Nightcrawler (Trackers #1)

Chapter Eleven

MIGUEL

I stepped out onto the back patio and took in the view, determined to get the death of my parents and the horrible images out of my head. Raven had gone off for a nap and I knew I had a couple of hours to kill. I walked to the back of the property which was larger than I would have expected. The house sat close to the street as a lot of these hillside homes did, leaving most of the yard out back. What I found was a lush garden of flowers that were surprisingly well-tended, with walkways of bleached orange flagstones meandering through them. At the very back of the property was a set of four Adirondack chairs situated around a firepit which overlooked the entire city. The views during the day were spectacular. I couldn’t imagine how gorgeous they’d look, all lit up with a million tiny stars at night.

I settled into a chair, pulled up the file Jamie had sent over, and did some preliminary research on Connor Ray Howell Jr., the longshoreman I was going after as soon as I got my truck back. The file read like I’d expected. Howell hadn’t checked in with his parole officer for more than three weeks. He’d done thirty-nine months in Corcoran prison up north, housed with some of the worst criminals in the California penal system. He was a hardened criminal with a rap sheet a mile long.

His crimes began in his early teens, getting worse as time went by. After the shoplifting and petty theft busts as a juvenile, he’d been busted for numerous drug offenses and assaults, culminating with his last conviction for a beating where he’d put a drug dealer in the hospital after raping the dealer’s girlfriend. He’d done less than half his sentence of nearly eight years, three for the first time rape conviction with an additional five tacked on for beating the girl so badly, she’d lost most of her teeth. I’d given up trying to understand the penal system in California a long time ago. Being paroled at the halfway point of a criminal’s sentence seemed commonplace regardless of how violent the crime was but then again, California prisons were overflowing with violent predators. Howell was just one of those fuckers who fell through the cracks after being deemed a “model” prisoner while doing time.

Having him on the loose in a city the size of Los Angeles with all of its drug problems seemed ill advised, but he was out there working as a longshoreman under the assumed name of Carl Hopkins, no doubt back to his old ways, using and out of control when he wasn’t working. Hell, before prison, this guy had been fired off a half dozen jobs for testing dirty on the job which meant that he’d used while working as well. Maybe he’d straightened up but I doubted it. I looked at his sheet for way too long, trying to find a pattern as to where to find him. According to Jamie—whom I trusted to uncover all his haunts—he’d traded up since coming out of prison, going to different bars, probably buying from new dealers, perhaps because the old bars had closed and never reopened after the pandemic, or just trying to avoid people like me.

I decided the best way to grab him was to approach the foreman at the Long Beach terminal where he’d been spotted. His location had been leaked anonymously, but I was sure it must have been someone down at the port who didn’t want him there. His long list of violent crimes attested to his bullying nature as I’d read in the short brief Jamie always put up when making the job available to his recovery agents. If the foreman down in Long Beach wasn’t aware of who Howell was then, by now, he’d most surely know what kind of individual he was. If I was lucky, he’d be willing to help me enlist the services of some of his guys who wanted Howell as far away from their workplace as they could get him. I sincerely doubted I’d be in competition with any other bounty hunters for this bastard, not unless they were geared up for a real fight…because I knew it would be just that.

I closed the file, checked my watch, and looked back out at the view. It wasn’t even noon, and I had time to kill, so I opened my favorite review site, immediately smiling as I spotted a review I hadn’t seen from Nightcrawler.

Book title: The Grapes of Wraith

Author: Miles Stanford

Publisher: Self-published

Genre: Paranormal/Horror

Review/rating by Nightcrawler: 2 stars

Synopsis:

This is the fictional story of the Hobson family, displaced farm workers who are forced from their tiny plot of land in the dustbowl of Oklahoma during the Great Depression. The family travels across the country to California to find work in the fields harvesting grapes, encountering challenges along the way. Here they quickly learn that their hard work to scratch out a living in the fields, is hampered by their mysterious ghostlike appearance on payday when the foreman cannot see them.

My Review:

PUH…LEEZE.

This book started out okay but very quickly became hard to read. Now, I’m the first person to tell you when I like something, a modern take on an old classic is something I thought I’d really enjoy. The family of wraiths—mother, father, two brothers, and three sisters—are all hard-working people…er…creatures, but that’s where things get tricky. The author decides early on that he would give his story a Supernatural twist and make it a paranormal thriller.

The wraiths were denied their pay after a week of being bent over, picking grapes in the sweltering fields of Modesto, California, mainly because their employer cannot see them. They go on a murderous spree, killing other farm workers to eliminate the competition for their jobs. Here’s a snippet from the book because trying to describe the scene is beyond even my writing ability, dear readers:

“Dobby stood in line to collect our pay for hours but kept gettin’ ignored by the greedy overlords who doled out cash to everyone else. When they done closed that money box holdin’ our pay, Dobby went cray-cray, tearin’ off his head. Blood spurted all over the damned place, makin’ the rest of us fall upon the ground with peals of guffaws.”

