She'd changed. Her life now included Raul.
On interstate 5, Curt went north toward Seattle. Crystal looked out the rear window. If she were on her way for a planned meeting somewhere between California and Arizona, she'd have to go in the opposite direction.
"I think you took the wrong entrance to the Interstate. We're going north, and we should go south toward Portland." She turned around toward the front of the car.
"No mistake." Curt flipped on his turn signal and switched lanes, speeding up to seventy miles an hour. "We're flying out of Seattle to cut down on time."
"Oh," she said.
Of course, they were going to fly. Their trip was an example of the people's tax dollars at work. No expense spared in the flight to get the bad guys, or to protect the innocent. She refolded her hands on her lap and stared out the window. No wonder Raul could no longer remember or recognize the part of his life where he had certain services readily available, and preferred to depend on himself.
No one gave bikers a free ride. They were another breed of humans.
The Lagsturns earned what they owned, and relied on only themselves. She rather liked the unexpected and more carefree lifestyle that came with living with Raul. She shivered and stared out the window. Too much order and control reminded her of her childhood.
"Chilly?" Curt asked. "I can turn down the air conditioner."
She shook her head. "No, I'm fine."
They continued in silence. From here on out, she'd be more careful to hide what she was thinking and feeling. Trained to read every little movement and emotion she displayed, Curt stayed attuned to her the same way Raul had a habit of doing. She couldn't rely on her safety with him. He expected order. Garcia and the Lagsturns were chaos, and lived on mayhem. The Federal agent played by the book. He'd never see Garcia coming.
Chapter Twenty-One
At noon, on the southern border of Arizona, the women stumbled out of the trailer single file and walked to the waiting windowless cargo van. Raul watched each one for signs of exhaustion, dehydration, and heat stroke, and held himself back from making personal contact. During the last six-hour leg of the trip, he'd stopped twice to let them use the landscape by the highway while he and the men made sure nobody drove by and questioned why they had a string of girls all tied together by a chain on their ankle.
One woman with short black hair, a weary hardness around her eyes, and a cut lip gazed intently toward him. He gritted his teeth, powerless. Instead, he communicated the only way he could, by returning her gaze and lifting his chin. Several more feet, seeming to understand what he was conveying, she repeated the chin lift and turned her gaze forward. He only hoped her inner strength would keep her alive until a team invaded and looked for her.
He suspected she was underage, because she wanted to go home to her
mommy
.
These girls were not going home anytime soon and he hoped when he brought Guillermo Garcia down, the bureau would find a trail leftover to where they could locate the women in Mexico and have them brought home alive. Bile burned his throat. He had yet to phone the call-in number bringing the operation into action. There was a huge chance that their safety was out of his hands.
"We're done here," Duck said. "The delivery is loaded and we can head back."
He turned away from the scene. "Once we get the details from—"
His phone vibrated, and he pulled the cell out of his pocket and answered. "Yeah?"
"8329 Courtland Street. Backdoor," a male voice said, right before disconnecting.
Raul pocketed the phone. "I got an address. Let's roll."
He'd studied the Nogales city map prior to leaving on the trip, and suspected the meeting place would be in the middle, in plain view of the public, and away from the activity on the border. He was right. Garcia waited for him out in the open, where anyone could watch.
It'd take them twenty minutes at the most if he took every Lagsturns member with him, which he wasn't.
Five minutes later, he slowed down and rode beside Duck. "Take the next exit, double back, and continue the ride to Cali. Get your bike back in the state before they catch your ass and throw you in the pen. Take the others with you. I'll meet you at the club," he yelled across the span of the highway lane.
Duck shook his head. "We stick together."
"It's an order," he said over the wind. "Call ahead, and make sure the truck continues to the meeting. I need that load brought in."
"Fuck. That's suicide." Duck's face hardened in disagreement, but raised his hand, made a circle with his wrist, and then sped up to lead the others home.
Raul dropped back and moved over to the right hand lane. He counted his men, and followed behind them. One by one, they veered off the highway and he rode on. Garcia would time him. He knew exactly how long it would take him to ride to the meeting point, and know if he stopped along the way.
