Dangerous (15 page)

He was still holding out his hand. “Your weapon.”

Glaring at him, she pulled it from her waistband and gave it up.

Camille hated being weaponless in this economically depressed area of Garfield Park, where gentrification had not yet arrived. On this block, buildings had been abandoned and lots sat empty but for the foundations from the houses that had once stood there. The street where Drago parked was empty except for three young black men hanging on a stoop, heads covered by black nylon do-rags tied at the back of their necks and wearing skimpy black T-shirts that showed off much of their highly tattooed bodies. Most of the tattoos were black outlines of crosses and other symbols that looked like they'd been done by amateurs. She had no doubt these were members of the Insane Brotherhood.

Torn about walking this street without her police persona and weapon for protection, Camille stayed right with Drago, holding on to his bicep, hoping she was believable as his “arm candy.” That Drago carried himself as aggressively as he'd been that first night in Hog Heaven offered little comfort. Instead, it reminded her of how dangerous he could be.

As they approached the building where the men gathered, all eyes turned to them. One of the men broke away from the others and stood in front of the stairs, muscle-ropey arms crossed over his massive chest, and glared at Drago.

“Where you think you goin'?”

Drago didn't even hesitate. “To see LeRoy Walker.”

He tried to move forward until the other man put up an arm to stop him. Her chest tightening, Camille prepared herself for a fight.

“LeRoy didn't tell me about no appointment with no white boy.”

Not about to correct him, Drago jutted his face closer to the man. “He'll see me.”

“Yeah? Why's that?”

“Because I'm here to talk to him about Angel.”

The gangster stared at Drago a moment longer, then snapped, “DeAndre! Go ask LeRoy if he wanna talk to White Boy about this Angel.”

One of the other men said, “Okay, Rashan,” and hurried inside.

“You a copper?” Rashan asked Drago.

“Concerned citizen.”

Rashan gave him a disbelieving expression. “Yeah, sure you are. What about the skirt?”

Realizing Rashan meant her, wanting in the worst way to smack that smarmy grin off his face, Camille forced herself to go wide-eyed and press closer into Drago's side.

“She's my woman.”

His woman.
He said it with such authority. As if he really meant it. Camille had to bite back a caustic reply.

DeAndre came out of the building. “LeRoy said send him in.”

“You carrying heat?” Rashan asked Drago.

“Nope.”

“Gotta check. Raise your arms.”

Drago did as he was told and let the man pat him down.

Then a grinning Rashan turned to Camille. “Now you.”

“Touch her and you're a dead man!”

Camille felt Drago tense against her. He would go through with that threat, which could get them both killed. Her pulse threaded unevenly, but she didn't refuse.

“No problem, snookums.” Letting go of the clingy girlfriend role for a second, she raised her hands, sweetly saying, “Touch anything you shouldn't, Rashan, and I promise you won't be fathering any more babies.”

The other two men snorted, and Rashan gave them a filthy look. Then, giving her an expression of respect she hadn't expected, he patted down Camille as quickly and impersonally as he had Drago. He stepped to the side. “First floor, dining room.”

Drago scowled his way up the stairs, the other men stepping aside to let them pass. Camille would swear they feared him. They got inside without any further interference. Even so, Camille was on edge, her gaze sweeping the interior as they entered. Though it was still daylight, the interior was dim, gloomy. A good place for an attack. She checked out every corner as they crossed the living room into the dining room. No one until they came upon the lone man sitting in an armed chair on a wall without windows. Though he was dressed in the same T-shirt and do-rag as his men, he held an aura of power the others couldn't touch. He sported professionally executed tattoo “sleeves” that extended to his chest and neck. The only tattoos on his face were tears. A lot of them, open and closed, indicating both his kills and the people he had lost.

“LeRoy?” Drago asked.

“I know who I am. Don't know you.”

“Drago Nance.”

“Ah, I know that name. I heard about you. Spent time in the can. You made yourself a reputation at Cook County.”

“I'm not here about me. I'm here about Angel.”

LeRoy turned his piercing gaze on Camille.

“Same.” She abandoned the arm-candy camouflage. She didn't think LeRoy would believe it anyway. “We heard you had information.”

LeRoy sized them up in an uncomfortable silence that lasted far too long. For a moment she feared that he wasn't going to tell them anything.

Then he asked, “What's in it for me?”

Camille wanted to say she wouldn't arrest his ass, but clenched her jaw and let Drago do the talking.

