Mystic Hearts (29 page)

He’d
rather tell her in the comforts of one of their beds, naked, so he could show
her each of the places that hurt. Maybe he could convince her to kiss the
bruises away.

The
playful smack on his arm from Charlene alerted him that his thoughts showed on
his face. “A bed of fake grass covered a hole. I didn’t see it, fell to the
bottom, to a pissed off rattlesnake.”

Charlene
covered her mouth and said around her spread fingers, “What did you do?”

He
lifted his hands in the ‘what could I do’ gesture. “I did the only thing I
could. I shot it.”

By
the fire in her eyes, he expected her to hit him. She leaned closer. “Last
night,” she whispered beside his ear, “did it—”

He
chuckled. She didn’t want to hit him, didn’t question why he hadn’t told her.
“Was wonderful,” he said, his mouth a fraction away from hers. The concern she
showed him was unexpected and sweet. He kissed her lips.

“Hey!
Earth to Larry.” Jake snapped his fingers. “We have business.”

“Either
the gunman knew you wore a bulletproof vest or he wanted you dead,” Steve said,
a serious look on his face.

“Whoa!”
Pamela raised her hand. “Charlene, Celine, let’s go in the other room. I’ve
learned from past experience there are some things I don’t need to know.”

Charlene
hesitated, her gaze darting between Pamela and Larry.

“It’s
your call,” Larry said, when he really hoped she would go with Pamela. At
times, Steve’s direct approach was rough for anyone to take.

“I
trust you’ll tell me what I need to know.” She kissed his cheek and followed
Pamela and Celine into the kitchen.

At
least, she trusted him. He didn’t know if he trusted himself to discern when to
inform her of certain details. When emotions came into play, it strained his
rationale.

“You
were the intended target,” Steve said. “Why?”

Larry
shrugged. “Could be one of a number of things.”

“Start
listing them,” Steve said. “Jackson, is there a pad and pen behind the bar?”

Jackson
rose, reached over the counter and retrieved a napkin and pen. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”
Steve eyed Larry. “Shoot.”

“Start
with what you told me earlier,” Jake said. “Andrew, A.K.A. Mathews.”

“You’re
shitting me.” Steve looked under his brow at Larry. “That yellow belly is
involved with Greenwood Manor?”

“Works
on the manor, yes,” Larry supplied. “Connection to the lights, anyone’s guess.
Today, I went to Randy Millstone’s residence. He’s a lifelong friend of Andrew
Smith. I hope to find a lead on Smith. Millstone ran. I ended up winging him in
the shoulder, just a scrape, nothing major, but I got his attention. He told me
that Andrew Smith was indeed Allen Mathews. Millstone didn’t know why Smith
used an alias. Two agents brought Millstone in for questioning while I talked
to Charlene.”

“Wait,
Charlene was at Colonial Beach, too?” Jackson asked.

“Yes,
she went to Millstone for the same reason I did, to locate Smith.” Larry
grimaced. “I wish she hadn’t. After he forced his way into her home … and what
with him taking a bat to Jake’s car, I don’t trust him. Who knows what he’s
capable of? But she’s a strong-minded woman who wants to take care of herself.”

“Do
you think she’ll continue not asking for assistance?” Quigley asked, returning
from talking to the local police. “You two seem pretty chummy.”

Larry
gazed at the table. Figuring out what Charlene would do next was anyone’s
guess. Her independence was one of the numerous things he loved about her. “I
don’t know. While at Colonial Beach, Smith spotted me, Charlene, and Millstone
talking from Millstone’s boat. Up to now, Smith has not been apprehended.”

“Did
the agents get any more information out of Millstone?” Steve asked.

“Nope.”
Larry sighed. “Smith has something hanging over Millstone. He won’t crack. I’m
shocked he told me Smith’s alias.”

“So,”
Steve lifted the napkin. “We have three scenarios, which could have been
responsible for the bullet you took. One, Smith wants you dead because you’re
with his woman.”

