by Samson Weld
“Goddamn!” Ash cried when two bullets slammed into him. He felt fire erupted in his left butt cheek and right shoulder. “Son of a…”
The Scorpion spat a stream of rounds into the bastard’s chest, putting him down for good. Ash swung it around to engage the other thug rising up behind the island.
That forced the Mexican to duck, so Ash put three five-round bursts straight into the island, hearing bullets striking pots and pans stored inside. Then he heard more footsteps back toward the dead bodyguard.
Ash rolled to his feet and charged into the kitchen.
Three down, three to go, he figured.
Someone fired a shot behind him. It sounded like a cannon.
What the hell is he shooting?
Diving to the floor, Ash slid through the kitchen and past the island. The criminal kneeling behind it did a double-take, before swinging his weapon around. Ash proved faster and unleashed hot leaden hell on his ass.
However, only a single round shot out. His weapon locked back.
Empty!
“He’s out of ammo,” the Mexican bodyguard shouted for the others’ benefit.
“I want him alive, Lopez!” Osorio called. “Move in, Montero! I’ll cover.”
Lopez grinned and came at him. Ash rolled to his feet and charged him. The Mexican grabbed a butcher knife off the island and then lunged at him.
Ash had to give ground, barely avoiding disembowelment. He backed up past a fancy gas stove and the refrigerator before Montero appeared around the fireplace. That placed Osorio on the other side of the fireplace, guarding the elevator.
“Serious mistake, Lopez,” Ash said. He reached inside his coat. “You brought a knife to a gunfight.”
Lopez cried out and charged at him. Ash reached across his body with his left hand and yanked the fridge door open, slamming it into Lopez’s face. He lashed out with a thrusting kick to the Mexican’s face before pulling his Glock out. But then Montero arrived and took a swing at his face.
Ash ducked under that right cross, brought his pistol down on Montero’s knee, before spinning into a roundhouse. His foot put the big Mexican down. Then he turned to shoot Lopez, but Osorio forced him to duck behind the island.
“He’s got a pistol,” Lopez screamed just before Ash pumped two shots into his head.
Ash seethed, no longer feeling the pain from his wounds. “Hey, Osorio, remember me now?”
“You made a big mistake, Ashley Wexler,” the vicious drug lord growled.
“Oh man, don’t worry about me, Matty,” Ash sneered back, wondering if Osorio had ever had his name butchered like that. Every little slight delivered made Ash a little happier. “I’ve made much bigger mistakes than this. I own a timeshare down in Cabo that I can’t unload to save my life.”
“Montero!” Osorio snapped. “You go that way and I’ll go the other.”
Ash couldn’t see them, so had no idea from around which corner Osorio would appear. Hell, he’d let Montero kill him if he could kill Osorio first. Everything depended on him killing that murderous bastard.
“What he means, Montero, is you offer yourself to be killed, so he can live,” Ash said. “You should be wearing a red shirt, because it sucks to be you.”
Drawing his other Glock, Ash prepared to take them both on at once. He could hear their footsteps approaching. One to either side of the island.
Despite the bravado, Ash was fully aware that his life expectancy had just taken a swan dive.
Chapter 52
The footsteps grew closer and closer to the opposite ends of the island.
Ash extended his arms to either side, fingers on the triggers. His heart hammered so loudly it started to drown out the faint sound of their cautious approaches. He was a sitting duck.
Unless he did something first.
“Die!” Ash shouted as he stood up.
His fingers were pulling the triggers even before he could see them. Montero stood to his left; Osorio was on his right. Only, Osorio wasn’t exactly where Ash thought.
Montero gasped, multiple rounds piercing his chest, sending blood flying. Osorio dipped behind the island before he could adjust his aim.
Both pistols locked back with empty magazines.
Osorio cried out, leaping up and over the island before Ash could even eject. His first reaction was to kick out at the Mexican sliding across the granite top of the island. He struck him just enough to send Osorio hurling past instead of straight into him.
