The Bad Ass Brigade (38 page)

Chao met his gaze, didn’t look away although he was clearly upset.

“Kai found a note. He was as worried about her as I was. The note was ugly, Gabe. It threatened her. Called her a whore.”

Gabe sucked in a breath, wondering where the next one would come from, or if he would ever breathe again.

“Jesus, Chao.”

Chao shook his head and closed his eyes as if to shut out the memory. When he opened them and looked at Gabe, Chao’s distress was apparent.

“But it’s more than that, Gabe. The note was cruel. It said her mother was watching her and was ashamed of her.”

When Gabe tried to interrupt, Chao held up his hand to stop him. He stared at Gabe for a long moment, then took a deep breath. “It also referred to me. It said that she was the devil’s spawn — a yellow devil’s spawn. There was a caricature of me. Let’s just say who ever wrote it doesn’t think much of Chinese.”

Gabe struggled against an overpowering flood of rage. It took every bit of strength to keep his voice calm, his fury suppressed. He had never seen Chao this upset. He knew his anger would only acerbate the situation. Gabe barely trusted his own voice. He said simply, “Where’s the note?”

Chao shook his head. “Ana ripped it up. She was furious with both Kai and me. She said Kai had no business going through her things. She wouldn’t talk to him for a week. She… she was mostly angry because she knew the note would hurt me. She castigated poor Kai, saying he should have known better than to show me the note. She insists that she can take care of herself. She said I would do better to focus on protecting me. And Kai.”

“Damn, Chao. This is serious.” Gabe paced across the room, running his hands through his hair. He mumbled to himself, “But she’s probably right.”

He stopped in front of Chao. His voice was as hard as the grimace he knew was stamped on his face. “It’s you they’re after, Chao. They’re using her to scare you, get to you.”

Chao gave a non-committal shrug. “Perhaps,”

“No perhaps about it, Chao. They’re after you.”

Chao held his gaze for a long moment, then walked to a painting of a peaceful Chinese garden hanging on the wall across from his desk. Nudging the painting to the left, he revealed a small safe. Twirling the knobs, he waited until the tumblers clicked in place, then opened the safe. He reached in and took out a stack of notes and handed them to Gabe.

“As usual, you are correct. As you can see, these are addressed to me. They came from various places over the last month. Most of them were sent to my offices in San Francisco or to the warehouse this side of Oakland. I put my most trusted staff on the lookout for them.”

Gabe held the stack without looking at them. “Do Ana and Kai know about these?”

Chao shook his head. “I didn’t want to worry them further. When you read them you will see that their rage — whoever it is — is directed at me. But their threats are getting more explicit, descriptive. They are making it clear that they will go after Ana first, and then Kai.”

Gabe grabbed a pen and paper from the desk and pointed to the inkwell.

He elbowed his friend over to his chair. “Here, Chao. Sit. Write down the name of every son of a bitch you’ve bested in the last year. I don’t care how much you made off him, a little or a lot. Put a star by the ones you humiliated in the process.”

When Chao frowned, questioning, Gabe replied, “Think about it, Chao. Most men, especially proud ones, don’t like to be made a fool of. Particularly by—”

Chao broke in. “Particularly by a Chink?”

Gabe felt his face heat. “That’s not what I was going to say. But, yes. I’m sorry, that is true. The fact that you are a wildly successful Chinese man sticks in the craw of a hell of a lot of men who envy you and use your race as an excuse to hate you. One more thing: Put an ‘x’ by their name, if they are associated with Dominic in any way.”

Chao nodded and smiled slightly. “All the men I bested in the last year? Particularly the ones I humiliated in the process? Hmm, I will need more than one sheet of paper, Gabe.”

Shoving down a pained expletive, Gabe snorted out a laugh. “I’ll just bet you do.” He pushed a stack of paper toward Chao, “Start writing.”

Gabe walked over to the liquor cabinet and rummaged through the well-stocked shelves. He grunted when he found the bottle he wanted. Pulling out a bottle of Jameson, he retrieved two tumblers.

“I’m gonna need something a little less civilized to work my way through these,” he said, pointing to the notes, “Want to join me?”

Without waiting for Chao’ response, Gabe filled the glasses, whiskey sloshing over the brim. He handed one to Chao and set the other on the table beside the desk chair. Settling in the chair, he dragged out his cigarette case and lit up a Duke of Durham, his favorite brand next to the exclusive Turkish cigarettes that had become his trademark. Taking a big swig of whisky, he sighed and picked up the top note.

