“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.

Chapter 7

7

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.”