by Tess Oliver
I pointed to the floor of the truck. “Reach under the seat. I stuck a bottle down there.”
Bodhi pulled out the bottle and held it up. “Are we going to have a drink?” he asked. “You know I hate the taste of this shit.”
“No drinks. Besides, it’s just water.”
Bodhi stared at me in confusion. “None of this is making sense to me.”
“It will. Just remember everything I told you, and keep to your orders, soldier, all right?” I turned to him and chucked him on the shoulder.
“Yes, sir,” he said with a salute.
The truck was still running fine when we reached the lookout spot, a patch of grass tall enough for camouflage, a half mile from the fork in the road. The Dentons lived about five miles south of Harper’s Cross in an area at the base of the mountains that didn’t even have a town name. The three brothers were rough around the edges and no more educated than tom cats, but like stray cats, they had cunning and they knew how to survive. They’d won over Griggs early on. But their partnership was about to come to an abrupt end . . . as long as my plan worked. I knew that if we’d just taken the truck and headed toward Georgetown with our forty crates, we wouldn’t have had a chance. The profitable partnership with Griggs had allowed the Dentons to beef up their cars and get bigger wheels. There was no way we could outrun them, and Griggs knew that. There was no doubt in my mind that he was counting on the Dentons to catch and probably kill us. This was a game, a night of sport for Griggs, but I was going to make sure that the game ended in our favor.
The truck motor chugged in neutral as if it had a bad cough. “Keep your fingers crossed that this truck stays alive, Bodhi. Otherwise we’re finished.”
Two headlights glowed in the distance. “There’s Noah.” Bodhi put the bottle down on the seat next to him and pulled his gun from its holster.
“A little change in plan,” I said. “When we get right in front of them, I want you to heave that bottle out first. Doesn’t have to damage the car. I just want them to be convinced that the whiskey is in our truck. Then take out the headlights. Nothing more. I don’t want to start a war with the Dentons for taking out one of their kin.”
“Right.”
Our gray Ford rumbled past with Noah behind the wheel and four fedoras bouncing on sticks in the empty seats.
Bodhi laughed, but it wasn’t his usual laugh. It was edged with nervous excitement. “Looks like he’s driving four friends out of town.”
“That’s what we’re hoping for.” More headlights loomed in the distance. They were weak and spread too wide for a car. It was Gideon, right on cue. And the yellow glow behind him assured me he was being followed. The truck rolled past with one of the Denton cars behind. Neal Denton, the eldest brother and leader, was always consistent. He never verged from the way he did things. In this business, it was never good to be predictable. I knew that they always went out in two cars, with the second car staying far enough behind that it could fall off and turn around if the first car was chased by the cops. Tonight was no different. Another pair of headlights popped up like the yellow eyes of a giant animal. I pushed the lever forward, and we coasted onto the road at a turtle’s pace hitting the path just ahead of the second car. The horn blew, and the driver had to slow not to slam into us. The cool night air ushered in through the open frame of the back window.
“Now, Bodhi.”
He rose up on his knees and leaned against the seat as he hurled the bottle out. It shattered. “Ha! Hit the grill,” Bodhi boasted.
“Good job. You’ve got their attention. Now take out the lights.”
Bodhi braced his elbow on the seat. The old truck waddled like a duck on the rough road, but he held his hand steady. “He’s pulling off to the side. Someone’s leaning out the passenger window with a gun,” he said without taking his eyes off the car behind us.
“What are you waiting for, Bodhi? Blind that fucking car.”
The shot went off close to my ear, leaving behind a ringing sound. Someone fired a round behind us, but it pinged off the back of the truck. Bodhi fired a second shot. Their headlights were gone.
“Well done.” I cut our lights too, dropping us all into darkness. “Hold on,” I said and turned the steering wheel sharply. We careened off the road. Bodhi bounced off the seat and smacked the dash. “Told you to hold on. Get ready. On three, jump out.”
