Iron Goddess

by Dharma Kelleher

  With her remaining strength, she curled her body and launched her knees into his head. He let go.

  As she rolled away, she retrieved the Glock and blew a hole in Hunter’s forehead. He collapsed.

  She sat on the ground, dizzy and sick to her stomach. While she struggled to clear her head, two Jaguars with yellow bandanas over their faces came running around the outside of the warehouse, both armed with Uzis. As they raised their weapons, she fired two shots at each of them. They dropped with blood pouring from their chests.

  A moment later an explosion rocked the mountainside. Shea’s ears rang from the blast. She struggled to her feet as smoke rose from the other side of the warehouse.

  Engines roared and tires squealed. The occasional gunshot punctuated the agonized screams for help.

  Disoriented from the blast, she stumbled to the building, pistol ready, leaning against the wall for support. She shuffled past Victor’s Pathfinder. Acrid smoke billowed from where the Jaguars’ cars had been parked. Pieces of metal and bits of rubber rained down from above. She cautiously approached the front of the warehouse.

  All the Bronco’s windows were blown out. To her surprise, her bike still stood next to it with no signs of damage. The Bronco must have shielded the bike from the blast.

  The bomb had ripped apart two of the Jaguars’ cars and blown them to opposite sides of the road. They were barely recognizable as cars. Just twisted scraps of smoldering, black metal. Pieces had embedded themselves in tree trunks. A pickup truck and a car that had been parked behind the first two were each missing their front ends. The engine block from the truck was now embedded in the front seat. The entire top of the car next to it was gone as well. All the other cars had driven away, leaving deep ruts in the gravel from their rapid retreat.

  Her eyes were drawn to the human carnage. Body parts littered the gravel, blood soaking into the sand. Shea counted a half dozen Jaguar bodies, most missing limbs or a head.

  She stood there dazed, mouth gaping like a grouper. How many times had she seen news video following bombings and other mass killings? It didn’t prepare her for the heartrending cries of dying men or the bitter perfume of burned flesh and melted plastic, mixed with the reek of death. In that moment, she wanted to be at home holding Jessica.

  “Helluva blast, wasn’t it?”

  She spun around with her gun raised. Monster stood a few yards away, surveying the carnage with a proud smile. He held an AR-15 under one arm, muzzle pointed at the ground.

  “Tossed that bomb right in the middle of them Jaguars. You shoulda seen ’em scatter. Like Mexican cockroaches.”

  His amusement at the bloodshed and chaos made her want to puke.

  Chapter 47

  “You all right?” Monster asked Shea.

  She nodded, eyeing him warily. “I think I’m in one piece.”

  “You ain’t seen where Hunter went, did ya?”

  For half a second, Shea thought about telling him the truth. Yeah, asshole, I shot your precious president. But it would only get her killed.

  “A couple of Jaguars came around the back of the building. I killed them, but not before they shot Hunter in the head.”

  Bitterness replaced Monster’s amused expression. “One-Shot! Mackey! Follow me!” He ran toward the back of the building, with the other two following.

  Shea walked to her motorcycle and swept broken glass from the Bronco off the seat. Tires looked okay. No damage to the block. Hoses and cables all secured. Seemed in better shape than she was.

  The guys returned moments later carrying Hunter’s body and laid him on the ground next to the Bronco, blocking her escape route. The rest of the Thundermen gathered around, kneeling in front of the body, silent.

  One-Shot walked up to her with a stern look on his face. “The Jaguars shot Hunter?”

  “Yeah.” She rested a hand on the grip of her Glock, unsure where this was headed.

  “Hey, One-Shot, ease up on the girl,” said Monster.

  “Shut up, Monster. I’m in charge now.” One-Shot kept his eyes on her. “How I know you didn’t kill him yourself?”

  Shea stared into his eyes, heart pounding in her chest. “Guess you’ll have to take my word for it.”

  “Better be telling the truth.” One-Shot held her gaze for a moment then turned away. “Mackey, you and Monster put Hunter’s body in the Pathfinder and park it somewhere. His death lands on the Jaguars.”

