Brew or Die

by Caroline Fardig

  “Yes!” he said, his tone more hopeful than I’d heard it in a while. He knelt behind me and started working on untying my ropes. It only took him a couple of minutes to get me free, then we each went to work on the ropes around our ankles.

  Stafford got his off first and helped me finish untying my bare feet. He hoisted me up, which was a good thing because I was dizzy as hell. Clamping my hands on his arms, I had to wait until I had my bearings before trying to take a step.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” called a voice from across the warehouse.

  I sighed. Son of a bitch. We were so close.

  Approaching us, Jensen brandished the handgun he’d used to knock me out. “I didn’t think you’d be able to get out of my knots. Not bad. But now that I’m back, I can’t have you causing trouble. You want to be knocked out again, sweetcheeks? Or tied up? You look like the kind of girl who enjoys being tied up.”

  “Shut up, Jensen,” Stafford growled, getting in front of me.

  Jensen laughed. “Ooh, standing up for your lady. How chivalrous.”

  I took a step out from behind Stafford. “One, I’m not his lady. Two, my name’s not sweetcheeks. And three, I’d never want you to tie me up, no matter the circumstance.”

  Smiling at me, he replied, “A firecracker. I like it. Now on the ground.”

  “No, thanks. It’s disgusting in here. I think I’ll stand.”

  He sucker punched Stafford in the gut just like he had the other night at Wonder-Gen. One would have thought Stafford had learned to stay an arm’s length away from the guy. As Stafford doubled over, Jensen said, “How about now?”

  Glaring at him, I sat down on the floor.

  “I think I prefer you facedown.”

  Anger and frustration ripping through me, I did as he said, laying myself out across the dirty floor of the warehouse. I didn’t even want to imagine what had made the network of stains on it. Stafford collapsed next to me, holding his abdomen where he’d been hit.

  “Get up, and I shoot you,” Jensen said matter-of-factly. Backing away out of earshot from us, he took out his phone and made a call.

  “I’m sorry my smart mouth got you hurt,” I murmured to Stafford.

  “I’ve had worse,” Stafford replied, trying to smile but failing miserably.

  “So do you know anything about their game plan for tonight?”

  “I assume they’re going to bring the shipment here and use this place for cover to distribute the drugs into the Wonder-Gen boxes like before. That truck over there is probably ready and waiting.”

  “Do they still have the same team—Jensen, the truck driver, Wonderlich, and you?” I asked.

  “I guess. I haven’t heard that they’ve added anyone, but then again, I’m not exactly in the loop anymore.”

  I thought for a moment. “It’s two of us versus three of them. The truck driver is pretty puny-looking. If I could take him out, could you deal with the other two?”

  This time he gave me a genuine smile. “I love your determination, but don’t forget they have guns, and we probably both have concussions.”

  “Even with concussions, we can outwit these mouth-breathers.” Although I was in my give-up pants, I was wearing a tank top, which could work in my favor even though it was filthy from the floor. I pulled it low in the front and rolled over on my back. “Hey, Jensen!”

  Jensen glanced my way, and after finishing up his call, walked over to us. “What do you want? And get back in position.”

  Arching my back and rolling onto to my stomach, I propped myself up on my elbows so he could continue looking down my top. “Just to satisfy my own morbid curiosity, what are you planning to do with me?”

  “You’re the insurance to make sure tonight goes off without a hitch.”

  “I mean after tonight.”

  Shrugging, he replied, “After tonight you’ll be useless to us.”

  I swallowed. “So…I can go home since you won’t be needing me anymore?”

  Something glinted in his eyes. “Not exactly.”

  “What then, exactly?”

  His friendly, conversational demeanor was incredibly off-putting given the subject matter we were discussing. “Well, the river’s close. I may shoot both of you and throw you in it. That way you two lovebirds can be together forever.”

  Fighting the sheer terror bubbling up inside me, I scoffed, “What part of ‘I’m not his lady’ did you not understand? I’m done with this loser. I thought you were going to offer to take me with you, not kill me. We could be the Bonnie and Clyde of drug runners.”

