“Care to take another swing?” Nevada asked.
The man lunged for Nevada. She spun into a roundhouse kick, connecting with his chest, and sent him back against the island counter. While he was already halfway to the floor, she kicked him in the face and sent him the rest of the way to the floor. Sal lowered his weapon and eyed Nevada.
“Wasn’t exactly expecting to see you back here so soon,” Sal remarked.
Nevada eyed him and shrugged. “I don’t hold a grudge,” she insisted. “I heard the gunshot and felt something a little too much like compassion, so I came back.”
“You were a Marine, right?” Sal asked the woman.
Nevada smirked. “Oorah,” she replied.
Sal reached beneath the counter and tossed her a medical bag. “Our friend, there, needs a bullet removed,” he remarked. “Give him half a dose of the localized pain killer. But only enough to take the edge off. The boy needs to feel just enough to make some tough decisions regarding his life choices.”
Nevada suddenly grinned and approached the kitchen table. “Oh, I do enjoy ‘tough love’,” she announced. “It’s kind of like torture but without being entirely frowned upon.” Nevada took a seat alongside the young man and met his gaze with a stern look. “Now, don’t go passing out. It won’t be nearly as much fun for me.”
Sal placed the gun down the back of his pants, removed some zip ties from one of the drawers, and approached the unconscious man on the floor before the island counter. He glanced at the young man seated at the table and saw him flinch when Nevada injected his shoulder with the syringe.
“Big baby,” Nevada scoffed.
“What’s your name, son?” Sal asked the young man while zip-tying his friend.
“Jack,” he replied, now sweating profusely as he avoided looking at the wound while Nevada cleaned it.
“Kind of squeamish for a hitman,” Nevada muttered.
“He’s new,” Sal casually informed her.
As Nevada dug in the bloody wound for the bullet, the young man squirmed in his chair. When she finally removed the bullet, the man gasped several times and attempted to relax.
“Wouldn’t it be easier on you if you just left me for the police to worry about?” the young man asked.
Sal straightened after zip-tying the unconscious man, then eyed the young man seated at the table. “Who said I was calling the police?” he asked, then raised a cocky brow. “Guys like me don’t call the police to handle hitmen. Too many questions.”
The young man eyed Sal with some concern.
Nevada suddenly grinned. “Are you going to interrogate them?” she asked with a little too much enthusiasm. “If you are, I am so in.”
Sal groaned and shook his head. “Not really my style,” he informed her. “I think I’ll take the guy on the floor for a little joyride. Dump him off in the middle of nowhere. Give him time to think about his life choices.” He then indicated the young man. “After you patch that one up, we’re going to let him go.”
The young man stared at Sal and seemed surprised. “Why would you do that?”
“We all make mistakes, son,” Sal informed him. “I’m just giving you a chance to learn from yours. Do yourself a favor. Learn a trade. Make something of yourself. You clearly weren’t built to last on the path you’ve chosen.”
“I can’t believe you’d do that for me,” the man remarked. “You don’t even know me.”
Sal nodded. “I know you,” he replied. “I was just like you when I was your age. Only I got to be pretty good at what I did.” He shook his head. “Trust me; that’s nothing to be proud of.”
Chapter 14
It was nearly eight-thirty that evening, and the team was camping out in Jackie’s house within the quiet development on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. Jackie and Holden had a large living room, perfect for entertaining, which was good, considering how often they seemed to have visitors and overnight company. An island counter with seating for four divided the living room from the kitchen. In addition to the sofa, love seat, and two plush chairs, the additional seating at the island counter allowed the entire team to hang out together when they weren’t having drinks on the back patio. Several stacked, empty boxes of pizza occupied the island counter. They managed to keep Kirk away from the last pizza so Holden and Gil would have dinner when they returned. The coffee table contained several empty bottles of beer, giving the room a frat house sort of appeal.
