Page 5

RORIC

I get off the interstate and drive toward downtown Santa Fe. The hotel is a smaller, independently owned building off the hustle and bustle of Main Street. Tall pine trees surround the little adobe building. The front of the hotel faces the street, and the back is hidden by the wings of the four-story hotel, with a door in the center that most likely leads to the lobby. Hitting the call button, Fingers answers. “Hello, Roric.”

“Hey. Whatcha’ got?”

“She was at the Pinion Hotel in Santa Fe, but the cops reported that she’s gone. There was a shooting.”

“What? What the fuck?”

“Some guy entered her room and hotel security shot him. She wasn’t in the room, but came in after. She got a different room and then disappeared.”

“Who was the shooter?”

“I’m looking into that. He looks like a biker. His patch on the back of his jacket reads ‘Las Vegas,’ and there’s some kind of skull.

“How’d you know it was her?”

“I’ve got an open internet search that pulls anything that could be about her. The detectives included her description. Not many small women have bikers break into their rooms.”

“Find out who he is, and who he’s working for.” I blow out the breath I’ve been holding. “How the hell did she disappear, Fingers? Hotels are covered in cameras.”

“It appears the cameras weren’t working in the lobby and some exterior areas. They turn on and off regularly.”

I sigh. “Someone helped her escape?”

“That’s my guess. The cops focused on the dead shooter, and let her go without questions.”

“Okay. Any leads on where she went?”

“No. She’s gone.”

I slam my fists on the steering wheel, studying the navigation on the dash. “Fuck. I’ll go see what I can find out.”

“Sounds good man. I’ll keep looking.”

After a drive, I park the SUV and step out, scanning the parking lot for people and cameras. Stepping through the door, the reception area is just to my right. There’s an older woman standing behind the counter typing on a computer. Movement catches my eye. Kids and parents scramble around the small room off to the side. It’s breakfast and my stomach growls on cue.

The woman lifts her head and smiles. It’s not a very convincing smile. Either she doesn’t like people or something about me makes her leery. “Good morning.”

I bust out my best smile, adding a twinkle to my eyes. “Hi. I’d like a room.”

She nods. “It’s a bit early for check-in.”

It’s time to charm the woman and get a room along with information. I saunter closer to where she is standing behind the counter. “I’ll pay extra. The road has made me bone-deep tired, been traveling.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ll just need a room until tomorrow morning, but I’ll pay for two days.”

She gestures with her hand. “No worries, we’ve got the room.”

A man approaches from the elevator and slams his keycard on the counter. “I should get a free room after the shooting. Fucking ridiculous.”

She frowns. “I’m sorry. We can’t be held responsible for things out of our control. The perpetrator was handled before he could hurt anyone. Our security is top-notch.”

“Ha. Whatever. Going to blast you on the reviews.” He storms off, giving me the segue into asking some questions.

I whisper. “A shooting?”

She sighs. “Yes. Please don’t go. It’s never happened before, and only the shooter was hurt. Well killed.”

I lean against the desk. “Was he after someone?”

She stiffens and licks her lips. “He stumbled into the wrong room. No one was hurt.”

I look around like I’ll tell her a secret. “I’m sorry the guy gave you a hard time. The only person who deserves a free room is the occupant of the room he went into.”

She nods, her smile lifting. “Yes. Right. She was so scared, poor little thing, and who could blame her.”

“Did your security people figure out where he was intending to be?”

Shaking her head, she moves up to type on the computer. “No, and the girl left a few days ago, so it’s over now.”

Damn. Turn on the charm. “I hope she went to a place full of fun distractions. Something like this can affect you long term.”

“Not sure where she went.” She turns her focus to the computer and the fake I.D. I handed her.

I take out my phone to text Fingers and see if he’s accessed the hotel computer system.

“Here’s your identification, Mr. Reynolds. We need a credit card on file.”

Handing her a card to match my fake I.D., I lean against the counter and glance around. Worn carpet, old drapes, and cracked tile let me know this used to be a nice hotel. It’s the type of hotel that national chains absorb to get a foothold in a particular area.

She smiles as she hands me my card and the keycard to my room. “Breakfast starts at six and ends at nine in the morning, just across the lobby.”

I nod and lug my bags to the elevator, ready to put the day behind me.

The next morning, I stretch as I get out of bed to head to the shower. I wasn’t lying. I needed sleep. Downstairs in the lobby, people bounce around the food area putting various items on plates. Chattering children and their parents trying to corral them like feral cats annoy me. I just want to get some food, find out if anyone has seen Rosa, and get the hell back on the road.

