“Worry about the car later.”
A bullet thunked the car’s exposed undercarriage, followed by the report of a gunshot.
“You putas need to come with me!” shouted Oscar.
Shea thought about shooting back, but Oscar was more than a hundred yards away, well outside the range of her Glock. Wendy crouched down looking like she would dive back into the car.
“Don’t go back in there. Follow me.” Shea slid off the side of the car onto the ground, then turned back to her sister. “Jump down. It’s not as far as it looks.”
Wendy closed her eyes and leapt, landing in a heap on the ground.
Shea pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go.” She led Wendy further down the hill through waist-high prairie grass that made running difficult and offered little cover. Another shot echoed. Shea resisted the urge to look back. It would slow them down more.
At the bottom of the hill, a dry wash meandered through a grove of paloverde trees. “There. Head for the wash.” Shea pointed.
“We ain’t gonna make it.”
“Yes, we are.” Shea pushed her sister ahead of her. Her heart thundered in her chest. Her lungs ached for air.
When they reached the edge of the grove, Wendy ducked down to hide behind a paloverde.
Shea pulled her up and pushed her ahead of her again. “Can’t stop. He knows we’re here.”
Another shot sounded, this time shattering one of the tree branches. “He’s gonna kill us!” cried Wendy.
Shea pulled her Glock and fired a couple of shots at Oscar. He fell. “Got him.”
Her hope evaporated a moment later when he struggled to his feet and resumed the chase. “Fuck. He’s wearing body armor.”
In the distance, the high-pitched drone of an engine approached. Possibly a motorcycle or an ATV. Further down the wash, a dirt road intersected the dry riverbed. “Make for that road.”
When they reached the dirt road, two ATVs—one blue, one red—appeared on the far bank of the wash, thundering their way. Shea put away the Glock and waved her arms. “Stop! Please!”
The guy on a blue ATV pulled up beside them, his buddy on a red one stopped a few feet behind. “What’s going on?”
“A man,” Shea said between breaths. “With a gun. Trying. To kill us.”
The guy on the blue ATV looked up the wash. “Get on. We’ll get you out of here.”
“Thank you.” Shea pointed for Wendy to climb onto the red ATV while she got on the blue one.
“You set?” asked her driver.
Before she could say yes, his head exploded in a spray of blood. Shea turned to see Oscar approaching. He fired again. Shea ducked behind the blue ATV. Wendy screamed. The other ATV driver lay on the ground, bleeding from a chest wound. “Wendy, get on.” Shea pushed the driver’s body off and reached out for Wendy to join her. Wendy rolled onto the ground, curling into a fetal position behind her ATV.
Shea crouched beside her and drew her Glock. She peeked above the ATV and fired a shot at Oscar. It missed. He fired back as she ducked down.
“Call Hunter,” she said. “Let him know what’s happening.”
“I left my purse back in the car.”
“Dammit!” Shea pulled her phone out, tossing it to Wendy. “Use this.”
She took it. “It’s cracked.”
“Try it anyway.” Shea looked above the ATV.
One of Oscar’s shots ricocheted off the handlebars inches from Shea’s head. “Put down your gun, blanca, and give yourselves up, or I will blow your fucking heads off.”
“Kiss my ass, Oscar!”
“Shea, your phone ain’t working.”
“Shit.” Shea rose up to take another shot. Pain exploded on the left side of her head. She fell to the ground dazed. She forced her eyes open despite the horrendous agony. Wendy loomed over her, saying something she couldn’t make out. Everything was spinning. She had trouble getting her mind to focus.
“You’re okay. Just a graze.”
The world felt out of sorts. Wendy turned and screamed with her hands in the air. “Please don’t kill me.”
Shea turned, causing her head to swim, her vision darkening. When her mind cleared, Oscar stood over her with the Colt pointed at her chest. “I should kill you for making me hike down this fucking hill. But el jefe wants you alive. Guess this is your lucky day, blanca.”
He stuck her Glock in his waistband and pulled Shea to her feet.
Wendy put an arm around her. “C’mon, sis,” she said with defeat in her voice.
Oscar pointed his gun up the hill. “Andale, putas.”
