Six Guns: Volume One

by Sara V. Zook

  Six Guns

  Volume One

  By Sara V. Zook

  ****

  Six Guns

  Copyright © 2014 by Sara V. Zook

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the authors, except where permitted by law.

  ****

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters and events in this work are figments of the author’s imagination.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page/Copyright

  Prologue

  1-Cain

  2-Cross

  3-Cain

  4-Cross

  5-Cain

  6-Cross

  7-Cain

  8-Cross

  9-Cain

  10-Cross

  11-Cain

  12-Cross

  13-Cain

  14-Cross

  15-Cain

  16-Cross

  17-Cain

  18-Cross

  19-Cain

  20-Cross

  21-Cain

  22-Cross

  23-Cain

  24-Cross

  25-Cain

  26-Cross

  27-Cain

  28-Cross

  29-Cain

  30-Cross

  31-Cain

  32-Cross

  33-Cain

  34-Cross

  35-Cain

  36-Cross

  37-Cain

  38-Cross

  39-Cain

  40-Cross - 41-Cain

  Epilogue – Author Info

  PROLOGUE

  For as long as I can remember, I’ve been possessed with jealousy. I find myself wanting what others have—fast cars, those shiny, new ones with the engines that purr and are all decked out, a huge house with a gate in the front, a pool in the back, and chef standing in the kitchen waiting on my every command, a boat, a vacation home on a tropical island…I could go on. How fantastic would it be to just throw money at people everywhere I went and say hey, go get me this or that? I could walk into a fancy restaurant and people would just know…they’d know who I was instantly.

  I find myself checking out the other guys’ wives or girlfriends, to see how hot they are. Hell, I’ve even been jealous of this one guy’s chick who had this amazing laugh. I want a girl who sounds like that, and I want to be the one making her so happy. Me. Sounds crazy, right? Well, maybe it is, but I got to tell you, that was one contagious sound coming from her throat. And you know, it’s not just that I want things for myself, I want to be able to buy them for others. If I had a hot girlfriend, I’d want to be able to tell her, baby, go right into that store and get whatever your little heart desires. I would want her to know that she’d never find another guy like me anywhere else. I’d be the one and only for that chick. Even when I got tired of her and dumped her ass, she’d still be thinking about me for the rest of her life as the one that got away.

  Jealousy. It’s just a word, but the feeling of it is so powerful, you have to admit. Sometimes I find myself clenching my fists together when I see something or someone I want and can’t have. It just pisses me off so bad. It really is one of those emotions that eats at your very fucking soul. It grips my mind so that I can’t eat or sleep. I just sit there and think about all the things I want and don’t have. Why should someone else have that and not me? Why am I not good enough to be the kind of person I want to be?

  Stuck. I just am so stuck. I want to have a place to go and have the ability to get there. Just live on the breeze type of thing. I want to walk in a place and announce I’m buying. I don’t want to owe some jerk something. I want you all to owe me. I told my thoughts on this to a guy who was an old buddy from high school. He laughed and said I was nuts. Yeah, nuts. I should’ve killed him.

  I came close one time to killing a guy. He came into the store I was working at and treated me like scum—absolute scum all because he had money. All kinds of nasty thoughts were running through my mind as I heard him actually fucking chuckle because he was treating me like shit, ordering me around like I was some kind of dog on a leash. I remember how sweaty I was in the freezing cold air conditioned store all because I couldn’t make up my mind if I was going to kill him or not. Was I going to jump over this counter and stab the guy right in the jugular with this pen I was holding? I was close, real close to doing it. Thank god I didn’t. You can’t do shit while you’re in prison and you can’t make a name for yourself for being some sloppy murderer who doesn’t think before you do things. But that’s what I mean. Jealousy will do that to you. It makes your vision all blurry and you can’t even think straight. You just want to act on it, do something to make the feeling go away. It’s a bitch to feel that way all the time. That’s what happens when you grow up with nothing, when you’re dirt poor. I had zilch, man.

  No, no one gets to treat me that way anymore. I’m not yours to push around. I’m going to get what I want one way or another. I’ll figure out how to make my life the way I want it to be. There’s no going back on my decision. It’s time for me to make it fucking happen. You’ll know who I am. You’ll hear my name and be jealous of me, want to be me. That’s right. Remember what I’ve told you. You know who I am? Do you know the kinds of things I can do to you to make your life pure hell? I’m Nicky fucking Cain.

  CAIN

  I stood behind in the shadows as Seton handed the guy a package. He examined the contents in the bag for a moment and then stood back and puffed out his chest a little. I didn’t get a real good feeling about this guy. He seemed like a punk. I didn’t even like the way he looked.

  “Well?” Seton asked.

  The other guy nodded his head. “We’re all set, then.” He turned around and acted like he was about to leave.

  “Just a minute. Forgetting something?” Seton was short and stout, but his demeanor was one of authority and intimidation. I think it was because you could tell he had a bad temper, and when he spoke, his voice was raspy and real deep.

