Two for Flinching (19 page)

Q fell, blocking their retreat. Trey and the
driver froze. I fired again, catching the driver in the chest. He
fell. Q jerked the rifle in my direction, looking for me, moving to
my left. I tried to line up the shot, but he was everywhere. I
really didn’t want to empty the rest of my clip, waking the
neighbors, bringing the law and all that entailed. One shot in the
middle of the night, you would dismiss. Two, you might question.
Seven? No way.

Q had the gun up, ready to let loose and I
was out of choices.

His head exploded and he dropped. I winced at
the rifle shot that came from behind me and to my right.

A whistle.

I whistled back.

Nero came into the yard.

“Why are you wearing a hat?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“We gotta move and we gotta move now.”

“Hang on.”

“Beason, if we wait, we’ll never get
him.”

Nero and I stood over the three bodies. Trey
had a small hole in the front, a big hole in the back. The driver
had a small hole in the back and a big hole in the front. The top
of Q’s head was simply missing. My leg buzzed. I ignored it. “Hang
on.”

“Once he goes underground, it’s war.”

“Shh.” I put my finger to my lips. “Five
minutes of thinking won’t change anything.”

“It will if the police show up in four.”

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and
rocked my head back. The rain fell on my face. My leg buzzed.
Rashness on a battlefield got people killed. I thought about
crossing the Rubicon, what it meant, the danger it held for me. And
for Sarah. I looked, but I didn’t see another option. “My way.”

“My man.” Nero grabbed the driver and threw
him over a shoulder, Q went over the other. I struggled to get Trey
onto mine. Of course, Trey was much bigger. My leg buzzed.

***

“What is going on over there? I heard
shots!”

“Nothing. False alarm.”

“Bullshit. What about the shots?”

“Must have been thunder.”

“I know thunder, Beason. I’m not stupid. What
happened?”

“It’s over. That’s all that matters.”

“Beason, I swear to—“

“Madison, I need you to do me a favor.”

“What? Kill somebody?”

“Nothing that dramatic. I need you to stay at
Steven’s and watch Sarah for a couple of hours.”

“You want us to stay here?”

“Yes. For a little while.”

“What am I supposed to do if she wakes up?
We’ve never met.”

“She won’t. She sleeps like a log.”

“What if she does?”

“Lollapalooza.”

“Lollapalooza? Are you insane?”

“It’s our code word. She won’t go with anyone
aside from family without that code word.”

“Lollapalooza?”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Tie up a loose end.”

***

He stepped outside and that damn wind cut
right through him. Raining, too, probably going to leave spots on
his hat. He shoved his right hand deeper into the overstuffed
Starter jacket, with his left he gave a not so gentle tug on the
leash. The bitch was strong, she could take it.

He’d had way more tequila than he should
have. More bud, too, and they always kept a cut off the top shit
before it got stepped on. The world blurred around him, zoning in
and zoning out. That dope was an asskicker. For sure.

A crack of thunder, real close, and he
stumbled to a stop. In. Out. He took another step, jerked the
chain, but nothing happened. He looked down and the dog lay still.
That didn’t make sense. He had never known a pit bull to like the
rain—much less lay down in a puddle.

Something hard slammed him in the back,
between his shoulder blades and he was face down in the mud. Cold
metal dug deep into one of his ears. “Do not move.”

The voice was familiar, yet he couldn’t place
it, not in his current state. An unbelievable weight pressed down
on his neck, one hand yanked behind his back and the bracelets
slapped on, then the same with the other. He thought,
Shit, this
is the law.

He was pulled to his feet, a hand grabbing
him by the neck, a gun pushing against the back of his skull, his
hat gone. He was pushed forward, following two forms, one’s scalp
gleaming and glistening, the other no more than a huge shadow. He
was marched through the muck and mire to a waiting SUV. The boss
disappeared into the trunk and he went in after. They both
scrambled, trying to separate themselves, the boss swearing and
threatening to no avail.

He was on top of a tarp, something loose and
flexible and stinking beneath him. He felt it and then another and
knew what it was. An arm and a leg.

