"No, it would have been sealed off as a possible crime scene," Lavonne says. "You know how they handle things like that when bodies are discovered. There are no news reports of a body being found in the park or at the observatory. The observatory staff also looked through their lost and found items and they said they do not have your phone."
"Any luck yet identifying the cobra staff?" Gustavo asks.
"I am not finding it on the web either," Lavonne says. "Sure, there are some canes and wands with cobras, even some that are partially bejeweled, but nothing coming close to what you are carrying."
"My searches are coming up empty too," Gustavo adds.
"How are you holding up, honey?"
"Well enough to have a bite to eat. I'm heading west. Thanks to you, I can leave California for a few days and sort this craziness out."
"You are going to try and find the person named Wanda, aren't you?" Lavonne asks.
"News articles indicate the spokeswoman for the Cobra De Capello fighting league, headquartered in Vegas, is a woman surnamed Wanda," Gustavo answers. "Heather Wanda."
"Gustavo, be careful though. I have been researching that league and the situation is quite complex. One of its owners is named Wanda-Wanda Barrone-and at least one of the league's business sponsors is named Wanda too."
"What?"
"It's true. There could be more people named Wanda mixed up in that league as well."
"Oh damn."
"So don't just go handing a priceless treasure to the first person you find there with the name Wanda."
"How can you giggle right now? I wish I could find this amusing."
"You are right," Lavonne says. "It is hardly a laughing matter. There are several international fighting leagues and this is one of the most controversial of the batch. It has been under investigation for years for money laundering, fixed bouts, cheating, and the works."
"I saw those headlines too and they knocked the wind out of my lungs," Gustavo replies.
"Remember, too, the words-cobra de capello-may have nothing to do with a fighting league at all. This is just speculation on our part. The person named Wanda may have nothing whatsoever to do with professional fighting. And what if you misheard the man? Cobra de capello, when slurred or stuttered, could be your interpretation. Tread cautiously, honey. Keep your mind sharp!"
"Lavonne, I changed my opinion about you checking on my car. I don't want you to get accidentally targeted in this mess if someone spotted you near it."
"Your car is still in that lot, tucked deep in the corner. I drove by, slowly, but I did not get out of my SUV. It looked fine from my vantage point. No broken windows or anything like that."
"I am thinking the FBI may be the smartest move," Gustavo says. "I will decide once I am settled with a friend in Las Vegas."
"Stay strong, Gustavo."
He transfers shared rides again at Primm, a community on the California and Nevada border, and travels to the southern tip of the Las Vegas Valley. Gustavo exits the car at Madeira Canyon Park, a large community park with baseball diamonds, soccer fields, and tennis courts, then walks the remaining blocks up to a two-story Mediterranean-style home. The only other people on the sidewalks are parents with children and people walking their dogs on leashes.
Makena Keahi, attired in baggy jeans and sandals, hand washes her dual-sport motorcycle in her driveway as Gustavo approaches. Her worn t-shirt features two interlocking pictographs of the female symbol made of chunky bars of rainbow colors. An old Australian Shepherd with a brown eye and a blue eye, and a handsome blue merle coat, trots forward and sniffs Gustavo and his duffel bag.
"King Tut likes to approve everyone for me," Makena claims, enveloping Gustavo in a hug. "He is convinced that he saved me, not the other way around. Maybe this wise senior boy is right."
"You have your own bodyguard," Gustavo says, "but you may be the last person on Earth who needs one."
"Being fearless is the only way to live."
"I sure need some of your strength right now."
"It is wonderful to see you," Makena says, "even if it is during an especially difficult time. Go on inside while I finish cleaning my bike. Take the bedroom on the far left at the top of the stairs, across from the bathroom. Get settled in, make yourself at home, raid the refrigerator, and I will be inside in about twenty minutes."
"King Tut is following me," Gustavo says. "Is that all right?"
"Yes, thank him for guiding you upstairs and letting you stay in the bedroom. He likes having a job, sharing, and being rewarded with kind words."
