecate blink in the distance. He’d better make it fast. I can track anything across the ground, but if Culebra and Ramon take off in a plane, for us, the trail comes to a screeching halt.

CHAPTER 16

TO A VAMPIRE’S ACUTE SENSES, TECATE IS A TOWN caught between ocean and desert. Close enough to catch the sea breeze, smelling of sand and brine, far enough away to have a desert landscape of cactus and sand. The perfume of the ocean is often swept away by the smell of hot dust and decay. A dichotomy that tickles my nose.

The way is rough, but rougher still for the truck. It bounces and lurches, slow going.

Not for me. It gives me a chance to catch up, to get so close I see Ramon smoking in the passenger seat and smell the smoke drifting out through the open window.

So close I could speed up and ride the rest of the way, hunkering down on the rear bumper of the pickup.

But I don’t.

There’s too much about this scenario I don’t understand. I don’t trust.

Finally, with the city in sight, Culebra steers onto a dirt road that appears abruptly out of the hardscrabble and curves away from Tecate. He picks up speed and we begin to pass an area of industrial buildings—warehouses, if I had to guess. The parking lots are nearly empty, only one or two cars scattered in front of the few buildings with lights still burning.

I look around out of a human’s eye now, trying to pinpoint something to let Max know where we are.

I get my chance when the truck veers again, this time onto a paved road. A sign says CUCHUMA. He keeps going. I stop and call Max.

“We’re on a road called Cuchuma,” I say when he picks up. “Here are the coordinates.”

Max waits to reply until he sees what I’ve sent. “Good. I know where you’re headed. I should be there in fifteen minutes. Cuchuma connects with a road called Del Carmen. They’ll take Del Carmen south and turn onto an unmarked road. Keep following. You’re almost to the airstrip. There’s an abandoned outbuilding about a half mile from the airstrip. Meet me there.”

I snap the phone shut and let the vampire surface again. Now that I know where we’re going, I can enjoy the freedom of the run. I let my animal senses pick up the smells of rock and desert, vermin and predator. Fox is here and snake and rabbit and coyote. Coyote spies me and lowers its head, growling. Its rumble attracts its brothers, hiding in the brush. It’s the way coyote hunts—one to lure an unsuspecting victim, then the others to attack as a pack. They smell human but something else, too. Animal.

My growl convinces them to go on to easier prey. They back off, deep-throated rumbling changing from challenge to irritated submission.

Vampire bares her teeth in a smile.

The truck is at the junction to Del Carmen. It turns as Max predicted. Vampire relinquishes control to the human Anna. Pace slows, thought processes center now on what to do when Culebra gets to the airstrip. Should I try to stop them if they have a plane waiting to take off? How far behind is Max?

The airstrip is ahead. I follow out of sight until the truck comes to a stop beside a ramshackle building. There are lights on inside and the two men go in.

A quick look toward the runway and one decision is made for me.

There’s no plane.

I backtrack and wait at the abandoned building for Max. I scramble up the wall to the roof so I have a clear view of the area. If a plane approaches, I will see it. In a matter of minutes, both Max and a plane arrive simultaneously. I launch myself off the building, landing by Max’s Explorer. The move is quick and from the look on Max’s face, I may have taken ten years off his life.

“Jesus, Anna. Do you fucking fly now?”

Maybe.

“Go.” I jump into the passenger seat. “A twin-engine plane just landed.”

Max pushes the accelerator to the floor but his eyes are still wide, his breath coming in startled gasps.

We slow when we get within sight of the building where Culebra and Ramon are waiting. The approach of the Explorer is silenced by the noise from the plane. Max kills the engine and coasts to a stop behind a cluster of bushes. I expect Culebra and Ramon to come out to meet the plane. But instead, the pilot shuts down the engine and disappears into the building, too.

Max and I look at each other. He unclips his gun and motions to the car door. We let ourselves out quietly, approach in stealth mode. The door to the building is open, the light spilling out offering a clear view of three men inside.

Culebra’s back is to us.

He turns, eyes narrowing.

I clamp down on my thoughts, hoping I haven’t inadvertently given myself away.

He steps out before Max and I can take cover.

“Come out, Anna. You, too, Max. I could sense you were following. We’ve been waiting for you.”

CHAPTER 17

MAX AND I LOOK AT EACH OTHER.