  “What’re ya gonna do?” Shea asked. “Hang him from a bridge?”

  Mackey stood up, face red and eyes puffy. “Jesus, One-Shot, tell me you ain’t gonna disrespect Hunter like that.”

  “Do as I say. Rest of you grab as much dope as you can. Might as well get something out of this deal.”

  Shea needed to leave these idiots while she could. She pulled on her helmet and gloves. Directly above, the sky was bright and cobalt blue, but another afternoon monsoon was fast approaching from the south.

  Shea started the bike and eased her way through the smoldering scraps of the four Jaguar vehicles that remained. She hoped it would be the last she’d see of the Jaguars, but she doubted it. Cortes wasn’t a big county.

  She’d gone maybe half a mile when she realized she wasn’t sure where she was headed. Should she return to the hospital or Terrance’s? She pulled over to the side of the road and called him. It rang until she got his voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message. She’d drive back to the hospital and take her chances. While she put away her phone, the Pathfinder rumbled past her, followed by the Bronco and the Thundermen on their motorcycles. She waited until the roar of their engines died down and the forest was once again quiet.

  Raindrops pelted her windshield as she pulled her helmet back on. She wasn’t a big fan of driving in the rain, especially on a gravel road. However, Kali’s suspension and knobby tires were built for this kind of terrain. Besides, the rain-cooled air was always a nice treat during monsoon season. She started up the bike again and rode back toward civilization.

  She was halfway to the highway when a white sedan appeared coming from the other direction. Maybe it was someone staying at one of the campgrounds or a university student looking to spend a little time in nature. Or it could be one of the Jaguars returning.

  As it got closer, she noticed the push bumper covering the grille and the spotlight by the side mirror. It was a cop.

  Just play it cool, she told herself.

  The gravel road was narrow with deep gullies on either side. She pulled as close to the right as she dared without risking ending up in the ditch. She expected the car to pull the other way, in order to get by, but it didn’t. It kept coming right at her, taking up the whole damned road.

  What the hell’s wrong with this guy? Doesn’t Buzzkill train these jokers how to drive?

  She laid on the motorcycle’s tinny horn. The unmarked cruiser continued hogging the road.

  Fucking cop!

  In a desperate move, she pulled over to the left while the car closed in on her. The cruiser did the same. This idiot wasn’t letting her past.

  At the last second, she swerved right again, hit a large rock, and flipped over the handle bars. She landed on her right side next to the cruiser.

  The impact knocked the wind out of her. Her body trembled as if it had been rung like a bell. Everything hurt, especially her right arm and shoulder. A car door opened. She lifted the visor on her helmet.

  Willie stood over her, pointing his service weapon at her. “Geez, Shea. That must have hurt.”

  “Fucking murderer.” She considered reaching for her Glock, but he’d shoot her dead before she could get it out of the holster.

  “Quit yer bitchin’. Where’s Oscar?”

  “He’s dead, asshole. I killed him.”

  “Guess that makes both of us murderers, don’t it?”

  “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? Kidnapping and mutilating little girls.”

  He patted the brass shield attached to his belt. “Yeah, but
a piece of shit with a badge, a gun, and a warrant for your arrest.”

  A blue sedan with a cracked windshield came barreling down the road, siren wailing, and screeched to a stop behind Willie’s car.

  Rios climbed out. “Sergeant Foster, put the gun down.”

  Edelman emerged from the blue sedan’s passenger’s side and unholstered his weapon.

  “Detective Rios, you need to leave. I have the situation under control.”

  Shea hoped he would turn and face Rios, so she could shoot him. He kept his gun trained on Shea instead.

  “Sergeant,” said Rios, “you need to come with me.”

  “Detective, as your superior, I am ordering you to leave the scene, or I will have you charged with insubordination.”

  Rios drew her weapon and pointed it at Willie. “I have orders from IA to bring you in for questioning. Please drop your weapon. I really don’t want to shoot you.”

  “Detective Edelman, please relieve your partner of her weapon.”