Jackie sat on the arm of the plush chair Bogart occupied and leaned on the back of the chair near his shoulder. Ross sat on one end of the sofa with Beck and Monroe, who were in yet another heated debate about something trivial. Kirk, Ross, and Bogart shared the same boring looks at the two men who never seemed to give it a rest. Kirk sat forward in his chair on the opposite side of the room from Jackie and Bogart and eyed Beck and Monroe with a serious look.
“Let’s play a little game,” Kirk announced. “It’s called ‘which one of you dumb shits will I punch in the mouth first if you don’t shut the fuck up’.”
“Kirk,” Ross lightly scolded.
“Just saying what everyone is thinking,” Kirk informed Ross with little emotion.
“Okay, guys,” Ross announced while groaning, then leaned forward from his position on the sofa. “We aren’t at the lodge. No fighting, arguing, or rough housing. There are too many Ward and June Cleaver types living around here. Let’s keep it family-friendly, or we’re leaving tonight.”
Monroe and Beck shifted in their seats, taking Ross’s words seriously. He’d do it too.
Kirk stood and eyed Monroe and Beck with a mildly mocking grin. “In that case, I’ll just hold off beating your asses until we’re back at the lodge.”
Ross shook his head with disapproval but didn’t comment as Kirk headed into the kitchen to fetch another beer. He returned with four bottles of beer, handing one to each of the guys and one for himself. Ross didn’t need another since he was still nursing his first bottle. Jackie was alerted to the sound of two cars pulling up to the house. She knew the sound of Holden’s official Bureau blazer and quickly leaped up from the arm of Bogart’s chair. Only a moment passed when the front door opened. When Holden and Gil entered the house, Jackie was quick to greet the two men with a mildly anxious look on her face.
“Is everything okay?” she asked while eyeing each man.
Jackie hated to admit that she was paranoid about her husband’s recent meeting with the former, aging mob boss, but she’d heard about Vinnie’s kill count and the gruesome manner in which some of the men had been killed. It was enough to unnerve her.
“Yeah,” Holden replied while making a face. “Vinnie the knife was an absolute delight.”
Jackie again eyed each man and attempted to downplay her concern, although she quite possibly failed. “He didn’t try and kill you, did he?”
Gil suddenly chuckled at the question. “It may have sounded like sarcasm, but Holden exaggerates,” he reported. “For the former, cut-throat mafia-type, he was actually quite cordial. Even offered us chocolate.”
“Because he wanted to see if we had poisoned it,” Holden muttered, although it was obvious Gil was aware of Vinnie’s reasons.
“Did he offer any leads?” Jackie pressed.
“We’ll talk about it when we’re alone,” Holden informed her.
Jackie glanced at the team scattered about the room, then looked back at Holden and shrugged. “We are alone.”
Holden stared at Jackie a moment with a look resembling disapproval, but he seemed to give in. “Vinnie doesn’t think Marco killed his grandson. Vinnie’s older grandson, on the other hand, seems to think otherwise. He may be the one who put the bounty on Marco’s head in the first place.”
Ross approached, took a broad stance, and folded his arms across his chest. “So every hitman and bounty hunter is going to be hunting Marco.” Ross shook his head. “There’s something I wouldn’t want to get in the middle of.”
Gil then looked around. “Whe
re’s Darth?”
“Zack took him for a walk,” Bogart reported. “The moment Zack showed up, Darth went insane and practically did cartwheels by the door.”
Gil shook his head while making a face. “I think Darth has been spending too much time with Zack,” he remarked. “Those two are up to something.”
“He’s probably pissing on a thousand spots, marking his territory,” Kirk muttered from where he leaned against the island counter.
“I think he was referring to Zack,” Holden casually informed Kirk.
“Yeah, so was I,” Kirk replied, then shook his head. “Darth is a fucking dog. He’s not up to anything.”
“First off,” Gil launched in response to Kirk. “Darth is not a fucking dog. He’s my partner.” He then frowned. “I’m more concerned that Zack is teaching Darth tricks.”
“I’m going to assume you don’t mean fetch, rollover, and play dead,” Monroe muttered.
“More like kill and sic balls,” Gil scoffed.
