He did not invite trouble nor did he ever seek it out, but when trouble came knocking Ronald Jacobs always answered the door. While his physical prowess inflicted other men with fear, it had the exact opposite effect on women. He’d had his share of women but after he met Jess all of that had changed. Ronald Jacobs was not a man you fucked with. Before any fight broke out he always gave the same counsel to his opponents: “If you want to dance with the devil all you have to do is step up to the plate.” It had almost always created the intended effect.
His mind started to drift and his thoughts began to turn to the myriad of things he needed to accomplish tomorrow. He now ran a small farm that had a few head of cattle. The juice of the hunt and the thrill he once got from his previous life had been replaced by the sanguine lifestyle of a gentleman farmer but hardly anyone ever used the term “gentleman” to describe him.
Ronald had once thought it would be impossible to quit the life but after reconnecting with his now ex-best friend’s sister, all of that had changed. Jessica had changed him in ways he never thought possible.
Jessica’s brother, Walter, or Walt as he was known to his friends, was an ex-investigator for the Department of Public Safety in Texas and then with the state of Florida, where during a case in which Ronald was the main suspect, Walt had purposefully withheld evidence from the department that would have put Ronald away for life. To this day Walt never discussed why he suppressed the evidence against his childhood friend and to their credit, Ronald and Jessica had never asked.
But all of that was behind them now. Walt had moved into the private sector for an insurance company and Ronald had silently agreed to put his homicide tools away. The bond that welded them together, from that day forward, dictated that both Walt and Ronald would change the professions that had granted them the identities that defined them. Both had done so without complaint.
In his previous life, Ronald Jacobs had carved out a life as a hired gun that specialized in government-sanctioned wet work. When that particular well had begun to run dry he allowed his talents to be utilized by organizations that paid a lot better, but he also had jobs that ran a bit murkier when it came to who the bad guy was.
Ronald wasn’t naïve when it came to distinguishing who lived or died, but the line between right and wrong was harder to define by polite society. The jobs he took often involved high ranking cartels or politicians who were on a pad. He drew the line at wives and children, but on occasion when the money was tight or when the pay was high enough, he had justified his actions by the degrees of the greater good.
Jessica knew Ronald hadn’t always led a life free from crime but she had been complacent in how he had made his money. She had stopped asking the hard questions long ago and by extension, she also knew her brother had given up his fortunes from crime fighting for the state and had instead traded his badge for a meager paycheck with wired connections. She knew his life as a cop was all he had ever wanted but she also knew he had given that particular dream up in order to keep her happy. This really meant he had tacitly agreed to move into a profession that would keep him at arm’s length from his profession and by extension, would keep both of them safely tucked away from the nocturnal misanthropic intersections where they once had met.
But Ronald Jacobs had never really left the life that had coveted his many talents. Without her knowledge, Ronald had kept the email address he once maintained for updates on current projects. However, he also used it as a precursor to projects he might want or need to take on at a later date. It was also a way to keep an eye on those who would seek him out for retribution.
***
Jimmy Dix decided the best place to set up was thirty yards to the east of the farmhouse. He made his decision for two reasons. The first had to do with his retreat to the car, which he had left three miles back. His ankle had begun to swell and the pain it brought dictated he needed exposure to a fast retreat. The second and more important reason had to do with his ability to inflict the maximum amount of damage to the farmhouse without being detected. The AR would slice through the walls very effectively at this range and if needed, he would still be able to shoot anyone attempting to escape from his onslaught of firepower.
Jimmy watched the shadows of changing light from a curtain pulled across a sliding glass window. The hand-drawn schematics of the house he had been given showed a makeshift family room on the east side of the house and if the drawings were to be believed, a master bedroom was off to the south of this. His information said the couple could always be found in the family room during the time he was supposed to hit the house but if they weren’t watching TV, he could count on them lying in bed in the master bedroom.
For Jimmy, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. All he had to do was line up the sights of his AR-15 and start shooting, spraying both the family room and the bedroom simultaneously. Nothing to it really. Jimmy lined up the sights of the AR-15 to the left of the sliding glass window and opened fire.
Ronald’s eyes had just begun to close when the first shot hit the window, the bullets shattering the glass door behind him and smashing into the big screen TV as well, turning the screen blank. He fell forward, taking Jessica with him. His first instinct was to reach for a pistol that no longer resided on his hip. Jessica was pushed face first onto the carpet. Ronald instinctively covered her as the bullets smashed into the wall in front of them.
He lay across her body protectively, holding her close as the glass rained down on top of them. The bullets moved back and forth across the room for what felt like hours, but in reality was just seconds. Ronald held her close and didn’t move until the shooting stopped. Then he was up on his feet – half running, half crawling – for the mud room where he always kept his own AR-15. Just as he got to his gun the shooting started up again, the staccato sounds deafening their ears. Jessica cried out for Ronald but by now he was operating on sheer instinct.
