“What are you listening for?” I ask as Lukis hunches over his laptop. One ear bud rests in his right ear as he watches the grainy picture of Antonio and one of his goons talking in his motel room.
Antonio’s room has been upgraded and redecorated unlike ours. The bed sheets are a light color, which shows up white on the infrared computer screen video feed. Antonio sits at a small round table reviewing a stack of papers. Every few minutes, he signs the bottom of one and flips it over onto a pile sitting to his right. Gooney, who’s followed him around since the first day but still has no name in my mind, lounges on one of the double beds. Every few minutes, his hand flicks up, waving the television remote at the screen, probably changing the channel. From the angle of the camera, I can’t see what he’s watching.
“Antonio took over the business from his father. It’s a standard practice. Every few years, he gets together with another member of organized crime from Oklahoma. In a leather briefcase — they’ve used the same one since the seventies — he carries documents that contain the name and location of every handoff for at least the next twenty-four months. These locations serve as drop points for guns, drugs, even people.”
“People?” As if guns and drugs weren’t enough?
Lukis looks up from the computer screen. “Antonio has a finger in the human trafficking market in America, yet we can’t pin any of the Columbian crime bosses with a connection. Karson Kane runs a small underground gambling operation, but the amount of money he launders through central Oklahoma says there’s more to the story.”
“I assume if you get these names and locations, you could break up their entire ring?”
“No, they are smarter than that. They caught on the first few times and reorganized, but it would give us insightful information. These papers could nail Antonio to the human trafficking operation.”
Lukis has not shared this much information about why he’s here before, and I don’t want him to stop now. With a popped hip, I lean against the nightstand eating my pancakes and tap my fingers soundlessly against the top. I’ve been fidgeting all morning. “It’s a big case for you?”
Lukis laughs. “Definitely still not an FBI agent. We don’t have cases. But yeah, there’s a hefty sum of money involved if I can get these names to my contact back on the East Coast. He has a somewhat vested interest.”
“Plus, all the people you would save from the drug and human trafficking?” I ask, my fingers still tapping out the rhythm.
“Yes, those people too, of course.”
The conversation goes quiet, and Lukis returns to his computer screen, leaving me to suss out my feelings over the matter alone. To be fair, I didn’t ask for his help deciding the right thing to do, but it would be nice to have someone. If all my girlfriends hadn’t gotten married and had babies, I’d have someone to ask advice. Who am I kidding? I don’t need to ask. My friends would tell me to run. I’m sure me sneaking off with an alleged mob boss involved in human trafficking isn’t the smart decision.
Yet, if this case is so important to Lukis, and he needs this information so badly, he hasn’t had any luck on his own. If I get Antonio by himself, I can find the chance to steal the briefcase for Lukis. I ponder the idea longer, trying not to draw attention my way. When I look at it as being helpful, I have to meet Antonio one more time.
“There it is!” Lukis practically yells through the room and stands, pushing his chair behind him hard enough it hits the edge of the bed. “Mother fucker. I knew that’s why he’s here.”
“There what is?” The room on his computer looks the same to me.
“There!” He points to a small spot on the computer screen. “That’s the suitcase. It wasn’t in his room when I snuck in, so he must keep it on him.”
I squint from across the room and see a small outline of the top corner of a briefcase. It may be leather. The object shows darker on the black and white feed. Antonio bends down, grabbing the case, and places it on top of the table. He opens the latch, and then, with care and precision, lays a stack of papers out, dividing it into two different piles inside the case. It can’t be over ten pages yet he acts as if they’re his newborn baby.
“It’s the same case every time,” Lukis mutters to himself, sitting back down. “I have to figure out how to get it and get it back without being noticed.”
Well, that seals the deal. I’m definitely meeting with Antonio today. There hasn’t been a briefcase with him either of the two times I’ve seen him, but something tells me he’ll have it tonight. Maybe in the car or trunk.
Antonio stands from the table and turns, saying something to the guy on the bed before walking into the bathroom.
