Robert Crais - The sentry

Pike waited for it to pass.

"And Art, he says no, no, no, nothing like that, he just felt obligated because he was putting us together, so this wasn't coming from you. The Father wanted me to know who I was getting involved with. Can you imagine that guy?"

Azzara paused for a response, but Pike didn't respond.

"You don't say much."

"What do you want me to say?"

"You don't have to say anything. But if there are things I must understand, then there are things you must understand, too."

Azzara leaned forward, and now he stared.

"You look dangerous. You look like everything Art said, but looking is different from being. I know what I look like, too."

"Is there a problem?"

"I want things clear between us. I understand you're not threatening me. You're coming to me like a man, asking me to help your friends."

"Yes."

"I'm not going along with this because of an implied threat."

"I understand."

"You know La Eme?"

"Of course."

"Then you understand why I have no fear."

La Eme was the Mexican Mafia, so strong in numbers they controlled the drug trade in the southwestern United States and virtually owned the prisons in California and Arizona. They were an existing criminal army within the borders of the U.S.

"I understand."

Azzara flashed the dimples and stood.

"Man to man, you ask. Man to man, I answer. It's done. Tell your friends to relax. I'll talk to my homes. This will never happen again."

Pike glanced across the street.

"You like the Prius?"

"Love it. It's important to be environmentally conscious. What do you drive?"

"Jeep."

"Go green, Mr. Pike. The planet needs love."

Azzara flashed the dimples, once more offered his hand, then made his way to his car.

One call. Simple. It's done.

It should have been finished, but wasn't.

When Pike returned to the sandwich shop, the air was warm with a silky inland breeze. The glass people had finished their job, and now a new glass window was in place. A CLOSED sign sat in the door, but Pike saw someone moving inside.

Pike went around to the back entrance. A large fan sat in the door, blowing out. Dru was on her knees by the counter, scrubbing the floor with what looked like a large towel. The two little tables were against the far wall with their chairs upended on top and their legs thrust up like antlers. The shop was heavy with the smell of turpentine. She had probably spent the morning cleaning the floor, and now was trying to scrub away the turpentine.

Pike watched her. She was faced away from him with her butt in the air, bearing down on the towel with both hands. She was barefoot even though the floor had been covered with broken glass that morning. Pike watched the play of her back as she pushed and pulled on the towel, coming up and down on her heels. Her tan was deep. Even the soles of her feet were tanned.

Pike stepped around the fan, then rapped on the wall-knock, knock.

She casually glanced over her shoulder, then went on with the scrubbing. She smiled as if she had expected him, and liked it that he had returned.

"Hey. How's it look?"

"Looks better."

"The wall is okay, but this floor is ruined. See how the paint worked down in the cracks? Those creeps ruined it."

Pike saw she was right. The paint had seeped into the seams between the Marmoleum squares and would be there until the floor was replaced.

Pike said, "They won't be back."

She paused again, then stood, pushing a rope of hair from her face. Her eyebrows arched, and Pike saw humor in her eyes, as if she already knew how his story would end and wanted to have fun with him.

"And you know this how?"

"These people in a gang, they have a leader like in any other organization. I spoke with the person they answer to."

She studied him for a moment, then deepened her voice, trying to sound like Marlon Brando.

"You made him an offer he couldn't refuse?"

Pike wasn't sure what to say, so he drifted past her to peer out the new window. The street appeared normal.

"You got your uncle to go home?"

"He's not going to stay in bed. He gets dizzy when he stands, but he won't listen. That's just how he is."

Pike glanced at the tables, waiting to return to their places.

"Help with the tables?"

"That's okay. I've got it."

Pike nodded. He had done what he could, let her know she wouldn't have any more trouble, and now there was nothing to do except see if Azzara was good at his word. They were finished, but, like the day before, Pike didn't want to leave.

"You did a good job."

"We won't win any beauty prizes."

Pike drifted past her to the counter, and saw that his phone number was tacked to the order board.

"Okay. You need anything, call."

She said, "Ring."

He turned back, and saw her smiling.

"That was me calling."

She dropped the towel into the bucket, and appraised herself.

"I'm wet, hungry, and I smell like turpentine. I want a beer. How about we go have a beer? There's a great little place right over here, the Sidewalk Cafe. How about it? My treat."

Pike said, "Okay."

The Sidewalk Cafe was everything Wilson's tiny takeout shop wasn't, with a large bar, indoor and outdoor seating, and a spectacular location on Ocean Front Walk. The outside area was already crowded with regulars come to enjoy the sunset, but the waitress recognized Dru and smiled them to a table. Joggers, skaters, tourists, and beach people flowed past on the sidewalk between the cafe and a row of vendors and performers. A manicured grass park, swaying palms, and a deep expanse of sand lay beyond. Directly across from their table, two street performers painted silver pretended to be mechanical men, locking and popping in unison. An open briefcase at their feet held a cardboard sign: CONTRIBUTIONS WELCOME.

Dru knew what she wanted and waved off the menu.

"I'll have a hamburger and a Blue Moon. They have the greatest hamburgers here, really thick and juicy. You want a hamburger?"

"Don't eat meat."

The waitress flashed a sparkling grin.

"Me, neither. The veggie nachos are killer, and I love the Corita salad."

"Beer's fine. Corona."

As the waitress left, Dru slumped back in her chair and grinned.

"Dude. You totally look like a carnivore."

Pike checked the vendors and the people strolling past. Checked the beach and the people beyond the palms. Habit. He checked Dru Rayne. Round face, one front tooth overlapping the other, a scar on the bridge of her nose that matched the lines beginning to cut the corners of her mouth. Not a kid, but still in her early thirties. Ten feet away, bikini-clad skater chicks, hard-bodied swimsuit models, and beach bunnies out for the sun flowed past, but Dru Rayne held him like a magnet.

She touched his arm.

"Thanks. For helping Wilson, and the rest. Really, thank you."

Pike nodded. When he offered no conversation, she filled in the gap.

"I'm curious-what is it you do? For a living, I mean?"

"Businessman."

Dru burst out laughing, then held up a hand, apologizing as she laughed, and covered her mouth with her free hand.

"I'm sorry. Laughing is bad. I shouldn't be laughing."

Pike liked her laughing. It was strong and confident, as if she was completely at ease. Pike liked her familiarity. He had spent most of his life seeking and maintaining control.

Her eyes grew shy, as if something had been on her mind and now she was going to mention it.

"May I ask you something?"

Pike nodded, watching her.

"The detectives who came to the hospital, remember how Wilson said they asked about you?"

Pike stared past her, now watching the water because he knew where this would go.