  “You don’t seem like a bad girl to me, dating a cop and all. I don’t think you could handle the life.”

  “You’ve seen my shitty apartment. That’s what being a good girl has got me. I deserve better, and maybe it’s time I took it for myself. I’ll go along with your plan as long as you give me a cut.”

  Jensen shook his head. “You’ll go along with the plan regardless, sweetcheeks.”

  I gave him a pouty frown. “Yeah, but then you don’t get me afterward. I’m pretty fun to be around if you give me the chance.”

  “Well then, I’ll give you a chance.”

  Was he for real? That was way too easy.

  He said to me, “Hop up.”

  I scrambled up from the floor, my mind racing. I really hadn’t thought I’d get this far. “So…I’m on the team just like that?”

  The gun in his hand still pointing at us, he pulled another gun from the shoulder holster strapped to his broad chest. “You have to prove something first.” He held the butt end of the gun out to me. “Shoot him.”

  A wave of nausea hit me as Stafford’s eyes grew wide and focused on me. Dredging up all the bravery I had left, I laughed. “I said I’d be your drug-running sidekick, not a cop killer. That’s two totally different levels of crime.”

  Jensen shrugged. “If you’re going to work in the drug world, you can’t be afraid to get some blood on your hands.” He shoved the gun into my hands and trained his own gun on the center of my chest. “Put your money where your mouth is. Don’t bother trying to turn on me, either, because I’m betting my trigger finger is faster than yours.”

  I looked down at the gun in my hand, weighing my options. If I did nothing, I ended up back at square one on the floor next to Stafford. If I used the gun to shoot anything except Stafford, I would be dead within seconds. Not really a dilemma in my mind.

  Sighing, I said, “Okay, I—”

  My words were drowned out by the squeaky garage door rattling open and an unmarked box truck lumbering into the warehouse and pulling up next to the Wonder-Gen truck. Glancing at the driver, I realized it wasn’t the same guy I’d seen at the drop earlier this week. He looked familiar, though, even with a baseball cap pulled down far over his eyes. It was Brody Callahan, my new narco detective friend. We were saved.

  Chapter 36

  With his gun still pointed at me, Jensen said, “Looks like the party’s here. Hey, wait till the boss comes in before you shoot his sorry ass. He’ll want to see it.”

  I tried to keep my face passive as Callahan parked the truck. He sure seemed to be taking his sweet time getting out of the cab. Meanwhile, Jim Wonderlich walked through the open garage door and then closed it behind him. He was conspicuously missing his trademark sucker, a habit I didn’t blame him for giving up.

  Wonderlich’s eyes fell on us. Approaching, he barked at Jensen, “What the hell is this? Why did you give Stafford’s bitch a gun?”

  Jensen grinned. “She said she wants to switch sides, so I told her she had to shoot him to prove it. I wanted you to have the pleasure of witnessing it for yourself.”

  I saw Callahan get out of the cab and go open the back of the truck. He had something up his sleeve, so I tried to distract these guys to buy him some time. “He’s right. Hi, Mr. Wonderlich. It’s nice to meet you. I’m grateful for this chance you’re giving me. You know, at first I didn’t like Jensen, but he’s beginning to
grow on—”

  Wonderlich didn’t seem to have much use for Jensen’s and my antics. “Shut up. And Jensen, quit screwing around. She’s not switching sides—she’s snowing you, dipshit. Now tie them up and get to work. We gotta do this fast tonight.”

  In an instant, all hell broke loose. Callahan and a few other police officers in bulletproof vests popped up from behind the truck’s cab, pointing their guns in our direction. Ryder wasn’t among them.

  Callahan shouted, “This is MNPD. Put your guns down!”

  While I was distracted by this, Wonderlich snatched the gun out of my hand, and Jensen grabbed me from behind. Wonderlich started firing the handgun in the direction of the MNPD officers. I heard someone shout, “Hold your fire! They have a hostage.”

