by Celia Aaron
“I don’t believe you.” Misery tried to block out my voice, but the words made it through.
“It doesn’t matter what you believe. Dead is dead.” Ramone rose from his chair. “Anyway, she’s here like I promised. I’m ready to get paid and hit the road to find his sidekick.”
“Sit.” Berty pointed at Ramone without looking at him. “We won’t have to find him. You killed his best friend. He’ll come looking for revenge. Besides, I’m not quite as confident as Ramone that Con bit it at the cabin. He’s a smart little dog. May have sniffed out the trap before getting caught. If he’s alive, he’s on his way here to get his girlfriend back. Right, Charlie?”
I didn’t respond. He wouldn’t have believed any answer from my lips.
Ramone sighed and took his seat. “I should get extra for this.”
A thump and a whimper sounded from somewhere behind me, but I couldn’t turn my head far enough to see the cause.
“Focus.” Berty snapped his fingers, and I whipped my head back around.
“If I were you, I’d be more worried about myself.” His eyes never left mine. “Pretty girl like you. Nice little business selling flowers. What are you doing putting out for a hitman?” He rested his palms on my knees. “Gave him a taste of your pussy for what? You think he could love you back?” He frowned. “Conrad loves money. He has some sort of passing infatuation with you. That’s the reason I took you in the first place. But he could never love anyone. All he does is kill. Like a trained dog.” He snapped his bony fingers again. “That’s all I have to do, and he’ll rip someone’s throat out. It’s what he is.”
He understood Conrad about as well as I understood calculus. I balled my hands into fists behind my back. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sounded like a jealous boyfriend.”
Wrath lit in his eyes, and he rose. The back of his hand came in a blur, the sting erupting from my cheek bone as my head whipped to the side.
I faced him. “Did I hit a nerve?”
He backhanded me again, the vicious blow silencing me while pain ripped and scratched at my skin. Grabbing my hair, he yanked my head back, forcing my eyes to meet his.
“You’ve got a mouth on you. I have better ideas for how you can use it.” He turned to the guys on the couch. “Untie her.”
One of them rose and walked to me. His stubby fingers worked at the ties on my legs. When they were free, pins and needles radiated through my feet.
Berty pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it open as the man worked my hands free from the knots. “Make one move I don’t like, and this is going in your ear. Got me?”
I didn’t respond, only rubbed my wrists once the stocky man released them.
“Get on your knees.” Berty motioned with a flick of his knife.
“No.” My voice rang out strong, though my insides twisted.
He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the floor. My knees hit hard, sending jarring waves of pain through me to match the stings along my scalp.
“Don’t fucking move.” He released his hold on me, then undid his belt with one hand and worked the button free on his black slacks.
My gorge rose, and I looked around the room for any way out. Ramone smirked at me, and the two other men stopped watching the game and leered like hungry hyenas.
The door behind Berty swung open, and an older man strode in.
He narrowed his eyes on me. “You’re the florist I’ve heard so much about.”
His gaze sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn’t tell who I hated more—him or Berty. “Vince, is it?” I tilted my chin up.
“You’ve cost me quite a bit of cash.” His jaw hardened, and he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me to my feet.
I barely stopped the cry that wanted to rise from my throat, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. At least Berty’s crotch was no longer at eye level.
“I may as well get a look at what I bought.” He released me and stepped back. “Has Berty been mistreating you again?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, clinging to myself for some sort of comfort in the nightmare.
Berty zipped up. “I was just going to—”
“I know what you were going to do.” Vince’s voice seemed to chill the air. “You appear to have forgotten—once again—that this is mine.” He held my gaze, though he spoke to Berty. “Down to the last cunt hair. She belongs to me. Everything belongs to me. Including you. Are we clear, Berty?”
“Yes, sir.” Berty trained his eyes on the floor, cowed for the moment. When he clasped his hands behind his back, I saw the glint of gunmetal. He had a pistol in a shoulder holster beneath his left arm. Maybe I could snatch it free?
