Whistle Pass (24 page)

Lester turned toward them. “I want to find Perkins. I’ve got some personal business to settle with him.”

Roger looked up. So did Charlie. Lester’s eyes glowed with his bridled fury. The man was clearly hell-bent on something, and Howard Perkins sat at the center of the bull’s-eye.

“Where would he go, Roger?” Charlie asked. “He probably figures he needs to get the hell out of town after this. I imagine he understands now you and Dora would sell him out as much as anybody to protect your plans for the nuclear plant.”

“The Nugget.” Roger’s chest sank under a heavy sigh. “Perkins knows the combination to the office safe. There’s probably ten, twelve thousand in cash.”

Lester was on the move. Gabe helped Charlie to his feet, but Charlie tugged against Gabe’s pull toward the truck.

Charlie dug a dime out of his pocket and stared at Roger. “Heads, you win. Tails, you lose.” He flipped the coin into the air, then snatched it with his left hand and slapped it onto the back of his right. Lowering his hand, he revealed the coin to Roger. “Tails it is.”

“What did I lose, Charlie?”

“Me.” He turned and jogged with Gabe for the pickup.

Lester grabbed Gabe’s and Charlie’s hands and swung them into the bed. The truck turned around, then headed down the path.

Chapter 23

“
W
HAT
did you mean Roger lost you?” The sour tone of jealousy rang in Gabe’s ears, but now that he’d opened his mouth, he couldn’t stop the diatribe. “You said you love me, but you still have feelings for Roger, don’t you. I thought it was over between you two.”

Charlie leaned his back against the opposite side of the truck with his arms stretched along the steel bed so his hands dangled. “It is, and has been.”

“Do you two really have to discuss this kind of thing in front of me?” asked Lester. “I’m trying hard to be open-minded like Cathy told me to be, but this is getting a little more than I can handle. Makes me want to punch something.”

Gabe gulped. Yeah, he did need to discuss this, but maybe testing Lester’s patience under whatever was on his mind about Perkins wasn’t such a wise decision. He opted for silence.

“Sorry, Lester,” Charlie muttered. “How come you want Perkins so bad?”

Lester scowled beyond the tailgate. Ice coated his response. “Personal.”

Gabe flicked his brows up, then down in an “I don’t know” gesture
to Charlie, because he didn’t know what had gotten into Lester. His friend had never shown animosity toward Perkins in the past.

The truck arrived at the confluence of waiting bigots. Lester hopped out.

“Slide over, Dad. I’m driving.” He slammed the door.

“What’s going on?” Captain Tom asked.

The truck sped off.

Gabe shouted from the bed, “We’re raiding the Nugget!”

Cars and pickups flicked to life. Hasty Y-turns produced a caravan
of bobbing headlights trying to catch up.

Charlie slid over so his back was to the cab. Gabe joined him. The roar of the engine, pushing for every bit of speed it could muster, barely masked the rush of cold air sliding over the cab and across the bed.

“I need to know, Charlie. Do you love me?”

Charlie folded his hands in his lap. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do. I used to think I was in love with Roger, but you get me thinking about family and settling down. With Roger, I’d thought about a future, but it never really was clear what that future might be.”

Gabe’s heart swelled and thumped against his chest. His armpits dripped nervous sweat. Yeah, he loved Charlie and wanted him, but this Roger thing confused the heck out of him. “Then what did you mean Roger lost you?”

Charlie raised a hand and massaged his forehead. “I meant he lost my loyalty. Didn’t matter to me that we were over. I wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him. I owed him that much.”

More than a touch of irritation thrummed muscles in Gabe’s chest. “You decided to change your mind based on the toss of a coin? A dime?” Anger replaced the irritation. “Is that how you make decisions, by the flip of a dime? I thought the coin toss for the waitresses’ tips was quaint, but the fact is, you can’t think for yourself, can you?” Near rage slithered out of him. “What about me, Charlie? Would you wake up some morning and flip a coin about whether you wanted me anymore? Jesus Christ, Charlie! Is that all you have to give? A dime? What the hell? Is your heart engraved with Roosevelt’s face?”

