Blood Defense

FIFTY-ONE

On my way back, I thought about what he might want from me. Or want to do to me. I told myself not to be paranoid, that I’d gotten that gangbanging asshole Ricardo a hell of a deal, and that he’d be stupid to shoot me in the office in broad daylight. But his son was a psychopath. There was a distinct possibility the apple hadn’t fallen all that far from the tree. And after the fun time I’d had with Lane Ockman, I decided there was no reason to take any chances.

When I got to the office, I put my.38 Smith & Wesson in the pocket of my blazer. Michelle raised an eyebrow. “I think if you don’t want to take his case, a simple ‘no’ will do.”

At that moment, the outer door buzzer sounded. Michelle cast a critical look at my waist. “It totally shows. Just put it in your desk drawer like you always do.”

Michelle went to get the door. I supposed she was right. I dropped the gun into my drawer. But I left it open.

A few seconds later, Michelle escorted in an older man whom I assumed was Ernesto, and a younger man who looked a lot like Ricardo-tats and all-but he was thicker in the chest and arms. They were taller than Ricardo; I figured they were both about five foot nine or ten. The older man, who had the head of a buffalo and slightly stooped shoulders, extended a leathery brown hand. “I am Ernesto Orozco, and this is my son, Arturo.”

I reached out and shook his hand. It felt like a chunk of asphalt-rough, solid, and heavy. “Pleased to meet you, Ernesto.”

Arturo, who had the same slicked-back hairdo as Ricardo, stretched out a hand that was inked from pinkie to thumb. “Thank you for seeing us.”

As we shook, I noticed the muscles move under his black T-shirt. He’d taken a bath in cologne for the occasion, and the sweet scent mixed with the smell of hair grease made me queasy. It brought back memories of Ricardo. I gestured for them to take the seats in front of my desk. I was glad to have the advantage of my big lawyer’s chair so I could look down on them. The old man’s eyes were black and flat, like a shark’s-just like Ricardo’s. But Arturo’s eyes were hot, and they glittered with malice. The air felt heavy, like the moments before a thunderstorm, and I could feel the weight of it in my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I clocked the position of the gun in my open drawer. If I had to grab it, I didn’t want to wind up with a handful of paper clips. I made my face relax and did my best to sound confident. “What can I do for you?”

Ernesto’s eyes grew watery. He spoke slowly in a deep, rumbling voice. “We have had a terrible tragedy. My son Ricardo. Someone killed him in prison.”

My heart gave a dull thud. I pulled on a look of concern and surprise. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. How did it happen? Was it a guard?” I kept my gaze steady.

Arturo shook his head with a venomous look and bit off his words as though he were tearing through flesh. “A pinchi Southside motherfucker shivved him.”

Ernesto dabbed at a tear that leaked out of the corner of his eye. “They put Ricardo in with the Southside Creepers.”

His rival gang. My palms were sweating. I wiped my left hand on my thigh and let it dangle off the arm of my chair, within closer reach of the gun. Barely breathing now, I looked from Ernesto to Arturo. “How did that happen?”

Ernesto shook his head, his hooded eyes narrowed. “They tell me it was an accident. Someone made a mistake, put his name on the wrong list.”

Arturo leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and cracked his knuckles. “We don’t believe it. That was no mistake. I think some Southside pendejo got friends in high places.”

I wanted to swallow, but I couldn’t let them see they were getting to me. I moved my left hand a little closer to the open drawer and kept my expression neutral. “So you think a guard who was on Southside’s payroll did it?” They both nodded. “I assume you want to file a lawsuit. But I’m sorry, I don’t do civil cases.”

Ernesto stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “We can find another lawyer to sue. But we want to find out how this happened. Who did this. Who killed my son.”

Arturo’s hands curled into fists. “And who put him with those Southside putas.”

I must have looked alarmed, because Ernesto patted Arturo’s arm heavily. “Don’t worry about him. He gets a little hotheaded sometimes. We just need to know for our own peace of mind. We don’t mean no harm.”

The hell they didn’t. They wanted revenge, and they wouldn’t be picky about how they got it. They weren’t going to buy that it was just a computer glitch or a typo. They wanted names. And if they didn’t like my answers, they’d take me out, too. Having anything to do with these two animals was a bad-possibly fatally bad-idea. But I had no choice. I had to take the case. “I understand. But you know I’m not an investigator.”

Ernesto slowly nodded. “Sí. But you did a good job for Ricardo. And you are famous now. We think maybe the cops will be afraid to lie to you.” He looked at me with his hooded shark eyes. He spoke to Arturo in Spanish.

Arturo translated. “He says he has faith in you.”

Arturo leaned back in his chair and stared down his nose at me-just like Ricardo had. Everything about him, from the curl of his lip to the hands that lay on his thighs, radiated menace. I started to take a deep breath, but it got stuck in my throat. I couldn’t let them see me sweat, so I quickly stood up, my left hand still dangling near the open drawer. “All right. Send me everything they’ve given you. I can’t promise results, but I’ll do what I can.”

Ernesto slowly stood. “That’s all I ask.”

I nodded. “Michelle will work out the payment schedule with you.”

Arturo held out his hand. When I took it, his eyes bored into mine. “And I’ll be doing some digging of my own. One way or another, I’m going to find out who’s responsible for my brother’s death. No matter what it takes.” He held on to my hand for an uncomfortable moment longer as he continued to hold my gaze.

Scared as I was, I refused to let him intimidate me. I stared back at him. “I understand.” I pulled my hand away and walked them out to Michelle’s desk.

When I went back to my office, I closed the door, sank into my chair, and took big gulps of air. I was in business with a pair of maniacs who were out for revenge. There was no way this was going to end well. I just had to figure out how to make it end worse for them than for me.

A few minutes later, Michelle came in. “Since it’s not a trial or a case per se, I took a five-thousand-dollar retainer. Sound about right?” I nodded. “So what’s the story?”

“Ricardo has shuffled off this mortal coil. Got stuck in the wrong tank with a rival gang. They want me to find out how that happened and who killed him.”

“Alex is going to love this one.”

I shook my head. “I won’t need him.” I had to handle this one myself.

Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Well, when you find out who did it, let me know. I’d like to buy the man a drink.” She gave a little chuckle. “When they had to give Orozco that deal, I was so pissed. I mean, where’s the justice?” She smiled and shook her head. “But I guess you never know.”

I returned her smile. “Justice moves in mysterious ways.”

Michelle blinked, then returned my smile. “Funny, that’s what you said when the guy who mugged me got killed in a hit-and-run.”

I was still distracted, so it took me a moment to answer. “Is it? I can’t remember that far back. But anyway, it’s true, isn’t it?”

“In ways both good and bad.” She looked at me closely. “What’s going on? You don’t seem like yourself.”

I frowned and pushed some papers around on my desk. “What do you mean?”

“You seem kind of… shook up. I admit, that Orozco clan’s pretty gnarly. But you’ve had scarier clients. What’s the deal?”

I gave a casual shrug. “No deal. I’m okay, just got way too much going on.” I smiled. “I’m fine.”

Michelle had a skeptical look. She gazed into my eyes. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me, Sam.”

I made myself hold her gaze. “Seriously, there’s nothing to tell.”

The phone rang and Michelle went to get it. Two minutes later, she rushed back into my office. “Finally, some good news: Scott came through. Chas Gorman has the phone.”