  The other guy smirked. He ran a hand through his greasy hair. “Nope. Don’t think so.” He took a few more steps toward the staircase.

  Seton extended out his arm and ripped the man back around to face him by the shoulder. “Where the hell you going? You’re all set? I don’t think so, and wipe that fuckin’ grin off your face or I’ll do it for you.”

  The guy’s eyes shifted to me. Don’t look at me, pal. I’m not about to help the likes of you.

  “Where’s the money?” Seton demanded.

  The guy was quick to stuff the package in his pocket. His hands rested on his hips. He was cocky, and Seton hated it. “Listen, man, as far as I’m concerned, with what happened last time, we’re even. I don’t owe you, you don’t owe me. You look like you’re gonna have a heart attack or something.”

  Seton’s eyes grew large as anger flashed through them. He had a huge vein bulging out of the side of his neck that seemed to pulsate with his increasing blood pressure. “What? What happened last time? Please, enlighten me.”

  Again, the guy’s gaze shifted to me. I put my hands in the pockets of my jacket as a blast of cool air drifted in through one of the busted windows of the abandoned building.

  “It wasn’t all there, okay? Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I got gypped. I’m sure you do that kind of shit all the time to small people like me. You didn’t think I’d notice, but I did. I just figure this is how you can make it up to me.”

  “You got gypped?” Seton busted out laughing as he retrieved a cigarette an
d lighter from his pocket. He placed the cig in between his lips and lit the thing while blocking the wind with his palm. He sucked in a deep breath and turned to look at me as he exhaled. “Can you believe this guy?” Smoke poured out from his nostrils.

  I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even move. My instincts told me that something awful was going to happen tonight. This transaction wasn’t going as smoothly as I had expected it to. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to become witness to anything. This wasn’t my problem or my idea of a good time on a Friday night. I could be down at the bar right now hitting on some chick, trying to get her to come home with me. That I was comfortable with. This—this was something I’d never dealt with before. I mean, what did I even know about this Seton guy other than his name? Jack squat, that’s what. I showed up at the designated area and the dude just said “keep up and keep close.” I didn’t even know what I was getting myself into. Why did I even need to be here? This Seton guy seemed to have it all under control. I wasn’t a fighter. I was more like a tag along. And yeah, this guy was a real douche, but I just didn’t want to be involved.

  “This isn’t a negotiation,” Seton told him. “You’re full of shit. No one gets gypped. No one, not even a little punk ass like you, but I’ll tell you what’s about to happen to your punk ass if you don’t give me my goddamn money…”

  The guy smirked again. It was obvious he was amused with how easily he was able to piss Seton off. “You don’t scare me, man. You’re not going to do shit. I think we both know that.”

  “I’m going to ask you one more time,” Seton said slowly as if barely able to contain himself. “Where’s the money?” He flicked the cigarette across the room.

  The guy spit on the floor. “Fuck you.”

  Seton pulled something from his pocket and slipped it on his hand. He darted toward the guy in one swift motion, pulling his right arm back and making contact with the guy’s face. Droplets of blood flew out from his flesh as he stumbled backward and landed hard on the concrete floor. Seton slipped the thing back off his hand, which I now recognized to be knuckle dusters. He put it back in his pocket and got out his gun. He pointed it at the guy’s bleeding head.

  Yeah, this is exactly the kind of awful thing I was worried about. Knuckle dusters? A gun? This Seton guy had a few loose screws. He just wasn’t the type of dude you messed with. He didn’t like games. He was going to destroy this dude in front of me. I wanted to run, but I’ll admit, I was too afraid to move.

  “Look at me!” Seton yelled at him. “Look—at—me.” He still had the gun secured in place along the guy’s skull and he tapped it against him a few times as the guy laid there on his back. “Does it look like I’m messing around here? Do you think I’m fuckin’ kidding? I’m not leaving until one of two things happens, either I get the money you owe me or you die. It’s your choice.”

  Come on, man, I wanted to scream at Seton. Why didn’t he just take his package back and go? Why did this have to be such a big deal, a life or death thing? My legs started to shake a little between the cold and the chills Seton was giving me from holding a guy at gunpoint. Surely the other guy was scared shitless now. He had to be. Just give him the money!

  The guy sat up on his elbows. He wiped some blood away from his eye that was already starting to really swell up and then spit some more blood on the floor beside him. “You’re a real prick, Seton, you know that?”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

  The guy managed to stand up, yet the gun was still locked in on his face. “The kind of prick that likes to push others around but is too chicken shit to actually do anything about it. I’ve seen guys like you before. You’re not going to pull that trigger. I’m walking out of here, and I don’t ever want to see your fuckin’ face again.”

  My eyes were locked in on that disgusting vein still protruding from Seton’s neck. It looked like it was about to explode. “Funny you say that, because you won’t be able to see anyone’s fuckin’ face again. Have a nice death.” Seton pulled the trigger. The noise radiated through the empty building. My ears were ringing, and there laid the punk guy on the floor, a hole blown through his face. There were blood and brains splattered everywhere. Half of his jaw was hanging by a thread of bloody flesh. My mouth gaped open at the scene and I felt sick to the pit of my stomach. I was going to puke. I clenched my jaw together to try to keep it down, but that burger I had downed for dinner wasn’t sitting too pretty in my stomach right now.

