One Bad Job Read online

  “Great,” I said. “So we’ve got $211,500 in cash, $500,000 in these bond things, and whatever is in the briefcase.”

  “Let’s see that shit,” Kenyon said, leaning forward. He didn’t strike me as the type that had a hard-on for jewelry, but he knew who we’d hit, and he knew they didn’t dink around with small-time stuff.

  I got up and grabbed the Dremel from the shelf in the garage and went back to the living room. I plugged it in, made sure the cutting wheel was up to snuff, then cut the locks. I shut down the Dremel and laid it on the coffee table next to the briefcase. I took a breath, looked around, then lifted the lid. The four of us gasped loud enough to startle each other, which caused us all to laugh.

  Inside the briefcase wasn’t the couple hundred thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry we were expecting. I wasn’t an appraiser, so I had no idea, and neither did Dave or Kenyon, nor Tanya, but it was definitely the jackpot. I guessed we had almost a million in jewelry. Kenyon said a million and a half. Tanya guessed a million based on my guess, as if she were playing The Price Is Right. Dave smiled and said at least two million, which meant we might have another half million to a million dollars to split up once it was all fenced.

  We were all wrong. There was over seven million dollars’ worth of jewelry in the briefcase, and another million in loose diamonds in a fake compartment. I told you, Dave was smart in a lot of ways, and knowing how to expose hidden treasures was one of them. Of course, we didn’t know how much the jewelry was worth then, we just knew it was a cause for celebration. And celebrate we did. For almost three straight days we partied like there would never be another party thrown for the rest of eternity.

  On the fourth day, we sobered right the fuck up. Word had gotten out that Alexi Nikolayev Petrovski was looking for us. Not “us” as in David Pearson, Billy Jensen, and Kenyon Harrison, but “us” as in “the walking dead men who robbed Gennady Konovalov.” The temperature was getting hot, hotter than we’d expected. We knew the Dolgos were going absolutely insane with rage trying to find out who had been responsible. To have the Solntsevskaya crews sniffing around on top of the Dolgo heat was the kind of thing that made my paranoia kick into overdrive.

  THREE - Holed Up

  I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. I almost felt naked without the biker tattoos and facial hair. I definitely felt naked with a shaved head. Tanya poked her head in the bathroom, a standard pout on her face. She was mad that we didn’t stay in bed all day, and she was mad that we were stuck in the safe house for a couple of weeks. She was mad about everything except when we were naked, sweating, and grunting like rutting pigs. Hell, she was probably even mad then.

  “I’m tired of being locked up in this house,” she whined. It wasn’t really a whine, but it sounded like one to me since I was already irritated. “I want to get out for a while.”

  “You’re right,” I said. She opened her mouth, then closed it, as if expecting me to say no so she could begin a new argument. I smiled at her then looked back at the mirror, watching her in the reflection. “We need some groceries, smokes, rolling papers, and a couple of pizzas. I’m dying for pizza. None of us can go, but you can.”

  “I don’t want to be your errand girl. I have things to do too, you know.”

  “Like what?”

  “Things. Stuff.”

  “You ain’t got shit to do,” I growled, turning from the mirror and rushing at her. I caught her around the waist with my hands and kept charging forward to the bed, landing on top of her when the back of her knees hit the mattress and she fell backward. “Tell me what you have to do, and I’ll think about letting you do it.”

  She squirmed under me for a few seconds before realizing I had her pinned. “I want to get my hair done. My nails. I need some shoes. I want a latte.” Her expression was sour, but she was breathing heavy.

  “Your hair is fine,” I said, leaning down until my face was inches from hers, “you can buy nail polish at the store, you have a million pair of shoes already, and you don’t even know what a latte is.”

  “Fuck you,” she said, squirming again when I began to kiss her neck. “If I let you, can I at least get my hair done?” she asked in my ear, her voice husky and low. I sat up, laughing, which only made her struggle more.

  “If you let me? That’s pretty rich coming from the girl who’s already had it twice this morning.”

  “You made me,” she said, trying to scowl, but unable to stop the grin from spreading across her lips. “Bastard.”

