Nightmare in Red (Nick McCarty #5)

“Oh yeah. I don’t know if he knows anything about Morado, but he seems like our best bet for now. We will have a busy night, my friends. I rested well. I’ll watch Jess today. If I see a chance to separate him from the herd for questioning I’ll do it.”


“We are ready, Muerto,” John said. “Payaso and I already discussed it. We will back your play and help with driving and interrogation. The April Fresh Kabong shall be ready for surveillance and IT duties. I asked Jerry for a van when I delivered the Norte?o mobile. We drove over in it. Cleaner wants to ask a favor.”

“Can I go on stakeout, Muerto… please?”

“Sure. Do what John says and I don’t see any problem with you going along. You certainly have the stomach for the work. I didn’t know you wanted in on this part.”

“I told her I’d watch the kids anytime she wants. They love playing with Benny and Sam,” Rachel said. “I thought I was volunteering to give John and Cala a night out. I didn’t know it was a torture and mutilation night. That’s just… disturbing.”

“We’re good to see this through, Dad,” Jean said. “Quinn, Sonny, and I will handle surveillance if Uncle John needs anything he finds out checked.”

“I recognized that Jess guy,” Villa said. “He and two other Norte?os stopped at Mike’s house two nights ago while my wife Janet and I were meeting with them to discuss this mess. I admit Jean made Jess look small but I don’t think he’ll tell you anything. They take a blood oath to the Norte?os to never reveal anything about their brotherhood in the Familia.”

“I believe you have Jess all wrong, Patrick. I believe he’ll be most helpful,” Nick said. “I believe Jess will practically beg me to let him talk.”

*

Jess absently felt the bandage at his neck, a chill slithering down his spine at the memory of the scarred blonde woman coldly pressing the knife blade to his throat. He considered ways to bypass anything to do with the Monte Café. The place was plain bad luck. The rocket attack he ordered Alfredo to do that morning vanished like a diminishing breeze off the ocean. No hint of the men he sent days ago to put the Monte on his pad or Alfredo’s crew from this morning now existed. The other businesses looked to the Monte Café owners as some kind of bellwether. If he didn’t find some way to slam the Monte, Cornelio would replace him. They were family but Nuestro Familia came first. The Familia smuggled soldiers now from all over the Middle East to fill the ranks spreading over the cities from the neglected borders.

Jess reached his apartment with the intent to change clothes before going to the Norte?os’ meeting at the Phoenix warehouse. Cornelio wanted a face to face before the meeting in private. Jess dreaded it. There would be nothing but excuses to offer. The people at the Monte were not bluffing. They were killers. The restaurant would have to be firebombed or something, preferably with the idiot owners inside. For the hundredth time he wished he knew the guys’ fate he sent earlier. His apartment door shut behind him before Jess turned to close it. When he saw the older man from the restaurant with the cold dead eyes smiling at him, he turned to run further into his apartment for the Glock 9mm he had in the drawer of his bed stand. He ran straight into the black guy from the restaurant. The Middle Eastern guy who kicked Burt’s ass on the way out gave him a little wave as he leaned against the wall.

“Hello, Jess,” the older man greeted him. “Guess what we found out. Your last name is Morado. You’re just the one to answer a very important question. We want to know where to find your cousin Cornelio.”

Jess saw his death in the old man’s eyes. In a split second’s time he understood these men would not let him leave alive no matter what he told them. He launched what he thought was a fast sucker punch to the man’s head blocking his way out of the apartment. Unbelievably, the old man caught his fist with a lightning fast reflex in his left hand. It felt to Jess as if his hand would be pulverized. The bones began to crackle. Jess fell to his knees with a scream of pain. Duct tape was forced over his mouth from behind. The older man released him to the arms of the other two men. In seconds he was plastic tied and duct taped to one of his kitchen chairs. The dark haired Middle Eastern woman he had seen arrive at the restaurant smiled at him while taking measurements from his body.

“Cleaner,” the older man said. “Don’t do the measurements yet. You’ll upset the boy.”

“Oh… ah sure, Muerto.” The woman backed away as the other two men enjoyed the exchange.