My sudden awareness that Culebra knew I was tracking him makes my first reaction, confusion, veer quickly to anger. “If you knew I was following you, why didn’t you stop?”

“I’m sorry, Anna.”

“You’re sorry? If you wanted us to come with you, why didn’t you simply ask Max and me? Why chase me away in Beso and then make me track you like a damned bloodhound?”

He doesn’t react to my anger with anger of his own. Instead, his body and face reflect a willingness to endure whatever taunts I choose to fling his way. He stands quietly and waits.

Which, predictably, takes the wind out of my vitriolic sails and leaves me staring back at him feeling like a kid who just threw a tantrum in a toy shop.

After a moment, he says, “I know how angry you were at Christmas. Because I hid certain things from you. The anger is justified. I also know if I told you the reason Ramon came to see me, you’d feel obligated to help regardless of your personal feelings. I wanted to give you and Max a chance to decide on your own if you want to get involved.”

He looks at me, dark eyes piercing and intent. “This is cartel business. It won’t be pretty and it won’t be easy. Once you hear the story, you can come with Ramon and me or go back home. Either way, I appreciate the trouble you’ve taken. You came after me. You’ve shown your loyalty and concern.”

“But now that we’re here, you intend to ask more of us than a show of loyalty and concern.”

He lets a cold smile touch the corners of his eyes and lips. “I do. Yes.”

At least now you’re being honest.The same bitterness that sparked my outburst moments before is back.

Again, Culebra doesn’t reply in kind. It’s frustrating. I realize I’m spoiling for a fight, looking for an excuse to pull out and leave Culebra to his “cartel business.” But Culebra knows me too well. He’s not giving me the chance.

Ramon has come outside and stands beside him. In the doorway, the silhouette of the pilot is outlined against the bright interior. He has what is clearly recognizable as a rifle in his hands. It’s cradled in his arms and not pointed at us. I suppose that’s another good sign.

Culebra motions to the door. “Let’s go inside. Please. We have much to discuss.”

I look at Max. He shrugs and holsters his gun. We follow Culebra and Ramon into the building. Once we’re inside, Culebra pulls the door closed and snaps the deadbolt.

“Is that to keep someone else out or to keep us in?” I ask.

“Both.”

It’s said with a half smile and hopeful spark of humor.

I don’t smile back.

Culebra drops his eyes and the smile and takes his place at the head of a long table. The surface is scattered with maps and charts. He beckons for us to join him.

Max does. I take a moment to look around. The inside of this place is bare wood—walls and floors. No furniture except for the table and a couple of folding chairs that look like they’ve spent a good deal of time in the elements. The paint is scoured and peeling. No windows. The light comes from a single, high-wattage bulb suspended from a ceiling joist, wires dangling down the side of one wall and plugged into the only outlet I can see.

That’s it. Not much in the way of a hideout.

I take the step to the table. The pilot doesn’t join us. He leans his thin frame against the wall opposite the door, his eyes shifting continuously from Max to me. I can’t tell how old he is, his complexion is as scoured as the furniture, but his face is gaunt and severe, his lips pressed in a hard line that emphasizes the frown lines etched around his mouth. He has the animal magnetism of a Benicio Del Toro. The same hooded dark eyes, the same heavy eyelids. He’s dressed in khaki pants and a black hoodie. I think hethinks he’s generating an air of watchful vigilance when in fact, his posture screams “bomb with a short fuse.” He hasn’t leaned the rifle against the wall, either. It’s still at the ready in his arms.

I keep him in my line of sight as I turn my attention to Culebra.

He and Ramon are talking with Max. When I look at Ramon, I remember how Max said he and Culebra met. Max found Culebra wandering in the desert. I found Ramon wandering in the desert. Somehow I doubt Ramon and I are headed for the same kind of relationship. He hasn’t said a word to me. He hasn’t even looked at me. Is it because I’m female or is it because he knows I’m vampire?

Culebra draws my attention with a wave of his hand. He points to something on the map. When I take my place beside Max, Culebra says, “We’re headed here—outside Reynosa. About twelve hundred miles as the crow flies, almost to the Gulf.”

“There’s some fierce infighting going on in the area,” Max says. “Between the old drug lords and members of Los Martillos.”