He only had one way to make his call to protect Crystal and end his job. Steering with one hand, he dug in his pocket, and called the number he knew by heart. Then he yelled the code into the phone over the wind and traffic. Out of his jurisdiction, his team would track him by the GPS installed inside his motorcycle frame. The damn thing had ridden with him for over eight years, and not once picked up by the club's scanning device.
"I'm ten minutes away from Courtland Street, Nogales Arizona. Send a takedown squad in, everyone you can find. Possible hostage situation with no idea how many will be there. They'll be armed. I've got Guillermo Garcia of the Los Li. I repeat, I've got Guillermo Garcia of the Los Li. You've got once chance or I'm dead."
"Affirmative. We've got a location now. ETA twenty-four minutes," the voice on the other end of the phone said.
"I also need a squad at 71324 Baltimore Lane, Tacoma Washington. Call Pierce county sheriff to assist. I need a woman by the name of Crystal Rose picked up and held in security," Raul said.
"Los Li accomplice?"
"No." Raul dropped his arm holding the phone and signaled to exit the highway. When he was on the off-ramp, he continued. "She's my woman, and she won't go with you without putting up a fight. I don't care what you do to convince her to go with you, but if you fucking hurt her, I'll come back and kill you."
"Is she in danger—?"
"Fuck yeah, she's in danger," he yelled. "Get a team on her now, first thing. Then come in and pick up Garcia and his men. I'm out."
He hurled the phone onto the asphalt, breaking it apart, then veered left and cut across the road on a yellow light. A lifetime of waiting to take down this bastard and nothing would stop him from getting the job done, even if he had to do everything himself.
Crystal's time was running out. Garcia wanted her now, and he had to make sure he couldn't get to her.
He mentally went through his pockets, his bag on the bitch seat, and glanced down at the black spotless fork on the bike. Nothing on him or the motorcycle would give away who he was and what position he held in this meeting. If everything went according to plan, he could take Garcia out himself before he got a whiff of the setup.
Nothing ever went down the way it was supposed to, and he had no idea the number of men Garcia would have watching his back.
While the Mexican Mafia's power was inside the prison yards scattered across the states, they excelled at gathering an army to fight on the outside by criminals and desperate men having nothing to live for but an extra grand in their wallet. Nothing about the meeting felt good. The odds were against him.
Three blocks and one red light later, Raul studied the tire shop from the intersection of Courtland and Palmer Street. The four double doors were open and business went on as usual. The customers loitering around the front and inside were blind to who was waiting in the back.
The light turned green. He gassed the throttle and went down Palmer Street, turning right down the alley into the back loading area of the garage. Garcia stood waiting for him by the backdoor. Raul parked twenty feet away, taking the time and distance to scan his surroundings.
Ten more minutes and he hoped to have the area swarmed with a swat team.
Garcia pushed away from the door and held out his hand. "A successful trip, I hear."
"Yeah." Raul accepted the congratulations. "A few moments of being followed when we hit the mile 46 through Cali, but we called in our brothers to distract them and continued on."
Garcia gazed up and down the street. "I don't hear your men."
"I sent them on. It's better if we split up, so our trip isn't tagged by the state police." Raul patted his chest, searching for a cigarette in of his T-shirt pocket. "You got a smoke on you? It's been a long trip. I'm out."
Garcia whistled, grabbing the attention of one of the tire shop workers. "Bring Mr. Sanchez a cigarette."
The twenty-ish year old man quickly nodded and jogged inside the building. Raul gazed at Garcia. He had to stall and buy himself more time.
"Thanks, man," Raul said, lifting the hem of his shirt. "The truck should be here with the delivery in a few minutes. I sent him around through the truck route, while I cut through town to warn you of the delivery. I wasn't sure what kind of setup you had or who was around that we'd have to get by, you understand."
The padded envelope he'd received from the drop on the girls, duct taped to his side, was a constant reminder of what was on the line. He picked at the tape, pinching the ratted edge, and ripped the package from his body. He grunted, winching from the sting on skin that'd gone tender in the heat during the ride.