  I laughed even harder, and she bucked, forcing me off her, then mounted me and held my wrists above my head. She began to kiss my cheek, then neck, then my chest. I couldn’t believe I might be going for number three in less than three hours, but there was something about her that I couldn’t resist, I couldn’t live without. She let go of my wrists as her kisses began to trail down my stomach.

  Dave hated her, but the hate was centered around the fact that I was addicted to Tanya Tanner, high school sweetheart, ditzy, yet undeniably attractive. She wasn’t the classic type of beauty that made men long for extended chivalric romance. She was the kind of dirty, lust-inducing, topless dancer that you’d pay almost any price just to feel her naked skin against yours for a single night, a single hour. She wasn’t stupid, but she just wasn’t the type of girl that could stay afloat in a conversation about anything beyond her favorite television shows, music, movies, restaurants, things like that.

  I didn’t care. I took her virginity in high school, and as far as I knew, I was the only man that had ever been granted that single night, that single hour with her. I paid for it by being annoyed by her more than I should have, and from Dave, who was relentless when he got in a mood. She’d stabbed him in the thigh with one of her high heels one night when he was being a complete asshole in front of her, ranking her out to me as if she wasn’t sitting two feet away.

  He was still relentless, but only when she wasn’t around. I hated that they didn’t get along, but I’d given up trying to mediate between them a long time ago. Dave knew I wasn’t going to dump her, especially after she passed the impromptu test of not getting on her knees for him, and she knew I wasn’t going to boot Dave from my crew. I couldn’t anyway, since without Dave, there was no crew.

  I felt her lips, the light touch of her tongue slide below my navel, then her mouth slowly take me in. I sighed, leaning my head back, and was soon arching my back above the bed. Once the stars stopped popping in front of my eyes, I looked down. She’d laid her cheek against my thigh and was staring at me. The way her eyes seemed to grow lighter in my imagination when she looked at me like that, as if they were glowing to let me know just how much she loved me, always made me weak.

  “Go get our shit first,” I said, propping myself up on my elbows. “Then you can go get your hair done, your crotch waxed, your back shaved, and your fangs dulled.”

  Tanya giggled then nipped the skin of my inner thigh with her teeth. “Thank you, Daddy.” She leered at me as if ready to take me on again.

  “Gross.”

  She liked to creep me out sometimes by saying stuff that was just plain wrong. It was a joke we’d shared a long time, and I couldn’t even remember where it had originated from.

  “I’ll be back by dark,” she said, standing up. I rolled over onto my side and watched her walk into the bathroom. Since we were the only couple, we got the master bedroom and bathroom. It was probably another strike against Tanya for Dave.

  “Don’t go back to Houston,” I said. “Stay the hell away from the old neighborhoods.” I heard her lower the toilet seat, followed by the sound of her relieving herself few seconds later,.

  “Don’t watch me!” she yelled when I peeked around the door, causing me to leer at her. “Gross!”

  “Did you hear me? Get your shit done out here. There’s plenty of hair places, shoe stores, grocery stores, nail salons, whatever you need.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I heard you.”

  “I mean it, Tanya. Don’t
go anywhere near Houston. Stay out here in the burbs, and don’t put on so much goddamn makeup you look like you’re trolling for meat at the truck stop.”

  “Billy!”

  “Well, I think it makes you look hot as fuck, but it also makes you stand out like a fat guy at an Anorexics Anonymous meeting.”

  “Billy! You’re going to hell for that!”

  “Probably so,” I said, rolling onto my back. I was pretty sure I’d be going to hell for the five bodies I’d racked up before any other infraction I’d committed in life.

  *****

  “When is your wife coming back? I want pizza.” Dave always started small, innocent, then built his way up.

  “Soon, son,” I said. I reached over and ruffled his hair like an 80’s TV dad would, keeping my temper in check.

  “She get lost or something?”

  I could feel my anger starting to burn. “Maybe. Who cares. There’s shit to eat in the fridge and in the pantry.”

  “Yeah, but I want pizza. And some brews. And we need rolling papers.”

  “Okay, man. Fuck. She’ll be back when she gets back. You’re starting to sound like a child with your whining.”