  As if he saw this kind of stuff all the time, Seton bent down and started rummaging through the guy’s pockets. He took out the package he had given him and found a knife which he stuffed back in. He found his wallet and started searching through it.

  Seton cursed under his breath. “I can’t believe he didn’t bring any cash with him. Not a single dollar bill in this piece of shit thing.” He stuffed the wallet back where he found it and then put his gun away. He turned around and gave me a look as if he had completely forgotten I had been standing there the whole time.

  I didn’t say anything. Besides not knowing what to say, if I opened up my mouth, I was certain I was going to spew everywhere. I couldn’t believe it. I had just witnessed murder, a fucking murder. Who the hell was this Seton guy? He just thought he could blast someone like that? Seton moved past me, stepping over the dead body and toward the staircase we had gone up to get in here. I was going to have to do the same to get out. I glanced down at the motionless corpse again, swallowing back down the vomit that was trying to make its way out of me. Uh, what a freaking mess. I darted around him, trying to be careful not to get any blood or internal organs on my shoes, and then bolted down the stairs as fast I could.

  I sucked in a breath of cold, fresh air. Seton was on his cell phone, his back turned to me. I leaned over a rusty railing and couldn’t hold it in anymore. My stomach heaved painfully as I puked up the contents of my stomach in the grass. I threw up four more times before I was able to stand up straight again. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and turned around to face Seton, who was smoking another cigarette and watching me with amusement written all over his face. He seemed much more relaxed, the vein having gone back to wherever it had come from in his skin.

  “You’re a fuckin’ mess,” Seton commented. “What’d you say your name was again?”

  Yeah, just what I wanted him to take note of, my name. I leaned against the railing. “Nicky Cain.”

  “That’s right. Nicky Cain.” A smile was playing on his lips as he said it. “Weak stomach, huh?”

  I didn’t know why we were still here. What if someone heard the gun shot? What if the police were on their way? This wasn’t the time for chit chat. We—I needed to get the hell out of here. “Must’ve been something I ate disagreeing with me.”

  Seton chuckled. Even his laugh was raspy. Must be from all the smoking.

  Within minutes, a car pulled up. Three guys got out and walked over to Seton. They were all very muscular with barely any neck left as if their heads sat right on top of their shoulders.

  Should I be afraid for my own life here? Were they going to let me walk away seeing what I had seen? My stomach began to churn again even though I doubted there was anything left to throw up besides the remaining acid. I wondered if there was some way I could sneak away without anyone seeing me.

  “Thanks for coming on such short notice, guys. I can always depend on you three.” Seton patted one of them on the arm as they towered above him. “I need you to clean up that mess in there.”

  “Consider it done, Seton,” one of them replied.

  Seton nodded as the three men trotted off inside the building. He pointed at me. “Come on, Nicky Cain, let’s get on out of here. The Triplets will take it from here.” He headed toward his car, parked across the street.

  Triplets? I followed Seton and got in the passenger side. I shut the door and leaned my head against the window. I still felt so ill as I glanced up at the eerie building knowing that someone had lost their life
in there tonight and knowing that the killer was about to sit beside me. It was my first time in Haven, New York, and what a way to welcome a newcomer. As Seton sat, the stench of cigarette smoked filled my nostrils. It only made me feel worse as now a headache was forming at my temples. I needed some pills, a hot shower and a time machine so I could go back a few hours and make the decision not to venture along with this Seton guy, to erase what I had just seen up there. The dead guy’s deformed face popped up in my thoughts again, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight to try to make it go away. Oh my god, I was going to need to see a fucking therapist after this night.

  “You okay?” Seton asked.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, opening my eyes and trying to direct my thoughts to something other than all that blood.

  Nothing more was said as Seton drove down the secluded streets of Haven as the final rays of sun disappeared. There were a few homeless people sitting out on the sidewalks, and it started to rain. Seton stopped at a stoplight and he turned on his wipers which screeched across the top of his windshield each time they moved. He turned on his signal and made a right onto a street that transformed from the slum to side by side mansions. They had large iron gates and fancy cars parked in front of them. I had never seen such beautiful homes before. At the very end of the road, Seton pulled his car up to a gate and pressed a button. It automatically opened and he pulled the car up to the doors of a garage.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  Seton opened his door and stood up. “Get out.”

  I sat there for a few seconds. I didn’t want to get out, but what were my options here? I just saw him shoot another guy in the freakin’ face. I kind of liked my face. I didn’t want it blown off, too. Seton walked to my car door and opened it. I guess that was my cue. He raised his thick brows impatiently. I slid out of the car seat. The rain started to come down harder. Droplets ran down the sides of my face, for which I was grateful. It hid the fact that there were sweat droplets mixed in there.