Desperate and Gorgeous Bk. 01 Ch. 05

Chapter Five

The next morning I got up early and wrapped my shoulder in a fresh bandage. It still ached and I couldn't move my arm very well, but the screaming fire was gone. It would have to do. I would be dead within hours of checking into a hospital.

I called Sofia on a burner phone. It went how I expected.

"Breakfast is ready!" I called upstairs. A few minutes later Brooke stomped grumpily down the steps. She wasn't a morning person. Leah glided down and gave me a kiss on the cheek before settling into a chair at the table. She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, and I tried not to notice that she wasn't wearing a bra.

I stacked a tall pile of blueberry pancakes on the table next to a plate of cheesy scrambled eggs. We each dug in and didn't speak for a while.

Eventually I said, "I talked to Carlos' boss this morning." Two sets of eyes looked up at me sharply. "If we can pull this off we're in the clear. If we can't, well. We'll need to make other arrangements. Carlos was middle management, the most redundant position in the business world. He'll be replaced quickly. He wasn't well-liked, but it's not good for morale if someone on your team disappears and you don't do anything about it. She'll have to make a move unless this provides opportunities for others to advance."

I didn't know Sofia very well. We had only spoken a few times, most of my communications having gone through Carlos. She had a reputation for being a bold leader and a cut-throat pragmatist. A rumor went around about how she had her cousin killed for selling product near a school. I didn't know if her issue was with the morality of dealing to kids, or the fact that the cops cracked down on that a lot harder.

"Don't they need you to manage the money?" Brooke asked.

"They need someone to," I agreed. "But I'm not the only accountant. I checked this morning and the passwords to all the accounts were already changed. I have enough stashed away that we could get by if we have to, but it wouldn't be my first choice."

We spent the rest of the morning and afternoon hanging around the house while we waited for the meeting with Felix later. My grandparents didn't have cable, but I found an old TV with bunny ears and found a handful of fuzzy channels. Leah laid on the couch, her feet in my lap, and we made a few jokes about the shows. But it wasn't the same. There was a sense of unease hanging over us while we waited for the evening to come.

Eventually, it did.

Brooke wore a black turtleneck sweater to cover the bruises on her throat. Mine couldn't be helped. Leah had on a hooded sweatshirt and a baseball hat, her ponytail hanging out the back. She would be our way out in case things went to shit. We pulled out of the driveway as the sun was setting. The glare made it hard for Brooke to drive at first, but before long the sun fell below the horizon and dusk approached.

The car eventually slowed around the outskirts of eastern Buffalo and we entered an old industrial complex. A chain-linked fence topped with looping razor wire surrounded the perimeter. At one time it was probably useful in keeping people out. Now long sections were knocked over or cut open. Weeds grew up through webbed cracks in the pavement and most of the windows in the buildings were broken. Graffiti covered the walls. This place clearly hadn't been used in years.

At one opening a man waved us forward. He stepped in front of the car, forcing us to stop. He wore a leather jacket and had an automatic rifle slung behind one shoulder. Black hair hung to his shoulders. A car was parked nearby, the engine running. Carrying automatic weapons out in the open like this was bold. He knocked on the window, which Brooke lowered.

He leaned down and looked first at her, then me, then back at Leah. He grunted and nodded for us to move on.

We continued through the grid of streets, stopping at each intersection every hundred feet or so. This place was like a small city. We checked both ways before continuing even though there was no sign of other cars. Enormous white tanks rose high into the air, taking up most of every third block. Steps spiraled along the outside of the tanks from ground to roof.

"This is a big operation," I said, breaking the tension.

"I've never been here before," Brooke answered. "Usually I meet Felix behind an old restaurant his family owns. I guess this is more fitting for the boss."

Leah asked, "Do you have something like this?"

"Not centralized like this," I said as we stopped at one of the intersections. "We don't want such a big footprint. Although I see now that it has its uses." I imagined being able to openly control this wide of an area on the outskirts of a major city meant processing would be fast and efficient. It was also likely that some of the police were on their payroll.