Larry
hadn’t thought of the situation in those terms, but he supposed seeing his ex-wife
with someone else could be a kick in the gut.

“Two,
us visiting Greenwood Manor yesterday, finding the traps and reflective metal
we believe is used for signaling potential buyers, pissed someone off. Since
you fell in the hole I’m assuming you’ve been marked.”

“Or
three,” Jake broke in and knocked his knuckles against the table. “The two
leather jackets on the motorcycles were Black Scorpions and Larry wasn’t the
target, but I was.”

“Hell,
Jake, the Scorpions could be after you, Larry, or me.” Steve slumped against
the back of his chair. “If they were the Black Scorpions, they would have shot
to kill and you would have been on the top of their kill list. Remember the
last time they came through here? They opened fire.”

“Keep
your voice down,” Jake whispered harshly. “I don’t want Pamela reliving it.”

“They
used machine guns, sent bullets flying,” Steve said, keeping his voice
controlled, yet red hot fire rolled over his tan skin. “Not two single shots.”

“I
remember. All too clear.” Jake’s body vibrated with anger.

“How
could anyone forget?” Anger laced Jackson’s words. “Sent my mom to the
Emergency Room and I couldn’t get leave.” Jackson wiped at his eyes. “Damn,
move on.”

A
moment of silence passed before Quigley spoke. “Don’t discount the random guy
who shoots into businesses for shits and giggles.”

“I’ll
add that to my list.” Steve jotted on the napkin. “Shits and giggles. That’s
plausible.”

Quigley
angled his head and glared at him, his jaw ticking.

“Don’t
go Marine on me,” Steve said. “I’m agreeing with you. There’re lots of crazies
out there.”

Simultaneously,
Jake’s and Steve’s phones rang.

Steve
listened for a long moment and hung up. “Damn, they got away. No one could
confirm the identity of the drivers of the motorcycles. Neither bike had a
license plate.”

“Missy
texted,” Jake said. “The Challenger belongs to a Kevin Steele, known
connections to the Impalers. His position in the organization is unknown.”

Larry
laced his fingers together and rested them on the back of his head, and leaned
his head into them, using his linked fingers as a pillow. “The Impalers are
small time, a group of kids who want to make a small dent in the crime world in
order to feel important. They don’t want to involve the heavy dogs like the
Black Scorpions.”

“True,
as a whole they don’t,” Jackson said. “But one bad apple can screw up their
whole operation.”

“Rona
Thomas came by the office today looking for help,” Larry said. “She said,
something was going down on Greenwood Manor, but she didn’t have the details.
Tomorrow, she and a man named Hulk will be isolated from the others while they
check the fences. She believes Hulk knows the information and wants me to
arrest both of them on trespassing to question them.”

“She’s
an Impaler?” Jackson asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s
a start,” Jake said. “I’m in.”

“I’m
waiting for confirmation. I may have to head out in the morning.” Steve scoffed.

“Before,
Pamela gets back in here,” Jackson said. “Jake, what are the chances of the
Black Scorpions coming back and retaliating on you and Pamela for killing their
leader?”

“No
matter where we go, we will have to look over our shoulders. We assumed staying
in the area would be the last place they’d look for us.”

“Whoever
the bad apple is must want something from them,” Quigley said.

“There’s
no proof the Scorpions are in town,” Steve refuted. “We can’t go on just what
ifs.”

“Steve,”
Pamela’s voice squeaked. “What are you saying about the Black Scorpions?”

Steve
swallowed and eyed Jake, an ‘oh shit’ look in his eyes. “Sorry, man.”

“Jake?
Sanjar’s men can’t be after you, can they?” Pamela’s voice was low, nervousness
laced in it. “I mean, I know he’s dead, but could a follower come after you?
After me?”

Jake
tugged Pamela toward him until she stood between his legs. “I don’t think so. A
Black Scorpion is not brave enough to challenge Rambo.”

Larry
smiled at Jake using the nickname he labeled on Pamela after the ordeal in the
mountains.