Peals of guffaws ? Fuck me sideways.

I have to say here, the story held promise until it came to the point when I could no longer ignore the stupidity of the way the wraiths behaved. Not that I know how mysterious, translucent, ghostlike beings should behave when being denied their hard-earned pay, but the murder of all the farm workers and all the bosses seemed a bit much. I mean who was supposed to be left to pay them?

I gave the book a generous 2-star rating mainly because I liked the beginning of it where the family made the difficult decision to pull up stakes and move across the country, and the trials and tribulations they endured. Maybe I’m missing something but the concept of ghosts expecting to be seen, heard, and in this case, paid for their hard work on payday, was ludicrous. Why do ghostlike wraiths need money? And wouldn’t the coins slip through their ghostly appendages since they have no corporeal form?

In conclusion, I think it would only be fair for the Hobsons to be expected to collect Stanford’s book royalties.

I laughed. Nightcrawler was eloquent and he always managed to take me out of my funk. I shut down the site and looked back out at the view. It was beautiful. I let my mind wander to the man asleep inside the house, realizing I’d really misjudged him. Raven Mathis was kind of great. The way he’d realized I was having a meltdown in the kitchen based solely on the expression on my face, was pretty observant. His strong arms had given me strength when I’d been about to lose my mind.

I thought of my parents often; the few mental pictures I had of them were disappearing along with the memory of my mother’s favorite perfume or my father’s sweat after he’d put in a full day of work as a building contractor. The happiness on my mother’s face when she danced to the Bee Gees or Donna Summer. And the deep laugh my father reserved only for her, when she grabbed a pretend microphone and hammed it up, singing along with the lyrics, stayed with me…but they were fading. As a little boy, I’d jumped around and danced right along with them. As a teenager, all I wanted to do was hide my head in embarrassment if a friend or I walked in on one of their jam sessions. As the memories of them began to fade, I felt sick.

I’d loved them with all my heart, and it was only after they were murdered that I’d beaten myself up for making myself scarce when they started up their playful concerts. I should have had time with them…much more time. They should have been around to watch me grow into a man. They should have lived so that I wouldn’t have been stuck in a group home in downtown L.A. for the remainder of my youth. They should have been there to hug me before I’d shipped off to Camp Pendelton for my MCRD—Marine Corps Recruit Depot—training; instead, it had been Cassidy Ryan who’d argued with me when I turned down a full-ride football scholarship to Notre Dame. He’d driven me down to San Diego a week after I turned eighteen and handed me off to a buddy he’d known from his days as a Navy SEAL.

While doing my MOS training after bootcamp, I’d taken all the necessary tests to be eligible to become a Recon Marine. The day I called Cassidy to tell him I’d been chosen as Recon, he’d driven down south to take me out for a celebratory dinner. The joy and pride on his face made me feel like my dad was with us in the room. I’d never felt more special in my life.

I heard a noise and turned, only to find Raven walking out into the yard. He held up a hand to shield the bright sunlight from his eyes and grinned widely the minute he saw me. I wanted him. Seeing him standing there looking refreshed and happy to see me, made my heart squeeze.

I’m in so much trouble.

I glanced down at my watch noting that almost two hours had passed since I’d come outside. As he walked over, I noticed how much better he looked. The dark circles were disappearing. “How you doing?” I asked as he came over to sit down in one of the other chairs.

“Better. Thank you. The pain is hardly a bother anymore. It’s kind of a miracle since I felt so lousy yesterday morning.”

“It must be the antibiotics. In another few days you should be well on your way to feeling healed.” I looked down at my watch again.

“We should go,” he said, “before traffic gets bad.”

“Yeah.” I stood and watched him get out of the chair, only a little slower than normal. We walked into the house only to be met with the scowling face of Ned who’d been watching us from the back slider.

“Hey, Ned. How’s Nana?” Raven asked.

“I just helped her to bed for her nap. She’s fine,” he said before giving me an up and down look. “I suppose you two have something important to do?”

I ignored him. He really hated me and somehow, knowing that he and Raven weren’t a thing and that I’d have him all to myself for the next few hours made me feel like I’d won the lottery.

“We’re going out,” Raven said, brushing past him. I followed.

“I just wanted to tell you I washed your clothes, Raven. They’re folded and sitting on your bed. I figured you’d want to get out of that.”

Raven stopped and we both turned around. He was pointing at my T-shirt with the ripped sleeves. Raven was still wearing it. Ned wore the most disgusted expression on his face. Raven walked over to him.