Jimmy sprayed the house back and forth twice before the magazine hit on an empty chamber and locked open. Pausing for just a second he dropped the mag and reached for another one. Slamming it home, he started firing again, sweeping the muzzle back and forth across the farmhouse. The pain in his ankle no longer plaguing his movements, Jimmy moved to his left and continued to fire.
Ronald took advantage of the break in gunfire to throw the safety off and combat crawl back to Jessica. He threw himself across her body and began to return fire, sweeping his own weapon back and forth. Firing blindly, his only hope was to get the shooter to rethink his strategy and if he was lucky, hit the gunmen before either of them were hit by a stray round.
Jimmy became aware he was now under fire when the adobe mound he was firing from behind began to lose chunks of dirt. A few of the rounds he felt go with him, which in turn forced him to move laterally before he became a victim of his own assault.
Ronald burned through two clips before he became aware he was out of ammo and knew he needed to make it to the back of the house where he kept his reloads. Forcing Jessica flat on the thin carpet he screamed into her ear to stay down while he went for his reloads.
“Don’t leave me here to die, Ronald,” Jessica screamed, her words landing on him without effect.
Ronald leapt up and ran a circuitous route to his reload room just beyond the kitchen. With bullets landing all around him, he was undaunted as he continued into the depths of the house.
Ronald had skidded into his gun room, stubbing his toes on the wall as he entered. Ignoring the pain, he reached for the desk drawer where he kept his reloads. Falling down, he grabbed two handfuls of magazines that he always kept preloaded. Ejecting the empty magazine, he slammed it home and then threw the bolt back, putting a round in the chamber. Turning, he ran back towards the living room shouting “Stay down Jess.” He threw his rifle to his shoulder and began to return fire.
By now, Jimmy knew the value of his surprise attack was not going well. The incoming rounds had chewed up the earthen embankment he was using for cover and had
forced him to take refuge back several yards and behind a rusted-out tractor. He paused for a moment, the sounds of silence overtaking him. There had been no shots for several seconds and while he took this for a good sign that he had accomplished his mission, he hesitated to move from cover. Jimmy waited to see if his adversary was going to mount a vigorous defense. When no shots rang out he began to move undaunted toward the house to verify his kill. As he moved toward the house, the tractor he had been behind began to absorb incoming fire again.
Jimmy half fell and half jumped back behind the tractor. The return fire was intense, pinning him to the ground and forcing him to cover his head with his arms as bullets ricocheted off the tractor. He scrambled back to a position he had scouted earlier, the incoming rounds now landing without effect. Jimmy knew he would not get his kill on this night and worse, he knew when Big Max got word he had failed, his days were numbered.
The fifteen thousand dollars wouldn’t carry him very far, but he reckoned it was better to start a life of anonymity than the alternative. With one last look at the farmhouse, he raised his rifle and emptied his last clip into the building. After that, he began the long three miles back to his rented car, hoping his targets wouldn’t brave the night to seek him out and finish him off in the process.
Chapter 3
After Ronald had emptied his last clip he waited to see if the threat would advance into the house or if they had decided enough was enough. A long five minutes of silence dragged into fifteen minutes and then into thirty. After that, he decided to move Jessica and himself deeper into the house, to a better defensive position. Jessica was sobbing and beating his chest.
“Why are they doing this?” she cried.
He had no answer. Instead, he held her close, smoothing her hair and patting her gently on her back. “I don’t know,” was all he could muster.
The adrenaline coursing through him was unbearable. He wanted to fight back; to hunt the man who had invaded their home and then make him regret that decision in a very painful and deadly way. Inside, Ronald was working to force down the impulse to leave her here and seek out those who would do him harm. It took a long time for those feelings to subside and in its place, a burning anger began to take over.
“Jess, I promise you the men who did this will pay,” he said.
Jess reacted like she had been slapped. “No you won’t. You’re going to let the police do their jobs and YOU’RE not going to do anything! Do you hear me, Ronald?”
He didn’t answer right away, the thoughts of vengeance and retribution taking front and center in all of his thoughts.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. They are going to ask questions I can’t answer,” he said.
“No, no, no! You agreed to leave all that behind! You swore to me, Ronald. You swore to me that nothing would ever find us. You promised me nothing you did would ever find its way into our lives!” she screamed.
“I know I did. And I don’t know how or who could have found us, but they did and now it’s more important than ever to finish it.”
“Finish what?” she asked, “You told me you were out of that life. Were you lying to me?”
“I swear to you I’m out of the life,” he said.
“Then how? How did they find us?” she persisted.
Ronald thought for a long time before he answered. “I really don’t know, but I will find out, that I can promise you.”
Chapter 4
Jimmy knew two things to be true as he high-tailed it back towards his car: the bullet which had bored a hole in his leg was serious and Big Max Benson would never wipe his slate clean. But right now Max would have to wait. His biggest problem was hauling his sorry ass back to the car and finding a doctor, all the while dodging that dude back there with the automatic rifle and the nighttime predators that would smell the blood running down his leg. A two-bit button man he had met in the joint on his last stretch had told Jimmy that coyotes and lions were just as bad as sharks when it came to finding prey that was bleeding. He didn’t know if it was true or not, but right now he had to find a doctor and get patched up. The good news was his femoral artery was still intact. Jimmy knew this because he would have bled out by now. The bad news was he was lost and the worst news was that his GPS was somewhere on the ground back at that dude’s farmhouse. Worse yet, he had no idea how long he had been running or how far he was to either the farmhouse or the car.
