“I had things well in hand,” Tyler said as he struggled to a seated position.
“If I’d gotten here thirty seconds later,” Rollins said, “your funeral director would’ve had things well in hand.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rollins extended an open palm. Tyler gripped it and accepted the boost back to his feet.
“We should go somewhere else.” Rollins glanced around. “There’s a corpse here, and those guys might be smart enough to call the cops and try to jam you up.”
“Good call,” Tyler said. He wobbled en route to the 442.
“You all right to drive?” Rollins asked as he followed.
“Sure. Let’s try to stay close, though.”
Tyler got in his car and waited for Rollins to pull up in his truck. The windshield sported a nice crack in the center. Closer inspection could reveal blood or other evidence someone recently spent a few seconds on the hood. The pickup left the lot, and Tyler followed. They drove north up Belair Road, which was smart to get away from here and away from Smitty and Son. About three-quarters of a mile up the street, Rollins made a left into a church lot. They parked behind the building.
“Let me see your nose,” Rollins said when they were both out of their vehicles.
Tyler tilted his face up so the slightly taller man could get a better look. “Why a church?”
“Figured we could get you last rites while we’re here.”
“Very funny,” Tyler grumbled.
“Churches tend to help people, not the police,” Rollins said.
“I knew I called you for a reason.” He winced as his rescuer touched his face. “Pretty sure it’s broken.”
“You didn’t need much help getting uglier.” Rollins put his left hand across Tyler’s upper jaw. “I’m going to put it back in place. It’s gonna hurt.”
Tyler took a deep breath and said, “Go ahead.” Rollins used his right hand to pull Tyler’s nose up and push it back into place. Even though it took less than a second, it hurt like hell. “Shit!” Tyler bit off a string of even worse curses which left Rollins shaking his head.
“I bet your father’s never said some of those things.”
“You’d be surprised.” Tyler sat on the hood of his Olds.
“I’m a little surprised you’re still alive,” Rollins said. He retrieved a water bottle from his truck and tossed it to Tyler, who caught it. “Andre the Giant there could have picked you up and snapped you over his knee. He probably enjoys hurting people. Likes to drag it out and maximize the pain.”
“He’s a real charmer.” Tyler opened the water and swigged half of it. “This is the second time I’ve tangled with him.”
“I take it you’re oh-for-two?”
“Yeah. Third time’s the charm.”
“Lot of dead people thought the same,” Rollins said.
“You must be fun at parties,” Tyler told him.
“I’m happy to do this with you. Getting rid of a cartel helps everyone. You and me might not be enough, though.”
“You think we need more men?”
“Can’t hurt. I’m pretty sure we’re badly outnumbered, and the big bastard you fought with should count for three or four guys.”
He was right. Rollins had been a great help against Braxton, but Tyler knew his former commander and the men he would recruit. The cartel was an unknown, but their brutal history spoke volumes. “I’ll see if I can pull someone else in. Maybe somebody with experience taking on groups like this.”
Rollins nodded. “Good. It can only help.” He frowned at Tyler’s face. “You good to drive?”
“Yeah.”
“How about I follow you home anyway?”
“I won’t tell you no,” Tyler said. He clapped Rollins on the shoulder and climbed into the 442. From the church, he picked up Route 43. Once there, he could take I-95 into the city. It was far from the most efficient way to his house, but it was less likely to attract attention from Orlan or the cops. Tyler pondered who else he could recruit to the cause as he drove down the highway. Not many names came to mind.
Héctor checked the shipment at the alternate location. He kept as little product in the house as possible. Some neighborhood people bought from him, and he maintained enough stock to keep them happy. A hidden alcove held it all, and even a police dog wouldn’t find it. Here, they could store as much as they wanted, and no one would come looking for it.
Mexico held up its end of the bargain. Four cartel soldiers accompanied the drugs. They all looked to be in their thirties save one guy who was clearly on the downside of his career. He worked equally as quickly as his younger and stronger brethren, though, so Héctor couldn’t complain. Once the men unloaded everything and put it away, Héctor gathered them around. “The SUV is stolen?”
“Yes,” Danilo said. “I boosted it earlier today.”
“Good. Drive it far away from here and torch it. We’ll meet back at the house when it’s done.” The guys moved toward several vehicles. “Danilo, wait.”
He stopped, and Héctor smiled when the man shuddered. Watching Videl get beaten to death made Danilo a better soldier. The dead man’s subtraction made the entire organization better, and now Danilo understood the same thing could happen to him. “Yes, Héctor?”
“Before we came here, Orlan told me what happened with the American. He’s not working alone. Orlan was close to finishing him off, but someone saved him.”
“You want me to find out who the other guy is?” Danilo asked.
Héctor rolled his eyes. If he wanted research done, he paid Fernando for his computer skills. “I want to reduce his options. We know where he lives, and we know where he works. He seems to go between the two whenever he wants. Alice took the Boxster to the repair shop. She made a mistake, but something so simple started this whole mess.”
“What do you want me to do, Héctor?”
“Wait until after midnight,” Héctor said. “Take someone else with you. Burn the shop to the ground.”