  Dave grinned at me. He looked over at Kenyon, who did his best to pay us no attention, engrossed in a baseball game on the television.

  “Hey, Kenny, you—”

  “Man, fuck you,” Kenyon said, cutting Dave off. “Don’t get me involved in your bullshit. I’m already stir crazy. I might get STIR CRAZY if you white people push me too far.”

  I laughed. Dave joined in, but didn’t say anything more for a while. We watched the Rangers get a beatdown from the Mariners for another four innings before I heard my stomach at the same time I felt it.

  “Pizza. I want pizza. Pizza pizza pizza pizza.” Dave stood up and began to dance around, chanting in a childlike voice.

  I opened my mouth to tell him to shut the hell up, that I was about to call her and find out where she was, when my phone rang. I stared at it for a few seconds, TANYA splashed across the screen along with a picture of her face. I suddenly felt full of dread, even though I knew she probably had gotten lost in the burbs. I picked it up and answered it.

  “BILLLLEEEEEEEE!” the wail came through the little speaker at ear-bursting volume.

  I felt my armpits begin to grow damp, my legs begin to shake, and my stomach begin to turn over. I heard a small tussle as the phone changed hands, then a strong, calm, authoritative voice in my ear.

  “Comrade Billy,” the voice said, “It is good to finally meet you. Well, at least talk, for now. How have you been, Billy?”

  “Who the fuck is this?” I shouted into the phone, the panic in my voice too obvious. I needed to be calm, to be strong, to be Quarterback Jensen for her. It took my thumb three tries to hit the speakerphone button so Dave and Kenyon could hear.

  “Ah, my apologies, Billy Jensen. I am Alexi Nikolayev Petrovski.”

  I didn’t so much as sit down on the sectional as fall ass-first into it. I wondered if I had turned as white as Dave, who looked like he’d been bleached. Kenyon looked almost gray at hearing the name.

  “You have heard of me, yes?” the head of the American Solntsevskaya crime syndicate said.

  I nodded, forgetting that I was having a phone conversation. “Yeah, I’ve heard of you,” I said after I’d realized he couldn’t see me.

  “Good, good,” Petrovski said, his Russian-accented English sounding as if it had been soaked in butter. “The reason I have contacted you, Billy, is that one of my friends recently had some trouble.”

  “Is that so?” I asked, barely getting the words out.

  “Da, that is so. This friend, he lost some very valuable items, and four of his best men, well, they are no more.”

  “And?”

  “Come now. Gally gave you up. Not you, but your friend Mr. Pearson.”

  “Bullshit,” I said a little too quickly. “Bullshit. Gally would never give us up. There’s nothing to give up.”

  Petrovski laughed. “We both know that’s not true. But to ensure that you understand that I’m not making this phone call just to waste my time talking to a small-time con who has spent the last ten years knocking over corner dealers and gas stations, I’ll let you know that your friend Gally’s fingerprints came back from TCIC. It was very easy to find out where Comrade Rhineheart spent his social and leisure time.”

  Petrovski laughed again, as if we were idiots for thinking we could hide from him.

  “Your associate, Dana Carpenter, he was the one to finally connect Gally to Mr. Pearson. For his help, we let him go… quickly. Without pain. It is nothing to connect Mr. Pearson to you and Mr. Harrison.”

  Kenyon looked even paler at hearing his name come out of Petrovski’s mouth.

  “What do you want?” I asked, knowing the real answer was to find us, torture us, then kill us.

  “I would like to meet the brave, cunning, yet foolish individuals who could put my friend into such a fury. Meet me at my office tomorrow at noon. All of you. I don’t need to explain why it is important that you do not miss this meeting, do I?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Good. Do svidaniya.”

  The call ended. I dropped the mobile into my lap. I wanted to scream, to rage, to find a gun and kill the Russian and all of his thugs. I wanted to put a knife into his eye, feel it sink all the way to the hilt, listen to him scream. A few deep breaths later, and I was more rational. Petrovski hadn’t hurt her, at least he wouldn’t as long as we did exactly as he instructed. Besides, it was some Rambo shit to think I, even the three of us, could storm the East-Tex Bank tower downtown, fight our way to the 72nd floor, waste all of his thugs and bodyguards, rescue Tanya, and kill Petrovski without taking a scratch. We’d be annihilated before we even reached the elevators in the lobby.