“I'll owe you.” Drago clarified. “Nothing illegal.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” The gang leader nodded. “Deal.”

“So what is it you know about Angel?”

“Not his real name. I saw him, though.”

Saw him? They already had a description from Noreen. Camille asked, “Saw him do what?”

“Dump that woman's body on Logan Boulevard in the middle of the night. My boys and me were riding by when he did it right under a streetlight. Almost like he wanted a witness. I could see the brand on his arm as clear as if it was daylight.”

Branding was a very nasty, painful form of tattooing done with a hot metal branding iron like those used on cattle. Some gangs used a brand to identify a member's affiliation with the most pain possible, literally adding salt to the wound. Apparently tolerance for pain was their measure of a man.

Camille could hardly breathe as Drago said, “And the brand was…?”

“H. L.”

“Humboldt Lords.”

Camille sensed Drago's deep anger when he named the Latino Humboldt Park gang that had been at war with the Insane Brotherhood for decades. Drive-by shootings had become commonplace, but of course gang members hadn't been the only ones hurt or killed. So many of the victims were the innocent who'd been at the wrong place at the wrong time. His hatred of the rival gang obviously being the reason LeRoy had been willing to talk to them.

“You're sure you don't know who this Angel really is?” Camille asked.

“Baby, if I knew who, I would gladly give him up, but I didn't see his face.”

“Anything more you can tell us?” Drago asked.

“As far as I'm concerned, you ought to just send all the Lords to Hell where they belong.”

“What makes you think I want to go up against Drago Nance?”

Triggering the flick knife he held in his hand so the curved blade sprang free from the handle, Angel gave the other gangster his most ferocious scowl. “Don't you forget how I covered for you when you screwed up that shipment. You owe me.”

“To go up against Drago? Not that much, I don't.”

“Really? What if I told the others?” Without looking away from what he was doing—running a finger gently along the deadly blade—he asked, “What if the pigs found out?”

“You threatening me?”

“No threat, bro. Just speculation.”

Enough to make the snake in front of him dance. He was sweating. And his mouth must have gone dry because he kept licking his lips. No surprise. He knew he put fear into everyone's gut.

“What do I have to do?” the other man finally asked.

“Help me get Drago Nance out of the way once and for all. I'll let you know when, so you keep your cell charged. Only him, though. He won't be alone, but the woman is mine. You hurt her, and you know what I can do to you.”

He slashed the blade through the air so close to the other gangster's throat that he jumped back.

“Fuck you! I'll do it, but fuck you anyhow!”

Angel smiled. This was the last one. His plan was in motion. He'd handpicked his team.

Tonight, Camille would be his in all the ways he'd imagined.

In a black mood, Drago drove more aggressively than he needed to, narrowly missing a car that turned onto the main street.

“Slow down, would you?”

Ignoring Camille's protest, he gripped the steering wheel hard and wove between two cars and around another. He needed a way to release the tension that had built in him talking to LeRoy. He could easily believe Angel was one of the Humboldt Lords, the gang that had been the bane of his existence for two decades.

“Do you think Angel's gang knows what he's been up to?” Camille asked as she checked her smartphone, no doubt to see if the bastard had IM'd her again.

“Maybe.” If he thought it would do any good, he'd go straight to Tomas Huerta to ask, but Huerta would spit on him rather than give him a shred of information, especially since Angel was one of his boys. “Then again, gangs don't usually plan murders like this. They keep it in house, like the old mafia did. One faction against the other.”

“But innocents get killed anyway.”

“Because gangbangers are notoriously bad shots,” Drago said. “They have no idea of how to handle the firepower they get their hands on.”

“And Illinois passing the right-to-carry-a-concealed-weapon law didn't help things,” she admitted.

In Drago's mind, it was more than that. “Gang members killing each other doesn't have the same impact on the police as common citizens being targeted by a thief or a loved one.”

“Murder is murder, Drago.”

He knew she wouldn't like hearing the truth, Camille being a cop and all. But he couldn't help himself. He had to lay it on the table the way he saw it, whether or not she liked what she heard.

“
You
may believe that, but there are other cops who turn a blind eye on gang violence. I once heard a cop say, ‘Let them kill each other off. Less for us to clean up.' ”

“That guy was an ass. That's not how most of us think. We believe in letting the justice system take care of criminals, so don't go around verbally beating up all cops like that!”

Even though he had good reason to? His teenage years fighting the Lords had been no picnic, and he'd never felt like anyone in authority had been on his side. But apparently she didn't want to hear about it.

