Out of the corner of her eye she saw the second man dragging himself toward her, his gun lying between them, and the man she had just slashed was coming back around. She was out of time and needed to make a move. Taking a deep breath, she used her knife to slice through the hair that was in the first guard’s grip and leaped to her feet just as the man on the ground grabbed his gun. She jumped on top of him and grabbed his arm as he fired wildly into the air.
They heard the scream together as a bullet hit the other man in the chest just as he was getting to his feet and he collapsed back to the ground, blood now spilling from his chest as well as his cheek where Abby had gashed him with her knife.
Abby used the momentary shock of the gunman to her advantage and grabbing the canister she gave him a spray in the face. He lost the grip on his gun, pawing at his eyes, which had taken the majority of the spray. He couldn’t figure out what was going on, but he attempted to buck her off. As soon as he did, he screamed as the pain in his ass intensified. Abby gave him another shot from the canister before jumping off and watching him pass out.
Five down, she thought to herself.
Suddenly gunshots rang out from inside the house, and Abby hit the deck as bullets tore through the glass panes of the French doors. She rolled to the side and came up on one knee, firing a half-dozen shots from her .45. The huge bullets shattered nearly every glass pane in the French doors, exploding the dark oak cabinets in the kitchen beyond. The men inside dove behind the island for cover.
By her calculations, there were the two men in the kitchen, two more out front, and probably a couple more in the house. Rosso upstairs wouldn’t put up a fight.
It was about six to one.
I’ve got this.
The orange glow from the fire on the other side of the patio was starting to fade, but it was enough light for Abby to see that the way was clear for the moment. She would have to get past the wide-open French doors in order to make it to the other side. The two men inside the kitchen yelled for backup. Guessing it was just the two of them, Abby sprinted past the open doors, firing wildly into the kitchen with her .45 as the recoil kicked her arm around. The heavy slugs shattered the wood, showering the kitchen with the splintered remains of what had been beautiful, dark-wood cabinets just seconds ago. She arrived at the other side of the patio unscathed, but breathless.
Next to the door that the guards had been using was a large picture window. She hurled herself away from it the moment she saw a slight movement through the window. Abby hit the ground a second before bullets shattered the glass and sprayed the air around her. Holstering her .45, she grabbed two of her flash-bang grenades from her belt, armed them, and hurled them through the now gaping window into the darkness beyond.
With bullets still slicing through the air, she grabbed her Taser from her belt and army-crawled toward the guard door, counting down in her head.
10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3... cover... your... ears... BOOOM!
A flash erupted from the dark room that could only be likened to a lightning strike, blinding anyone in the room, as the concussive blast also momentarily deafened the men inside.
Abby sprung from her crouched position, dashed through the open door, and went for the first man she saw. She wasted no time dropping him to the ground with a hit to the gut with the Taser. Knowing the voltage wouldn’t recharge quick enough to hit the second guard right away, she swept his legs out from under him, knocking him to the ground. Before he could push himself up, she grabbed her canister with the other hand and gave him a spray to the face.
As she turned to the other guard to spray him, the one whom she just knocked down grabbed her leg and knocked her to the ground. He was a big man, slowing the effect of Ace’s concoction. The added seconds brought his sight back enough for him to cause trouble. He managed to get a solid grip and wrestle himself on top of her. Thinking quickly, Abby slammed her forehead into his face, disorienting him as she rolled to the side and he collapsed to the ground, the sedative finally taking effect.
Voices from the other room were shouting.
“What was that?!”
“What the fuck was that?!”
Abby smiled at the sound of Bryce’s two friends screaming from the kitchen, trying to figure out what was happening. Especially Monte. She allowed herself time to enjoy the panic in his voice. Maybe the same panic he heard in my voice that night all those years ago. She tried to put it from her mind, but couldn’t. When he showed up late that night, looking for Bryce, she either let him into the house or he forced his way. She couldn’t remember. The details were foggy, as were most things from that time in her life when she was first with Bryce, but she had no doubt he took advantage of her. As she lay there crying, cursing him, swearing Bryce would kill him, Monte told her that Bryce would never believe her. Monte would tell Bryce that Abby came onto him. “Who’s he gonna believe?” he asked. Still, he threatened that if she ever opened her mouth about it, he would cut her throat. She had believed him on both counts and never spoke a word.