“Why do you always assume the worst?” Zack demanded from behind Kirk by the kitchen island counter.
Kirk didn’t even seem startled that Zack had mysteriously appeared behind him. Darth trotted across the living room, ignoring everyone, and jumped onto the vacant plush chair. He placed his head on the chair arm and shut his eyes. All eyes were on the exhausted dog. Gil eyed his dog and remained somewhat suspicious. Darth seemed fairly tired from what had to be a short walk. Zack approached the sofa, cast himself upon it, and shut his eyes as well. Everyone was curious, but none seemed willing to ask. When the doorbell rang, Darth opened his eyes and woofed under his breath but didn’t bother lifting his head. Gil again eyed the dog and his lack of interest in who was at the door.
“Why does Darth look like a hungover sailor on shore leave?” Gil just about demanded but didn’t seem surprised when Zack didn’t respond.
Holden approached the front door within the foyer and opened it, revealing a police officer. The middle-aged uniformed officer was one of Holden’s neighbors who lived at the end of the street. He was a tall, sturdy man with a clean-cut, youthful face.
“Josh,” Holden announced while eyeing the man in uniform. “What brings you by at this hour?”
“I’m here about your dog,” the officer announced in a stern voice.
Holden tensed but maintained his smile. “We don’t own a dog.”
The others glanced at the chair. Darth was gone. When they eyed the sofa, Zack was also gone. Something was definitely up.
“Your four-legged, frequent houseguest then,” the officer reported, not sounding humored by Holden’s response.
Holden groaned and shook his head. “What did he do?” he finally asked.
“He jumped the fence into my yard and humped my police K-9,” the officer announced with increasing irritation. “She was only out in the yard for five minutes. I opened the door to call her in, and there he was, defiling Officer Zena.”
Holden placed his hand over his eyes and held his breath. It was hard to tell what was going through his head.
“I swear,” Josh continued. “It was as if the dog was on some secret, covert mission, waiting for the two seconds I turned my back.”
Jackie suddenly cringed and had to look away. It was a covert mission, all right. Orchestrated by Zack and carried out by Darth.
“I am so sorry,” Holden finally announced.
“What am I supposed to do?” the officer demanded. “If she’s pregnant, she’s out of commission until the puppies are weaned. Do you have any idea how bad this is going to look?” He then hesitated and seemed stressed. “Do you have any idea the sort of torment I’m going to receive from the other officers at the precinct?”
“I truly am sorry,” Holden informed him, then held his breath. “If it turns out she’s pregnant, we’ll pay for the vet bill to terminate the pregnancy.”
Gil suddenly bolted for the door and glared at Holden. “There is no way in hell you’re doing that,” Gil suddenly launched, then turned to the police officer in the doorway. “Darth is my dog. He’s my responsibility. I’ll buy Officer Zena from you. Just tell me how much it’ll cost to replace her with another K-9.”
The police officer stared at Gil with some surprise. “I have no intention of terminating the pregnancy,” he informed Gil. “And she’s not just a dog. She’s my partner and a member of my family, so there’s no way I’d ever sell her. Not to mention my kids would kill me.”
“What can I do to make this right?” Gil asked.
The officer held his breath. “I’ll deal with the embarrassment at the station, but you need to pay for her vet bills and find homes for the puppies.”
“I’ll do that,” Gil informed him. “Holden has my information.”
The police officer nodded but remained mostly irritated by the entire situation. “Try and keep that dog of yours on a leash from now on.”
“Yeah, both of them,” Holden muttered.
Once the officer left, Gil shut the door. Holden and Jackie exchanged looks but didn’t dare speak. What was about to follow wasn’t going to be pretty. Gil turned and appeared angry.
“Zack!”
There were several snickers from the other guys. Gil shot looks at them.
“Yeah, it’s really funny,” Gil snarled, losing his cool for possibly the first time, and sneered at his teammates. “Can you guess what all of you are getting for Christmas this year?”