  Damn it, I was the hostage. Jensen was using me as a human shield, his left arm around my neck in a chokehold while he jabbed the muzzle of his gun in my side with the other hand. He was dragging me backward with him toward the other end of the warehouse.

  Still on the floor, Stafford swung his feet around and kicked Wonderlich’s legs out from underneath him. Wonderlich hit the ground with a thud, and his gun went skittering across the floor. Stafford jumped on top of him and subdued him, which didn’t take much, given the fact that Wonderlich’s head had made an audible crack when it smacked against the hard floor. Callahan and the other officers came out from behind the truck, their guns trained on us.

  Approaching slowly, Callahan yelled to Jensen, “Let her go and put your gun down! It’s over.”

  Jensen shouted, “It’s not over till I say it’s over! I’m getting out of here or she dies. Stay back!”

  Knowing there was no way Ryder would miss this, I said in a strangled voice to Jensen, “You think they only sent a handful of cops to this big of a drug bust? They’ve got the place surrounded, dumbass. You’re not getting out of here no matter what. Give it up.”

  “I don’t give up,” he growled.

  The door Jensen was heading toward burst open. Taken by surprise, he panicked, swinging the gun around and shooting wildly in that direction. Firing five shots emptied his clip, which was luckily only partway full. When he loosened his grip on me to reach for a new magazine to reload, I slithered out of his grasp, hoping to hit the floor before anyone returned fire. Three MNPD officers barreled through the door and took out Jensen, slamming him to the ground and handcuffing him before I even got my exhausted self back up to a standing position. Breathing a sigh of relief, I wondered again where Ryder had been this whole time. It wasn’t like him to miss the action.

  I heard a voice from outside the door call, “Hey, get the EMTs over here. Hamilton’s hit.”

  My stomach hit the ground, and I screeched, “No!” Fearing the worst, I raced for the door on trembling legs, never having felt this kind of overwhelming devastation before. I found Ryder just outside the door, sitting against the wall of the warehouse. My heart started beating again when I saw that he was alive, but constricted painfully when I noticed blood pouring from under the hand he had clamped onto his right upper arm. Tears flowing from my eyes, I slid onto the ground at his side.

  “Are you okay?” I sobbed. “How bad is it?”

  His sweaty face twisted further into a grimace. “I’m okay. It’s just my arm,” he said, panting. “I was the first one through the door when Jensen started firing. I was trying to be the hero and save you.”

  I cradled his face in my hands. “Please don’t do that ever again.”

  “Be the hero or get shot?”

  “Either. Both.”

  Ryder smiled at me. “Totally worth it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  —

  I rode in the ambulance with Ryder over to the hospital, where he insisted I “have my head examined” while he was getting X-rays. I got to see his X-rays once I’d been checked out (and pronounced concussion-free). Yikes. His humerous bone was shattered where the bullet had hit it. Surgery was a must, anyway, because they had to scoop out the bullet, but repairing the bone would make it take a while longer.

  Once the doctors and nurses had left us alone, I turned to Ryder. “Aside from getting yourself shot, that was one excellent tactical plan you put together.”

  “You think so? I especially liked the part where we hijacked the truck a mile away from the warehouse and put our guys in the back, ready to jump out and surprise the bad guys. That was fun.” His face fell. “But I didn’t know you were in there until Callahan saw you and radioed me. That was a bit of a game changer.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t intend to get kidnapped.”

  “I could kill Stafford for getting you involved.”

  I frowned. “Speaking of him, is he in custody?”

  “Yeah. But it’ll be okay. He can be tough when he needs to be. He’ll be fine.”

  I nodded. Stafford was going to jail, and I had to get used to that fact. I tried to put it out of my head, because there was nothing I could do to change it. “The thing I don’t get is how you knew where the new drop location was going to be. Stafford said they changed it at the last minute and threatened to kill me if he told anyone.”

  A slow smile spread across Ryder’s face. “I chipped him.”

  “Who? Stafford?”

  “Yeah. I knew he’d screw something up, which he did, so I stuck a tiny GPS tracker on the inside of his belt when he wasn’t looking.”

