Chapter Thirteen

Jamie circled Erin’s building one final time before pulling her Tahoe into a space a block away. The building, a three-story brick warehouse, seemed like an ideal candidate for restoration. With a few financial resources and attention, the place could easily convert into a revived downtown monument. Erin had once mentioned turning it into something more than a drain on her account, but for the moment, it remained just that.

Jamie searched for signs of Cookie’s car, but she had clearly arrived first. She sent him a text asking for an ETA, and he answered not by return text but by pulling his car in behind hers. He exited and remained in a crouched position as he walked toward Jamie’s front passenger’s door. After struggling to get inside, he slammed the door too loudly for Jamie’s liking.

“Your ninja skills are slipping, Cookie,” she whispered.

“Like you’ve got room to talk,” he said in hushed tones. “I’m not the one that dropped a glass bottle on the Gipson stakeout.”

She fixed her eyes on the steering wheel, not daring to make eye contact after that comment. “I thought I had it, okay?” She glanced his way, unable to keep a straight face. “Boy, you jumped like a scared cat when that happened.” Her voice changed to a more serious tone. “You bring Arnold?”

Cookie patted his jacket pocket. “Loaded and ready for trouble.”

Unlike Jamie, Cookie didn’t carry his piece all the time, even though he should have, considering the company they sometimes tailed. Most jobs didn’t require firepower—Cookie’s size and considerable intimidation skills proved plenty effective. Jamie, on the other hand, felt exposed without her messenger bag complete with firearm and random tools of the trade, including a lock-picking kit and a deck of cards.

“What the hell is going on? Did Erin explain anything?”

Jamie shook her head. “No idea. I sent her a text letting her know I was out here, but I haven’t heard back yet. Something’s definitely not right. You know how she is.”

“She’s not much for ordering people around. It’s like having a sorority girl for a bookie.”

“She’s all smiles until you stiff her. Then she sends Becky after you.”

They continued their banter about Erin and what might have been wrong, but it was soon interrupted when Jamie’s phone pinged. She checked the screen. “It’s from Erin. She’s telling us to move quietly toward the back door of the building. Walk, no cars.”

Jamie and Cookie left her car and walked casually as though they belonged on the back street at night. Successful surveillance was all about confidence, and Cookie had that role down. Jamie looped her arm through Cookie’s as if they were a couple. They’d done that routine on countless jobs before and had even joked about how it always felt a bit weird since their relationship was closer to that of siblings. They’d been friends and worked together long enough that they could anticipate each other’s moves, ideas, and on-the-fly ridiculous schemes. Jamie could begin making up a story, and Cookie could finish it and make it believable. They completed each other’s sentences like an old married couple.

As they neared the building, they stayed on the opposite side of the street until the last possible moment. A small flashlight flicker caught Jamie’s eye. She tapped Cookie’s arm and pulled him with her across the street. They increased their stride, hoping to make it inside before walking into unexpected trouble.

Entry to the building was through a large metal door that had hinges spattered with rust layers and deterioration. The door was a foreboding thing, and Jamie felt as though its purpose was solely to keep people out. She forced the full weight of her body into prying it open enough to slip through. Once she succeeded, Cookie braced himself against the door in an attempt to gain enough access to squeeze through the opening. After making his way inside, he left it open a crack, probably concerned the door wouldn’t yield a second time if it were to latch shut.

The room they entered felt vast, empty, and humid—clearly a warehouse—with some metal stairs and walkways dotting the perimeter. The concrete floors and open space resembled every other warehouse Jamie had ever visited save for the one item in the middle of the room.

A young woman sat handcuffed to a metal chair, a slice of ratty duct tape covering her mouth, her ankles bound in a similar manner. Her eyes were wide but calm, darting from Jamie to Cookie and back. Jamie’s first instinct was to comfort the woman, to tell her it was okay, but she knew better than to reach out before she understood what they had walked into.

Who was this woman, and how had she ended up in Erin’s building? Jamie had never thought of Erin as the kidnapping type. She knew there had to be another explanation because there was no way Erin would have been willingly involved in something so sordid.

