Page 78 of Reno

My interrogation and negotiating training in the military taught me when dealing with men like Alacrán, it was always best to tell the closest thing to the truth as possible. Considering that El Pollo was scheduled to meet someone at the restaurant, I decided to tell the truth and hope the line of questioning stopped.

“At a restaurant. In the parking lot.”

His look softened. “Did you eat there?”

My vision narrowed, leaving him as the only object in my line of sight. I wished I had my gun, and further wished Crip had his. “I did,” I responded. “The enchilada dinner and a taco. Why?”

“I was just wondering if you were inside with him,” he responded. “Our mutual friend was supposed to bring me something from the restaurant, but he never returned.”

My skin began to crawl.

“He didn’t eat with me, no. There’s plenty of good Mexican joints close,” I said, trying to keep from losing my composure. “After we’re done here, I can take you for dinner, if you like. Whatever he’s bringing you is damned sure cold and rotten by now.”

“It wasn’t food I hoped for.” He uncrossed his arms and pushed his hands into his pockets. He nodded toward the door. “Hopefully tonight will be more rewarding. Shall we get you loaded, so you can go on with your night?”

His remark could have been taken many ways. I wanted to put a bullet in his head and end any possibility of him harming Carma ever again.

I glanced at the clock.

It was ten past nine.

He knew where Carma worked. I couldn’t allow him to leave before she got off work. I couldn’t take the risk. He very well may have been planning on stopping by there before he went back to Mexico. For that matter, he could have men waiting there for her to leave, no differently than he did with El Pollo.

I had to at least keep him past ten o’ clock. Even then, I feared it wouldn’t be enough. I needed to do whatever I must to keep her safe without dying myself.

My mind began to race. Although I’d promised to text Carma, I left my phone with Goose, knowing Alacrán may attempt to search us again. Crip brought a burner phone hidden in the car. We intended to use it to communicate with the cop, who was waiting patiently two blocks away. I had no idea what Carma’s number was, I’d done nothing more than have her program her information into my phone.

I had no easy way to warn her.

I quickly devised a plan to keep her safe. I hoped like hell it worked.

“Hell of a way to spend a Friday night,” I said.

Alacrán laughed. “Friday? You’ve lost a day, Mister Tiddlewood.”

I shook my head and looked at Crip. “It’s Saturday?”

“Sure as fuck is.”

“God damn son-of-a-bitch,” I wailed. “What time is it?”

Everyone in the room, including Crip, jumped, startled by my tone.

“Working on ten o’clock,” Crip responded. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

I glanced around the room like I was lost. “It’s Saturday, that’s what’s wrong.” I kicked the toe of my boot into the floor. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was supposed to deliver those guns. If I don’t, I’m going to lose three million. Three million, and a customer.”

Manos stared.

Alacrán looked at me with eyes of uncertainty.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Crip asked.

“Guy on Mission Beach,” I responded. “He’s having a party tonight. I was supposed to deliver those weapons so he could distribute them to his clients. If I don’t, I’m going to lose the money, and lose a damned good customer.” I looked at the clock. “I don’t have a phone. I can’t call him. I need to get there before ten.”

Alacrán stepped between me and the door. “You want to pay me for a shipment and then rush away, Mister Tiddlewood?” His face went stern. “This deal is beginning to smell like a set-up.”

“It’s not a set up. I fucked around and got mixed up on—"