He crossed his arms and stuck his hands in his pits. It wasn’t just to pout, his hands were cold. But the pout felt pretty damn good too. A man would be an ignorant fool to get involved with somebody who couldn’t think for himself. A tear formed and dribbled down his cheek.

Charlie slid his hands into his coat pockets. His voice was steady, calm. “Yeah. That about covers it. When I don’t know what to do, I flip a coin. Simple as that. And yeah, sooner or later I’ll flip one about you too.”

Gabe rolled left, showing Charlie his back. The hell with Charlie Harris. He was an Indian, anyway. Who would ever get involved with an Indian? He pinched his eyes closed. Tears coated his face. His heart plummeted into his hollow stomach. “I would,” he whispered.

The streetlights of Whistle Pass zipped by. Lester hadn’t slowed the truck so much as a foot per minute.
Screech
! The truck slid on the pavement. Gabe slammed into the side of the truck, Charlie fell against him as the truck careened left.

“What’s he doing?” Gabe stuck his head up. “Oh shit! Get down!”

Gabe went flat and hugged Charlie to him. The truck veered left. Brakes ground to a stop. The pickup whined in reverse, stopped. The engine growled, gathered its strength. The brake released and the mass of steel rammed the doorway.

Concrete splintered. Broken blocks of cement rained into the truck bed. Dust billowed, filled Gabe’s lungs. Tables crashed, chairs shattered. The truck slid to a stop. Gabe and Charlie leapt out of the bed. Lester was already several strides ahead of them, his daddy close behind.

Lester flung himself against the door at the end of the bar. It buckled, the hinges broke. Lester fell to the floor. Charlie stepped over the big man’s back and charged through the next open doorway. Gabe bolted into the room on Charlie’s heels.

Perkins, stunned, turned. In one hand was a canvas tote bag. The other hand was in the wall safe. The hand came out of the safe, but what the hand held wasn’t money. Gabe grabbed Charlie’s coat collar, gritted his teeth, and flung Charlie to the floor. The pistol fired. Searing pain tunneled through Gabe’s chest. An aluminum foil taste of adrenaline coated his mouth. He sucked in air and clutched his breast. Lifting his hands, he saw blood.

Gabe looked down at Charlie. Another gunshot. A mountain of a man stepped in front of Gabe. Lester gasped but continued his frenzied attack. Gabe sank to his knees. Charlie grabbed him and pulled him onto his lap.

“Gabe!”

Gabe stared at his bloody hands, then to Charlie for an explanation
of what was happening to him. The pain in his body numbed and faded. Charlie’s face fuzzed and grayed. “Charlie,” he mumbled. “Charlie?” He tried to focus, but Charlie shimmered and faded.

“I
NEED
an ambulance!” Charlie screamed.

“On it,” Carl said.

Charlie laid Gabe flat and ripped open his jacket, then the T-shirt. The blood oozing from the wound didn’t froth. The bullet had missed a lung. The hole rested up and to the right shoulder side of the heart. Charlie sighed a gush of relief. Nothing vital had been hit. As long as Gabe didn’t give in to shock, he’d be okay.

He glanced up at Lester. “You all right? Where’d you get hit?”

“Shoulder. I’m fine.” Lester looked at Perkins, who stood with the pistol barrel crammed in his mouth and Lester’s finger rubbing the trigger. “Gabe dies, I’m going to turn you into a jigsaw puzzle.”

Charlie hurried the words so the office didn’t become Lester’s private butcher shop. “Gabe will be fine. He fainted.”

Lester’s lips curled. “That would be just like him. He’s got a bit of a glass jaw.” The smirk disappeared. “Took a lot of guts to take that bullet for you.”

“Yeah.” Charlie stroked Gabe’s hair, molding it back to the perfection the man required of the hairstyle. “He probably saved my life.”

“Ambulance is on its way,” Carl said.

“Thanks, Daddy,” Lester muttered. He looked beyond Charlie. “You boys go ahead and break everything that can be broke. I think maybe I should run for sheriff. If you boys want a clean county, I’m going to need your help. Let’s start right here.”

“We’re with you, Sheriff Fricks.” The voice belonged to Captain Tom. “We’ll get all the honest businessmen to support you. Come on, boys! Let’s destroy this damn place.”