Erin came out from behind a concrete pillar in the corner of the room, her slim figure breaking the darkness. “Boxer told me he had a delivery and needed the building tomorrow, so I came here to give everything a look and check the security system, and I walked in to find this… uh, her.” She glanced at the woman. “Sorry.”

Jamie gestured to the woman then looked at her friend. “Erin, what the hell are you doing working with Boxer?” Jamie couldn’t believe Erin would make a deal with the devil’s mini-me.

“I didn’t have much choice,” Erin said, clearly rattled by Boxer’s threats. “He said he’d leave my clients alone if I let him use my building for a couple of deliveries. I didn’t completely trust him”—she signaled toward the captive woman—“and with good reason.”

Jamie moved slowly toward the woman, who didn’t flinch or move as Jamie neared. She seemed calm, almost unnervingly so. Slim frame but tall, long black hair messy from restraint, her eyes meeting Jamie’s without hesitation. Jamie placed her hand over the duct tape and prepared to pull, prefacing her action with, “This might sting.” She ripped off the tape, revealing a red ring of flushed skin similar to a clown’s mouth. Not a good look, but if it hurt, the woman didn’t show it. What on earth had Boxer done?

“Can you get these handcuffs off me?” she asked. “They said they were going out for supplies, but they’re coming back, and I know that’s not good for anybody here.”

Jamie reached into her bag and fished around until her hands came upon her lock-pick case. She pulled it out, unzipped it, and removed a slim metal tool. “Who are you, and why does Boxer have you here?”

The woman tried to wiggle her wrists free from the handcuffs binding her hands. “You don’t really want to know that, do you? Maybe it’s better if you keep out of this.”

“In my world, ignorance isn’t bliss. It just gets people in trouble. Keep your hands still.” Jamie fiddled with the handcuff lock for a few moments before she heard a click and felt a release. She pulled the cuffs apart, freeing the captive woman. “So, talk. We should at least know why Boxer held you hostage in Erin’s warehouse.”

Erin stood with her arms crossed, studying the woman. “For a woman who was shackled to a chair, you don’t seem too rattled. This a regular thing for you?”

She shrugged. “Where I come from, these are standard negotiating tactics. Now, getting some chains and going out on the Gulf—that makes me nervous.”

Erin continued to push. “So, what’s the deal with you and Boxer?”

Boxer’s prisoner ran her hand through the dark strands of her tangled hair. She then pulled on her black hoodie, straightening it as though it were wrinkled. “He’s trying to make a deal with my father, and it wasn’t going his way, so he hoped to make his point by making me disappear for a bit. I don’t think he’d seriously hurt me. He’s not that stupid, and I know he doesn’t want the wrath of Daddy Deltone to rain down on him.”

Cookie and Jamie looked at each other. The mystery woman just dropped the bomb of a big name as though it were an afterthought. Cookie straightened his stance, his eyes remaining on her. “You’re Deltone’s daughter?”

She nodded. “I’m the youngest, the least important by family standards, which is why Boxer was even able to get to me in the first place. My sister Eve—she’s untouchable. And smart people know better than to try.”

“So, she’s the next in line?” Jamie asked, working to get as much information about the Deltone family as possible. Boxer’s captive seemed to think that Deltone lore was common knowledge.

She nodded. “My father was never blessed with sons, but he doesn’t discriminate. He understands that women are as capable as men, sometimes more so. We have certain… advantages… that men don’t.”

“So Boxer is using you as leverage?” Erin asked. “For what?”

“I don’t think I should get too deep into the details of the family business.”

Cookie remained focused on her, his expression stern. “Anyone who follows your family’s turf wars on the island knows your reputation.”

Jamie watched Cookie’s rage slowly smolder and build. She could see it in the stiffness of his stance and the hardness in his face. He stepped closer to the woman, his eyes narrow and angry. “My brother was killed by a Deltone feud last year. I know something about how your family does business.”

Her eyes remained locked on his, her demeanor still calm. If she felt threatened or intimidated, she hid it well. “What was his name?” she asked simply, as though they were talking about the weather.

Cookie stood uncomfortably close to her, claiming her space. “Manny Hinojosa.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and looked right into Cookie’s angry eyes. “I liked Manny. Good kid. He didn’t belong in that group. He didn’t have the heart for this life.”

