eyed me with concern, the missing hand, the damp clothes, their faces saying it all-don’t tell me you shop here too? Arrogant bastards were worried that they’d just dunked their toothbrushes into the same glasses I made a habit of rinsing in.
I gave them a wink before walking past and pushing my way through the curtain of monitor teeth. Chicho sat at his desk, tallying holo-receipts. Didn’t he know how late it was? In a big house brimming with big tits, big numbers were his only aphrodisiac.
“Tax time,” I said.
His eyes went straight to the part of me that was missing. “Where’s your hand?”
“Got it fixed so it doesn’t shake anymore.”
He studied my face, looking for a sign, any sign, I was joking. My gaze was pure steel. Stainless.
He shook his head, beady eyes incredulous. “You are one crazy-ass son of a bitch, you know that?”
I stood on the spot where Maria had given me a nutter. Seemed like a long time ago. Still felt bad about punching her. “Time to pay up,” I repeated.
“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
“I saw your light was on. I have a busy day tomorrow. Figured I’d get a jump on things.”
He didn’t look ready to drop the missing-hand thing. His eyes had returned to the empty space hanging by my hip. He opened his mouth like he was going to ask a question, but a glance at my biz-only face talked him out of it. “How do you want it?”
“Cash.”
He whistled as if to say, tall order. “I don’t have that kind of scratch lying around. I can probably scrounge some up from tonight’s till. The rest will have to wait until I can hit the bank tomorrow.”
“Fine.” I didn’t want to bring up Mota, but I had to know if he and Panama had come around. My heart ticked up a notch as I tossed the question his way. “Heard from Mota?” I held on to my stone face while hanging on the answer.
“Nope.”
I acted like I’d expected that response, my voice cocksure. “See, I told you not to worry about him.”
Nodding, he said, “That you did, Juno. That you did.”
This was going better than expected. Mota hadn’t made his reappearance yet. He’d eventually try to reclaim his racket, no doubt about that, but the bastard probably had the good sense not to come to Chicho until after he’d snuffed me. Cleaner that way.
For the time being, Mota’s silence worked to my advantage. This little partnership between Chicho and me was still new. Fragile. If Mota started making waves, fears would have to be calmed, hurt feelings would have to be salved, and knowing Chicho, new rates would have to be negotiated.
But this was shaping up nicely. A sweet little collect-and-go.
Except Chicho was still sitting there, as in not hustling to get my dough. He kept nodding his head, eyes crinkled like he was thinking on something important. “Hey, did you know the cops who got axed?”
Shit. I kept my response minimal. “I knew them.”
“Two of them. Their heads cut off.” He scratched his chin. “I saw their pics on the news, thought I recognized one.”
So much for a quick collect-and-go.
“The one with the scar. Wasn’t he here for the blackout the other night? One of your boys, wasn’t he?”
I couldn’t deny it. He knew.
He moved up in his seat. “The other one. Was he one of your boys too?”
I nodded.
He slapped his desk. “Fucking hell. What kind of operation are you running?”
Never let your mark see weakness. I shrugged it off like it was no biggie. “So I lost a couple. What you getting all worked up about?” Two dead crew. Ho-fucking-hum.
“Mota do that shit?”
“Hell no. It had nothing to do with him.” And that was the truth. I kept the fact that he’d offed my other two dead crew to myself. If I was lucky, those bodies would stay underground for a good long while.
Chicho didn’t look convinced.
“Those were serial killings. They say that on the news?”
“They hinted that way but didn’t say for sure.”
“It wasn’t Mota.” My voice was chock-full of conviction. “I told you I took care of that pretty boy. You’ll never hear from him again.”
Chicho angled his head slightly so he could look at me sidewise with mistrustful eyes. “You on the level?”
I shouldn’t have to justify myself to this pimp. I let some anger seep into my voice, a little righteous indignation. “You’ve known me for how long?”
“Too long.”
“Try twenty years. Twenty long years. All that time, I’ve always been straight with you. So get the hell over whatever bullshit has you doubting me, and get me my damn money.”
“I put my neck out for you, Juno. I’ve got this whole alley singing your praises. Better protection at a cheaper price and all that. How’s it going to look if this shit gets out? You know what happens if people lose confidence in their protection? They’ll stop paying.”
“So don’t tell them Wu and Froelich were mine. Keep your trap shut, and you won’t have to worry about it.”
“They were here.” His voice rose as he stood. He took a step toward the window. “They were right outside that goddamned window. Any of the pimps or madams in this alley could’ve seen them, and I don’t have to tell you how recognizable that scar-headed motherfucker was.”
“Those pimps or madams mention him to you?”
“No.”
“Then nobody recognized him. Quit your bellyaching.”
He stepped back behind his desk and leaned in. “I’m trying to sell your services to a half dozen houses outside this alley. What am I supposed to say when they ask why your boys are dying left and right?”
I could see it now, what he was doing. He was trying to put me on the defensive. Trying to seize the upper hand in our partnership.
Not going to happen. I took a big step toward his desk, big enough to bump it with my thigh. We stood face- to-face, the desk holding us apart. “You tell them my rep speaks for itself.”
“Not fucking good enough.” He punched at the air. The desk standing between us seemed to shrink. “I’m putting my name on the line for this.”
“You quit that shit right now!” I chopped at his desk with my good hand. “I came to you with a gift, dammit. I could’ve brought the same deal to anybody, you hear me? But I came to you, you stupid prick. I thought you’d have the smarts to take proper advantage.”
“Fuck that. Don’t act like you did me a favor, like you took a chance on me. I took a chance on you, you dumb fuck.” He was working himself into a fit, his hands jerking around, his words coming out in a blustery blast. “You were nothing when you came in here a few days ago. Just a burned-out ex-cop. A sad-sack widower. You were nothing. Nothing! ”
I felt spittle land on my face. His red-faced mug was ready to burst. His voice got real low. “You want to get paid, you show some appreciation.”
There it was. Prick just made his play, talking to me like I was his employee, like I was his muscle. He’d figured it out. He’d seen the ragtag group I’d put together, figured out that my influence over KOP was mostly a mirage. He’d seen hints of weakness, and he was going to wring it for all it was worth.
He thought I’d fold, thought I needed this gig in a bad way, thought I needed it to feel important. He figured me for desperate, desperate enough to give him control of this racket in order to stay on his good side.
But I knew this SOB, knew what made him tick. Thanks to me, he was going to collect a piece of every trick turned in this alley. Every dick sucked. Every pussy fucked. A piece of every last buck.
He’d been sitting here in this office for days now. I could picture it, him working through the projections, charting it out, the zeroes added to his bottom line giving him a hard-on. Hour after hour, he’d been salivating over