Half an hour later, Chao handed him four sheets of paper with names written on both sides.

Gabe guffawed. “Damn, Chao, you don’t play around, do you. Hell, it shouldn’t take us more than a lifetime to work our way through your enemies.” Tucking the notes in his vest pocket, he added with a shrug, “Unfortunately, we don’t have a lifetime. Maybe a few weeks, at the most.”

He gathered up the papers, then slammed down the rest of the whisky in his glass. Nodding at his friend, he let a slight smile break through and gave him a wink. “I best get started.”

At the door, Gabe turned and faced him.

“I may be a son of a bitch, Chao. In fact, there isn’t any question about that. We both know it. But I
don’t
take advantage of innocent young women. However, I do make damn sure no one else will.”

Without looking back, he strode out, slamming the door behind him.

Chao went back to his desk and sunk down in his chair. He moved the untouched glass of whisky to the side. He poured himself another two fingers of cognac and sipped on it. He glanced up at the portrait above the mantle and smiled, then spoke to the empty doorway.

“That, my friend, was before you met my daughter.”

Chapter 9

“Damn, Gabe, it will take ten of us to investigate this… and weeks of time. We have five days. Why?”

Looking hard at the blond-haired giant across from him, Gabe admitted to himself that, as usual, Gunnar had gone to the heart of the problem. This task required the best of them. Only their most trusted partners qualified. That gave them ten to twelve men at the most, and would mean taking them off jobs they were currently working.

He nodded in agreement and then shrugged, “We don’t have a choice, Gunnar. From the notes Chao showed me, the threats are ramping up, becoming more explicit. Whoever this fucker is, he’s getting anxious. He’s ready to make a move.”

Gabe waited for Eagle to say something. But the brown-skinned man sitting next to him was silent, methodically going through the notes as if they held secrets only he could unearth. Gabe thought with a grin, that may be true. Just as Gabe had a sixth sense that allowed the poker cards to talk to him, Eagle’s strange insights often came out of nowhere, but proved eerily correct.

“Seeing something in the tea leaves, brother?” Gabe asked with a grin.

Eagle’s black eyes flashed. He met Gabe’s gaze head on, then shook his head and drawled, “Not yet.”

Gabe appreciated his friend’s honesty and wasn’t put off by his laconic response. He knew the answer to the identity of the man they were seeking was buried somewhere in those notes and if anyone could eke out the answer, Eagle could.

The saloon was quiet. It was late. Only the slurred voices of the men who had stayed too long wafted over the room. Shorty was winding up. He’d sent his bartender home a couple of hours ago and was looking for somewhat sober friends who could cart out the drunken remnants of his clientele. Acknowledging the three men in the corner table, he raised a bottle of Jameson with a questioning glance. At Gabe’s nod, the big man hauled his three hundred pound plus, six foot ten inch frame across the room. Plunking the bottle down on the table, he scooped up the empties and smiled in appreciation. Risking his life, he turned on Eagle. “Thought you Injuns couldn’t hold your liquor, but hell, man, this is your third bottle and you ain’t even got bloodshot eyes.”

Eagle gave him what passed as a smile that on other men would be considered a grimace. “Did you ever think it could be that the man who imposed himself on my little squaw mother had a drop or two of Irish blood in ‘im? Or, could it be that you’re watering down this fine libation, Shorty?”

Shorty puffed up like an indignant adder. “Hell, you think I’m crazy, as well as fat?” Nodding at Gabe, he grunted. “Christ, man, like I would doctor Angel’s whisky? Think I have a death wish?” Glancing at the quartet across the room, two of whom had their heads on the table, the rumble of drunken snores confirming they had passed the breaking point. Shorty grinned. “Now those fuckers have been getting pigslop for the last two hours, and they are too drunk to notice. How do you think I can afford to give you fine gentlemen the whisky you deserve if I didn’t cut a few corners with the riff raff?”

Eagle gave the big man a silent salute and cracked open the bottle, filling the three glasses in front of them.

The big man turned to go back to the bar, then stopped for a moment and pinned Gabe with a thoughtful stare. “You missed a good game tonight, Angel. Any chance you fuckers will be coming through here a little more regularly? Hell, man, the minute the word goes out that the Ace Angel is sittin’ in, my profits go through the roof. I appreciate you so much, I might even consider that third bottle on the house.”