"It's all here." Raul handed the payment over. "Delivered the girls, and returned with the shipment."
Garcia gazed at him as he extracted a knife from his pocket and cut into the pouch. Raul watched him thumb through the stack of bills. Over five hundred grand for girls worth much more than money.
The chug of a diesel engine grew louder. Raul glanced behind him.
Damn.
The truck was right on schedule, and he estimated he still had five minutes before the squad showed up. He lifted his chin, pointed to the side of the lot, and hoped Garcia wasn't in any hurry.
"Excellent." Garcia strode toward the truck and trailer. "It seems you hold to your word, Sanchez. I respect that in a man when I do business."
"You hired the Lagsturns. It's what we do." Raul walked away ten feet, took the offered cigarette from the young man, and pulled a lighter out of his pocket. "Thanks,
amigo
."
His hand shook as he flicked the flame. He inhaled deeply, hoping for a calm he wasn't feeling and time he couldn't afford. Two more drags, and he walked back to Garcia's side. "I'll take my guy and let you inspect the merchandise."
"No need." Garcia whistled.
Three men from the garage hustled out of the building, went directly to the truck, and pulled up the retracting door in the trailer, disappearing inside. Raul pretended interest in sucking down more nicotine. Four men at Garcia's command, and he had no idea how many more were inside.
The odds were beginning to stack up against him.
Tango climbed down out of the cab of the truck. Raul strolled over. It'd taken an order to get him to drive the truck, but he had proof he was working for Garcia on the side and he wanted him close and away from Crystal.
"Hey." Raul pulled up beside him. "Unhook the trailer and pull out. Park on the street and free up the lot for customers, and get away from that fucking trailer. I'll escort you back to the club when I'm finished."
"Shouldn't I wait around?" Tango glanced between the truck and Garcia. "What if something's wrong with the shipment?"
"Nothing's wrong. I counted it myself." Raul slapped the back of his hand on Tango's chest. "Head out."
There was no room for someone riding the fence. He rather face the Mafia alone, than worry if Tango would stab him in the back.
Men who rode for the benefits of making money on the side deserved what they got. It wasn't lost on him how Tango cornered Crystal when she came back home, or the fear he put in her eyes. He'd killed men for less, and Tango would pay if he were tight with Garcia.
A distant siren came to him. He hurried his pace and approached Garcia who was talking to one of the men who'd investigated the shipment.
"Everything okay?" Raul nodded in acknowledgement to the other man.
"I'm satisfied." Garcia watched Tango drive the truck away. "Now we have another matter that must be settled."
"Right." Raul glanced down at the cigarette between his fingers that'd burnt to the filter. He tossed it to the side. "We agreed on a hundred grand for the shipment, and I still need half of what's owed us for the girls."
Garcia stepped forward. "After I get your woman."
Where was his fucking backup?
"You're not getting her until the money is in my hand. We've already gone over the terms of payment and my request. You agreed." Raul shook his head. "Don't play me. She's worth a hell of a lot more than a shipment of blow. I want on your route for future deliveries. Next transport, you sign the Lagsturns."
The sirens disappeared. Raul's heart raced. What the hell was going on? He'd stalled as long as he could, and it'd been longer than twenty minutes.
Appearing calm and cool despite the heat, Garcia stared him down. He kept his gaze on Garcia, while sweat beaded his forehead.
"I held up my end of the job," Raul said.
Garcia's eyes narrowed and he yelled, "Bring her out."
The unknown squeezed Raul's chest. Motion came from the left, and he whipped his gaze to the back of the garage, and died. Crystal stumbled at the hands of a man he'd never seen before. He took in her tear stained face, the fight still in her as she tugged against her captive without breaking free. His gaze ran over her body, the tank she'd worn this morning when she'd left with Nichols, the mussed hair, the flushed cheeks.
She lifted her chin, spotted Raul, and cried out before struggling in earnest. Rage filled Raul. He swung around, hand going for Garcia's throat, and met the hollow end of a pistol.