“I told you I don’t want you washing my clothes, Ned. You’re my nana’s nurse, not the maid.”

“Really? That’s not what you said the last time I washed your jockstraps. You seemed to like me touching them.”

I frowned. Maybe I’d gotten it all wrong and these two were—or at least had been—a couple.

“That’s out of line,” Raven said. His voice was full of gravel. “I told you exactly the opposite. I don’t want you going through my drawers, doing my laundry, or touching my clothes. Your sole responsibility in this house is to take care of my grandma, that’s it. If you can’t abide by my wishes, then I’ll call the agency and tell them to send someone else.”

Ned lifted his chin, giving a little sniff as if he was about to cry. “I was only trying to help but if you don’t need it, then I’ll do as you say and stick with taking care of Angelica.”

“Thank you.” When Raven turned back to me, he was flushed and still wore an angry expression. It dropped when his eyes met mine. “We should go, Miguel.”

“Yeah.” I had the strongest urge to turn around and tell Ned to go to hell for upsetting Raven, but I realized that was just silly. Still, the fact remained that even though I’d only gotten to know him, I had an almost insane desire to be Raven’s protector. I hoped after this, we’d stay friends but simply being around him was making me want him more and more. The kisses we’d shared had been hot as hell and I was positive he liked me as much as I liked him. Still, I wasn’t sure I was ready for a relationship. I’d never had one and I didn’t know the first thing about them.

We walked out into the street, and I followed Raven over to the driver’s door, intending on helping him into the cab if he needed it. He stopped and looked at me with a funny expression when I put my hand on the small of his back.

“You didn’t change your shirt. You should do that.”

He looked down at himself. “Does this one smell bad?”

“No, I just—I figured you’d want to change, that’s all.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay in this shirt. It’s super comfortable and besides, it smells like you.” His navy-blue eyes twinkled.

I smiled. What could I say to that?

“So, let’s go and before you ask, please don’t insist on driving, Miguel. I really am feeling better. In a couple of days, I’ll be all healed up.”

I dropped my hand from where it still rested on his back. “I was just… ah …just gonna see if you needed help getting in,” I said, knowing that I sounded a little nervous.

He smiled so sweetly, it made his whole face light up. When he leaned forward and slid his hand around my waist to bring me close, I went happily. “You know, you have a strong protective streak in you, right?” He looked down at my lips before gazing up into my eyes. “I like it very much.”

I smirked at him then leaned in, sliding my arms around him before kissing him. He must have given himself a sponge bath or something because the clean way he smelled, filled my senses. The way his lips felt pressed to mine, the way his body molded against me as if he were made for me, made my head swim with possibilities. I wanted him so badly, I could barely stand it and if the presence of his erection against my own was any indication of how he felt for me, he wanted me just as much. When he finally dropped his hands and stepped back, I was reluctant to let go. He smiled at me and it was like being hit with a beam of sunshine. My heart did a little flip-flop, and I realized my attraction to him, had turned into falling for him.

“We’d better go,” he repeated, and I sighed, knowing he was right and yet dreading the moment when we’d part.

RAVEN

Miguel sat quietly in the truck, looking at something on his phone as I followed my truck’s navigation to the tow yard. He was frowning down at the screen, and it made me curious to know what had happened to alter his mood.

“What’s so interesting?”

He looked up at me. “Jamie sent me over my next assignment and I’m not looking forward to it.”

“He actually did follow through and give you a job?” When I glanced over, he kept talking. “While you were talking to Jamie earlier, I heard some of his side of the conversation. He’s a loud talker.”

I nodded, figuring that he had heard. “Yeah, I told him I’d pick up the file but he emailed it to me. I’ve been reading it over while you were napping.”

“Well, that’s great about the job because I know you were worried about Jamie’s reaction when you told him about the whole Gemma Monroe situation.”

He nodded and looked back down at his phone as I turned my attention back to the road. “This is a job no one in my office wants but the bounty is good. Even so, I’m slightly surprised he sent it over even though he told me he was serious when we were on the phone.”

“It’s not a good job?” I said, worrying my bottom lip. “Why were you surprised if he said he was sending it?”

“I was hoping I was wrong. I passed on this job once already.”

“What’s the job?”

“Fugitive recovery.”

“Oh.” I glanced over at him. He was still frowning at the phone. I looked back out the windshield. “Fugitive recovery isn’t something I’ve ever done but I’ve faced off with my share of them while trying to recover something for GMS. Who is the guy? He’s dangerous?”

“Yeah, he’s a huge guy, nearly 300 pounds, taller than I am, and has a history of methamphetamine use. He hasn’t checked in with his parole officer for a while.”