While they trudged along the wash and back up the hill, Shea’s mind began to clear. Blood stained her shirt. Halfway up the hill, Wendy collapsed onto the ground. Shea wobbled but stayed on her feet.
“I can’t,” said Wendy.
Shea felt the same way, but lacked the energy to say it.
Oscar pointed the gun at Wendy, who ducked away, fending him off with her arms. “Get moving or I blow your pinche head off.”
Shea forced air into her lungs. “Leave her alone, you piece of shit.”
He turned the gun on Shea. “Listen here, blanca. I got the gun now. You do as I say, or I kill you anyway.”
There was nowhere to run. He wasn’t bluffing.
“C’mon, Bug. Let’s keep moving,” Shea said.
She helped Wendy up. The two of them, leaning on each other, continued up the hill. Shea turned to Oscar. “Why?”
“Oh, I think you know.”
He pressed the gun into Shea’s back. Anger forced her to dig deep, giving her a burst of energy. She twisted to the side, coiling her arms around her chest, then nailed him in the face with her elbow. He staggered back a step. Before she could punch him again, he caught her on the jaw with the butt of the pistol. She fell onto the grass with the taste of blood in her mouth, seeing stars and feeling dizzy.
“I gotta give you credit. You don’t give up without a fight. But you gotta face facts—you gonna lose. Now get your ass up.”
He held the gun to Wendy’s head. Shea forced herself up. Wendy put a hand under Shea’s arm and helped her up the hill.
When they reached the road, Victor stood there waiting beside the black Nissan Pathfinder, dressed in a dark gray pinstripe suit.
“Hello, Uncle Victor.”
“¡Hola, mija! You cause me much trouble.” Victor’s eyes flickered with anger. No pretense of the kind grandfather now.
Chapter 27
Oscar patted them down and pulled the bottle of OxyContin from Shea’s pocket. He shook it and examined the label. “Well, well, Oxy. Nice!”
Victor took the bottle from him. “I’ll just hold on to this for you.” He pocketed the bottle while Oscar zip-tied their hands behind their backs.
“Get in.” He shoved them into the back of the Pathfinder, with Shea on the driver’s side. Sirens wailed in the distance while they crossed back over the median and drove away, going north into the mountains toward Ironwood.
“What’re you gonna do with us?” asked Wendy in a trembling voice.
Oscar laughed. Victor remained silent.
“Just keep quiet,” Shea said. She wanted to comfort her sister, to tell her it would be all right. But she wasn’t sure it would be.
“Are they gonna kill us?”
“Shhh.”
Wendy sobbed quietly.
The ride gave Shea’s head time to clear. It ached to the point of distraction, but the dizziness was fading. She slowed her breathing, focusing on how to escape. If she slipped her bound wrists under and past her legs, she could use the zip tie as a garrote to strangle Oscar. But considering he was driving, that could lead to another accident. A crash in the mountains could prove fatal, since she and Wendy weren’t buckled in. She sat back hoping a new opportunity would present itself before it was too late.
Oscar turned onto a now-familiar side road. They were headed back to the warehouse—a great place to make bodies disappear. The crun
ching of tires on gravel set her further on edge. The chances of them surviving were growing thinner by the minute. But still, Shea paid closer attention to the turns, clinging to hope.
When the SUV stopped in front of the warehouse, the two men got out. Oscar opened Shea’s door, grabbed her collar, and pulled her from the vehicle, causing her to stumble. When she regained her feet, something hard pressed against the back of her head. A gun barrel, no doubt. Victor held Wendy with a firm grip on her arm.
“Walk.” Oscar’s voice purred with delight and malice. He grabbed Shea’s arm and led her over the gravel driveway. Victor unlocked the side door, releasing the bolt with a clack. The door squeaked open.
Using his gun as a prod, Oscar pushed Shea and Wendy down the hallway and into the main room of the warehouse, then pushed Shea backward into a folding chair. The familiar pungent sweetness of black tar heroin hung heavy in the air.
Wendy slumped in a chair to Shea’s right, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Her sweaty hair was plastered against her head. I’m sure I’m no beauty to behold either, she thought. Not that I ever was. Behind them sat the table Victor’s guys used to cut heroin into hex.