Two blocks later we saw the first signs of life since the man at the gate. Figures were standing along the perimeter of a large warehouse. They each held rifles slung behind their backs. Two more were stationed on either side of a set of double doors. These two were empty handed.

We parked in front of the warehouse, and Brooke and I walked up to the doors while Leah climbed into the front seat. The men waiting here eyed us. I was wrong, the lumps in their suit jackets gave away the fact that they were carrying. The first patted me down and I winced when he raised my arm while the second man watched. I couldn't tell if he noticed my pain. Then he did the same to Brooke. He grunted and knocked three times on the door before pushing it open.

The room was brightly lit and I tried not to squint while my eyes adjusted from the darkness outside. The floor was cold concrete, and steel rafters were exposed high against the ceiling. Black metal catwalks ran along the walls, one for each story of the building's height. The walls were brick until about ten feet off the floor, where huge windows dominated the space. Not a single pane in these windows was broken, and you could see the lights of Buffalo's skyline twinkling in the night. This was probably an old factory at one point.

A tan man in his thirties approached. He wore a leather jacket and had black, slicked-back hair. "Brooke," he smiled. "How nice to see you."

"Hey Felix," Brooke answered.

He held her hands and kissed her on each cheek. "And you must be Matt. Nice to meet you." We shook hands but I didn't offer any pleasantries. After our meeting with Carlos I was immune to his friendliness. "Come have a seat."

As we walked to where another group waited, Felix lowered his voice. "I heard about your accident. I'm glad you're okay. It's good you reached out, we were worried you were seriously hurt."

"Just a few bumps and bruises. It's good to know you were concerned for my well-being."

We arrived at a large table. Three men sat on the other side, each had long black hair and wore expensive suits. Necklaces, rings, and earrings decorated their hands and faces. The man in the center stood first, followed by the others at his sides. His hair was tied back in a pony tail and there were deep lines in his leathery face.

"You must be Matt. And of course we know Brooke." His voice was raspy. "Have a seat." He gestured to two steel folding chairs across from him. He sat first and the rest of us followed. "You look like you've been in a fight, Matt."

"You should see the other guy." The others at the table chuckled, but stopped when the man in the center ignored my comment. "Sorry, I didn't catch your names," I said.

"Gabriel Sanabria. This is my brother Antonio," he gestured to the man on his right. "And Mateo has been with me from the beginning," he said as he nodded to the man on his left.

"Gabriel, Antonio, Mateo," I said to each in turn. "Thank you for taking this meeting, I know you're all busy. After Brooke's accident I'm sure you were curious how she was released so quickly when a woman was killed." They were silent, so I continued. "I work for the Medina family. We operate primarily in the south. Florida, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona. Our operation is growing and we're looking for new partners to work with. Brooke and I have known each other for some time, and we recently started discussing a potential opportunity that could be profitable for both of us. We found it prudent to help her."

Gabriel looked us both up and down before speaking. "Medina, you say. You speak for them?"

I shook my head. "Nobody speaks for Sofia. But she personally tasked me with finding a way to make this work."

He nodded. "I know the name. You have a reputation. But you can understand why I would be concerned about you moving north. To my home."

"Of course," I agreed. "But let me assure you that we have no intention of starting any sort of conflict. You say you've heard of us. That we have a reputation. Have you heard of any unnecessary violence coming from our operation? Has anything made it into the media? I know it hasn't. Don't get me wrong, we're not afraid of conflict. But it's not good business. And business, ultimately, is what we're all here for."

Gabriel waited for a long moment, considering what I said. "What do you propose?" He eventually asked.

I reached into my pocket and everyone tensed, even Brooke. I pulled out a large folded up piece of paper and spread it out on the table. "Apologies for the crudeness."

It was a map of the area. St. Catharines in the northwest, Buffalo in the southeast. They were separated by a dotted line that represented the border between the United States and Canada. I circled areas on the map in black marker. "I know you have product coming into Canada here, here, and here. And it gets distributed from a central location, here, in Buffalo." I made another circle with spokes shooting off like a wheel. "What I couldn't figure out was how you got it over the border, from Canada to Buffalo. That's where Brooke came in. Apparently, she's the key to the operation. She's been getting your product from St. Catharines to Buffalo more effectively than anyone else I've seen."