Our momentum was slowed by the heavy brush as we rolled toward a copse of trees. “One, two, three.” I shoved open the driver’s door and jumped out. A quick somersault and I was on my feet. I glanced back. Bodhi was out and on the run too. The truck plowed headlong into a tangle of shrubs and stopped.
I dashed out of sight behind a tree just as the Denton car rolled up. Two men hopped out. I recognized one as Frank, the youngest Denton, and a big thickheaded cousin, who had been working with them for a long time. They pulled their guns and walked confidently toward the truck, showering it with a spray of gunfire. Bullets pinged off the chassis and splintered the wooden slats on the crates. Liquid dribbled out of the broken bottles.
“Stupid fucking fools!” Denton shouted toward the cab of the truck. His cousin pulled out a match box and lit a few. He tossed them into the back of the truck. They fell back to wait for the explosion. The match flames fizzled out.
In France, noisy footsteps meant death. I’d learned how to walk in just about any terrain without making a sound. I stepped quietly out from behind the tree and shoved a nail in the back tire of Denton’s car. I didn’t want the tire to blow all at once. It just needed a slow leak. Soundlessly, I walked up behind them. Frank felt the cold metal of my revolver barrel before he even knew I was there.
“You’d think a hundred-sixty proof white lightning would have made a bigger boom than that,” I quipped.
Frank’s cousin pointed his gun at me.
“I wouldn’t be too quick with that. You see, my little brother, Bodhi, the boy who just took out both of your headlights with two clean shots out of the back of our rather unsteady old truck, is out there with his gun pointed at you. You’ve probably heard the tale about him taking off a snake’s head at twenty yards? Well, he was only fifteen at the time. He’s gotten a lot better. Right now, he can see both of you, but from the looks on your faces, I’m going to guess that you can’t see him.”
Frank peered over at his cousin without turning his head away from the barrel of my gun. “Don’t just stand there, idiot. Go check those bottles.” His cousin hesitated as if he feared a delayed explosion. He walked cautiously toward the back of the truck.
“Boom,” I said just sharply enough to startle him.
Frank sighed in disgust at his cousin’s cowardice. The man pulled out an unbroken jar and unscrewed the cap. He lifted it to his nose and then took a sip. “It’s water.”
“Fuck,” Frank muttered.
“You boys will probably want to get back on the road to chase down those forty crates of hooch. My brother and I aren’t going anywhere. You just made Swiss cheese out of my truck.” I lowered my gun to assure them that Bodhi had me covered. Of course, my brother was long gone down the road by then, but they didn’t need to know that. Sometimes an invisible threat was more effective than one standing directly in plain view.
“Come on,” Frank snarled to his cousin. They raced back to their car. I sat on the truck’s running board and waited for them to pull out onto the road, with a weeping tire and no headlights to guide them.
They roared past. I got up and ran along the side of the road. Two headlights popped on from the opposite side. I headed toward them. Noah was still behind the wheel, and Bodhi was riding shotgun. I pushed over one of our fake stick passengers and slid into the backseat.
Noah pulled the car back onto the road. “Gideon’s truck was blowing smoke out like a chimney.”
“Let’s hurry then. Bodhi
, keep an eye out on that side, and I’ll keep watch on this side. We’ll probably see the smoke long before we see the cars.”
“The second car just went past,” Bodhi said. “How did you get away?”
“With your help, believe it or not, little brother. Your reputation as a sharpshooter saved my ass.”
Bodhi’s grin nearly split his face in two. Noah beamed proudly for his friend too.
A thin stream of smoke curled up from a dark patch of shrubs just off the road. The first Denton car was there too. Gunshots echoed through the night. “Turn off the lights, Noah,” I said. “Fuck, hope Gideon’s all right. Slow down. I’m getting out here. You boys drive on toward the bridge. That second car is moving slow and without lights and a bad tire. You know that loop of road that the farmers cleared for whenever this road gets flooded?”
“Sure I know it,” Noah said.