Suddenly, Jajuan wished he were under
arrest.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The clouds had just begun to turn grey when
we pulled into the sock factory lot. I jumped out of the Suburban
and ran up the metal stairs slick with ice. I opened the outer door
with my key, and went down the hall instead of going into my
office. The factory had gone to the bank when the business had gone
to South America and then bought by a local real estate investor on
the cheap, hoping to cash in with a shopping center. It didn’t work
out and I rented the space for a pittance, the developer looking
for somebody to keep an eye on the property.

I pulled back the plywood that covered the
door to downstairs. I had removed the nails a week after moving in,
wanting to see what was below me.
Recon.
I made my way
carefully down the rickety wooden stairs. It was dark as a tomb and
I banged into several of the abandoned machines before coming to
the loading dock in back. I found the lock, released it, and rolled
back the heavy door. The Suburban was waiting for me.

Nero popped the hatch and I reached in for
Jeremiah. His face was livid. “You a dead man.”

“Uh huh.” I spun him around and carefully
searched him, pockets and belts, looking for a weapon or handcuff
keys. We already had his pistol and the only thing I found was a
switchblade stiletto. I unlocked the cuffs. Nero had finished doing
the same with Jajuan, holding a Glock on the two gangsters. “Go
ahead.”

“What?”

“Soon as you get inside,” I said, “you’re
going to tell me you gotta take a piss. So go ahead.”

He grunted, fixing me with that hateful
glare. He unzipped slowly, relieving himself on the ground.

Nero said, “Best not get any of that on my
sled.”

Another grunt.

Jeremiah finished and I re-cuffed him, then
went through the same process with his bodyguard before shoving
them up the concrete stairs and into the factory. Nero took Jajuan
across the crowded floor and I put Jeremiah in a corner. I undid
the handcuffs again, wrapped his arms around a wooden beam and
locked him up.

“Dead man, muthafucka.”

“I got that.” I took a bandana from the
pocket of the jacket I had found in Nero’s truck and wrapped it
around Jeremiah’s mouth. “We’ll be right back.”

I met Nero on the loading dock and rolled the
door shut. “You want to drop me at the house and meet me back here
in two hours?” I asked. “I’ve got something I need to take care
of.”

Nero looked at the Suburban holding the three
corpses. “Me, too.”

***

The sun was up, but with the heavy cloud
cover I doubted anyone was going to see it today. I wouldn’t say
the rain had stopped, more like it had…paused. My front door was
still unlocked.

The house was empty, more empty than I could
remember it ever being. At least in the last four years. No
Blondie, no Erin, and no Sarah. Without them, it was only a
collection of walls and floors, wood and stone. I went into the
kitchen, opened the cabinet beneath the sink and took out a garbage
bag. I undressed, the sweatshirt, jeans, sneakers—even the
hat—going into the bag and padded naked up the stairs to the
bathroom I shared with my daughter. The quick shower did nothing to
make me feel cleaner.

In the bedroom, I popped the clip and
reloaded it from the box in the dresser, rammed it back into the
.45. I dressed in faded Levis and another sweatshirt, socks, and my
worn boots. Downstairs, I pulled on my leather jacket, dropping
another clip into the inside pocket.

I scrolled through the directory of the cell.
“I’m on my way.”

***

She was waiting for me on the front porch,
smoking a cigarette. Her jeans were tucked into knee high boots,
the fur collared jacket pulled close. “What the hell?”

“Later,” I lied. “I promise.”

Madison shook her head and followed me into
her sister’s house. Steven was in pajama pants, no shirt. His hand
was still wrapped, no sling.

“Camp,” he said, “I don’t know what you’ve
gotten us into, but—“

“Later,” I lied. “Let me get my daughter
home.”

Steven shook his head.

Blondie’s tail thumped the floor as I
entered, still laying next to the bed. Sarah had both hands over
her head, the blankets tossed aside. I gathered her in my arms,
wrapping her in the blankets. She mumbled, snuggling into my chest,
but did not awaken. The greatest treasure in the world weighed less
than forty pounds.