“He sounds like trouble. Please tell me you’re working with someone on this,” I said, feeling dread curling in my belly. When he said nothing, I glanced away from the road. He shook his head. I looked back at traffic. “Miguel…please tell me you’re not going to try to arrest this guy all alone.”

“No one else wants this job. That’s why Jamie gave it to me.”

“You can’t go after a guy like that alone.” I glanced over at him to find him staring at me. “I mean it.” I wished I wasn’t on the freeway. I would have pulled over and shaken him. “Are you crazy?”

“I know it’s dangerous, but you don’t understand my circumstances, Raven!” He raised his voice. “I’m losing my apartment. They’re going to throw me out in ten days and now, with this truck situation…” His words trailed off and I glanced over at him. He was running his hands through his hair. I looked in the rearview mirror and then switched lanes. I was going to get off, park my vehicle, and have it out with him. “What’re you doing?” he asked suddenly.

“I’m going to pull off and park so that I can see you and actually have it out with you for doing something dumb.” When he didn’t say anything for a few seconds, I looked over. He was grinning at me. “What now?” I know I must have sounded crazy too, but someone had to talk him out of doing this.

“Nothing. I just like it when you get all hot and bothered. It’s really sexy.” He laughed and I just shook my head, taking the off-ramp and pulling into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant. After shutting off the engine, I turned to him.

“You can’t just arrest this guy on your own. You’re crazy for even thinking about it,” I began.

“I told you, Raven. I need the money. Jamie’s on his last nerve with me and I have no choice but to take this job or face not getting any more work. Oh, and did I mention, I’m flat broke. I have to take this job.”

“Then…I’ll go with you.”

He barked out a laugh, twisting in his seat to frown at me. “You’re hurt. You were shot or have you forgotten that?” He shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest, and turned to look at the cinderblock wall in front of the truck. “Idiot.”

“I won’t put myself in harm’s way but at least, I’ll be there to help take him down. Apparently, you work with a bunch of cowards if no one else will step up.” I knew I was rambling on but I got like that when I was upset. “As far as the poverty part, trust me, I understand it.”

He swiveled to look at me with a dark frown on his face. “You live in the Hollywood Hills in a house five times the size of my apartment, and you’re claiming that you understand my situation?” He scoffed, looking away again.

“It wasn’t always that way, Miguel. My half-Caucasian mother and I grew up on the Navajo reservation in Arizona. My white father abandoned us when I was just a kid, so yeah, I know poverty when I see it. I came here to stay with my nana after my mom died. My grandmother inherited the house from the man she worked for as a maid. So yeah, I live nicely now, but that’s only because she’s a good person who took care of a man whose own children abandoned him. She started out as the hired help and became a dear friend to him in his elderly years. She cooked for him, cleaned for him, and when he got sick, acted as his nurse until the day he died. He left her the house.”

He seemed to deflate at my words. He sighed. “I’m sorry I misjudged you, Raven. I seem to do that all the time with you. It was real nice of her to care for him. I’m surprised his ungrateful children didn’t fight her for the estate, though. That was a large bequest to go uncontested especially by kids who didn’t seem to have much of a relationship with their father.”

I smiled and reached for his hand. He clung to it, threading our fingers together. “She loved him. I mean, he was her employer but there was more to it than that. She saw a good man in him. He was a widower. I can’t begin to fathom the reason his adult children didn’t take her to court. Maybe they felt guilty for neglecting him when he needed someone the most. She never got a dime from them for acting as their father’s caregiver all those years. She once told me his children had money of their own and they didn’t fight her for the house because of the size of their trust funds.

“Beyond that, his kids had no real relationship with him. He was a retired Unocal executive who had other homes and a heap of money in pension benefits, a sizeable social security from the wages he’d earned while at the oil company, and also a very healthy stock portfolio. The kids got all of that except the social security. Who really knows why he was estranged from them, but the house was probably a drop in the bucket.”

Miguel nodded. “I’m glad she got the house then.” He looked down at our clasped hands before looking up. “And like I said, I’m really sorry that I made that crack about you being wealthy and all. I shouldn’t have said that.” He let go of my hand and ran his fingers through his hair as he sighed. Eventually, he looked back at me. “I have to take that job, Raven, and as much as I appreciate your offer, I can’t possibly take you up on it. You’re in absolutely no condition to go back to work, much less face off with a dangerous addict who, from all accounts, makes everyone’s life miserable.”

“I have no intention of getting anywhere near that guy, but I don’t want you going after him alone either.”

“I just told you I—”

I smiled at him. “And, I heard you and if you’ll hear me out, I think there’s a better way of getting to this guy than having a confrontation with him. I’m going to tell you exactly how we can get him.”