Antonio said, "You're very well informed. And yes, Brooke has been indispensable. But she is not our only means of transportation." I wasn't sure I believed that, but didn't say anything.

"But there are ways to improve. Low hanging fruit I think we could help with. First, you have a bottleneck in your supply chain. You could be moving more product, you just don't have it." After speaking with Brooke, transporting forty pounds at a time was common. While that was a lot in recreational terms, it was a drop in the bucket for an industry this size. If they had access to more product, they would have been moving it.

"We can get it into Canada, but we don't have your distribution channels in the region to take it from there. Second," I paused to look them each in the eye. "There are wolves nipping at your heels. I know more than one shipment has gone missing. In fact, that's how Brooke got into her accident. Someone ran her off the road. But she held onto the product, and we're happy to return it. Security is something we can help with. Finally, from what I can tell, you're holding on to your cash. I don't think you're spending more than thirty percent of what you're bringing in. If you're having trouble cleaning your money, we can help with that too."

I kept speaking, drawing new lines and figures on the map, trying to drag out the meeting for as long as I could. Eventually Mateo asked for the marker and adjusted my notes in some areas, adding others. I was amazed. They were moving almost all of their product into the States through this channel between St. Catharines and Buffalo. It was both impressive and incredibly risky to have so many eggs in one basket. Brooke, and whoever else was driving for them, really were keeping the whole thing together. The accountant in me was screaming to diversify.

The discussion came to a natural end point. We identified the areas the Cuevas were giving them the most trouble, and I showed them where I thought we could move more product into Canada. The Toronto harbor was a good option.

"Matt," Gabriel began. "I must say I'm impressed. This could be the start of a wonderful partnership. However, to be frank, I just don't see why we need you. Our supply shortage is being addressed internally. You don't have the manpower here to move the Cuevas out now, and in the time it would take you to get it, we can simply recruit it ourselves. But we'll certainly take your excellent suggestions on logistics under advisement." Gabriel nodded to two men and motioned to us. They ushered us over to the side of the room. "I'm sorry, but this will be the end of- "

Gunshots, short and loud, barked outside. About half of the group looked to the door. The other half looked at me and Brooke. I held up my hands and said, "That's not us."

Something heavy slammed into the door, but it held. It slammed again and the door frame buckled, but stood. Everyone took a few hesitant steps back. The third blow blasted the door into the room, skidding along the concrete. Several cannisters rolled in behind it. A few slid to a stop and pressurized streams of smoke jetted into the air.

The others detonated. Blinding flashes seared my eyes and I looked away. A concussive boom followed a moment later. I felt the thump in my chest and my ears were ringing. The man holding me let go, and even though I couldn't see, the release of pressure on my arm told me where he was. I spun and hit him in the stomach, bending him over. Then I forced my eyes open for a second and it felt like someone rubbed sand paper over my eye balls. I stomped on the inside of his knee. It buckled and he went down. His mouth moved but I couldn't hear what he said.

I looked for Brooke but I could hardly keep my eyes open, and thick gray smoke fogged what little I could see. I breathed in and hot ash burned my throat. A hand grabbed my mine and tugged. Eventually the ringing in my ears quieted enough that I could hear short, scattered cracks of gunfire. They would have been deafening if my ears were working properly. Smoke filled the room and I coughed before pulling he collar of my shirt up and breathing into it. Dark hair with purple streaks bobbed ahead of me and Brooke's hand dragged me along in a tight grip.

We crouched behind an overturned table. Smoke filled the room, but I could see bodies crumpled on the floor. It was impossible to tell who was who. There was no sign of Gabriel or the other men at the table. "We can't just sit here," I yelled to Brooke over the noise. She nodded and pointed to the door we entered through. Her mouth moved but the noise drowned out whatever she said.

Someone collapsed next to our table and a body fell into our space. It was Felix. He was bleeding from multiple holes in his chest, and his eyes were glassy.