“Tom,” Charlie called out. A flurry of footsteps tromped down the stairs.

“Yeah, Charlie?”

“I know you didn’t get your queers tonight. An hour from now, in the alley two blocks south of the hotel, there’ll be one waiting for you. He’s yours to do with whatever you want.” He continued to stroke Gabe’s hair. The man’s breaths came slow but steady. Blood seeped in a thin line over Gabe’s chest and down his ribs.

“You sure?” The voice quavered. “Maybe it’s not such a good thing.”

“Yeah,” Charlie growled. “This one I’m sure about. He needs to be taught a lesson.”

Crashes and bangs reverberated beneath them. Coins rattled and chinked across the basement floor.

“If you say so, Charlie. Me and a few of the boys will be there, if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah. It’s what I want.” He rubbed a hand over Gabe’s brow. Leaning over, he pressed his lips on Gabe’s forehead. The skin was cool and clammy. Charlie’s stomach churned concern.

A siren wailed the ambulance’s approach.

“Me and Perkins here got some business to attend to.”

Charlie nodded. “Don’t kill him, Lester. Folks might not like thinking their next sheriff is a murderer.”

Lester barked a laugh. “That’ll depend on Howard’s water skills. Let’s go, asshole.”

Perkins backed out of the room, his arms wide and the pistol jammed in his mouth. Carl hustled after them. The siren abruptly stopped. The pickup roared to life; then the motor echoed out of the building. Metal, probably the front bumper, scraped across the floor. Two men in rubber boots, canvas firefighting trousers, and metal-buckled coats ran into the room. One carried a stretcher. Charlie stood and stepped away to let them work.

One glanced up at Charlie. “He should be okay. I saw a lot worse in Belgium when I was a corpsman with the 101st. We’ll take him to the hospital. He’ll probably need surgery to remove the bullet, but he should do fine. You going to meet us up there?”

“Got something to do first. Make sure somebody calls Betty from the hotel. Gabe will want her at the hospital.” He turned and headed through the doorway.

In the bar, he walked around the counter, kicked aside a broken chair, and grabbed a pack of Lucky Strikes. He tore off a corner and tapped out a cigarette, then clenched the tip between his teeth. Black packs of matches advertising the Nugget in bold gold letters sat in a glass bowl. He grabbed a book and thumbed a match over the striker.

Charlie inhaled. The smoke tasted warm, fresh, and steadied the nerve or two unraveling from Gabe’s being shot. He emptied his lungs in a long exhale. The smoke rolled, then merged with the cloud of dust drifting about the room. Taking another drag, he took note of the fact the police hadn’t arrived on the scene, which was just fine with Charlie. Officer Phil Austin was outside somewhere waiting for him. Charlie blew out a cloud of whitish smoke and grinned.

Austin wasn’t getting out of this unscathed. Not at all.

Charlie took another hit off the cigarette and stubbed it out on the bar next to another burn mark.
He slipped out of his pea coat and laid it over the polished wood. His shoulder panged, so he rubbed the reddened skin and rolled the injured shoulder to loosen the tightness seeping into the bones.
He bent his arms and worked them in and out under the ribbed, sleeveless T-shirt.

“Here goes nothing.” Charlie walked out the massive hole in the wall that used to be a doorway.

An engine gunned down the street to his right. A white Chevy with a bubble-shaped red light on top. The city squad car. The beast inside him stirred.

“Not yet,” Charlie said.

Headlights flashed on, and the car crept forward.

Charlie took a deep breath, then bolted left toward the main avenue. Tires squealed. The engine rumbled. Charlie lengthened his strides. He ran full speed across the avenue, the engine’s noise closing the gap. He continued up Fourth Street. Headlights lit the ground at his feet. A wooden fence appeared between two houses to his left. He spun on a boot for it. He clenched the fence and vaulted over it. Running through the yard, a clothesline—“Shit!”—he ducked. The rope scraped his hair. He vaulted the back fence into another yard and exited onto Third Street.

Tires chirped, the engine slowed, then raced. A spotlight’s glow reflected off houses. Charlie ran between two more houses. Making a left, he charged from between two brick homes and crossed Second Street. He glanced up the street.