  “Put the gun down, Toni, or I will shoot you.” Edelman aimed his pistol at Rios.

  A chill ran up Shea’s spine. Edelman is the one working with Willie? Not Aguilar? He so doesn’t fit the type.

  “Micah? What the hell’s going on?”

  Willie turned toward the two detectives. “Edelman, if Detective Rios does not lower her weapon, I’m ordering you to shoot her.”

  With her right arm out of commission, Shea pulled the Glock with her left hand and shot Willie in the throat. Edelman turned his gun toward Shea.

  She tried to roll for cover until a white-hot jolt of pain erupted in her lower back. She wanted to run but her legs weren’t working. Another two gunshots shattered the air as everything went dark.

  Chapter 48

  Detective Rios told her to hold on, but Shea had trouble focusing her mind. She felt like she was lying with a rock sticking into her back, even though she was on her stomach. Pain and darkness filled her consciousness.

  A man in a dark blue shirt rolled her over, intensifying the pain in her back.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  Brown eyes. Thick lashes. Was he wearing eyeliner? Why all the questions? Do I know what happened to me? What happened?

  Something was put over her mouth. A cup of some kind. Everything started bouncing. What’s that loud chup-chup-chup sound? Helicopter. The pain lessened, but she still couldn’t focus. Everything was happening too fast.

  When she came to again, she was lying in a hospital bed. Her body hurt all over, especially her back and right shoulder. A brace and sling held her right arm firmly across her chest. A vitals monitor beeped nonstop, giving her a headache. “Can someone turn off that goddamned beeping?”

  “Shea?” Jessica walked into view, her eyes red and swollen. Dark streaks of mascara lined her cheeks.

  “Hey, Jess.” She struggled to keep her eyes open. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the hospital. Someone shot you.”

  She tried to remember. “Willie. I shot Willie.” She took a deep breath and winced. “Someone shot me. The geeky detective. What’s his name? Edelweiss. No. Edelman.”

  “I’m just glad you’re alive.” Jessica’s soft hand felt warm on Shea’s cheek. “Doctor said the bullet hit one of your ribs, but stopped short of your kidney.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “You also have a fractured collarbone.”

  “It’ll be all right, honey.” Shea wanted to kiss away her tears. “Can you make the beeping stop?”

  “I pressed the button. Nurse should be here in a minute.”

  A young gal wearing oversized eyeglasses and teal scrubs walked in the room. Brown-black hair framed her heart-shaped face. Her name tag read Svetlana. She pressed a few buttons on the vitals monitor. The beeping stopped. “Can I get you anything, darling?” she asked with a slight accent.

  “Water.” Her mouth felt full of cotton.

  “I’ll go fill up a pitcher for you.” She walked out as Terrance came in.

  He hugged Jessica and pulled up a chair next to the bed. “Good morning.”

  “Is it morning already? Damn.”

  “I found something that might cheer you up.” Terrance smiled and pulled something out of his pocket.

  “What?”

  “The lighter Lenny gave you.” He handed it to her. “I felt bad about throwing it out, so I went back and looked on the side of the road and found it. Even had Lakota polish out the scratches.”

  Shea wrapped her fingers around it, the metal still warm from being in Terrance’s pocket. “Thanks, dude. That means a lot.”

  “Want to tell me what happened?” he asked.

  “Hunter and the MC showed up at the Jaguars’ warehouse. Everybody started shooting.”

  “Do I want to know any more?”

  “Probably best you don’t.”

  “No, but I do.” Rios walked in the room with a stack of folders under one arm. “I need to question Ms. Stevens.”

  Terrance looked at her. “Jessica, maybe you and I should go for a walk.”

  “No,” Shea mumbled. “Don’t leave.”

  He stood up. “I’ll be back shortly, girl.”

  Rios closed the door to the room and sat down in the chair Terrance had just vacated.

  “What do you want?” Shea asked.

  “Gee, where do I begin?” She held up a couple of files and set it down on the bedside table. “You, an ex-con, were found at the scene of a murder four days ago in possession of a gun that’s tied to no less than eleven other unsolved murders. Then there’s the multiple casualties at the warehouse found just up the road from where you crashed your motorcycle.”