How could he and Camille have any kind of relationship if they couldn't be honest with each other?

Thinking they needed a well-earned break from all this time they'd been spending together, he said, “I have some things I need to do, so I'm taking you to my place.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as I need!” he snapped.

He wanted to cool off and get some perspective, not only on Angel, but on Camille. Impossible to do when they were together 24/7, which they had been for more than two days.

“Fine.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence. He pulled to the curb in front of his place, handed her the key to his front door, and didn't say a word as she got out. She stood there for a second with the door open.

Finally, she asked, “Are you taking yourself off the case?”

“Not a chance. Are you going to follow me again?”

“That depends. Where are you headed?”

“I just need some alone time.” Without thinking, he asked, “Can't I take a break from you?”

Camille gaped at him for a moment before raising her voice. “All right! Don't worry, I won't follow you.”

Making Drago feel like a heel. He hadn't meant that he was sick of being with her. He just needed some time on his own to figure things out.

“Sorry. I'm just in a mood. You know how that is, right?” She'd been in a mood off and on ever since they'd started the search. He guessed it was his turn now. “I'll call you in a couple of hours when I get over myself.”

“Or when I figure out what to do next, I'll call you.” Though she didn't yell at him this time, Camille slammed the car door and stalked off toward the house.

Angry at the world for the moment, Drago nevertheless couldn't help himself. With a longing born of regret—his needing space was due to the situation, not to her, and it had been wrong for him to be accusatory—he watched her until she got inside the house. And then he took off and just drove. The new angle to the case made him sick inside. It would bring him even deeper into a conflict that he'd been fighting practically his entire life. A conflict that seemed to have no end.

He couldn't let it cloud his perspective on this case. Couldn't afford to have his head so messed up by the past. Couldn't afford to miss anything.

Saving the kid was the only thing that counted now.

The clock was ticking faster.

They could hope Angel would hold off killing Sandy as he had his other victims, but she wasn't his type, so why would he keep a possible witness alive? Not a question he would be sharing with Camille. He needed her to keep a cool head, not go back to being stopped by her emotions or self-guilt.

Being rational allowed him to cool off, and he swung by Justus Investigat
ions. His brother's car sat directly outside the building. Good. Drago parked and went in, nodding as he approached the receptionist.

“Is Justus free?”

“He's not with a client. But the new PI is in there with him.”

“Good.” That way he wouldn't have to tell the story twice.

He knocked at his brother's door then went straight in. Justus and Eva were looking over some folders. Both glanced up at the same time.

“You look like hell,” Justus said. “What happened? Where's Camille?”

“I dropped Camille off at home. I needed some time to think.”

“About?”

“About the fact that Angel is a member of the Humboldt Lords.”

Justus muttered a string of particularly crude expletives under his breath.

“You're sure about that?” Eva asked.

“We got it straight from LeRoy Walker, the head of the Insane Brotherhood.”

“We?” Justus went tight-lipped.

“Don't go ballistic on me. You have to know Camille wouldn't let me leave her behind.”

“Point taken.” Justus shook his head. “Are you certain you believe LeRoy Walker? It couldn't be he's just spewing hatred to start trouble?”

“Oh, I'm sure he'd like that. But, yes, I believed him. He told us he was riding by with his boys when Angel dumped the second victim on Logan Boulevard. Said he saw the brand on Angel's arm clear as day.”

“But he didn't identify him.”

“We already have his description. If LeRoy had recognized him, I don't know how much it would have helped, because he probably would only have known Angel's street name. Like Tomas Huerta goes by Rattlesnake. Skull and Zippo are his lieutenants and Blade is his enforcer.” He didn't know all of their real names, but he did know they were all badasses. All very, very dangerous. They all wore the teardrop tattoos. “That wouldn't give us their real identities, though it would have been easier to nail them. There is no one in the gang who calls himself Angel—at least not that I know of—so that's probably just the moniker he uses online.”

“So what are you and Camille going to do with this information?” Justus asked.

“We didn't discuss it.” Drago threw himself into the chair next to Eva and facing his brother. “I was a little wound up after we left LeRoy. Camille and I got into it a bit. I guess we'll figure it out when we both cool down.”

Silence.

Drago met his brother's gaze. He knew Justus was trying to read him. Not that he'd ever done so successfully. Or maybe he had but simply hadn't wanted to go wherever Drago had been.

Finally, Justus asked, “What's going on between the two of you? You and Camille?”