“You mean, because he had a heart at all?” Cookie’s tone was something Jamie rarely heard.

She nodded. “He wasn’t built for this work, and I’m very sorry for your loss. Like I said, I liked him.” She then said, “To clarify, he wasn’t hit by our family. Someone wanted to pin it on us to start something bigger.”

Cookie remained unconvinced. “He had a two-dollar bill in his pocket—your family’s calling card.”

She nodded. “True, but people who know that sometimes try to use it against us, get us mixed up in business that isn’t ours. Manny’s death? That wasn’t us.”

Jamie bit her lip as she listened to their exchange. Cookie rarely spoke about Manny’s death, but she knew he carried it with him every day, and Jamie had picked the scab by sharing the details of Kristen’s death. Cookie’s face strained, stern and tight. His stance was rigid, and his eyes were dark.

Jamie knew she needed to shift the conversation before the woman’s captors returned. “You owe me a favor now that we’ve released you.”

“Maybe,” she replied. “I’m not safe yet. We’re still here.”

Erin nodded. “Let’s go. We can’t let Boxer know we were here. He needs to think her family rescued her. There’s no telling when his goons will be back.”

Erin signaled the others to follow her to a side exit door. She crouched down, peering out the window. “Okay, let’s go.” They made their way out the door, single file. Erin left it open slightly as a way of leading Boxer to believe someone might have broken in to rescue the Deltone daughter.

They strode across the street toward Jamie’s car. The woman extended her hand. “I’m Marissa, by the way.”

Jamie shook her hand. “Jamie.”

“So, about this favor?” Marissa asked.

“I’m trying to find out if a girl named Kristen was involved with your business at all. We found one of your calling cards.” She held two fingers up to represent what she’d found in Kristen’s pocket.

“Dad likes the two-dollar bill. Very effective. But like I said, some people use it to throw blame our way.”

Jamie kept her attention on Marissa, working on a read. She knew something. “Maybe you should get a new calling card. Or better yet, maybe quit killing people.”

“I can ask around. There was a girl that became an issue—not sure if it was yours or not. I’ll call you when things calm down.”

“I guess you don’t need my number?” Jamie asked.

Marissa shook her head as she walked away from them. “I’ll find you, don’t you worry.”

Girl stole my line.

Marissa disappeared into the darkness, soon slipping from view as she crossed the sidewalk and ducked between some bushes. Her movements were agile, suggesting such confrontations and evasions were truly all part of a day’s work.

Erin took a deep breath. “We need to get the hell out of here now.”

“Where’s your car?” Jamie asked.

“I had a friend drop me off, just in case I got stuck and had to run. Besides, I have you.”

“Lucky girl, you are,” Jamie replied.

Cookie’s demeanor remained icy and rigid, guarded. They piled into Jamie’s car with Erin slipping into the back seat. Cookie sat silently while Jamie started the engine. As she pulled away from the curb, she reached over to him. “Are you good?”

Cookie nodded. “Someday.” He then looked over his shoulder at Erin. “You think Boxer is going to retaliate for this?”

“He’s got no proof that I was here, but there’s no telling what he’ll do when he finds his bargaining chip gone.”

“He’s not known for rational behavior, you know, so I’d step up your security for a while. I hope you’re good at playing dumb when he comes calling.”

Erin’s voice trembled, and Jamie could tell she was rattled from how quickly her business entanglements had escalated. “All I want to do is run my little booking business. I don’t want drug territory wars and kidnapping. I’m a simple girl with small-town dreams.”

Jamie sped up once she turned out of the neighborhood. She couldn’t leave fast enough but reminded herself that getting pulled over for speeding would only add to her problems. She’d just sprung free a drug lord’s daughter, one whose family might lay claim to both Manny and Kristen’s deaths. She hated it, but she had no choice. If Marissa could provide a tip on what had happened to Kristen, the risk would be worth it. But if Jamie came up empty, all she would have left to console her would be Boxer’s wrath and Erin in his crosshairs. She wasn’t sure her conscience could bear that, but given the circumstances, it was all she could do.

You play the hand you’re dealt.