  She set down another file on the first. “Two days ago, we found a Ford Mustang registered to your sister wrecked and abandoned at the bottom of a hill off I-17 along with numerous shell casings from a 40-caliber semiautomatic that matches the Glock we found on you.”

  “Seriously?”

  “That same evening your sister, four members of the Confederate Thunder, and one member of the Jaguars were found dead in a south Ironwood neighborhood. According to the report, a woman was spotted leaving the scene on a motorcycle with a young girl on the back. I’m guessing that was you and your niece.”

  She pulled out two more files and laid them on the stack. “And finally, there’s the incident that landed you in here, where you shot and killed a Cortes County Sheriff’s deputy.”

  “I want my lawyer.”

  “Someone called for me?” Justin knocked and opened the door.

  Shea wondered if the pain meds were messing with her sense of time. “How’d you get here so fast?”

  “Your friend Mr. Douglas rang me up a little bit ago, said the Sheriff’s Office was camped outside your room. So I camped out in the waiting room until Mr. Douglas said I was needed.” He nodded at Detective Rios. “Nice to see you again, Detective.”

  “Mr. Bryce, your client appears to be involved with multiple criminal incidents. I have a lot of questions that need answering.”

  “Detective, would you mind if I consult with my client? Then perhaps we can answer those questions.”

  “I’ll be outside.” She left.

  Justin looked at Shea and sighed. “Want to give me a rundown?”

  For the next forty minutes, Shea recounted the events of the past few days. Justin listened and made notes. Svetlana interrupted briefly with a much-needed pitcher of water.

  When Shea finished, Justin said, “Well, I must say, you have had an exciting week. Sorry to hear about your sister.”

  “Thanks. Do they got a case against me?”

  “Maybe. We can argue self-defense on your shooting Sergeant Foster. However, running from the cops on the motorcycle, possession of the Beretta, and your involvement at the Jaguars’ warehouse are a bit more problematic from a defense point of view.”

  Not what she wanted to hear. “You’re saying I’m screwed?”

  “Not necessarily. Tell her what you know about th
e Thunder, the Jaguars, and Sergeant Foster’s pet project. If we play this right, I might be able to get the charges waived.”

  He stood up and ushered Detective Rios back in.

  “So?” she asked.

  Justin smiled. Shea liked it when he smiled. “My client would be happy to provide information related to your investigations into these matters, provided she is given full immunity from all charges.”

  “What kind of information could your client provide?”

  “She witnessed multiple felonies, including murders and drug trafficking, committed by members of the Confederate Thunder Motorcycle Club, the Jaguars street gang, and your very own Sergeant Foster and Detective Edelman.”

  “Let me hear what she has to say. If it’s of value, I can talk with the DA about a possible deal.”

  Once again, Shea ran down the events of the past few days starting with the break-in through to her rescuing Annie at the shootout in Ironwood’s barrio. She didn’t like ratting anyone else out. But after all she’d been through with Willie, the Jags, and the MC, she was happy to name names.

  Rios asked a lot of probing questions that put Shea on the defensive. Justin ran interference, making sure Shea didn’t stick her foot in her mouth and blow her chances at immunity.

  After two hours of questioning, the pain in her back was getting to her. “I’ve told you all I know. Now someone get the nurse in here. My back is killing me.”

  “I think that should be enough to earn my client immunity. Yes?”

  Rios looked at Shea as she processed the idea. “I think the DA can be persuaded on one condition—Ms. Stevens agrees to be a confidential informant for the Sheriff’s Office on future interactions with the Confederate Thunder, the Jaguars, or any other organization we deem criminal in nature.”

  “I don’t deal with any criminal organizations. Not normally, anyway. I build motorcycles. That’s it.”

  “And I want to stop organized crime in this county. Word on the street is an all-female motorcycle club called the Athena Sisterhood is establishing a charter somewhere here in central Arizona. That could lead to conflicts with the Thunder. I may need you to be my eyes and ears.”