Through his NVGs, Jimmy could see a large rock formation up ahead that was surrounded by trees and tall grass. He needed to rest. He also wanted to tie a tourniquet around his leg to slow the blood down before he went into shock. His thoughts now were becoming opaque and his vision was starting to tilt sideways like he was lying down. He kept pushing his goggles around on his head in the hope his vision would somehow right itself. Finally, he tore the goggles off and stood still. He stared stupidly at the rocks in front of him. The formation began to change shape and the trees in front of him started to sway to a drum beat he could hear off in the distance. What’s more, the tall grass began to grow limbs and then hands and feet. In the darkness, it looked like the grass was beginning to dance a waltz.
Jimmy shook his head, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. He wasn’t a religious man but the opaque thoughts in his head began to give way to a white light that blocked the view in front of his eyes, surrounding him with the feeling of a higher power. The light seemed to reach out to him with comforting arms. He could no longer hear the drum beats to which the trees and grass were dancing. In fact, Jimmy couldn’t hear anything.
And then he was back in the adobe desert, the night air feeling colder than what it had earlier. Jimmy became aware he was no longer walking to the safety of the rocks. Somehow he had made it to the rocks and concluded he must have then passed out, but for how long he didn’t know. The adrenaline high from the shootout was gone and in its place was a pain like no other. It was as if someone had taken the red-hot end of a branding iron and shoved it beneath his skin, manipulating it all the way up to his crotch.
He looked down at his leg in the dark and tried to comprehend what he was seeing, but all he could see was a black mass. Jimmy checked the neon green display of his watch; it told him he must have been unconscious for the best part of three hours. Dawn was less than thirty minutes away and the realization of his predicament was beginning to set in.
Jimmy Dix knew if the bullet wound didn’t get him then either the dude at the farmhouse or Big Max would do so for sure.
He forced himself up on his good foot and took a moment to hobble around his new home. Jimmy used his goggles and saw empty adobe desert to what he thought was his north, south, and west. Off to what he believed to be the east, Jimmy could see buildings that looked like houses way off in the distance. Closer to him, Jimmy could see a well-worn dirt road that wound its way through the adobes. He tried in vain to remember what that road was and where it went, but the blood he had lost had done nothing to sharpen his mind. In fact, Jimmy wondered if what he was seeing was just another hallucination.
He looked down at his leg and saw for the first time the tourniquet he had no memory of putting on. The bullet had entered the backside of his right thigh. It had missed the bone and all the arteries he knew were really important, but without proper medical care, infection would set in sooner rather than later.
Jimmy took a half a step back so that his back was against the rocks. Making sure his weight was on his good leg, Jimmy began to thump the back of his head onto the rocks. He kept shaking his head and alternated this with a verbal berating and self-masochistic beating. However, no matter how hard he tried, no answer came to him.
He knew if he called Big Max and told him how the hit had gone down, Max would only send someone else to finish the job and to make sure Jimmy was dead. On the other hand, if he actually found the farmhouse and tried to finish what he had started, Max may still hold up his end of the bargain. Though Jimmy knew this to be a fool’s errand.
By now
there would be cops and TV news reporters either on their way or already on site. Which meant the manhunt for Jimmy would be in full swing. Jimmy knew the cops had dogs that could track a man across solid rock after a rain storm but in this case, the cops wouldn’t need them. He had left a blood trail a blind man could find.
Jimmy started to weep and then the body racking sobs overtook him. All of his life he had been a loser and he knew it, despite all the bravado that would fill his ego after a few shots of beam and rails of coke. Just below the surface, Jimmy knew the big score he had chased all of his life would elude him all the way to the wrong side of the grass.
At that moment the thought of ending his great pursuit of happiness and riches began to take hold. The 9 mm pistol that rested in the handmade holster began to feel heavy. Its weight and existence had been all but forgotten but now it had weight. The emboldened courage builder of those checkered grips sang out to him. He could feel his heart start to flutter when he thumbed the snaps off the hammer. Beads of sweat began to pop on his forehead.
Could he do it? As if in a dream he felt his right arm start to pull the pistol free of the faux leather holster. The muzzle cleared leather and his right arm continued to move upwards until he could feel the cold metal push against his temple.
Jimmy’s breathing started to become labored. His lungs felt like they were incapable of getting enough air. He tried breathing through his mouth and nose at the same time. The weight of the 9 mm started to become too heavy, the muzzle sliding off of his temple. Both the gun and his arm fell to his side, the gun making a dull thud as it hit the adobe floor.
Jimmy slid to the ground, the thoughts of futility fading away and a confidence he didn’t know he had beginning to take over.
On The Devil's Side of Heaven Page 2