Planting his foot, Ash tilted his hips and kicked at Osorio’s face. The drug lord blocked and tried to shoot him point blank. But Ash rushed closer, bringing his knee up into his adversary’s ribs, before Osorio pushed away as he began firing.
Ash ducked and dashed around the island.
“Madre de Dios, te voy a matar!”
Ash snatched up Montero’s pistol, a Browning HP35. He returned fire, forcing Osorio to find some cover. He spotted the Scorpion laying in the corner, but still with an empty magazine. Neither of his empty Glocks were in sight and he didn’t recall dropping them, either.
Yeah, that was a dumb move on my part, he thought.
“You’re dead, Wexler,” Osorio shouted. “I’m bigger, meaner, and stronger!”
It sounded like Osorio was crawling. Which direction?
“I’ll give you meaner, but the other two are wishful thinking, amigo.”
The Mexican muttered something in Spanish under his breath. Ash grinned. Osorio sounded frustrated. Not afraid. Yet. But Ash would take frustrating him, for now.
“Hey, Ossy,” Ash called. “Do you mind if I call you Ossy? You didn’t respond too well to Matty.”
Osorio’s reply came in three shots. That placed him on the east side of that end of the island. Ash swung his weapon to that side.
“Fine, Ossy it is,” Ash said. “How’s it feel to be the very last member of your gang that’s still alive? I’ve killed them all. Rojas. Charlie, Hector, and just now your life-long butt buddy Consuelo Gomez. So sad.”
Ash glanced at the Scorpion. It lay on the west side of the island. Could he reach it before Osorio figured out what he was doing? Was Osorio trying to make him think that the automatic weapon was within reach?
Pulling a thirty-round magazine out, he held it in his left hand, pistol in the right.
Ash rose up and squeezed off two shots. Osorio immediately popped up to return fire. He was at the eastern side, so Ash hurled himself back at the Scorpion. The sound of Osorio’s running feet filled the kitchen as Ash snatched up his dropped weapon, hit eject, and slammed in the new magazine.
Pap-pap-pap-pap-pap!
That five round burst sent Osorio scrambling for cover. Only he didn’t drop behind the island, but continued running into the living room. Ash took off after him.
“Coward!” Ash shouted.
Osorio tried for the elevator, but Ash opened fire and forced him to veer away. He practically crashed through a nearby door.
Stairs! He was heading for the stairs. Ash felt his frustration building. Why can’t I kill that bastard?
Osorio paused just long enough to squeeze off a single shot back at Ash. Fire erupted on Ash’s left flank. He paused a second to check the wound. It hurt like nothing else.
It felt like a flesh wound, he concluded with a gasp. Well, a flesh wound where the bullet had ricocheted off his ribs. It was like someone had hit him in the ribs with an aluminum baseball bat.
He had to return the favor, with a dozen mortal wounds.
Ash ejected the almost empty magazine as he raced into the stairwell. The sound of him slamming in another magazine echoed down the stairs. He heard Osorio’s frantic feet descending below.
It sounded like the Mexican was already a couple of floors down, so he shouldered the Scorpion and headed down. Ash used the handrails to practically vault down the stairs, barely using any of the steps.
“I’m the Angel of Death, Ossy!” he shouted, voice enhanced by the enclosed space. “And I’m coming for
you!”
He slowly closed the gap, but Ash knew Osorio would reach the ground floor well before him. The last thing Ash wanted was a gunfight in public. Did Osorio understand that?
Osorio hit the ground floor with a loud bang echoing up the stairwell. Ash was at the top of the last flight of steps. He growled in frustration and redoubled his efforts. He heard Osorio running away followed by two female voices shouting.
“Halt!”
“Police!”
“Oh shit,” Ash said, but raced out after Osorio anyway.
If the police stopped him, then he’d be an easy target. Ash would be able to shoot him in a heartbeat. They could arrest him instead and it would be all over. Ash was past caring what happened to him.
The good citizens of Texas would only have to pay for one trial and imprisonment, saving them a small fortune over time. Everyone would be happy, except poor dead Mateo Osorio.
Ash bounced off the stairwell door, which was closing. The bang reverberated through the lobby and distracted the two women holding weapons on Osorio.