“Now, where were we?” Vince smiled at me, no warmth in his eyes. “I’d like to inspect my merchandise. Come.” He pushed me toward Ramone, overcoming my halting steps with steady pressure.
Ramone vacated his seat and walked to the window. He leaned against it and kept his eyes on me.
Vince sat, pulled a cigar from his pocket, and flicked open a lighter. “Strip.”
He puffed a few times, then relaxed into the chair. My stomach churned with acid as he clamped the cigar between his teeth and motioned for me to get on with it. Berty sat with the hyenas on the couch, all of them watching me.
“I won’t.” I clutched my elbows.
“Cigar burns hurt like a son of a bitch. Or so I’ve been told.” Vince took another puff. “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll start with your face.” He sucked in, causing the cigar’s tip to glow a vivid orange. “I think I’ve had enough suspense. Show me what’s got Conrad tied up in knots.”
Tears burned in my eyes, and I glanced around once more, looking for help, an escape, anything.
Vince leaned forward, hunger dripping from his words. “I won’t ask again.”
With shaking hands, I reached for the hem of my shirt.
31
Conrad
“How many rounds will this hold?” I popped the extended magazine from a submachine gun and inspected it.
“That’s got fifty rounds. Law enforcement has those with only a thirty round capacity, but my guy in Mexico City did this one up special for me.”
I surveyed the array of weaponry laid out in a back room at Sam’s garage. Nate checked and re-checked the mags on a set of 9 mms. The clatter of guns bounced off the moldy cinder blocks, loud enough to overcome the whine of a torque wrench right outside.
“Pack it up. It’s time to roll.” The skin along the back of my hands ached as I cocked the submachine gun, chambering a round and testing the feel of it in my hands. Nate bagged the other items I’d purchased.
If this arsenal didn’t get the job done, nothing would.
“Your Audi is in the lot. I got a call about it sitting behind that flower shop and sent the wrecker to get it. It’s all fixed up.” Sam pulled some more ammo boxes down from a metal cabinet. “I would ask why you need all this”—Sam waved his grease-stained fingers over the guns—“but I’m afraid I won’t like the answer.”
“You won’t.” I intended to kill every last cockroach that scurried around Vince once the shooting started. I would spill enough blood to guarantee that no one would go looking for Charlie again. They simply wouldn’t have the numbers. Not after I was done.
Sam scratched his beard and gave me a hard stare. “I don’t reckon I’ll be seeing you again.”
“Highly unlikely.” I tucked a small Glock in the back waistband of my pants, then knelt and strapped a knife around each ankle.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
I stood and tapped the submachine gun’s barrel. “This is the business end, right?”
Sam wrinkled his gin-blossomed nose. “You know what I mean.”
“We got a plan, Sam. It’s real heroic. Ends with one of us getting his dick wet.” Nate stuffed flash grenades into the dark green duffel. “Hopefully, it’s me.”
“Nate.” I flexed my hands, ignoring the burn as I ima
gined wrapping them around his throat. “Don’t fucking talk about her.”
“Calm down, you big moose.” He clapped me on the back and grabbed a concussion grenade. “I’m just fucking around…unless she goes for me, and then all bets are—” He ducked as I swung at him, and managed to dart through the door and out into the noisy shop.
“Asshole.” I zipped up the bag and slung it over my shoulder.
“Vince isn’t dumb. He’ll know you’re coming for her.” Sam had always known more than he let on. But his somber tone did nothing to cool my need to destroy anyone who dared hurt Charlie. He persisted, “I’m not kidding, my friend. They’ll be waiting for you.”
“I’m counting on it.” I rolled my shoulders, making sure my vest would be able to move with me once shit got hairy. I preferred not to wear one. It slowed me down. But to have a chance at making it to Charlie, I’d have to take the precaution.
