head and fell into her lap. She picked it up and winged it back across the room at him, missing and hitting a glass decanter behind the bar, breaking it. He knew he’d hurt her badly, but like a gutsy prizefighter, she refused to show the pain.
They looked at each other for a long time. Finally, Tommy moved back and, with the toe of his shoe, touched her deep between her legs. She recoiled slightly and closed her legs, wrapping her arms around her knees.
“So, they’re not professional dice thieves?” he said. “We got hit by a couple’a outta-work scientists? I don’t believe it.”
“I don’t know what their story is,” she finally said. “They paid me five hundred bucks, plus expenses. Now it’ll all have t’go for new bridgework.”
“Or maybe a funeral.” He looked at her for a long time. “This turns out to be bullshit, you’re fertilizer.”
“You can try,” she said, and began to shiver as she started to go into shock.
Tommy felt better. He turned and went to the phone and dialed a number. “Get the Challenger ready,” he instructed his pilots. “We’re going to Fresno in an hour.” Then he hung up and moved back to Dakota. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up to her feet. She surprised him again when she spit in his face. The glob was bloody and filled with mucus. He didn’t wipe it off; he felt it roll down his cheek. He was still holding her upright by her hair and he could feel her legs shaking under her. She was barely able to stand, but still ready to fight. She glared at him defiantly. He was impressed. She was one hell of a woman.
“You’re coming with me. It’s gonna be fun,” he said. “Maybe along the way you can help me get that weak punch a’mine straightened out.” Then he hit her again. This time it was square in the mouth and sent her flying across the room. She landed on the floor, curled up, and moaned.
“That one was a little better, don’t you think?” he said softly. Then he walked into the bedroom, threw a few things into a suitcase he would need for the trip.
PART FIVE
THE TALC
“If you get into anybody deep enough,
you’ve got yourself a partner.”
–ANONYMOUS
TWENTY - ONE
THE TIGHT HOLE
TOMMY HAD HIS PILOTS LAND JOE’S RED AND WHITE twin-engine Challenger jet at the Fresno Airport. It was four P.M. They taxied up to the new Spanos Executive Jet Center where Tommy had a limousine and three “heavy bag buttons” waiting. The buttons had driven over from Las Vegas where they worked as freelance muscle. The three enforcers looked like a wall of beef leaning against the front of the car. They watched as the big executive jet turned and parked. The wheels were chocked, and as the engines wound down, they pushed their bulk away from the black Lincoln stretch limousine where they had been bending the shiny fender with their bulk. The leader was a broad-shouldered hitter named Jimmy Freeze. Jimmy had a knife scar that ran down the side of his face like a psychopathic warning and disappeared into his collar. Beside him were the Summerland brothers, Wade and Keith, also ex-pro-football jocks. At over 250 pounds each, they were straining the stitching in their 56 extra-long suits. They had once worked for Joe and Tommy as security, until Joe fired them under dubious circumstances that Tommy didn’t understand. So he threw a little work their way when he could.
When the door opened and the gangplank dropped, the first one off the plane was Dakota. Her face had swollen and turned purple where Tommy had hit her. Her split lip still needed stitches and dried blood was caked on the wound. She was in obvious pain and walked slowly down the steps, holding the rail for support. She was wearing one of Calliope’s new outfits and it was too small on her. She was followed closely by Tommy. Dakota moved to the car and got in the back seat with painful care and without speaking. As Tommy approached, Jimmy Freeze motioned to her.
“The fuck happened to her?” he asked.
“Shut up and let’s go,” Tommy barked.
He got in the back of the car and the limo pulled through the gate and onto the Airport Highway. Tommy handed Wade Summerland a slip of paper.
“The Mud Flat Marina is the fucking name of the place. Call four-one-one and find out the address. She says these