Abundant light pours into Makena's home through open blinds, bounces off the ceramic tile floors, and fills the rooms with cheerful illumination. A life-size portrait of a waterfall cascading onto the outstretched arms of a middle aged woman with Pacific Islander features, closely resembling Makena, hangs in the living room. The other art is a mixture of watercolors and framed photographs of animals. Makena moved from Oahu's "windward coast"-Kaneohe on the island's eastern coast-to Nevada to take a leadership position at a sanctuary for rescued domesticated animals.
The bedroom selected for Gustavo is tidy and comfortable with blue and cream colors. A queen size bed, chest of drawers, and bedside table with a lamp furnish the room and the closet has hangers and shelves for him to use. King Tut sits atop the bed watching Gustavo unpack the duffel bag and accepts tickles behind his ears.
Makenna has prepared iced tea with orange slices on her poolside patio table by the time Gustavo changes his clothes, washes his face, and descends the stairs with King Tut. Makenna sits under the shade of her canvas umbrella while Gustavo positions his chair outside of the shadow so the sun can warm his face as he looks at his friend and the mountaintops beyond her backyard.
"Your home is like a retreat," Gustavo says. "Quiet and serene."
"You are sheltered here," Makena replies. "I don't know what kind of trouble you are in and you don't have to tell me. But if I can help, I will try."
"I appreciate you being so incredibly generous. Most of all, I need a clear mind so I can make an important decision."
"My main rule is just this. You can borrow my car, but don't even think of touching my bike."
PART 2
18
Rafael
Fully undressing in his foyer, Rafael Pena leaves his uniform, socks, and shoes in a pile by his front door. He is erect by the time he reaches the top of his stairs and enters his bedroom.
"You are on fire, huh?" Rafael asks, eagerly moving toward his bed.
Aleksey Nabokov, lying on his stomach with his legs apart, keeps his eyes closed as Rafael's fingers mischievously pinch him.
"Your ass is a masterpiece, babe," Rafael says.
"It is all yours," Aleksey says. "So you are happy with this surprise?"
"Hell, yes."
Rafael sits on Aleksey's upper legs and massages his back and shoulders. He uses his feet to splay Aleksey's thighs even further apart.
"What if I have a surprise too?" Rafael asks.
Aleksey opens his eyes, rolls over, pulls Rafael down beside him, and kisses the stubble that lines his strong jaw.
"Do you want me to grow my hair back?" Aleksey asks.
"I like this even better," Rafael answers. "You are a stud either way. But this look makes it clear you are a man who means business."
"So what is your surprise?"
Rafael's face, surly in its natural state of general expression, usually softens when Aleksey's kisses him.
"I wonder if that gruff mask can melt away now," Aleksey says, rubbing his hands over Rafael's brawny, hairless chest.
Rafael's expression does not change, even as Aleksey fingers mess his thick dark hair and peck the opposing dove and sword tattoos near Rafael's shoulders.
"Something is wrong with you," Aleksey notes.
"Not really," Rafael replies. "I am glad you are here. I really am. But you could have messaged me that you were coming."
Rafael rests the palm of his hand over Aleksey's mouth, gesturing a request that he not speak. He uses his other hand to probe between Aleksey's legs. Responding to Rafael's touch, Aleksey rolls back over onto his stomach and arches his back. Rafael puts on a condom, lubes Aleksey, and glides inside him. Aleksey needs a few moments to accept him. Rafael's pace finds a playful rhythm-using gradual strokes-heightening Aleksey's pleasure.
Rafael lays on Aleksey's back and whispers in his ear as he thrusts.
"I brought something home for you, babe," Rafael says.
"I don't like toys," Aleksey responds. "Just keep making love to me."
"Not a toy. A helper."
"I don't need porn or anything else but you."
"Don't judge."
A door opens downstairs. Instantly alert, Aleksey freezes.
"No, it is okay," Rafael says, trying to ease Aleksey's alarm.
Hearing footsteps, Aleksey wrenches out from under Rafael, heaving upward, effectively tossing Rafael's body to the side.
"Aleksey, stop!" Rafael pleads, trying to hold him back from running out of the room.
Dashing into the hallway and bending over the rail, Aleksey sees a young man in a work uniform coming up the steps.