Thinking about that now, her rage rose up and drove her forward.
He continued shouting from the kitchen, “Mikey, are you OK?”
She couldn’t stand to hear his voice anymore and fired three more shots in anger. They harmlessly struck a bookshelf. The other side of the house went silent.
Two more down, she thought. Keep it together.
The room where she stood was in the rear right of the house. Hundreds of books lined the walls, opposite to the kitchen she had just shot up. The voices were coming down a small hallway that she assumed led to the kitchen. Abby tiptoed her way toward the hallway, past the guards she had just relieved of their duties.
She stopped just off to the side. There was a large picture mounted halfway down the hall. Not a nice painting on canvas, but a print of a painting mounted in a frame with a glass front. Its placement perfectly reflected one of the remaining men in the kitchen, who was crouched behind the large island. She did not recognize him.
Monte was nowhere to be seen.
***
Mikey G. had just opened the door to the patio to check in with his guards when the explosion rocked the other side of the door. He backed up and drew his gun, looking out the large picture window to find that his guards were not there and the patio was engulfed in flames. Seconds later, a commotion down the hallway indicated that men ran from the dining room at the front of the house, through the kitchen and out the rear door.
Just a moment later there was gunfire, more yelling, and screaming, “We’re under attack!” he heard.
Mikey ran to the foyer at the front of the house, crashing into Randy who came running out of the video closet. “I’m going for Rosso. Take the kitchen—they’re coming in the back.” Randy took off as Mikey yelled for the two front guards who were already bursting through the front door. “Head to the library!” he yelled, pointing toward the back. “And don’t let anyone through those doors.”
Mikey took the stairs two at a time and burst through Rosso’s bedroom door. The old man was already sitting up in bed, his Rosary beads clutched in his left hand, his right supporting his weight with an IV stand. His heart monitor beeped wildly.
Rosso managed a weak voice. “What’s going on down there Mikey?”
“We’re being attacked. I’m getting you out of here.” Mikey went to pick up Rosso but stopped to look at the IV drip and monitors attached to his chest.
Gaetano Rosso smiled at his trusted guard. “I’m not going anywhere, Mikey. I’m done. I’m history. Get down there and protect Franco. It’s probably Monte’s crew, here for him. He’s your man now, Mikey.” Rosso lay back on his pillows and repeated himself quietly. “He’s your man now.”
Mikey was at a loss for words. He had spent the majority of his adult life protecting Rosso, who now lay helpless in bed as thugs raided his home. He stood not knowing what to do, while at the same time knowing exactly what he had to do.
Rosso stared at him
, and out of nowhere managed to summon a voice of authority. “Don’t worry about me, Mikey. Get the fuck down there and protect Franco!”
Mikey nodded and ran back downstairs, hitting the foyer floor as a bright flash and another explosion rocked the library. He ran the opposite way, toward the dining room, but stopped before entering. He could see the long table that had a plate of pastries in the middle and steaming coffee cups in front of several chairs. The men had clearly just sat down to continue discussing the family situation when they ran toward the commotion.
He eased forward just enough to see through the large opening that led into the kitchen. He could see Franco, crouched behind the island, gun drawn. He saw Monte, as well, in the dining room, hiding behind the wall of the opening to the kitchen. His gun drawn, he stood behind Franco and to the left.
Seeing Monte behind Franco made Mikey nervous. Where is Randy? he wondered.
Three more shots rang out from the library. How many of them are there?
No matter, Mikey thought. He realized that the raid, presumably by Monte’s crew, offered him a perfect opportunity to carry out his boss’s final order.
Raising his gun carefully, he eased forward so the barrel just cleared the doorway. He set his sights on Monte standing thirty feet away on the other side of the dining room, who had no idea what was about to happen.
Just as he squeezed the trigger, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small gray tube roll along the kitchen floor into the opening, and then he was blinded.
***
Abby eased back from the hallway opening and pulled another flash-bang grenade out of her pouch. She clicked the fuse and rolled it down the hall, counting down in her head. When she hit five, she crouched low, closed her eyes, and covered her ears. Whoever was left in the kitchen would be blind and near deaf, allowing her to charge in and take care of those last two before going upstairs to Rosso.