The couple next to me with two of the more obnoxious children chat about the shooting. I sit down with my plate of food, listening.

“Have you seen the woman they were talking about?”

The woman answers. “No. The lady at the desk said she left. Who could blame her? Could you imagine having some random person with a gun in your hotel room?”

The man nods. “I chatted with the dark-haired security guy who shot the guy. He said he had a knife and a gun.” Shuddering, he continues repeating what he was told. “He thinks he was after the girl. The video system was down in the hotel, so they didn’t see the guy in advance. Someone reported the man.”

She scoffs. “I saw the girl. She was sweet. Jasmine ran into her in the hallway, and she was so kind to her: reassuring her it was okay.”

The man leans back in his chair while he tilts his head. “Bad things happen to good people all the time, baby. I’m sure she’s moved on to better times.”

It takes me just a few minutes to finish my breakfast. Throwing away my plate, I saunter by the room marked security and dial Fingers.

“Hello?”

“Did you hack the system?” I scan the area for anyone to hear.

“Yeah. Nothing. The cameras were down for about fifteen minutes. I can’t tell why. I suspect someone blocked them.”

“Thanks.” I hang up my phone and head back to my room to pack. If the cameras were blocked, then whoever was after the girl knew what he was doing and/or he had help.

It’s late afternoon as I pull into my father’s estate and crack my neck. It’s been a long week. The little waif has disappeared. Fingers can’t find a digital trace, and I can’t find her trail. Stepping into my father’s foyer, I nod at the soldier standing to the left of his office door. Another new face I don’t recognize. He moves to stop me until he catches my stare. I learned how to put underlings in their place with a look by the master. Speaking of the devil, he walks through the door as I’m reaching for the knob.

“Roric?” He looks around me. “You’re back?”

“Yeah. Can’t find her.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “The hunter can’t find his prey. That’s unusual for you.”

“Don’t I know it.” We step back into his study and each grab a seat. “Fucking pisses me off that I can’t find her.”

My father, the Bravikov Pakhan, folds his arms over his chest. “She’ll turn up. I’m curious who was there to kill her, though.”

“That intrigues me as well.”

My father chuckles. “I’m just as glad to have you home. Family business needs you.”

I can only imagine what I’m needed for. “Should I go see Cynric?”

His face hardens as he picks up his phone on the desk. “I’m texting you an address. I need you to train a new soldier.”

“So, I’m babysitting?”

He growls. “You’re doing what I fucking tell you.”

“Yes, Papa. I didn’t mean to disrespect.”

He waves his hand at me. “Go in the morning.”

I stand from the dismissal. I know better than to show my feelings to my father. He’s hard… but fair. He loved my mother and treats those in the bratva fairly. My mind drifts to Rosa. Did whoever sent the shooter track her down, or is she just that good hiding out?

I’ve been working with Johnny, a putz my father invited to join the Bravikov Bratva three weeks before. He’s hopeless. He was hired to take on some of my smaller jobs and give me time to work on more lucrative contracts. Contracts. I chuckle. Papa has an assassination list acquired from other criminal organizations. Other leaders pay him to fix their problems. Nine out of ten times, it’s someone they want murdered. My specialty. Assassinations provide an effective way to make ourselves indispensable to other organizations. Not to mention the skeletons we can dig up, so to speak, when we need to hold things over the heads of another group. I chuckle to myself. Who knew I’d be the Jay-Z of murder?

My phone rings as I drive back to my father’s estate. “Hello?”

“She’s running again.”

“Hello, Fingers. Where?”

“She’s been outside of Albuquerque for a while. Someone tracked her down and tried to kill her again.”

I blow out a big breath. “It’s got to be the cartel. I just don’t get why they want to kill their kin.”

“I can’t explain it either, but they’ve been on the phone with Cynric and your father.”

“Text me what you’ve got. I’ll head back to the area in a couple hours.”

Eight hours later, I’m driving into the asphalt parking lot of the establishment our girl ran from. I step out of my stolen SUV and strut across the parking lot. There is minimal activity, but I need to stay on my game and scan my surroundings. Pushing open the two wood doors, my nose is bombarded with the smell of Cajun. My mouth waters, reminding me that I haven’t eaten in a long time. The restaurant looks like an old barn with homey, country touches spread around. A massive mirror sits behind the counter with bottles of liquor reflecting the light. On the far end of the long counter, a large glass lighted container shows off various baked goods. I’m taking in the eclectic décor with hard metal surrounded by country charm as a sweet voice welcomes me.

