Duke City Hit (6 page)

Penny had just arrived at her office when Vic came blowing through the door, some young hunk in tow.

“This better be good. I haven't had my coffee yet.”

“Oh, it's good,” Vic said. “This is the guy who bugged your office.”

The young man blushed, which would've been cute under other circumstances. He was a handsome kid, dressed like a biker, and he had pale blue eyes like Vic.

“Where is it?” she said.

“Under your desk. Want me to get it out?” the kid asked.

“Damned right I do.”

She stepped away from the desk to make room for him to crawl under it. Penny wore blue today, a business suit with a snug skirt, and black shoes with three-inch heels. The kid checked out her legs while he was down there. She'd known he would.

“Pay attention to what you're doing.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She turned to Vic and said, “This is what you caught?”

“I would've called, but it was nearly three o'clock in the morning before he sprang the trap.”

“Why'd he wait so late?”

“I had a date,” the kid said from under the desk.

“I wasn't talking to you.” She touched Vic's arm. “You've been up all night? Is that why you look like hell?”

“That's only part of it. I've had something of a shock.”

From under the desk: “I'm his son.”

“What?”

The kid sat up, careful not to conk his head on the center drawer.

“I'm his son.”

Penny was stunned. She'd never even considered the possibility that Vic Walters might have a child somewhere.

“That's why he bugged the office,” Vic said, “why he showed up at my jobs. It's his way of making contact.”

“You didn't know about him?”

“No. Me and his mother, we dated a long time ago, while I was doing some work in Tucson. I was moving around a lot then, and we lost contact.”

Penny smiled. It was funny to see Vic flustered.

“You get that bug?” he said to the kid, who still sat on the floor.

“Yeah.” He held up what looked like an oversized thumbtack, the shiny head the size of a dime.

“How did you get in here to plant it?” she asked. “The whole office is wired with alarms.”

“Not the skylight in the hallway. I unscrewed six screws, lifted off the cover and dropped right in. I put everything back like I found it, but you should have a talk with your alarm company.”

“I will,” she said. “Is that the only bug you planted?”

He nodded, and Vic held out his hand to take the gizmo. He dropped it in the pocket of his suit coat.

“I'll get rid of this. Ryan, you should apologize to Penny.”

The kid rolled his eyes, but he said, “Sorry.”

“Ryan? That's your name?”

He clambered to his feet.

“That's right. Ryan Mobley.”

He wiped his hand on his black jeans before shaking hands.

“Penny Randall.”

“Oh, I know who you are. I've seen your face on those billboards all over town.”

“Not to mention, you've been listening to my private conversations in my private office.”

“I said I was sorry.”

She looked over at Vic and saw he was smiling, like he was proud of this punk for trying to make nice.

“What?” Vic said. “Something's wrong?”

“You're glowing,” she said. “You look positively paternal.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Puffed up with pride. A father at last.”

“Please,” Vic said. “Enough. I'm trying to absorb it all, trying to work it out in my mind. And I'm trying to discourage Ryan, who's eager to get into my line of work.”

“How did he find out about that?”

Vic sighed. “His mother kept a scrapbook. It's a long story. Let me tell you the full version some other time. I'm beat, and I still have to take him back to his car.”

“Okay,” she said. “But I want to hear the whole thing later. Maybe Ryan can tell me about it himself.”

“That's what I need,” Vic said. “You two conspiring. Let's get out of here, kid, before she offers you a job.”

Ryan grinned as Vic ushered him toward the door. Penny was smiling, too, until she remembered why she'd come to work so early.

“Vic? Could I have a word before you go?”

He told Ryan to wait for him outside, then shut the office door and came back to her desk.

“What's up?”

“I got a phone call, late last night. Some people from Phoenix. Friends of the late Harry Marino.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Seems Harry was better connected than we knew.”

Vic's mouth was a taut line.

“I'm sorry, Vic. I had no idea, but Harry was part of a trafficking ring on this side of the border, connected to one of the Mexican drug cartels. I don't know which one. It doesn't matter. What does matter is we apparently were hired by his competition.”

“I've always told you, Penny, no organized crime. Let them kill each other, but we don't—”

“I had no way of knowing. They used a blind. Guy told me it was strictly a business thing.”

“This is not our problem,” he said. “If they're in a mob war, we want no part of it.”

“We may already be part of it. Because of Harry.”

“I didn't drown Harry.”

“We collected for the job. They're not going to just take our word for it now.”

Vic ran his hands over his face.

“I'm too tired to think about this. Maybe it will blow over. Let me know if you hear from them again.”

“Okay, Vic. Get some rest. But I don't know how you'll sleep, now that you know you're a
dad
.”

Ryan tensed as Vic cut across three lanes so he could make a right turn onto Lomas Boulevard. Somebody honked behind them, but Vic pretended not to hear.

“You all right?” Ryan asked.

“I'm fine. Why?”

“You seemed strung-out after you talked to Penny. Bad news?”

“Too soon to say. If a problem does arise, we'll take care of it.”

That sounded final. Ryan stuffed the urge to ask more questions about Penny. Instead, he said, “What happens now?”

“I drop you at your car, then I go home and get some sleep.”

“Sounds good. I'm beat.”

“Later,” Vic said, “we'll get together and talk some more. How about dinner?”

“Is that all you do?” Ryan grinned at him. “Go from one cafe to another? That's your workday?”

“Even the Grim Reaper takes a coffee break, kid.”

Ryan laughed. Vic didn't.

“What do you say? Dinner?”