“Nothing that affects my investigative skills.” He'd never told Justus about his spending all that time with Camille. At first, he'd been too enthralled. And then he'd been in jail and pissed at his brother. He wasn't about to get chatty now. Instead, he said, “We both like having control of a situation.” Which was absolutely true.

Justus raised an eyebrow. “Really. So she challenges you.”

Drago clenched his jaw, then said, “Don't try to analyze me. Help me.”

“With Camille?”

“With finding Angel!”

“Maybe I can help.” Eva flashed them both a look of annoyance.

“You got something on Angel by talking to people in your neighborhood?” Drago asked.

She shook her head. “Sorry, nothing yet. But I do know a
chola
whose boyfriend is a member of the Humboldt Lords.”

Drago snorted. “Gangbangers don't rat on each other to outsiders.”

“Isabel Diaz and I grew up together. We used to be really close until she decided to get with a gangbanger named Mateo. She was in love, you know. Not much you can do to talk sense into a sixteen-year-old girl in love. Now she has a different man. Another Humboldt Lord. Still not married. I think she still lives on the streets sometimes. Even though we went down different life paths, we've always kept a friendly distance.”

“And because of that, you think she might talk?” Drago couldn't help but be skeptical.

“I don't know, but it won't hurt to try. I'm hoping she wouldn't be so okay knowing a member of her boyfriend's gang is abducting women to sexually abuse and then murder them.”

“Can you call her and find out?” Drago asked.

She gave him a look. “We're not exactly on each other's phone list.”

Justus said, “But you think you might be able to find her, right?”

“I know where her sister lives. And her mother.” Eva got to her feet and indicated the case file they'd been working on. “But it might take some time to track her down. I'll probably have to wait till one of them gets home from work and hope either the mother or sister knows where to find Isabel. This new case can wait?”

“Absolutely.” Justus waved her off. “Go to it.”

When Eva left, Drago just sat there trying to decide what to do next.

Justus cleared his throat. “So, about you and Camille.”

Drago narrowed his gaze on his brother. “What is your problem?”

“I'm not the one with a problem. I think you are. I see how you look at Camille. And the way she looks at you when she thinks no one is watching.”

“It's an intense case. Lots of stress.”

“There's something intense going on, but I wouldn't say it's only the case.” Justus waited for a moment, but when Drago didn't respond, he kept at it. “Talking might help.”

Drago scowled.

“Well, it certainly couldn't hurt. I
am
your big brother.”

He was. The reason Drago was having a difficult time forgiving his only sibling. “A lot of good that did me when I sat in lockup month after month.”

“You know why I didn't bail you out.”

“Because you never supported me.”

“I didn't want to get that visit with the bad news from whoever got the case when you were found dead on the street! I never supported you? I kept you alive! I was so affected by the inequity of the system I worked for that I quit the force and started this company. What am I doing now? I helped you get your PI license. I gave you a job. Can't you let the past go?”

“I'm trying.”

Only he couldn't forget Justus leaving him to rot, no matter his reason. And he definitely couldn't forget what had happened between him and Camille—what could have happened had he been freed. Impossible to forget, no matter how hard he tried to put it behind him.

Justus pulled a hand through his hair. “Well, that is just sad.”

“Yeah, maybe it is.” And maybe talking about something else—about Camille and him—would help. His brother wasn't brainless. He already suspected there was something going on between them. Drago figured he might as well get it out into the open. “I'm pretty sure you don't know this…I didn't just meet Camille the other day.”

“Are you saying you knew her before I assigned you to her case?”

“Sort of. We spent some time together one weekend.”

“Time together? How did you even meet each other?”

“You and I had a beer at your cop bar that Friday night, but then you got a call on a case and had to leave. She came in looking for you to celebrate a case she'd just closed. She got me instead.”

“
Got you.
Literally?”

“Really literally. All weekend literally.”

Justus gaped at him. “I can't believe you never told me. Then what happened?”

“Then I got arrested. I
promised
her I would call. I
meant
to call. Maybe if I'd been bailed out, I
would
have called. But no way was I going to put through a collect call to a woman who got to me.” Collect calls being the only way he could have spoken to her from jail, unless she had called him.

“And she still gets to you.” Justus's forehead pulled in a frown. “After four years. That's a new record. I don't remember you being interested in any woman after four months. Four weeks even. And I don't ever remember any woman being able to get to you like this, either. So what's been going on between the two of you? You've been at each other's throats the past two days?”