“Use that to get past the second car. Like I told you earlier, you drive the car halfway across the bridge then get out and run back. Hide down by the canal, and no stunts. You’ve both already earned your hero’s badges tonight. If this ends well, you’ll both have ten bucks in your pocket. Slow her down a bit, Noah.” I jumped out and rolled.
The gunfire had stopped and my gut knotted. I hoped I wasn’t too late. The truck overheating wasn’t part of the plan. I’d expected to meet up with Gideon, and we were both going to head to the bridge together.
I came up behind the Denton car. I counted three heads inside. Gideon’s truck was wedged in a ditch. Denton’s headlights illuminated the cab of the truck. I couldn’t see Gideon. As I rounded the passenger side of Denton’s car, the door swung open and someone climbed out.
I walked up and hit the back of his head with the butt of my pistol. He dropped like a sack of flour at my feet. The front passenger door flew open. It was Victor, the middle Denton brother. He swung around, and I smacked the pistol from his hand. He drew his arm back, but I ducked out of the way as it shot forward. He yelled out as his fist plowed through the car window.
An arm wrapped around my neck, choking off my air supply. It was the man I’d clobbered. His arm tightened on my throat as Victor pummeled my stomach with his bloodied fist. A familiar roar broke the night air, and the massive silhouette of my older brother suddenly loomed in the glow of the headlights. He was big, my brother, but he moved fast. His meaty hands grabbed Victor’s shoulders. Gideon swung him around and threw a punch. That was all it took. Victor collapsed to the ground.
Gideon swung around to pound the third man, Neal Denton, as he rounded the car with his revolver drawn. The sound of knuckles cracking bone and a grunt of pain followed. Neal was flat on his back. Gideon kicked the gun from his hand.
The lack of air was making it hard to focus, but I still had strength. I picked up my heel and brought it down hard on the man’s foot. He yelled out and lost his grip on me. I ducked out from under his arm. He rebounded quickly from the foot stomping, but his eyes bulged in fear as Gideon came up behind me. He ran. My leg shot out, and the man landed face first in the weeds. He struggled to push to his feet, but Gideon bopped him on the back of the head. His face hit the ground again. This time he didn’t get back up. Gideon looked back at me with a shrug.
“Did you see his face when you came up behind me?” I said. “You didn’t believe me when I told you that you were as ugly as a fucking warthog. I think his reaction to your mug proves my theory.”
“Shut up, and explain to me, genius, how the hell we’re supposed to get to the bridge? That truck is scrap metal now.”
I glanced at the Denton’s car. “Then I guess it’s lucky these nice gentlemen left us a fine set of wheels. I’ll let you drive.”
We slid in and drove off before the three men came to.
I pulled my watch out and opened it. We had twenty minutes. Griggs had warned of the narrow window of time for a successful delivery, and I took him at his word.
“We keeping you from a date?” Gideon looked pointedly at the watch in my hand.
“Actually, I am meeting Megan at the old mill at ten.” I dropped the watch back into my pocket.
“Fucking hell, Jacks. You were so confident all this would pan out that you even made a date.” He shook his head. “You are something else, brother.”
I leaned down to get a better view of the road ahead. The lights from D.C. sparkled in the dark night sky. The two spires of Georgetown University towered over the city. “We’re not in the clear yet. I’ll feel better when I know Bodhi and Noah are safe. And I’ll feel even better once I deliver those forty crates.” I pointed ahead. “There’s the car.”
Gideon’s brows creased with worry. “Why the hell is it sitting in the middle of the bridge?”
“That’s where I told Bodhi to ditch it. Turn off here and take the road to the canal. That’s where I told them to hideout until this is over. I need to get to the Potomac.”
Gideon looked over at me. “What the hell? Are you taking a barge to Georgetown?”
“No, that would take too long.” He pulled the car down the road. The canal stretched out glossy and quiet beneath the moonlight. “Let’s ditch the car here. If we pull up to the canal in it we’re liable to get shot dead by our own brother. He’s not going to be expecting Denton’s car.”