“He said it’s time to roll,” Lukis says leaning toward the speakers on the laptop as if that will help him hear.
My stomach tightens, and I stop drumming out my fingers in nervous anticipation. “You think he’s going to make the handoff?”
Lukis considers it for a moment. “Yes, it’ll happen tonight. I need to get ready, intercept them before they get there.” He turns examining me. “You’ll be okay here by yourself?”
I hold up two fingers in front of my shoulder. “Scout’s honor.”
Lukis rips the earbud from his ear and grabs the green bag containing his guns–before walking into our bathroom. I don’t plan to point out how much his actions mimic Antonio’s. “I need to get ready.”
Two men. Two bathrooms. Two very different objectives.
My mind fills with images of Lukis rubbing camo paint all over his face, trying to blend into the desert surroundings. When the door closes, it’s time for me to get into action too. The alarm clock in the room shows three-fifty in bright neon red numbers. I need an excuse to get out of here.
My hand brushes the freezing cold ice bucket Lukis filled a few hours ago. I stop and stare at my escape plan as the idea forms. With another quick push from my hand, the bucket falls off the dresser with a muffled clang on the carpet.
Lukis opens the bathroom door. “What’s that?” he asks, a gun pointed in the room.
I freeze with my hands in the air like a criminal caught in the act. An increased heart rate slows me down, but I control my breathing. “Calm down. I knocked over the ice bucket. I’ll run downstairs and fill it quick.”
Lukis’ eyes narrow, and he looks at me in the same way my high school principal would when he was trying to decide if I was lying. “Fine, but don’t talk to anyone and come right back.”
This time, I fib while my head is to the ground as I pick up the spilled ice and drop it back in the bucket. “Of course. You won’t even know I’m gone.”
Lukis closes the door to the bathroom at the same time I open the room door. It closes, and I realize I should have left a note, but without the key — I left that sitting on the table — there’s no way to get back in without notifying Lukis. I’ll have to text him once I’m in Antonio’s car.
On the other side of the room door, I stop and take three deep breaths. I’m not really a risk-taking woman, but being with Lukis stirred something deep inside me. If there’s a chance I can help him get this information, I will. I walk away from the door on the lookout for Antonio’s car, and a wave of guilt almost knocks me off my feet. Luk is a man who had pancakes delivered to our room with a birthday candle. Here I am, my first day of thirty, sneaking off to meet up with a criminal mastermind. All Lukis asked of me is that I stay in the room and away from the exact person I’m running headfirst to meet. It’s possible that even if I get this information for him, he’ll kill me himself.
Since I’m this far into the plan, I can’t stop now. Calm and determined is the look I try for as I walk to the ice machine. If any other guests were to see me, I look like a random regular motel patron out to fill my bucket. A black car pulls up beside me, and I gulp in a lungful of air. The back window rolls down, and I stop walking, trying to put a smile on my face.
“Are you ready, Bella?” Antonio asks, his head halfway out the window.
“Oh,” I say, trying to look surprised like I didn’t watch his car pull up beside me while I tried to talk myself out of this crazy-assed plan. I hold up the ice bucket. “I was getting more ice. I didn’t realize it was almost time.”
“Well, it is, and I don’t like to be late. Get in. Get ice when I bring you home.” His voice is rough and short, sounding hurried and a little mean. He’s never taken this tone with me. Maybe now I’m seeing the true colors of Antonio . . . or I notice it now that I know who he really is.
I set the ice bucket on top of the machine and pull my cell from my back pocket. Before getting into the car, I send Lukis a quick text.
HANNAH: I’m safe. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry. I’ve got this under control.
If I say it in text, it has to be true, right?
I hit send and turn my phone to silent so I can’t hear his replies. Any message he’s sending me now is sure to be pissed off and sweary. As I slide into the seat next to Antonio, I see a brown leather briefcase sitting on the floor next to his feet. I long to reach out and touch it, but I stop before I do. I can’t give anything away.