“Sure. I'll bring pictures of Mom.”

“That would be nice. Where you staying? I'll pick you up around seven.”

“Desert Rose Motel. Room eleven.”

“That place by the freeway? It's a dump.”

“It's the closest motel to your office. That's what I was going for at the time.”

“Too bad we left your car in the Valley. We were both within a couple blocks of our own beds.”

“That's a big deal to you, sleeping in your own bed?”

“The older you get, the more a good night's sleep becomes this rare and wonderful thing.”

He steered the Cadillac past Old Town. Ryan tried to see down side streets to the historic plaza.

“Have you been to Old Town?”

“Not yet,” Ryan said.

“Don't waste your time. It's all tourist shops and overpriced restaurants. Santa Fe in miniature.”

“I haven't done much sightseeing so far.”

“Too busy spying on me.”

“Now that we've met, maybe you can show me around.”

“Sure. I'll take you to Old Town, buy you a fuckin' snow cone. How's that sound?”

“I'd take some enchiladas instead.”

A pause, then Vic said, “I know just the place.”

“I'll bet you do. And all the waitresses know your name.”

“I'm a friendly guy.”

“They might not be so friendly if they knew what you do for a living.”

“I keep the two separate as much as possible. Having you show up the way you did, mixed up in my business, it feels like my separate identities are colliding.”

After they turned onto Candelaria, Ryan pointed down a side street to where he'd left his car.

“That black Mustang? Nice ride.”

“I had some money after I sold Mom's house. So I got rid of my motorcycle and bought the Mustang. A new car's the one indulgence I allowed myself.”

“What about coming here, hunting for me? That's an indulgence, too. And not a cheap one.”

“I don't look at it that way.”

“How do you look at it?

Ryan grinned. “As an investment.”

He popped open the car door to get out, then remembered something.

“Can I have my gun back now?”

“Certainly,” Vic said. “I'd forgotten about it.”

He reached behind his back and pulled the .45 out of his waistband. He spun it in his hand, gave it to Ryan butt-first.

Ryan tucked the pistol inside his jacket as he got out of the Cadillac. He leaned in and said to Vic, “You must've come to trust me a little, handing me a loaded gun.”

“Oh, it's not loaded. I emptied the clip at Penny's office. See you at seven, kid.”

Vic yawned as he let himself into his apartment. It'd been a long time since he had reason to stay up all night. His ass was dragging.

The apartment was a converted two-car garage, white with blue trim like the main house, with a carport jutting off one end. Inside, a tiny kitchen was tucked into one corner of a spacious living room. One wall was all bookcases that were, like the leather furniture, pleasantly overstuffed. The bedroom was small, but well insulated from street noise. Vic could hardly wait to reach his familiar bed.

He stripped off his clothes and went into the bathroom to wash his face and hands. His teeth felt furry, and he gave them an extra-thorough brushing. Once he was minty fresh, he padded to the bed and pulled back the comforter. Blinds over the window shut out most of the daylight. Vic figured he would have no trouble falling asleep.

He was wrong. Sleep would not come. His mind whirred with thoughts of Ryan and Lisa and Tucson and the passing years.

The timing was right for Ryan to be his kid, but Vic wouldn't allow himself to completely believe it. Sure, Ryan looked like him, same eyes and chin, but that could be part of a setup. “Long-lost son” would be the perfect cover for a cop who wanted to get close to Vic, make him feel comfortable, get him to talk.

Christ, how he'd talked. Vic never got to discuss his work with anyone. Once he started telling Ryan about the business, he hadn't been able to stop. Longest conversation he'd had in years, and he'd spilled way too many secrets. Couple that information with what Ryan witnessed in Santa Fe, and the kid posed a real threat.

Even if Ryan really was his son, he knew too much now. Could Vic let him walk away? The kid claimed to want a father-son connection. If Vic spurns him, says, “No thanks, I'm not really in the market for a son right now,” Ryan could get angry. Maybe he'd go to the cops out of revenge. With what he knew, he could make things very hot for Vic and Penny. His word against theirs, but the police attention would put them out of business.

Vic sighed and turned over.

He did not need a son. He'd remained comfortably alone for decades, out of touch with his few distant relatives. No strings, no commitments, no nosy cousins asking questions or borrowing money. His connection to Penny was the closest thing he had to family, and that was mostly business. Lots of familiar faces around Albuquerque, but the friendships were superficial, never allowed to intrude upon his privacy.

Vic's life was devoted to his craft—perf
orming the job and getting away clean, time after time. When he wasn't working, he slipped into a form of hibernation.

He spent most of this downtime alone, relaxing with spy novels and ball games on TV. Going out to eat once or twice a day to get out of the house. Munching popcorn alone at weekday matinees. He happily fell into this familiar routine, living like a retired guy, until the next job came along.

It was a simple life. And there simply was no room in that life for a son.

So how to handle Ryan? Break it to him gently? Tell him to take a hike? Put a bullet in his head?

The smart move would be to disappear. Vic had enough money socked away. He could vanish anytime he wanted. But why leave behind Albuquerque, his friends, everything he'd ever known?

Be easier to make Ryan go away.

Maybe.

The kid clearly had the killing instinct. Something in the blood, same as Vic. Throughout history, there have been men who survived by killing other men, often paid well for their skills. Soldiers, samurai, assassins, gunslingers, whatever society chose to call them. Men who were one step quicker because they didn't suffer the moral dithering that caused hesitation.

Hesitation will get you killed. First one to pull the trigger wins, nine times out of ten.

Vic knew that. Did Ryan?