I grabbed Brooke's hand and we jumped over the body, sprinting for the door, our heads low. Something slammed into my hip and I went down. I let go of Brooke's hand so I didn't pull her down with me and waved her to keep going.

Someone jumped on me and I saw the face of the man sitting to Gabriel's right, his brother Antonio. Blood streamed from a wound on his head and covered half his face. His eyes were wild as he tried to get a grip on my throat. I turned and tried to roll, blocking him with my elbows and shoulders. I heaved against him to try to throw him off but he was too heavy to move. One hand got past my arms and circled my neck. I instinctively tried to pull it off, which left his other hand free to join the first. For a few moments I had enough air to fight back hard, pounding against his face and neck and ribs, but it was no use.

Pressure built in my head and my vision began to darken. There are worse ways to go, I thought. At least this would be quick. My blows got weaker and I couldn't focus. This time I was smart and left a list of contacts for Leah to reach out to. She would know not to wait around too long for me, and Brooke would tell her what happened. The concrete was cold and hard under my head.

I hope Brooke got out.

The pressure on my throat and in my head released. I gasped for breath. Hot, ashy air filled my lungs. I had never tasted anything sweeter. I coughed and struggled for ragged half-breaths. The man that was on top of me was laying on his back now, limp. Brooke dropped a gun and hauled me up, half dragging me out the door.

Outside, the night air was cold and refreshing. I put my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath, appreciating the bite in my throat.

A high, clear wail pierced the noise coming from inside. It was joined by two others, their pitches rising and falling out of sync. More added their voices and it became a cacophony of distant howls. Red and blue lights flashed, casting purple hues against the faces of the buildings they raced past.

Tires screeched as a black SUV skidded to a stop next to us. "Get in!" Leah yelled. I scrambled into the front passenger seat, Brooke right behind me in the back, and Leah took off. Police cars were coming down every road and alley now, tightening the net around the warehouse.

"Over there," I croaked and pointed to an opening between the side of a building and a dumpster. There weren't any lights nearby and the shadow was like a curtain. Leah parked in the spot and turned off the lights. We sat in darkness and caught our breaths for the first time in what felt like hours, but it had probably only been minutes since the shooting began.

"Are you both alright?" Leah asked.

I rubbed my neck. "More or less." I turned back to Brooke. "Hey. Thank you."

She nodded seriously, "Don't mention it."

Leah reached over to hold my hand, and her eyes locked mine onto hers, as they so often did.

"Not while I'm in the car please," Brooke huffed.

We let the silence settle around us, and I softly stroked Leah's hand.

After about half an hour, we thought our way out was clear enough to make an exit. Keeping the lights off, Leah drove through the grid of the industrial complex and back onto the highway. We were quiet during the drive, each lost in our own thoughts. When we finally got back to my grandparents' house we parked in the street. I unbuckled my seat belt and said, "I'm too tired to cook. What do you say we get- "

A car slammed into the passenger side of the SUV. The impact rolled our car over into the front yard, and everything went dark.

When I came to I was sitting on a hard chair. My head throbbed. I tried to check for blood but my hands wouldn't move. Roughness chafed into the skin on my wrists. I tried to stand up and felt the same tight pressure on my ankles. I opened my eyes and saw my grandparents' living room. It was dark, the only light was a dim yellow glow coming from an old ornate lamp my grandmom used to love. Brooke was also in one of the kitchen chairs, secured in the same way. Her head rolled and she opened her eyes. Her arms and legs flexed and she looked down to see the same restraints. "What the fuck? Oowww my head."

"Good. You're awake." A rough voice said. Daniel entered the room. He was thin like I remembered, and his nose was still black and blue from when one of my men broke it in the car. It matched the rest of him. A bloody spatter on his shirt glistened wetly. I didn't know if it was his blood or not. His arm was held up by a makeshift sling wrapped around his neck. He held a gun in his other hand.

"Cops? Really? You let them do your dirty work?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He stared at me. Then he whipped the handle of the gun into my face. I saw stars and heard a crunch. The chair leaned back and almost tipped over, when its front legs lurched back onto the floor my nose exploded in pain. Warm wetness trickled down my face.