Gil stormed through the house and finally found Zack sitting on the back patio smoking a cigar while enjoying a glass of whiskey. Darth saw Gil and ran behind Zack’s chair, almost as if he knew he did something wrong. Zack didn’t even bother looking up as Gil approached.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Gil demanded while standing over Zack. “Did you just wander through the neighborhood, see the neighbor’s dog, and think, how can I fuck up Gil’s life today?”
Zack glanced up at Gil and showed little emotion. “Of course not,” he scoffed.
The rest of the team made their way onto the porch for a front-row seat to Gil’s interrogation of Zack. It was a ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ event.
“Officer Zena came up as Darth’s perfect match on Tinder,” Zack replied, then shrugged. “So I arranged for a play date.”
“Probably hoisted him over the fence into their yard,” Monroe muttered under his breath.
Zack glared at Monroe, having heard the comment. “Darth could jump that fence as if it wasn’t even there,” he remarked, then looked back at Gil. “Darth works hard. He needs to have a little fun, just like the rest of us. So I did what any friend would do. I took Darth out and got him laid. No big deal.”
“No big deal?” Gil snarled. “You do realize there’s a good chance that police dog is pregnant with Darth’s puppies.”
Zack stared at Gil with a strange, almost stunned look. “Of course I realize that,” he casually replied. “If Darth was going to ‘get lucky’, the female dog needed to be in heat. I do know how these things work.”
“You know I’m stuck with those puppies,” Gil snapped back.
Zack suddenly grinned and puffed on his cigar, pleased with himself. “And what amazing puppies they’re going to be,” he announced. “The best of the best.”
Gil stared at Zack a moment, then frowned. “Well, you do have a pretty good point.”
Holden rolled his eyes.
“Sal gave me Darth’s papers after I ‘adopted’ him,” Gil remarked.
“You mean stole him,” Ross countered.
“He has an amazing pedigree,” Gil continued while ignoring Ross’s comment. “He was imported from Germany as a puppy.”
“Officer Zena has some nice bloodlines, too,” Zack insisted. “Comes from a long line of police dogs.”
“Please don’t tell me you broke into a police officer’s house to find that information,” Holden muttered while shutting his eyes.
Zack eyed Holden and raised a brow. “Of course not,” he insisted. “I already
told you, they were a perfect match on Tinder.”
“I’d take that as a confession,” Kirk remarked to Holden while hiding his humor.
Chapter 15
Jackie, Holden, and the team sat on the back patio well past ten o’clock that night. Their house was nestled on a one-acre corner lot with a privacy fence around the back yard. Several large trees inside the fenced area added additional seclusion. The covered patio had enough outdoor furniture to seat the entire team and a few extras. Beyond the concrete patio was an outdoor fire pit with a nice sized fire blazing on the cool fall night. The fire pit provided enough light for them to see the area surrounding them and lent a warm, romantic glow. The guys were nursing their bottles of beer while Zack sipped his whiskey. Beck and Monroe were able to put their irritation with each other aside for the rest of the night, allowing everyone to have a good time while discussing old missions from their Navy SEAL days.
Jackie always loved a good story involving her father, even the ones she had heard many times before. She affectionately clung to Holden’s hand while nuzzling her head against his shoulder as she listened to the stories of the team’s ‘glory days’. Bogart’s cell phone dinged, indicating he had a new text message. A text message was strange, considering mostly everyone he knew was on the patio with him. He removed his cell phone from his pocket, eyed the screen, and appeared slightly baffled at what he saw.
“Huh?” Bogart announced while staring at his phone. “Othello sent me a text.” He then looked at the guys. “When did Othello start selling car insurance?”
The guys suddenly shifted in their seats and appeared unusually interested. Although Othello was a high-tech kind of guy, the former SEAL team typically avoided things like text messaging and social media. Their interest in Othello’s correspondence with Bogart sparked Jackie’s curiosity.
“What does it say?” Ross asked almost eagerly.
“He wants to discuss my current insurance needs and see about including a SAR policy,” Bogart remarked, then eyed the guys while squinting. “It sounds almost as if he’s talking in code.”
Witness Protection 9: S.N.A.F.U. Page 11
