THIRTEEN
“It’s called a Snake Slayer,” Deria said from the passenger seat. “It’s a Derringer .45.”
“I know what it is.” Get away from the lake was half of what Vern thought. The other half: “You were good with it.” He had the car turned around, going he didn’t know where. Away from the lake.
“Surprised?” Deria didn’t feel a chill but she was cold, inside and out. “I need a drink.”
“Me too,” Vern said. “Soon as we make the peace, we’ll have plenty.”
“Make the peace? Ain’t that up to Keene and Joey?”
“I talk to Keene. Keene makes the peace.”
“So we’re going to Keene?” Deria said.
“The Marriott,” Vern said. “I check your room, leave you there until I’m done with Keene, then come back.”
“Why?”
“Everyone you talked to about the rip-off is dead. You stay in your room, dead people take the blame.”
“What if you don’t sell Keene?”
“You’re in the clear,” Vern said. “Wait awhile. I don’t know how long this will take.”
The Marriott was only a few miles away. To Vern, it felt like he was running the distance.
Deria’s voice dropped. “You saw what I did in there.”
“Yeah,” Vern said. “And I want you around. In case you need to do it again.”
“And if I don’t?” Like that was what she cared about.
Vern smirked, like it was some sweet romantic moment. “That too.”
Fuck “that too,” Deria thought. “What if they come after you? Who else has a gun on your side?”
Vern didn’t answer, drove toward downtown. They closed in on the Marriott. Downtown was right next to Chinatown. No one knew about Deria, as far as he knew. But maybe Chen had talked. Motherfucker always talked.
Vern switched from the right lane to the left, got to the light and made a U-turn.
Deria didn’t bother smiling to herself; this wasn’t happiness, this was relief. And desire, and she didn’t know what for. She had feared sharing Vern’s violent life, now she feared she craved it more than he did. She had killed, and she wanted to kill again.
Vern parked two blocks from Keene’s, handed Deria the keys on the sidewalk—she’d follow on foot but might have to escape by car—and told her the address. “Keep a block between us,” he said. “Don’t take any chances. Keene’s men are trained killers.”
“Guess I’m just a natural then.”
“So are they. And there’s a lot of them. Give me a block.”
He turned, she waited. No kisses, no handshakes, no wishes of luck. She appreciated all that. Professional killer etiquette. When he was a block away, Deria followed. With his longer strides he pulled away. Deria maintained a steady pace, kept Vern in sight, adjusted her glasses when they slid down her nose.
Vern walked to Keene’s. He didn’t know what waited for him there, hoped Deria stayed back far enough if everything went to pieces. The dead men wouldn’t have been discovered yet. He’d bring that news. Good news, assuming Joey hadn’t gone ballistic about Hsieh.
Vern walked to Keene’s. Guards would escort him to the front door when he got to the gate, if he wasn’t seen through a rifle scope before then. Joey’s people could be anywhere. It was a short walk made long by the knowledge that danger could only come at him, it couldn’t come from him. If he died it would be at a random moment, without ever seeing his killer, without the time to think that they had no reason to kill him. There was a reason but it wouldn’t be one they had. They couldn’t know he protected Deria and she’d helped set up the rip-off. That was all on Turman and Chen. Maybe if he hadn’t grabbed Hsieh to find that out…
But it was the only way.
Vern walked to Keene’s. He was almost there now, Deria a block behind. It was unlikely he’d be killed at Keene’s. That would mean hauling a corpse from there. Keene wasn’t sloppy enough for that. So this was the last block that might be his last block. This would be where Joey would know to expect him, but if they fired on him here they’d also have to be prepared for return fire. It seemed unlikely that Joey would start a war with a battle he might lose.
Keene’s men let Vern in at the gate. Only two guards escorted him to the front door, where it was the usual scene, nothing special. They let Vern in, he refused to be frisked, and two guards walked him down the hall. He’d get admonished at worst, for ditching Leo and going against Keene’s wishes. Vern could explain himself. He wouldn’t get killed for it.
They reached the room where Keene sat in wait.
Vern walked in ahead of the guards.
“Do you have my money?” Keene said.
“Never when I think someone might shoot me.” Vern didn’t sit. A guard put a hand on his shoulder and pushed down. Vern shrugged it off, stayed on his feet.
“The Joey problem is being dealt with,” Keene said from his chair.
“When I’m safe you get your money back. Minus expenses.”
“Expenses?”
“I got paid to make an exchange,” Vern said. “All this bullshit since is on you and Joey. I’m solid with you. But I don’t pay for anyone else’s mistakes.”
Vern’s hands were at his sides, his pistol holstered on his hip. The guards behind him held their pistols in their hands.
“You don’t always play things smart,” Keene said.
“I don’t get fucked,” Vern said. “But I ain’t here to fight. We need to talk. Alone.”
“We’re alone.”
“These boys,” Vern tipped his head back, “might mean nothing to you, but they got ears.”
Keene nodded. “Everyone into the hall.”
The thugs showed no surprise, didn’t hesitate, left the room.
Vern knew how hard it was to hear through these walls. That didn’t mean they weren’t being recorded. He sat down. “Turman didn’t make it.”
“You asking?” Keene said. “He ain’t here.”
“He didn’t make it,” Vern said, “like in wartime. Don’t look for him at Possum’s.”
“He there?”
Vern nodded. “And he ain’t alone. How you dealing with Joey?”
“Delivered Hsieh. Told Joey I was cleaning house and found rats.” Keene paused. “Hsieh might be out of work by now. You will be too if I don’t get my money soon. And you know me and Joey. We got lousy retirement plans.”
“It’s safe out there?”
“If you get me my money,” Keene said.
“I’ll get you your money.”
“When?”
“I can have it in an hour.”
Vern got out, saw Deria across the street. He didn’t cross, walked toward the car.
Deria walked that way too. She’d have waited a minute, but lingering outside Keene’s house would invite trouble she couldn’t handle.
Vern reached the car, got in behind the wheel. Deria crossed the street and joined him. “I’m giving Keene the money,” Vern said.
Deria nodded, she already knew that. “Where do I hide? In case it’s a double cross.”
Vern shook his head. “There won’t be. I trust Keene.” He started the engine. “He gets the money in an hour.”
Deria’s eyebrows went up. “But the money’s right here. If you’re just giving it back…”
Vern pulled away from the curb. “Keene thinks I stashed it somewhere. If I go back too fast and they see you with me, they might figure you were in on it.”
“So where are we going?”
“Fruitvale first. I need a burrito. Then I drop you at my place. Stay there and you’re safe. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”
“I want to go with you,” Deria said. “If they try to kill you, I want to be there.”
“If Keene decides to kill me, there’s nothing you can do.” Vern felt worn out from the killings he’d done already. He liked violence, he liked action and risk. This was different. Deria smiled at him, white teeth gleaming, blood in her eyes. He didn’t like it but he knew he loved her.
She’d killed one man. She liked it too much. She didn’t understand the trap you were in when you chose a life of violence. He looked at that blood-loving smile again.
“We kill who we need to kill,” Deria said.
Shit. He was the one who hadn’t understood.