Oscar stood a few paces back, with his Colt 1911 in his hand and Shea’s Glock sticking out of the front of his waistband. Victor towered over her. His face had the rumpled, worn texture of a discarded snake skin. His eyes sizzled with indignation.
“I liked you kids. So full of life and curiosity.” Victor cupped Wendy’s chin in his gnarled hand. “I remember you were a little gordita. What happened? You smoking your old man’s product? Or maybe selling crystal not so profitable, eh?” A venomous smile twisted his face further.
“Why are you doing this?” Shea asked.
Victor slithered over to her. “Pobrecita, you were so pretty until my Cesar attacked you. Now you look…well.” He shook his head. “I loved Cesar, mija. Hated to put him down. It was a knife in my gut. But to keep peace with the Thunder, I did it. Sometimes one does unpleasant things in this business.”
A knife in the gut, Shea repeated to herself. A knife. Of course, her knife! Was it still there?
Careful not to give herself away, she reached around the back of the chair and found her knife clipped to the inside of her waistband underneath the gun holster. Oscar must have missed it. She inched it out with her fingertips.
Victor’s gaze grew icy. “We had a good thing, your papi and me. The Jaguars supply him with mota and heroin. He sold it for us. Good business. But when he go to prison, the Thundermen no longer respect me.”
He bent down beside Shea. She covered the knife with her hand.
“They got greedy, mija,” he hissed in her ear.
He turned to Wendy. “Your old man, Hunter—he the most greedy. He stopped buying from me to sell crystal cooked by his toothless junkie buddies. Became a competitor. Very disrespectful.”
The knife pulled free of Shea’s jeans. She held it solidly in her hands. The familiar weight of it gave her confidence. Her thumb found the peg on the blade and eased it out of the grip. The blade locked in place with a loud click.
Did they hear it? Her heart stopped. Oscar glanced at her and narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything.
“But it was not enough to steal my business. I arrive yesterday to see someone stealing my heroin.” Victor pointed up to the surveillance camera. His voice thundered with anger. “Notice that camera up there? I see everything!”
He leaned into Shea’s face. “This, mija, was the most disrespectful. I kill my dog for you, and you steal from me?”
“Hunter took your dope. I had nothing to do with it.”
“I see you on my video. In my warehouse carrying my hex. That makes you guilty.”
“Hunter forced me to.” She maneuvered the knife blade to the spot on the zip tie between her hands. She applied pressure and began sawing at the tie, hoping she didn’t slit her own wrists in the process.
“If you not here to steal my dope, why you here? Huh?”
“The Jags kidnapped my niece. You also shot one of my employees and stole a dozen of my bikes. I was looking to get back what was mine.”
Victor looked confused. “What are you talking about? We did not kidnap your niece or steal any motorcycles.”
“Don’t lie to me, Victor.”
Oscar kicked Shea’s chair right between her legs, almost causing Shea to drop the knife. He pointed his gun at her, while sweat beaded on his forehead. “You full o’ shit, blanca.”
“Why would we do these things?” Victor looked indignant.
“You said it yourself. The Thunder’s cutting into your business. You needed money and wanted to punish Hunter, so you kidnapped his daughter for ransom. You stole my bikes to sell to a chop shop.”
“Enough of this shit.” Victor looked her square in the eye. “Where’s my hex, mija?”
“Where’s my niece, asshole?”
“Órale.” Victor looked at Oscar, who met his gaze. For a moment, she thought he might start asking questions of Oscar. “Mijo.”
“Sí, jefe.” Oscar looked nervous.
“Encourage our guests to talk. Start with that one.” He pointed at Wendy.
A smile broke out across Oscar’s face. “Sí, jefe.” Oscar handed his Colt to Victor, pulled out a stainless steel lighter, and walked up to Wendy. Shea furiously cut at her bonds, hoping to break free before he hurt Wendy. But without seeing what she was doing, progress was slow.
Wendy’s face blanched with fear. “No, please!”
Oscar clicked the trigger. A blue flame hissed from the lighter like a tiny jet engine. He grabbed Wendy’s arm and pressed the flame to her skin. She screamed, the acrid stench of crisped flesh permeating the air.