I know the name. Everyone who lives on or near the border knows the name. Los Martillos are a band of ex-military thugs used as enforcers. Probably learned their trade at the same “school” as Culebra. “I hope that isn’t what this is about,” I say.

“Indirectly, it is.”

Once again, a spark in my gut flares out as indignation. “You aren’t seriously telling us that you’re getting involved in drug shit again.”

His eyes snap to mine. “It’s not that simple.”

Max holds up a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “Hear him out, Anna. We’ve been after some of these guys for a long time. Particularly Pablo Santiago. He has bounties on his head in Mexico and the United States. If there’s a chance we could nail him or one of his cronies, it’s worth a shot.”

“What’s worth a shot? We haven’t heard what Culebra wants us to do.”

Ramon may not completely understand the words passing between Max, Culebra and me, but there’s certainly no misunderstanding my tone or expression. He barks something to Culebra. Culebra replies quietly and Ramon turns on his heels and stalks off to join the pilot.

I feel a flush of color creep up my neck. “Tell Ramon I know what putameans,” I snap.

“I did,” Culebra replies. “He’s sorry.”

Right. Neither Ramon’s expression nor tone was apologetic.

“You might also remind him that I saved his life.”

“I did that, too,” Culebra says. “Listen, Anna, just hear me out. I was serious when I said I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. This isn’t just about a battle between cartels. This is a family situation. Ramon’s family. His wife and kids. They’re in danger. He saved my life once. I owe it to him to try to save his.”

“So what happened? His count turn up short? He steal a bag of coke?”

Culebra skewers me with eyes like steel knives. “Worse. He killed his boss’s son.”

Max whistles under his breath. “Santiago’s son?”

“No. If he had done that, he’d already be dead,” Culebra replies, his tone sharp. “No, this is the son of one of Santiago’s lieutenants. A banking official in the government and an important link in the narco money chain. His son’s death is causing problems for Santiago.”

“So, what did the kid have to do with anything? Why’d Ramon kill him?” I ask.

Culebra casts a glance over at Ramon who responds with a nod.

“First you have to understand, growing up here is not the same as in the States. A good education is not available to all, prospects are few. One does what he must to provide for his family. Ramon’s parents were poor farmers. When Ramon saw a chance to improve his situation, he took it.”

I cut in with an impatient wave of my hand. “I don’t know where this is going, but if you’re about to tell me Ramon became a hired killer to put food on the table, I will tell you right now I don’t care. I came because I thought youwere in trouble. If it’s not your life in danger, I’m out of here. I couldn’t care less what happens to your cartel buddy.”

A spark, dangerous, threatening, flashes in Culebra’s eyes. He says so softly, I almost miss it, “So you pick and choose the monsters you fight now, huh? Your vow to protect the weak applies only to those you deem worthy.”

An angry reply leaps to my lips, but I stifle it, aware that there are others here who don’t know who or what I am. I turn my bitterness inward, projecting it to Culebra through my thoughts.

Don’t do it, Culebra. Don’t play the guilt card. You of all people know what I’ve done since accepting responsibility as the Chosen One. I sent my family half a world away. I hold my few human friends at arm’s distance. I’ve given up a lot. I won’t be coerced into helping a stranger who’s in trouble because of his own stupid choices.

Max is unaware of what I’ve said to Culebra, but he interjects himself into the tense silence. “Maybe you should at least hear him out, Anna. If not for Ramon, then because this may be an opportunity to take a major player out of the game. Santiago is a big fish. Landing him would be a coup.” He looks at Culebra. “For both our governments.”

Resistance to getting involved still churns my stomach. “But he didn’t kill Santiago’s son,” I remind Max. “How do you think going after this bank official will get you close to Santiago?”

“Because it’s Santiago who is gunning for Ramon now,” Culebra says. “Just as the boss came after me thirty years ago. Ramon inconvenienced Santiago. He doesn’t care about the kid Ramon killed. The kid doesn’t matter. He’ll wipe out Ramon’s entire family to send a message. Unless we can stop it.”

Everyone in the room is looking at me. The pilot and Ramon with overt hostility, Culebra and Max with patience. As if they already know I’ll give in.

I kick one of the chairs away from the table and sit, arms crossed over my chest.

“Okay, I’ll listen. But this better be one motherfucker of a compelling story.”