Sam swiped his greasy kerchief across the beads of sweat along his brow. “And I know I don’t have to say this, but if they get you, you didn’t get anything from—”
“I didn’t get the weapons from you. Got it.”
He nodded. “I know you aren’t a rat.”
“Death before dishonor.” I’d lived by those words for so many years. But I’d happily dishonor the fuck out of myself if that meant Charlie would keep breathing. “Here.” I dug the bills from my pocket and tossed them to Sam. “Keep the change. We have to get going.” Every moment spent away from Charlie opened up a fresh wound.
He caught the money and tucked it into his dirty coveralls. “Nice doing business with you, but it would have been nicer not to.”
“I’m beginning to suspect you might miss me.” I turned and walked into the noisy shop. No one looked up from their tires or welding torches. Curiosity was a death sentence in this line of work.
“Miss an asshole who brings me cars full of muck and bullets? Hell no,” Sam called after me. “All the same, take care of yourself, you son of a bitch.”
I shot him the bird and grabbed my keys from the grimy board next to the door. Nate stood outside smoking, his white breath rising heavenward despite the falling rain. I hurried past him, each step bringing me closer to Charlie.
We headed to the Audi at the back of the lot.
“You ready for this?” I hit the button to pop the trunk.
“About as ready as I was when I had to get that prostate exam last year.” He flicked the cigarette butt into an oily puddle. The surface glazed, but didn’t fire. “Kinda worried going into it, but strangely satisfied on the back end.”
I groaned and dropped the guns in the trunk. “I may shoot you before we even get to Vince’s place.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it.” He held up two fingers.
“Get in the car.” I sank into the driver’s seat. The car cranked with a purr as Nate closed his door.
I pulled away and into traffic. “One thing I need you to promise me.”
“Yeah?” He pulled out a fresh cigarette.
I slapped him on the back of the head. “Don’t smoke in my car.”
“Hey!” He glared at me, but stuffed the cig back into the pack. “Fine, I promise I won’t smoke in your car.”
It would be so easy to pull the trigger and shove his body out into traffic. Focus. “What I want you to promise is that if you see a chance to get Charlie out, do it. Doesn’t matter if I’m still there. Don’t try to be a hero where I’m concerned. I have no illusions about how this is going to end for me.”
“Jesus Christ, what a fucking pep talk.” He slow clapped. “Now I’m really feeling good about this little rescue mission.”
I gritted my teeth. Maybe it was a good thing my hands were burned. Kept me from punching him. “Just promise me.”
He pulled the cigarette back out of the pack and popped it between his lips, but made no move to light it. It dangled as he spoke. “I’ll get her out. Even if you’re screaming like a little bitch for me to save you, I’ll save her instead. Happy?”
I turned onto the freeway. “I need your word.”
“You are such a fucking pain in the ass.”
“Your. Word.”
He sighed. “You have it.”
“Good.” We settled into silence as the miles between us and our enemies dwindled.
I’d made all the wrong choices long before I found my thorny rose, and I deserved death more than most. It was coming for me, my body vibrating to a frequency that spelled doom. But I would rack up as many lives as I could before forfeiting my own.
Killing for Charlie was easy. Dying for Charlie was easy. But what I wanted more than anything else—to live for Charlie—had proved impossible.
32
Conrad
We cruised past the estate, keeping a reasonable speed, then slowed and pulled into the scrubby woods that separated Vince’s property from his neighbor.
“You ready?” My blood hummed inside me, ready for the carnage to begin. Taking lives was like my own personal lullaby, one that only I could hear.
“As I’ll ever be.” Nate made the sign of the cross before palming his semiautomatic as thunder rumbled overhead.
“You Catholic now?” I peered through the trees toward the low wall that marked Vince’s domain. Jagged edges glistened in the rain—broken glass was embedded into the top of the wall.