She
laughed and hit his chest. “If The Memory Café gets shot up again, I’ll lose my
business.”

“Not
hardly,” Jake said. “The food’s delicious and everyone loves you. They won’t
stop eating here because of a couple of bullets.”

Charlene
slid into the seat beside Larry. “What are they talking about? Are the Black
Scorpions back?”

He
didn’t want to scare her. If the members ever chose to come back and retaliate,
Charlene could be in danger, too. Her first-hand dealings with the notorious
gang also made her a possible target. Until the FBI could put together enough
information and take down the key players of the gang in Louisiana, the risk
would remain. Larry scanned the faces of everyone sitting around them. He,
Charlene, Pamela, Jake, and Steve all had contact with the gang in one form or
another, and would have to continue to look over their shoulders.

Without
eyes on the identifying scorpion insignia on the back of their jackets, he
couldn’t say for certain. In his gut, he believed they were here. “No one has
ID’ed a member, no.”

“The
motorcycles,” her voice quivered, “the brown jackets. It looked like them.”

“Yes,
but looking like them isn’t verification.”

“Okay.”
She pulled her lips inward and her gaze went distant. “What about Andrew? How
does he tie into all of this? And please don’t tell me he’s not involved…You
told me Andrew used a fictitious name.”

Here’s
where his job got hard—telling people what they least expected. From what he
could tell, Charlene didn’t have any empathy for Andrew Smith. Still didn’t
change the fact he was the father of her child. “As I said, I met him on
Greenwood Manor the night I ran into you. I didn’t know he was your ex-husband
at the time.”

“

“Has
he done something wrong?” Charlene’s manner was more of a mother concerned over
the father of her son than affection.

“I’m
not aware of him doing anything criminal using his alias. As Smith, he’s done
plenty to warrant an arrest.”

Charlene
sucked in a gasp.

They
hadn’t talked about Smith to any length for him to know how she wanted to
proceed, if she wanted to charge him or not.

“I
don’t.” She pressed two of her fingers and thumbs against her forehead and
rubbed. “Henry… I don’t know how his father getting arrested would affect him.”

Larry
nodded toward Jake. “Either you or Jake could press charges for what he did to
the Chevelle. It’s Jake’s car, but it was on your property when Andrew
vandalized it.”

“I
haven’t decided.” Jake groaned, his jaw tightening, his frustration clear. “I
want to take the bat to him the way he did my car.”

Pamela
slid her arm under his and squeezed.

Jake
gazed at his wife and looked between Larry and Charlene. “I won’t. I haven’t
made a decision about prosecution. My window of opportunity for obtaining a
warrant hasn’t closed. I’ll let you know soon.”

Larry
nudged his knee against Charlene. “What do you want?”

“Take
care of it myself.”

“I’m
not the only Rambo at this table.” Pamela snickered.

Steve
grasped the back of the chair behind Celine and twirled her hair between his
fingers. “No, you’re not.”

Celine
smiled and leaned into him.

Larry
shook his head and focused away from the turbulent couple to Charlene. “I
understand, but confronting Smith right now is tricky. Not knowing what he’s
into, what he might be capable of.”

“Do
you think he shot at you?” Charlene asked, her eyes going wide.

“Possibly.
He could have shot me back as payback for me shooting Millstone.”

Charlene
whispered. “No. He wouldn’t.”

Larry
 
groaned. “Are you positive that you can
speak so confidently on his behalf? The Challenger that drove by here is
registered to a Kevin Steele, a known gang member of the Impalers. Without
seeing his features, we don’t know for sure if it was Steele or someone else.
Smith, acting as Mathews, could have driven it.”

“I
don’t understand,” Charlene said, “he’s never been violent.”

“Money,
greed, brings out the worse in people.”

Charlene
stared at the table and fiddled with her fingers. “He’s a stranger, a complete
spook to me and Henry.”

“Yet
he’s Henry’s father,” Pamela said, her voice tender as she touched her stomach.