Lace and Bullets(7)
“If the scene is so hot, I should lay low. Wait it out. Let the police and the media swarm the place. Once it all dies down, I’ll come to Marcelo.”
“Is there a reason for the police to suspect you?”
“Fuck, no. But I want to be safe. I’m looking out for the family. I’m keeping Marcelo out of it.”
Donny thought it over. “Fine. Use the safe house on Hatchet. It’s empty. Three days. No more.”
“Understood.” Damien hung up the phone as blue lights lit up his rear window. He glanced down at the speedometer and cursed. He had lost track of the speed talking to Donny.
A traffic stop was the last thing he needed. Damien slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the highway. He kept his hands on the steering wheel at ten and two and looked straight ahead. He knew the drill.
The officer rapped on the window. “License and registration, please.”
Damien smiled and spoke loud enough for the cop to hear through the window. “My license is in my wallet in my jeans and my registration is in the glove box. Can I get them?”
The cop nodded. From the looks of him, he was one of the mellow ones. Thank God. Damien pulled out the requested items and rolled down his window. He handed them over and the cop flicked his flashlight over both.
“Do you know why I pulled you over?”
Damien winced. “Speeding, right? I’m sorry, I just lost track of how fast I was going.”
“Happens to all of us. I’ll be right back.”
The cop walked back to his patrol car and Damien exhaled. He hadn’t even taken the time to cover Mia’s mouth or bind her wrists. If she woke up while they were stopped…
A door behind him slammed and Damien braced himself. Stay cool. He exhaled as the officer stopped again at his window. He turned with a smile, but the cop’s flashlight blinded him.
“Are you aware you have an outstanding fix-it ticket?”
“For what?”
“Your rear tail light.” Shit. Dread slid down Damien’s spine.
“I had that fixed months ago. I must have forgotten to notify the court.”
The officer stepped back. “Hit your brakes, let me check.”
“I really don’t think…” Damien trailed off as the cop disappeared behind his car. From his side mirror, he could see him standing a foot away from the trunk. So close to her…
He clenched his teeth and tapped the brakes. Both tail lights lit up the dark, but the cop didn’t move. Instead, he bent over his clipboard, writing. Come on, come on.
Every minute the asshole spent back there upped the odds Damien would never see a sunrise again. No one kidnapped a district attorney’s daughter and made it out of jail alive.
At last, the cop reappeared and handed him a yellow slip. “I’ll note in the system that your tail light is fixed. Lucky for you. Otherwise, I’d have had to impound the vehicle.”
Damien took the paper and nodded. “Thank you, officer.”
The cop tipped his hat. “You drive a little slower, now.”
“Sure thing.”
The cop walked back to his vehicle and Damien slumped in the driver seat. At least one thing had gone his way today. The patrol car pulled back onto the highway and Damien waited until he was out of sight before doing the same.
Twenty minutes later, he backed into the carport of a tidy brick ranch on a quiet residential street. Anyone who walked by the place saw a well-maintained yard, a pot of red flowers out front, and all the trappings of respectability.
No one would ever think some of the worst criminals the city of Wellington had ever seen used it as a front. Everyone from murderers to weapons runners to Marcelo’s own family members had stayed there. The cartel might make its money on crime, but it was bigger than the seedy underbelly of town.
Damien stared out from the dark car, watching for any movement on the street. Nothing. All the families of Hatchet Street were nestled snug in their beds, oblivious to the danger in their midst.
He opened his door and got out of the car.
Now came the tough part. Damien fished for the spare key under the mat and unlocked the door. All clean and quiet, just like Donny had promised. He hustled to the bedroom and ripped the comforter off the bed. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.
Carting it back out to the car, he braced himself and popped the trunk. If she flew at him, he would muffle her in the layers of fluffy down. But he needn’t have worried. She was just as he had left her. Unconscious and easy.
Damien wrapped Mia up in the comforter and carted her inside. He leaned back on the door, her body still limp in his arms, until his heart slowed. It didn’t matter how many jobs he had done or how many fights he had been in. There was a fine line between adrenaline and panic.