“Bellucci,” he whispered, but didn’t recognize the black woman.
“Don’t shoot,” Bellucci swiftly commanded.
Ash hesitated. Osorio wasn’t exactly surrendering, but he was stopped. The drug lord’s pistol was pointed at the black plainclothes woman.
Bellucci kept her calm. “Drop your weapons.”
Ash tensed. He had his weapon on Osorio while the Mexican switched his aim to Bellucci, and the African-American detective was aiming at Ash. It was a standoff.
Chapter 53
If he killed Osorio, the other detective would kill him. However, Osorio was between him and the two detectives, with more cops outside, just waiting to join the party. All of them were in his line of fire if he starting shooting at Osorio.
Every single one of those cops would open fire on him even before Osorio hit the ground.
Better than prison, he thought.
Bellucci was looking at him. She looked determined. Honest. Their conversation in the coffee shop came back to him. Maybe he should let her arrest Osorio, sending him to prison forever. Maybe this time the justice system wouldn’t betray him. Maybe…
Ash relaxed, letting the barrel of his weapon drop a little. With a sigh, Bellucci appreciated her good fortune and allowed herself to breathe.
And Osorio shot Bellucci.
Everything moved in slow motion. Bellucci howled as she fell back. The other detective swung her pistol around toward Osorio, who started firing at her. The black detective grunted and fell.
Ash brought his Scorpion up, but hesitated to pull the trigger when his eyes focused past Osorio and on the cops beyond, many of which were charging in. If he fired, he would hit them.
Osorio stepped forward, pointing his pistol at Bellucci. He wanted to finish her off. So Ash steadied his aim and squeezed off a short burst that sent Osorio running.
Perfect.
Following Osorio, Ash paused a second over Bellucci to ensure she was okay. He spotted a left shoulder wound and then their eyes locked.
“Sorry,” he said before taking off after his ultimate target.
Osorio went down another open set of stairs. Underground garage? Did Osorio have a car down there? Panic began to set in. Ash pushed himself going down the steps, weapon nestled in his right arm.
“Why are you so scared, Ossy?”
The Mexican opened fire on him the second he entered the dark garage. Ash took random shots at him, trying to make him use up all of his ammo. Then he heard the distinct sound of a magazine being ejected, hitting the floor, before hearing the other slapped in.
They traded pot shots for a long moment. Ash would fire a round and duck. Osorio would rise up to fire a round, and hide again. To boost his chances, Ash rose, fired, and stayed up. When Osorio got up to fire, Ash sent a short burst at him.
Spanish curses filled the garage.
This stalemate couldn’t last. The cops would come pouring in at any time. Consequently, Ash scooped up a handful of spent brass cartridges and threw them past Osorio. They made a god-awful noise in the relative still of the underground garage.
Osorio spun around and opened fire in that direction, allowing Ash to break from cover. Only he didn’t charge Osorio’s position, but instead ran off to the side. Now his enemy didn’t know where the hell he was. He could come at him from any direction.
Creeping up close, Ash pulled a pistol magazine out and hurled it across the garage. It banged into a car, setting off its alarm, and then went clattering away. Osorio squeezed off three shots into that car.
And Ash attacked.
Osorio proved faster than Ash had imagined, spinning around to confront him in a flash. His pistol looked huge and he swung his Scorpion around to bat it aside. The impact of steel-on-steel sent both weapons skidding away.
Ash kicked at his head, but Osorio blocked with his forearm and pounded a fist into Ash’s ribs. So Ash spun around to drive an elbow into his foe’s temple, leaving Osorio sprawled on the ground. But the Mexican lashed out with his feet, forcing Ash back a step. It was enough for Osorio to regain his feet.
Pulling out a switchblade, Osorio grinned with vicious glee. “I’m going to kill you very slowly.”
Ash stood in a defensive stance between two cars. A massive concrete pillar blocked any retreat. Didn’t look good. Ash reached inside his coat for a pistol he knew was no longer there.