“Good evening. Dinner or the bar?”

My eyes scan to the direction of her hand pointing to a doorway leading into a large dark room.

“This is the restaurant. Good food and bright lighting. That door is the passage to the dark.” She giggles. “Seriously, it’s the bar. They’re open until two, and we close at nine.”

I flick my watch. It’s twenty minutes to nine. I grab a seat at the bar. “What’s the spectacular Cajun dish I smell?”

Her eyes light up. “Oh, that’s jambalaya.”

“I’ll take a bowl of that, a cup of coffee – black, and a slice of the berry pie in the container.”

She beams. “Well, aren’t you sweet, choosing items I already have in hand rather than have to make. Coming right up.”

Boisterous noises in the bar area catch my attention as she walks back with my coffee. “Do you get a lot of trouble ‘round here?”

She shakes her head, then stops. “Not usually.” She leans down to whisper. “We had an incident the other day with some bikers. They roughed up our owner and scared the bejesus out of the rest of us.”

I sip my coffee. “That’s awful. Does that mean they’ll be coming around again?” I turn my head back and forth with a concerned look.

“I don’t think so. The server they were looking for isn’t here anymore.” She clicks her tongue. “Poor little thing. She’s got some nasty boyfriend chasing her or something. I guess he hired the biker guys to find her. She barely got away.” She moves away to head around the counter and into the kitchen. After a few more sips of coffee, she and a man, wearing a long white apron, step out of the kitchen. The man’s jaw is tight as he wipes his hands on his partially clean apron.

“You nosy or something?”

I pretend to startle from his question as I shake my head. My long sleeves cover my tattoos. No one would suspect I was anything but a traveling businessman. “Me? Oh, no. Just asked about the ruckus in the bar next door and the server shared that you had some issues with bikers.” I lean in. “I stay away from bikers.”

He crosses his arms across his chest as the server sets down a large bowl of brown liquid with vegetables and meat. Nodding, he flicks his head to the bar. “They’re trouble. You’d be wise to stay away.”

I dive my spoon into the aromatic dish and scoop out a bite. Nodding before I take the spoon between my lips. “Oh. This is divine. Reminds me of Mulate’s in N’orlens.”

His mouth shifts into a slow smile. “You’ve been to N’orlens?”

“Yes. Sir. Spent a few years in the Navy there. Loved it, but couldn’t work out enough to keep trim. I love my Cajun!”

The man beams from the compliment as he skips off while I devour my food. The server sets down my pie. “Forgive Marcel, he’s crusty.”

“He’s the chef?”

She waves her hand with a huge smile. “Oh, he’d love that. Yeah. He’s the cook. Been here forever. He and the owner go way back.”

I taste the first bite of berry pie and relish the sweet explosion in my mouth. “This is good.”

“Yeah? The waitress who left taught me how to make them. Never would have thought someone who looked like a supermodel would be such a dynamo in the kitchen.”

I nod. “Supermodel?”

“Yeah. She looks like a fairytale princess, and she’s got a hunter, get it? Like Sleeping Beauty.”

“You mean Snow White.”

She chuckles as she walks to get the pot to refill my coffee. “I’ll miss her.”

“Won’t she be back? I mean, the boyfriend will realize she’s not his anymore and give up.”

“No.” Her smile dims. “She wanted to get back to Mexico with her family, but was afraid they’d track her down. I asked her why his whole family was involved in tracking her down, and she didn’t have an answer.” She shrugs.

“You seemed to like her well enough.”

“Oh, I did. Everyone loves her. She’s a princess.”

“Do you know where she decided to go?”

The server leans against the counter. “She said maybe she’d stopover in Phoenix and stay with an old friend.”

I smile at the server as I toss down a hundred-dollar bill. “Thank you for your excellent service.” Glancing at my watch, it’s just in time for her to close. Strolling to my SUV, I call Fingers. Not waiting for him to respond when answering. I blurt out. “Phoenix. Who does she know in Phoenix?”

Fingers clicks away on the other end of the call. I can imagine he’s got his tongue leaning out of his mouth to one side as he studies his screen. “A model friend.”

“I need the info and a flight now. Charter me one if necessary. Heading to Albuquerque now.”