NightSun by Dan Vining

Author:Dan Vining [Vining, Dan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
Published: 2018-01-10T19:52:10+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

“I’m gonna miss you, Johnny,” Nate said, watching Johnny Santo come out of a Mexican restaurant with a woman-not-his-wife on his arm. He was sucking on a mint, probably the free kind from the bowl next to the cash register. He was wearing that polyester Jesus Malverde shirt again and had a spring in his step, practically merengue-dancing down the sidewalk, looking about as satisfied with life as a man ever looks. In LA, anyway. Two CROs with their gunners, who just happened to be walking by at the right moment, closed in on him from different directions. The gunners already had guns in hand, so Santo lost his it’s-all-good look in a hurry. He raised his hands so as not to get shot outright. Nate’s friend Tucker was one of the CROs. Tucker engaged Santo in conversation while the other CRO patted him on the belly. Big surprise: Johnny Santo had a gun in his waistband. And he was still on parole, too.

Nate was across the street in the shadows. He watched as they took his gun and turned him around to cuff him. Santo was nonstop running his mouth, plea-bargaining. Nate knew what he was saying, could almost read his lips, “I work for Il Cho, call him. I work for Whitey Barnes, call him. He’ll tell you.” Johnny had sense enough not to use Nate’s name in vain. He knew he’d betrayed Nate when he’d sent him to that roof in the TMZ, probably at Whitey’s behest.

Nate wasn’t enjoying this nearly as much as he thought he would. He stepped out into the light to let Santo get a look at him. He didn’t want to rub it in, but he it was always good to let a man know who’d dropped a dime on him. Good advertising: let a CI see what happens to a snitch who gets too big for his britches and starts playing one cop against another. Get it out there on the whatchamacallit, grapevine. But what Santo had done was worse than just playing both sides of the fence, working with Nate and with Whitey, and being used by both. He’d sent Nate to the top of the N Building knowing Nate could die up there. If the squatters had clubbed Nate dead or thrown him off the roof, Santo could have been an accessory to cop murder. But that didn’t happen, no thanks to whoever had come up with the idea of a 3:00 a.m. trip to the Fashion District. So, in terms of the actual justice that often precedes the official kind, Johnny Santo was getting off easy. He’d just have his parole violated and go back to prison for a year or two where’d he get a swinging new orange wardrobe and lots of time to think. And see old friends and plan some heists.

The woman who was Johnny’s date picked now to walk away. Tucker looked across at Nate. Nate shook his head no. He didn’t care, let her go.

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