  “Fuck that,” Dave said. I looked at him, confused. “I’m not going. Neither are you.”

  “What the fuck do you mean you aren’t going?” I felt myself preparing to launch from the cushion at him so I could wrap my hands around his throat.

  “I mean, I’m not going. None of us are. We have all the money, the bonds, the jewelry. He’s got shit, and besides, he’s the Solntsevskaya boss. They hate the Dolgoprudninskaya.”

  “What do you mean we aren’t going?” I asked again. Kenyon had turned the TV off and was watching us from his chair.

  “Open your ears, Billy. We aren’t going. We have all the cards, and this motherfucker isn’t going to swoop in and take them from us. Fuck him, fuck Anatoli Baryshev, and fuck Gennady Konovalov. They can all kiss our asses.”

  “David,” I said, my teeth grinding as I tried to keep my voice even, steady, “I’m going. I don’t give a shit what you think, I’m going. He’s got her. What do you think he’s going to do if we don’t show up? Just say ‘oh, well, maybe next time, comrade!’?”

  “Jesus Christ,” Dave said, the disgust drowning his words. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I knew it would come down to this one day. Your stupid whore gets pinched by the most powerful fucking mobsters in Texas, probably the fuckin’ country, and you’re gonna go do what? Rescue her? Snitch Kenny and I out just to get your fuckin’ skank back? A dumb cunt who is so stupid she prob—”

  I screamed as I literally flew at him. His army reflexes were still honed to perfection, and he stepped aside while chopping down with his elbow, catching me in the middle of my back. It stung to the point I couldn’t feel my legs, then my chin hit the hardwood floor, making my jaw slam shut. The world went white for a few seconds as my brain rattled around, my teeth aching, blood oozing from the cut where my chin collided with the floor. I started to get up but felt the cold barrel of a gun against my neck.

  “You’ve got two choices, Billy,” he said, not breathing hard at all. His voice was so calm that it scared me. This was Dave’s psycho voice, and I’d only heard it just before he aced someone. “You can get off this floor, get your shit, and we’ll bail, drive to L.A. or New
York or Minneapolis, wherever. Maybe catch a private boat to some islands where they don’t care too much about visas and passports and all that.

  “Or you can make Kenny watch your face and the contents of your skull paint the floor and the wall. I’m not fucking around with you anymore. I’m not giving up my cut, and I’m damn sure not going within a hundred fuckin’ miles of that cocksucker just to save the dumb bitch you should have ditched a long time ago. I told you she’d get you caught up in some shit you couldn’t get out of. Now look at you.”

  “Fuck you,” I said, tensing as I waited for him to pull the trigger. “I’m going to get her, with or without you.”

  “Billy,” Dave said, his laugh sounding maniacal, “you can’t go anywhere if you’re dead.” I heard the hammer lock back. “I guess that’s your choice then?”

  “Put the gun down, Dave,” Kenyon said. His voice was low, dangerous, and he sounded close.

  Dave looked back and saw Kenyon in a shooter’s pose, pistol aimed at his center mass.

  “Don’t tell me you’re stupid enough to follow this dumb fuck into the lion’s den.”

  “It don’t matter how stupid I am,” Kenyon said, chambering a round in his gun. “Put your shit away before I put you away.”

  “Man, fuck you,” Dave said. I felt the barrel of his automatic dig into my neck a little deeper. “You gonna shoot me?”

  “I will, and I won’t regret killing a dumb motherfucker like you. You think going to L.A. or New York or Aruba or to fucking Jupiter will save your ass? These guys are global. Use your fuckin’ head, Dave. Cool off and think about it.”

  “No,” Dave said. “I’m tired of being the bitch. We’ve got a couple million dollars. We could easily disappear, go off the grid.”

  A muffled noise interrupted whatever Kenyon was about to say. Dave reached into his pocket and stared at the screen. He took the gun from my neck and sat down on the floor next to me. Kenyon watched him for a moment before lowering his pistol. Dave looked like someone had taken a hammer to his testicles.