  “Wow. That was some foresight.” I blew out an uneasy breath. “If you hadn’t done that, I’d probably literally be sleeping with the fishes right now.”

  He took my hand. “You know I would never let that happen.”

  My uneasy feeling melted away with his warm touch. “I know.”

  “And I’m thinking my intelligent and heroic acts have gone a long way to moving me into your number one BFF spot.”

  “Since you kind of took a bullet for me, I won’t disagree with you.”

  Ryder’s face suddenly fell. “Max. I can’t take care of Max if I’m in here.”

  “I can do it,” I said. “You’ll have to give me a key to your house again, though.”

  He smiled again. “Not a problem.”

  —

  Max met me at the door, jumping up and down like he had for Ryder. Once he greeted me, he stuck his nose out the open doorway, waiting for his master.

  I kneeled down and rubbed Max’s ears while I spoke to him. “Max, buddy, it’s okay. Ryder will be home soon, and then you guys can hang out together a whole bunch. He’s going to need a lot of doggy kisses so he can get better.”

  Max lay down and rested his chin on his paws, giving me the saddest eyes I’d ever seen on a dog.

  I got down on the floor so I was at eye level with him. “I know you miss him and love him, sweet boy. I do, too.”

  Max lifted his head and cocked it to the side, as if to say, “What was that?”

  “Oh,” I breathed, sitting up. “Did I just say…”

  Max got up on his feet and started jumping up and down.

  “No, Max. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I care about Ryder just like you do.”

  Max cocked his head to the side again. There was no way this dog was understanding what I was saying and responding to it, but it was still getting to me.

  “Or do you think I blurted it out because that’s how I really feel?” I asked, an odd tug pulling at my heart.

  Max gave me a big kiss, covering my chin to my forehead in doggy spit.

  “Max, I can’t love him, can I? We’ve been through too much to try it again. We always fought when we were dating…but not so much anymore. He really is different now, don’t you think? Wait, you don’t know. You didn’t know him before. I’m different now, too, not that you’d know that, either.” I shook my head. “When I heard he’d been shot, I thought my world was going to end. But, Max, don’t you think he deserves someone who’s better at relationships than I am?”

  Max responded with another huge full-face kiss.

  “I know you lik
e me, boy. But I’ve already told Ryder there’s no chance for us and that he should move on. And it seems like he may be trying to do that. He’s cool with us being just friends.”

  Coming toward me and lying down, Max put his head on my lap and looked up at me with puppy-dog eyes.

  “You’re right. If I love him, then maybe I won’t be cool with us being just friends. What happens if I tell him how I feel, and he’s already made up his mind to move on?”

  Max nuzzled my hand, giving it a couple of licks.

  I sighed. “I owe it to both of us to be honest with him. Don’t I, Max?”

  Max sat up and barked.

  “I guess that’s my answer.”

  —

  Okay, forget being knocked out, kidnapped, tied up, held at gunpoint, witnessing my best friend being held at gunpoint, and used as a hostage/human shield during a police raid. Gathering the courage to walk into the hospital and tell Ryder Hamilton I loved him was the scariest thing I’d had to do today.

  I nearly turned back several times, the last one being just before I got to the door to his hospital room. But I pushed down my fears, convinced it was best to be up front with him. Taking a breath, I peeked in the open door to find out if he was alone. He was not. The smile froze on my face when I saw Maya sitting on the side of his bed, leaning down to kiss him full on the lips.

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even move. I could only stand there, unable to tear my eyes away from my closest girlfriend/employer kissing the living daylights out of the man I loved. And he was kissing her back. I was too late. Finally, I was able to move, but the only thing I could bring myself to do was turn and walk away. I managed to hold it together until I set foot outside the hospital, and then I cried like there was no tomorrow.

  Epilogue

  —

  Several days later, Pete came into the office at Java Jive and said, “Your name is on the list to perform at open mic tonight. Uh…what’s up with that? We haven’t rehearsed anything lately.”

  I looked up from tuning my guitar. “Well, that’s because I’m going solo tonight.”