“I’m sorry about clocking you like that, Kirby, but I didn’t think you’d have given him up on your own.”
“Given who up, Roselita? What’s going on? What are you doing?” The blur at the edges of Dane’s vision began to clear and he could make out more details of the room he was in. It was a nice room. He was on a sofa—real leather. Long red curtains ran all the way from ornate brass rods to the floor, filling the room with filtered sunlight—explaining all the red. A large antique china cabinet took up almost a full wall filled with old metallic-rimmed dishes. He’d been in here before, but it had been a long time ago. He knew for sure when he saw the oval-shaped window cut out of the center of the front door. He could make out the huge letter H etched in the glass, but from the inside this time. He was in Eddie Rockdale’s house. “Roselita, why are we here? Why the hell did you hit me? Where’s the boy?”
“I’m just doing what I’m told, Kirby. You should’ve just left it alone back at the motel like you wanted to. Now look how fucked-up it’s gotten. I didn’t have a choice.”
“A choice about what? Where the hell is William and why are we here?” Dane pulled at the zip ties. His head hurt like a son of a bitch.
“She’s here because I asked her to meet me here. She’s my guest.” Eddie turned the corner and entered the living room from the kitchen. He was holding two glasses of whiskey—no ice. He handed one to Roselita. “Damn, Kirby, you got some shitty luck. First that shit with your family, ouch, killing your own wife and daughter? That shit right there would make a lesser man eat a bullet, but not you. You stuck it out and was working on a new life but now look at you, all tied up in my living room involved in something else that is gonna leave a bullet in you. It’s sad, really. I mean, I was just going to take you out back and shoot you before you woke up, let Tater toss you in the incinerator, but your girl Roselita here asked me not to. Not that it matters. There isn’t a way this goes down that lets you live, and she knows that. I don’t know what she’s waiting for.” Eddie took a seat on the leather sofa and slapped a gold ring–covered hand down on Dane’s knee. He licked his teeth. “Maybe Mamacita is sweet on you, Kirby.”
“Killing him isn’t your decision to make, Rockdale.”
“Whatever you say, Velasquez, but you know your boy is going to kill him no matter how sweet on him you are. He has to.” Eddie stood up and tossed back the whiskey, but Roselita set her glass on the table. “He’s not my boy. He’s my partner. And this is only business, so why don’t you shut the fuck up until he gets here.” Roselita was holding her gun. The same gun she’d hit Dane with at the zoo. Eddie licked his teeth again. It was strange to see him keep his temper under control. No one spoke to him like that if they knew him, much less a woman or a stranger.
Unless they aren’t strangers.
Dane’s head was swimming. “What’s with the gun, Roselita? What’s he talking about? Did you two already know each other before last night? Was all this one big act? And where the hell is William Blackwell?”
Roselita nodded to a closed set of French doors leading to another part of the house. “He’s fine, Dane. He’s in there. And no, I didn’t know this gold-mouthed asshole before yesterday, but apparently plans changed. I didn’t want anything to do with this, but it is what it is.”
“Why don’t you tell him everything, Velasquez? He’s going to find out soon enough anyway.” Eddie crouched down in front of Dane again. He was still groggy and the sound of Eddie sucking his teeth made his stomach roll.
“Listen, Rose, whatever is going on here, I know you’re not okay with it. I know you’re not one of these—these—”
“These what?” Eddie asked and stared directly into Dane’s eyes.
“These killers.”
Eddie looked offended. “I ain’t killed nobody, Kirby. Not yet, anyway.” He stood up to refill his glass and Dane could feel the warped piece of metal in his pocket—the high-caliber slug that had been with him every day for the past twelve years. It pressed against his leg, and the feel of it made him struggle even harder against his restraints. He stopped when Lydia came into the room through the French doors. She held an empty plastic cup and walked into the kitchen as if there wasn’t another woman in the room with her husband holding a gun and a man she knew tied and bound on her sofa. She turned a corner where Dane couldn’t see her, but he could hear her open the fridge and refill the tumbler. When she came back into the room the cup was full. She stayed quiet and returned to the other room. Dane caught a glimpse of William sitting on a loveseat when she opened the door. She tried not to look, but Dane caught her eyes before she closed the door. Her face was pink, and her eyes were red. She’d been crying. She mouthed the words “I’m sorry,” and then she was gone.
“So what now, Eddie? You plan on doing what Arnie did? You gonna use the boy to get yourself killed next?”
“I’m gonna use that boy to get myself rich, Kirby. You and I both know I’ve got a little more up here than his idiot brother.” Eddie tapped at the side of his head. “As soon as Uncle Casper gets back here with the money, he belongs to me—lock, stock, and barrel.” He picked up a bottle of bourbon and poured it in his glass.
Dane squirmed. “C’mon, Roselita. You don’t really think these guys are going to pay you for something they already have, do you? You can still turn this around.”
“Just stop talking, Kirby.”
“Yeah. Easy, Kirby, I ain’t the bad guy here. Your people came to me. They set all this up. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Too bad I can’t say the same thing about you. You see, this was all supposed to go down real easy. My boy Bobby, my main man who is always bringing me the kush—well, he was supposed to bring me the boy once that dipshit Arnold was airborne. See, Bobby hated that guy, used to bang his girl or some shit back in the day, so he made a deal with me way before the Slasher even went down—but dumbass Bobby got a little money-drunk and went home first instead to do a little partying. That little decision got hisself and all his buddies killed. Damn shame, too. He had the best weed in the motherfucking state. And since dead men tell no tales and shit, nobody knew where the kid was—until you, Kirby. I gotta say, you one hella detective. Almost makes me sad to see you go, you know? All that wasted potential and whatnot.” Eddies mouth gleamed with spit-slickened gold.
Roselita stuck her gun into the holster on her hip. “Where’s the money, Rockdale? Your man’s been gone a long time. If you’re thinking of fucking us over, you’re going to end up worse than your good pal Bobby Turo.”
Eddie picked up a walkie-talkie from the table and mashed the button. “Tater, pick up. Where the hell is Casper? He should’ve been back already.” He waited but didn’t get a reply. “Tater, pick up.”
Still nothing.
He set the radio back down and pulled a rifle off a rack on the wall. He chambered a round and downed the fresh shot of whiskey in his glass. “I’m going out to the barn. You watch this one and remember your place in all this, girlie. Remember what you’ve got to lose if you do anything to jeopardize this deal.”