We went through the house, the front door and
across the yards. Blondie bounded off, did her business and
rejoined us. She did not tear off across the neighborhood. Somehow,
Madison remained silent. I had left the door ajar, pushed it open
with my foot, and carried my bundle upstairs to her room. Eyes
closed, she draped an arm around one of her stuffed animals, Nemo,
I think, and lay still. Blondie circled the floor twice and took
her position.

Madison was pacing in the front room, a fresh
cigarette going. Her jacket was off, her makeup washed away, her
body pressing against the white t-shirt and her tight jeans. I have
to admit, she looked sexy as hell.

“Beason, you better tell me right now what
happened?”

She was mad, too. “Madison, do you want me to
lie to you?”

She stopped pacing. “What kind of question is
that? Who says, ‘Yes, lie to me’?”

“Then you know I can’t tell you what
happened.”

“You can’t tell me? I’m already—what’s the
word—an accessory? You have to tell me.”

I shook my head. “All you did was go to your
brother-in-laws house in the middle of the night. You are not an
accessory. Yet.”

“Yet?”

“That changes if I tell you.”

She sucked at the cigarette. “I can keep my
mouth shut.”

“No need,” I explained, “if you don’t know
anything.”

She thought about it, resumed her pacing,
stopped. “Some date, huh?”

“You bet.”

She blew out smoke, stepping close to me. “I
have to admit,” she said, “all this excitement has gotten me turned
on.”

“You want a bourbon?”

***

I dropped Sarah off at her preschool before
proceeding to the sock factory. Sarah, apparently no worse for
wear, had come down the stairs an hour after I had laid her in the
bed. Blondie, however, looked haggard, her unbound energy strangely
bound. Madison had left a little earlier. For once in my life, I
had been able to resist a beautiful, willing, woman.

I left my Jeep in the handicapped space and
circled the factory. Nero had beaten me back, though, all he had to
do was take care of three bodies while I had to work with a four
year old.

He was standing on the loading dock,
unmoving, the Suburban in the same place. “We good?”

“As far as I can tell.” I slid the door back
far enough for us to enter. “Let’s get this over with.”

I expected to be met with curses and threats,
but the building was quiet. The gags probably helped. Jeremiah was
silent, his eyes shooting daggers as Nero and I looked down on
him.

“You do a lot of this when you were
in-country?”

“What?”

“Snatches.”

“About half of what we did,” Nero said. “This
was a lot easier than sneaking into a village of men carrying
AK’s.”

“Yeah.”

“You do much of this or did they leave it for
contractors?”

“Enough.” I found a rickety chair, set it up
next to Jeremiah and un-cuffed him. “Sit.”

He yanked the bandana from his mouth,
standing arrogantly beside the chair. “I’m going to kill you,
Camp.”

I held up my hand. “Jeremiah, you are already
dead. This is your one opportunity to talk your way back into the
land of the living. Now, sit down before we kneecap you.”

“Fuck you.” But he took the chair.

“See if you can talk some sense into
him.”

Nero said, “No.”

I picked my way through the junk, easier with
the weak daylight seeping through the cracks of the boarded up
windows. I pulled back the gag of my other prisoner. “You all
right, Jajuan?”

Jajaun shrugged, resigned to his fate. “You
shot my dog.”

Technically, Nero had shot the dog.
I
didn’t think Jajuan would see the distinction. “How many people
have you killed?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. Twelve,
thirteen.”

“Twelve or thirteen human beings. Sons,
fathers, brothers. I do regret the dog, but I don’t want to hear
you bellyaching about the loss of an animal—an animal you trained
to hurt people.”

Jajuan thought about it, but not for long
enough. “You gonna unhook me?”

“Not now.”

“Why not? You did Jeremiah?”

“You’re a threat. He isn’t,” I said. “No
matter what happens, you’re going to be okay.”

“Sure.”

Jeremiah was still in the chair, Nero staring
down at him with his arms crossed. Jeremiah looked up from the
floor as I approached. “Don’t matter what you do to me, you still
going to die.”