“No, but I figure every little bit helps.” Nate grinned, but he couldn’t hide the thread of fear that stitched through him. Fear was a good motivator. It would keep him alive.
We exchanged a final look.
“Is this the part where we kiss?” Nate licked his lips and leaned forward.
“Shut the fuck up.” I opened my door, climbed out, and closed it softly.
Nate got out and walked around to me.
I pointed to the nearest tree over the wall. A small black box was perched high up in its limbs. We’d have to get behind it and keep our eyes out for more cameras. Cutting the power wasn’t an option. It would be a dead giveaway that we’d arrived.
“Silent kills. We take out as many as possible. Start at the gate, work our way to the house. Once the shooting starts, don’t hold anything back. We have to get to Charlie.”
The cold rain sheeted sideways, soaking through my clothes and chilling my skin. The lightning grew closer, the thunder louder.
Nate pulled a blade from his pocket, and I had one of mine in my right palm. Bringing a knife to a gun fight was the only way we’d be able to keep the element of surprise.
Staying as low as we could, we vaulted over the wall, avoiding the glass, and edged around to the back of the wired tree. We picked our way toward the gate, hoping that the rain hampered any surveillance. Nate knelt in some landscaped bushes while I plastered myself to an oak, peeking around to see who was standing guard.
Two men sat inside a small guard house, Glock 17 Carbines tucked at their sides. They were arguing, one of them getting irate as the other laughed. They wouldn’t come out into the rain without cause. We couldn’t leave them alive—it would come back to bite us when the real firefight began. A bolt of lightning brightened the sky, the thumping bass of thunder following close behind.
I stowed my blade and pulled out my suppressed 9 mm.
“Dude, you said silent kills,” Nate hissed from his hiding spot.
I aimed at the closest man and waited. The rain pelted down as another slash of lightning rent the sky. I counted until I heard the deep bass of thunder. Seven seconds from flash to sound.
Everything faded as I aimed at the guard’s head and waited.
The lightning flashed.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Boom.
I pulled the trigger twice, then swung the gun up and to the right, taking out the second guard right as the deep boom of thunder began to fade. Both men—already dead or taking their last breaths—sank out of view inside the
guard room.
“Holy fuck.” Nate eased over to my hiding spot.
“Keep going.”
We darted from tree to tree along the edges of the driveway. A camera up ahead in the vee of a birch had been placed at a particularly bad angle. There was no way past it without being seen. We’d have to backtrack, and I wasn’t wasting another second. Charlie needed me.
I aimed at the camera, heard footsteps on the drive, and ducked behind the nearest set of bushes.
Two men, both with the same carbines, walked toward the front gate. They wore green rain slickers and peered into the grounds on either side of the drive.
I waited for them to pass, then eased out behind them. Their hoods dulled their peripheral vision. They’d never see us coming. Nate and I moved in tandem. I grabbed my guy by the throat from behind and jammed my blade sideways between his ribs and into his heart. He shuddered, never even putting up a fight, and dropped to the pavement. Nate’s crumpled to the ground, his throat cut.
I glanced up at the black box in the birch tree. There was no way we hadn’t been seen. Fuck.
“Weapons free.” I stowed my blade as Nate and I melded back into the trees on either side of the driveway.
A light hum filled the air and grew louder as I leaned against a wide oak and peeked toward the house. A line of black Humvees rolled down the driveway, and ATVs buzzed through the grounds toward us. It was time to go to work.
I pulled a grenade from inside my coat, pulled the pin, and tossed it out onto the driveway. The first Humvee in the line swerved to avoid it, but the explosion sent the car careening into a tree at the side of the dark drive. The three Humvees behind it were blocked in. Men poured from the vehicles, each of them with a carbine.
Bullets cut through the trees and the bushes, bits of bark splintering all around. I tossed another grenade. The men yelled and scattered. The explosion rocked the second Humvee, starting a fire under the hood. Nate began shooting, taking down the men who were not smart enough to look for cover.