“Thanks, Shorty. But we’re not here to cut into your take,” Gabe said. “But you can do something for us. I’d appreciate knowing who’s been asking after me.” He added with a grin, “Always like to know my competition.”

Shorty snorted. “Competition, my ass. Are those the ones you fleece after thirty minutes instead of your usual fifteen?”

“Ah, Shorty, you give me too much credit. Did you ever think that it isn’t so much that I am good, but that your clientele are horseshit poker players?”

Shorty grimaced. “No, Angel, I’d never think that ‘cuz I know better. It’s those crazy assholes who think they can waltz in here and take down the Ace Angel that are the stupid ones. But, hell, keep ‘em coming. The more they lose, the more they slurp down the booze.”

Gunnar jumped in. “You could help us out a bit, Shorty. We’re gonna be hanging out in this vicinity for a while. We’d appreciate it if you could let us know who’s asking after us more than usual, assholes who are after more than getting their ass kicked by Angel here, if you know what I mean.’

“Damn, Gunnar. It would be my ever lovin’ pleasure. This partner of yours is a money magnet, not just for him, but for whoever is lucky enough to be serving the drunks trying to take him down.” With that he lumbered over to the table that now held three snoring men. He banged on the table with his meat hook sized hands and growled. “You got five minutes to get your piss poor asses out of here before I throw you out.”

Ignoring the whiney protests, Shorty headed back to the bar and dragged out his trusty enforcer, a large iron bar that left nothing to the imagination. The bar, along with Shorty’s girth, could bring even the drunkest men back to the world of the living. As they stumbled out of the bar, Shorty called over to the three men in the corner. “You guys stay here as long as you need to. I gotta unload some merchandise in the back room.”

Gunnar shifted the conversation back to the issue at hand.

“Who do you want to post on the girl, Gabe? I think Shane is about done with saving that big German, Helmut Crouch’s ass. By the way, we made a hell of a nice profit on that venture. So we got Shane and we can call in Pete and Davy. They’re from around here and won’t attract too much attention. I can head up the team, make sure no one is on to them.”

Gabe eyed his friend and thought about the other men he’d recommended. Like all the men they surrounded themselves with, every one of them was big, good-looking, and had a reputation with women as bad as Gabe’s. Hell, he ought to know. They’d all shared enough women that they knew each other’s prolific skills.

He shook his head. “No, Gunnar, that won’t be necessary. This one’s mine. I’ll handle Ana.”

That declaration brought Eagle out of his reverie. He and Gunnar exchanged a surprised glance, then Gunnar asked the obvious question.

“Hell, Gabe, do you think that is wise? You’re a legend around these parts. Christ, from here to Texas. Think whoever we’re after isn’t going to wonder why you are hanging around Chao Li’s place, not to mention his daughter?”

Eagle was eyeing him as though he was figuring out a puzzle, then a glimmer of understanding flashed in his eyes. Before he could speak, Gunnar caught on.

“Damn. Don’t tell me the mighty Gabe McKenna has succumbed to the charms of one beautiful little Chinese girl? Hell, Gabe, everyone knows she’s a looker, but from what I hear, she’s a prickly one at best. Damn, Gabe. Fathers lock up their daughters when you cross the county line. How the hell can you convince Chao Li to let you sniff around his baby girl?”

Gabe strove for nonchalance, although his gut was rioting at the memory of Chao’s story about Ana’s childhood.

“For better or worse, Chao trusts me. And he knows I’m a wandering man with a wandering eye. He knows that when we clean up this mess, I’ll be on my way and his precious princess can go about finding the handsome prince she deserves.”

He looked up to see his friends staring at him in disbelief.

Gunnar whistled. “Well, I’ll be damned. Never thought I’d see it. Be careful, friend. You may think you got this one under control. But I hear tell it’s the big ones that fall the hardest.”

Gabe bristled at his friend’s warning. It annoyed him that Gunnar thought he might fall for Ana. Gunnar ought to know better; he was the only person who kept as tight a rein on his relationships with women as Gabe did. Gunnar was living down a different devil than Gabe’s. He didn’t have a father like Rory McKenna who had convinced his son that no good woman deserved the McKenna men. No, Gunnar’s past was filled with different demons, but they were just as powerful as Gabe’s.