“We need a better set of wheels like this.” Gideon climbed out.
“If we seal this deal with Griggs, then we’ll have the money for it.” The air above the canal was moist and smelled like the inside of a moldy closet. Clouds had curtained the moonlight completely, but the city lights flickered in the distance. I hoped they wouldn’t illuminate the bridge too much. “Find Noah and Bodhi and I’ll meet you all back here once I deliver the crates.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I’m going with you.”
“No, Gideon, you’re not. I’ll be fine. You’re too fucking big and too noticeable.”
“And you’re not?”
“I’ve got that covered . . . I hope. I’m late. Go find Bodhi. I’ll be back soon.” I ran back up to the road that took me over the canal and down to the riverbank. Lantern light wavered on the bow of a river barge. A horse waited patiently in front of a cart as a man was lowering a crate onto the wagon.
“Was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it,” Mabel said as I reached the wagon.
“This is the last of it,” Walter said as he carried one more crate off the barge and lowered it onto the back of the cart. He pulled the tarp down and secured it.
Mabel pulled a scarf and straw bonnet off the wagon bench. “I need the scarf back, but I don’t care about the bonnet. It’s been out of style for a few years.”
“So, what you’re saying is that my disguise is no longer fashionable?”
She reached up and pulled the scarf over my head and popped the bonnet on top. “Aren’t you lovely, dearest.” She and Walter had a quick laugh. “Off with you now.” She hopped on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “Godspeed, Jackson. And remember, no amount of money or liquor is worth trading your life for. Promise me you’ll not take any chances.”
I laughed. “Mabel, this whole damn night has been a string of chances.” I climbed up on the wagon and picked up the reins.
“She moves faster if you make a kissing sound,” Mabel said.
“Why the hell not. I’m already wearing an out of style bonnet. I might as well blow kisses at a horse’s ass.”
With some prodding, Mabel’s cart horse lowered her head and got the heavy load behind her moving. I steered her up the road that took us to the bridge. At that hour, there would be very few people traveling from Rosslyn, Virginia toward Georgetown. Just five years ago, there would have been more slow moving horse traffic than cars on the bridge, but that had changed dramatically. These days a horse and cart driver entered the bridge with caution.
; Our car was still sitting motionless in the center of the bridge. Another decoy, another distraction. I was still a good fifty feet away, but I could see it clearly. As predicted, several of Denton’s crew were searching the inside of the car. A few of them had shotguns trained on the car while the other pulled apart the inside.
“Nothing in here but a fucking bunch of hats,” one man growled. He stepped out with one of the sticks we’d used to prop up the fake hats. He swung it at the driver’s window, and the explosion of glass made the horse jump forward. The sudden jolt made the bottles clinker in the back of the wagon. It grabbed the attention of the four men on the bridge.
I ducked my head down, pulled the scarf around my face and puckered my lips. The horse had recovered from being startled. She snorted and her heavy hooves drummed a beat on the wooden planks of the bridge.
“What the hell do we do now?” one man asked another.
I released a breath. It seemed they’d gone back to their business after realizing that the horse cart and old woman driving it were none of their concern.
I peered around the edge of my scarf. The weapons and the suits were too high end. They weren’t Denton’s men, after all. Griggs had sent some of his own thugs out to add a little extra fun to the game. He wasn’t messing around. We were getting the full test.
I kept my face down. My heartbeat was keeping time with the clip-clop of the horse’s feet. One wrong move, or even an ounce of suspicion, and Griggs’s boys would shower me with bullets.
The center of the bridge was at a slight incline and with a heavy cart behind her, the mare slowed. I could feel them watching me as I rolled past at a frustratingly slow pace.
“Hurry along, lady,” one of the men sneered. “Awfully fucking late to be out here with your horse and buggy, you old witch.” The men laughed.
“Let us help you move along,” one shouted. A shot was fired into the air. The horse flew forward rattling the cargo in the back, but the assholes had been so pleased with themselves, they hadn’t heard the jars clinking over their own laughter.