Eyes wide, Osorio hesitated. Ash barked a mirthless laugh, leaping at the other man and kicking Osorio in the face. The Mexican stumbled back, slashing his knife back and forth defensively.
Ash followed closely, dropped low, and swept his feet away. Osorio hit the ground with a grunt, but rolled back to his feet.
“You’re good, Ossy, but not good enough. You murdered my wife and children. I’m going to kill you now.”
Osorio lunged at him, leading with the switchblade. Ash blocked the blade hand aside, and pounded a fist into his rival’s face. Stumbling back, blood pouring from his nose, Osorio blinked at him in astonishment.
Ash grinned.
Osorio threw the knife at him. Ash ducked, throwing up a defensive arm. The knife stuck in his forearm, and pain ripped all the way up to his shoulder. He froze, giving Osorio the opportunity he wanted.
Fists and feet pounded into Ash, seemingly from all directions. The pain was staggering. Osorio attacked in a fury of rage, forcing Ash back, back, back until he was pressed against the wall.
“I’m going to beat you to death!” Osorio screamed. “Then I’m going to hunt down and kill everyone in your family.”
Osorio threw a punch at Ash’s face. He blocked it aside, pressed up inside the Mexican’s guard, and brought his knee up between Osorio’s legs.
As he gasped and coughed in agony, Ash shifted behind Osorio and wrapped his arm around the Mexican’s neck. And applied as much pressure as he could. Squeezing his throat, cutting off the blood pumping through the artery into his evil brain.
Ash hung on for dear life as Osorio struggled to shake him. He bucked and writhed, reached back to claw at Ash’s face, his eyes. In response, Ash wrapped his legs around him, forcing Osorio to fall back to the ground.
Laying under him, Ash held him down, choking him as hard as he could. Osorio’s struggles became weaker and weaker.
“How does it feel to die?” Ash hissed into his ear. “Killers must be killed. So. Go. To. Hell!”
As Osorio went limp, Ash released his neck. He grabbed the drug lord’s chin, grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of Osorio’s head, and… snapped his neck.
“Damn,” Bellucci’s voice said, almost too softly to hear.
Ash looked up, his rage already starting to go cold.
“You’re all right?” he asked.
“Yeah. Thanks for the save,” she said.
He noticed the pistol in her hand, aimed at him. Slowly, Ash scooted out from under Osorio’s corpse, carefully climbing to his feet. She kept the
gun on him the whole time. He frowned at her.
“I know you have a job to do,” he said. “But I’m not feeling very cooperative.” He shrugged with an embarrassed smile. “I prefer death to prison.”
She just sighed and shook her head.
Ash slowly backed away. Bellucci didn’t follow. He continued backing away until he vanished amid all the parked cars. He heard more cops joining Bellucci just before he found another set of stairs in back.
No one came after him.
Chapter 54
A warm front swept up from the Gulf of Mexico to herald in the new week.
Ash sat in his living room watching the local midday news. A bottle of Oxycodone sat on the coffee table. His left arm was wrapped up and he shifted uncomfortably on his wounded rump. Really, there wasn’t any position, sitting, standing, or lying down, that gave him any comfort. The Oxycodone helped, but taking too many of them was dangerous.
His eyes locked on Detective Bellucci, sitting with other senior officers and city officials at the press conference earlier that morning. He smiled when they reassured the city and press that the killing rampage had ended with Mateo Osorio’s death. His entire gang was dead, as was a good portion of the Russian mafia operating in the Dallas and Fort Worth Metroplex.
Ash waited, heart racing, for them to mention him. But not a word about any citizen assistance. Nothing about any vigilante. Case closed.
“Really?” he whispered.
More likely, they wanted to put him at ease, get him to drop his guard. That’s when his phone rang.
Ash picked it up and looked at the screen. The screen showed “Wireless number.” He didn’t recognize the phone number displayed underneath. He answered.
“Hello, Mr. Wexler,” Bellucci’s now familiar voice said in greeting. She sounded calm. Collected. Professional. “Have you been watching TV?”
“I’m watching you right now on Channel 4 News,” he said. “Nice jacket.”