“Stop it, you bastards!” Shea said. “She doesn’t know anything.”
Victor held a hand up to Oscar. The old man leaned into Wendy’s face. “Where. Is. My. Hex?”
Wendy choked and gasped, her face distorted in pain. “Don’t know.”
“We don’t have it, Victor,” Shea said. “Hunter does.”
“Where would he take it?” said Victor, turning to Shea.
“The MC’s clubhouse most likely.” Shea had no idea if it was there or not, but a wrong answer was better than no answer. She pulled on the zip tie, hoping she’d cut through enough to break it. It held, cutting deeper into her wrist. She resumed sawing at the notch she had made.
Victor smiled in a way that reminded Shea of the Grinch. “Now we get somewhere. Perhaps you get Hunter to return what he stole, perhaps we let you go. Where is your phone, Wendy?”
Wendy tried to speak, but could only choke out a series of gasps and guttural moans.
“We lost our phones when you ran us off the road,” Shea said.
Oscar pulled out his own cellphone and looked at Wendy. “What’s your old man’s number, puta?”
Wendy struggled for breath. “Can’t remember. Never memorized.”
Oscar set down his phone and tore open Wendy’s shirt, sending buttons flying, then pulled up her bra, exposing her breasts.
“No!” she shrieked.
“Estúpida.” Oscar shook his head. He pressed the trigger on the lighter, letting it hiss near her left nipple. “What’s the fucking number?”
Wendy whimpered. “If I knew…I’d tell you. Please…believe me.”
Shea’s knife slipped and nicked her wrist. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. She located the notch again and resumed cutting it.
“You don’t know your old man’s phone number? I find that hard to believe.” Victor nodded at Oscar, who pressed the blue flame against her breast. Wendy’s raw screams tore at Shea’s soul.
Shea gritted her teeth, pulling on the zip tie with all her strength. With a quiet snap, it broke. She adjusted her grip on the knife and leapt at Oscar.
Chapter 28
Oscar turned as Shea flew at him. She stabbed him in the chest, but the blade hit a rib, barely penetrating his skin. The lighter fell
to the floor as he dropped to one knee.
She reached for her Glock in his waistband. He punched her in the face before she could grab it. The pistol clattered to the concrete as she reeled backward onto her chair from the blow. When he went for the gun, she drove her boot into his temple. He collapsed onto the floor.
Out of the corner of her eye, Shea saw Victor raise the Colt. She rolled, grabbed the Glock in her left hand. A bullet whizzed overhead. She returned fire putting two in Victor’s chest. He slumped against one of the shelving units.
Oscar seized her left wrist, weakening her grip on the gun. His eyes blazed with hatred. “I’m gonna rip you apart, blanca.”
She stabbed his forearm. He let go with a yelp, blood gushing from the wound. She plunged the knife into his neck. He bellowed as arterial spray showered them both.
She scrambled to her feet, wiped her face with her arm, and looked down at Oscar. Blood pooled around his now-still body. His eyes were half closed, mouth agape.
With her ears ringing from the gunshots, a darkness crept over her, as if she’d crossed a threshold with no hope of return. She’d never killed anyone before. God knows, they deserved it. But she couldn’t shake the fear that she’d become like them. Like her father.
The grief-stricken face of Oscar’s mother appeared in Shea’s mind. Why you kill my Oscar?
“Help.” Wendy’s ragged plea pulled Shea out of her head.
Shea rushed over to her sister and cut her restraints. With her hands free, Wendy wrapped her arms around her chest and sobbed.
Shea knelt down and put a hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re hurtin’, but we gotta go.”
Wendy nodded. With a whimper, she pulled off her bra and tied a knot with the corners of her now-buttonless shirt to cover herself. Shea dug through Oscar’s pockets and found his keys and his phone. To her surprise, the phone didn’t require a pass code to use it. Oscar was either too confident or too stupid to worry about anyone stealing it. There was a single bar’s worth of cell signal. She slipped it into her pocket.
“Shouldn’t we do something with the bodies?” Wendy grimaced against the pain as she stood over Oscar’s body.
Iron Goddess Page 15
