It was in a neighborhood draped with ancient trees and lots of fences. The houses were small ranches. Some were pretty nice, but most weren’t. Lots of trucks and weeds growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Kids playing in fields. Cars parked on lawns. Working-class sort of place. I fit right in and nobody looked twice at the Chevy.
The house was brown, with a brown roof and a porch that looked on the verge of collapse. I noticed several cars parked nearby. It had a chain-link fence, like most of the houses around there. The lawn was cut, but not too nice. It didn’t stand out at all.
But I noticed some things. I saw people stop out front and go inside. They never stayed long. Five minutes, ten minutes. Always different people, never the same, and at all hours. Constantly, all through the day. They were quiet, real respectful, didn’t have lots of music. Whoever was running the house kept a tight ship.
I came back. Day after day. I parked all over the place. Sometimes walked over and watched on foot. Sometimes put my truck nearby and stared. They sat on the porch in the mornings and at night when the heat was tolerable. Otherwise, they had an AC unit running all the time like they didn’t care about the electric bill. I heard music from inside a few times, but always during the day when folks were working.
It was the right house. I’d been inside houses like it before. I could imagine the layout already: sparse living room with secondhand couches and a big flat-screen TV. Game consoles for the guys to keep themselves entertained between customers. Kitchen filled with supplies. Guns everywhere. Orderly, but not clean.
On the fourth day, I ditched the Chevy and hung out in front of an overgrown lot. A big tree with heavy branches and a snarl of brambles kept me hidden in their shadows. I was a big guy, and it was easy to draw attention, but I managed. The house wasn’t busy, and only a handful of customers stopped out front. A nice-looking lady with dark skin. A man in a suit. Two young guys in a big blue truck.
Around noon, I decided to call it quits and get something to eat. I turned away from the house and began to take the long way to the Chevy when I saw the guy standing not far away, looking like he was inspecting the ground.
I stopped cold. He glanced over and quickly looked away. Hands shoved in his pockets.
My blood went cold and I turned.
I ran hard. The guy shouted and I heard him give chase. Up ahead, another guy stepped out from behind a parked car. He nearly took my fucking head off with a baseball bat. I twisted to the side and took it in the shoulder, cursing like a motherfucker. My arm went numb, dead. I jammed the flat of my palm into his face, shoving him back, and kneed him hard in the groin. He cursed and backed off.
I didn’t know him, but I’d seen him at the house. Big guy, heavyset. Couple of inches shorter than me, but heavy. I aimed a punch to his throat, but missed, and slammed my knuckles into his collarbone. It hurt like hell and he cursed again, bringing the bat back. He wanted to smash my skull in.
I grabbed my baton. It was always there, waiting. It extended like a piece of me, and I stepped forward, into the guy’s reach. He hadn’t been ready for that. The bat came down and lost momentum as it slapped against my spine. I jammed the end of the baton into his jaw and the tip clipped his chin back. His teeth rattled shut and he staggered. It gave me room to whip the ball end into the side of his face.
He dropped. I jumped over his body and ran.
I heard others chasing. I didn’t look back. The Chevy wasn’t far. They’d kill me if they caught me. How the hell had I been so careless? I’d thought they hadn’t noticed, but they had. I’d been sloppy. I’d been angry. I should never have let these amateur shit heels get the drop on me.
I wheeled around a corner and cut left into a yard. The house had a carport on the side, and I ducked behind a black SUV. My chasers came into view a second later. It was the guy from the street and another guy, one I’d recognize anywhere.
Howard Munoz was wiry. His head was shaved and his skin was a light brown. He wore jeans and a white shirt and had black tattoos inked all over his skin. He was a fighter, one of the better Balestra soldiers. I guessed he ran the house himself.