Zaccaro

breaker, regardless of our verbal agreement. I’ll have my work cut out for me before the night is over—
“So the two of you met at Cartier?” Reese cocks an eyebrow. This is the longest bit of words she’s strung together all evening. The look on her face reads that her mother shouldn’t be anywhere near the jeweler.
“How’s your chicken cacciatore, baby?” Lolita changes the subject.
“Great.” Reese’s food has roamed over her plate more than it has been eaten.
“Well, this is a very strange nightmare,” I whisper into Reese's ear.
Her seductive mouth doesn't even twitch at my attempt for a joke. Reese has somehow placed me in enemy territory. My cell phone buzzes in my pocket.
I take a peek.
It's Tyrone.
“Excuse me,” I arise and step toward the restrooms.
“Evan, get your ass to my place now. Riker has been sighted. Ready to redeem ourselves with the Cap?”
“On my way.” I slip the iPhone into my pocket and return to the table.
“Just got a call, my apologies.” I look to Reese. Should we acknowledge the fact that we drove together?
She barely glances my way.
I smile and pat my father’s shoulder. “I know you two love birds are gonna want to head home. Reese, I’ll just take you now.”
“Reese, how did you get here?” Lolita asks.
“Uber.” Reese chimes in.
Her mother scoffs. “Oh, you took an Uber. Reese, don't you recall that Lifetime movie you forced me to watch about young women taking just any ol’ ride home?”
“Yes, but I'll survive.”
“I can drop you off on my way.” I try once more. Fuck, I'm groveling here. An image of Riker spiking her drink flashes before my eyes. There’s no way in hell I’ll allow Reese to place herself in harm’s way.
Finally, a smile brightens her face.
“No worries.” She responds, then the flat affect is back.
“Don’t mind my child, Reese can be rather–” Lolita ceases mid-sentence as her daughter turns daggers her way. An affable grin brightens Lolita’s already supreme façade as she tells Reese, “Tony and I will see to it that you arrive home safe and sound.”
Tyrone and I make it to Hemet, the butthole of Southern California, in record time. One of Riker’s old ladies must have gotten tired of being cheated on. Her mug shot, boasts big sloppy breasts, a crater face and the twenty-two-year-old has missing teeth. I could only assume that they must’ve been together before she lost all her teeth to meth.
Two cops on the beat brought her in, booked her on prostitution charges, possession with the intent to sell, and she quickly offered his location.
If this isn't a setup, the woman's luck has turned. No more black eyes, and she'll have a new name, dentures, and a place to live. If she's lying, Tyrone and I are fucked.
What the Jackals motorcycle gang calls a clubhouse is just a rickety, old, red wood farmhouse. It's placed smack dab in the middle of a field. The 360-view allows for his crew to observe the comings and goings, which I have to hand it to them. Most gangs use heavily wooded areas making it easy for the task force to sweep in and crack down on them.
The element of surprise is not to be had. Since this isn’t our jurisdiction, we have the Hemet tactical defense unit. Having worked in tandem with them before, I know these men will be thorough as if they were my own team. Four Tahoe’s zoom off the terrain. The seat lurches, I've got one hand at the base of my assault rifle.
The SUVs stop on a dime. In seconds, we’re out of the vehicle, moving in a single-file line. I put a finger to my lips, and quietly approach the doorway, lining up in entry formation.
Glass begins to shatter. The silence is dead as bullets whiz past us, we’ve been made. One of our guys tosses a flash bomb into the window as three other officers begins to open the sliding wood door.
I shoot my way in, eyes tracking for Riker, my sole target. Just the thought of him taking advantage of a woman like Reese Dunham makes my eyes see red. Blood boiling, my rifle goes off, two slugs pump into the chest of the thug before me. Then I continue on sweeping the side of the building. Parallel and at the opposite side of the building, Tyrone nods to me, as we signal to each other to move forward.
All the goons at the front of the line are just workers or cookers. Petty criminals. None of the head honchos have crossed my line of vision. And then I see Riker’s number two, Cash, and his lanky frame slinking out the back door.
“Fuck!” Where he is, Riker is. I can only bet, Riker is already safely outside.
Tyrone’s rifle clicks. Empty. He’s got more than enough reinforcements, but there isn’t enough time to toss him an extra mag anyway. One big, hairy son of a bitch punches him square in the jaw. I take the shot, at the same time as the big guy bull rushes him. The man moves in the nick of time. A bullet thumps into the wood wall. And now I’m out.

7
Reese
The faint taste of copper peppers the dryness of my mouth. All evening long, my mind has been consumed with Lolita and Tony. Lolita and her new personal ‘banker’ of sorts. Lips tensed, I glance at the rainbow dots outside the backseat window as Tony zooms by.
“Right up the block,” Lolita purrs, “My baby girl has herself a bakery.”
Not for long. My eyes roll over to the right at the proudness of her voice.
“Oh,” Tony glances through the rearview mirror, his fleshy face genuinely brightening into a smile. “I’ll have to come by during the day. Hey, can you make sporca—”
“Sporcamuss is very easy,” I cut him off mentioning the Italian cream-filled pastry, and already have one foot out the door before he cruises to a stop.
“Reese,” Lolita snaps.
“Thanks for the ride.” I push the door