Three... two... Suddenly she was grabbed from behind as the count hit one. She didn’t open her eyes, but her ears were exposed as she instinctively reached behind her with her hands to try to grab onto whoever had seized her.
Although it was fifteen feet down the hall, the blast knocked out every sound around her. Her assailant, however, had his eyes open and let go of her momentarily to grab at his face, his pupils burning as if he had looked straight into the sun. Now free, Abby spun, using her momentum to land a solid kick to Randy’s midsection, knocking the wind out of him. He fell, clutching his stomach. As he landed, Abby planted her boot to the side of his face, connecting with his jawline and bringing a cry from him that she heard through the ringing in her ears.
Apparently his shrieks also reached the men in the kitchen. Franco and Mikey came running into the room and tackled her from behind. The three landed on the floor in a heap. Her .22 fell from her hand and clattered off to the side, just out of reach. Her small canister rolled away, out of sight.
Despite the surprise attack, Abby twisted from Franco’s grip and landed an elbow to his windpipe. With him disabled, she sprung to her feet to find the second assailant.
She didn’t see Mikey behind her, but saw Monte charging down the hallway toward her. Like a flash of lightning, she grabbed the .45 from its holster and aimed it at Monte, squeezing off two shots. The first hit his shoulder; the second missed entirely as the recoil of the huge gun jerked her shoulder back and off-target. She never had a chance to get off a third shot as Mikey chopped her arm from the side, right at the wrist, sending the second weapon to the floor just a few feet from where Monte landed. Abby was caught off-guard, and Mikey used that to his advantage. He slammed his fist squarely into her face, disorienting her.
Mikey had a gun in his hand. The ringing in her ears had died off, and Abby could hear him screaming at her, inches from her ear.
“Who sent you?”
Abby spit blood and tried to twist away, but he still held her tight.
Pressing the gun to her head, he screamed at her again, red-faced, shaking. “Who sent you?”
Franco now had his gun on her, while Monte climbed to his feet. Abby scanned the room for a way out, but all she saw were the three bodies on the floor.
Three to one.
Two of the three remaining had guns trained on her; she had only her knife, still strapped to her thigh.
Mikey used his hold on her to force her to her knees. She grabbed at his hands to free herself from his grip, but it was futile. He pressed his gun into her flesh harder. “This is the last time I’m going to ask. Who sent you?”
Abby stared straight ahead, eyes darting, her mind searching for a way out. She had to buy time, say something, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she heard another voice.
“Get the fuck outta town,” Monte said with a smile, almost laughing.
Mikey looked at him, confused at first, but then understood. “You know her?”
Monte bent at the waist to meet Abby face to face. He smiled as he wrapped his meaty hand around her jaw and lifted her face so their eyes met. “You fuckin’ bitch! Are you serious?”
Abby shook her head to get away from his hand, and then spit in his face. “Burn in hell, Monte.”
He slapped her hard across the face, laughing as he reached into his pocket for a tissue. “Whoa, look who grew a pair!” He looked at Mikey and Franco. “You don’t recognize this bitch? This is Bryce’s girl.”
Mikey and Franco both looked at her, and after a moment, recognized her.
“Oh, the boss will love this,” Mikey said.
“Get her up,” Franco said, and then looked at Monte, who was inspecting his shoulder. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” Monte said. “It grazed me. Bitch can’t aim for shit.”
Franco held his gun on her while Mikey took her knife and inspected it. “Is this the one you had on Trial Island? The same knife? Seriously? You think this is a fuckin’ movie or something? You think you’re a tough girl from TV, so you can walk in here and mess with us?”
Monte bent over to pick up the .45. “This is a big gun for a little girl, don’t you think?” He pointed it at her square between the eyes, smiling, then dragged the barrel along her skin, tracing an outline around her entire face and then down between her breasts. He laughed, slid the gun into his beltline, and then retrieved the .22 that had skidded into a dark corner. “You and me are gonna have fun with these later.” He looked at Mikey. “Let’s bring her to the boss.”
Franco and Mikey each took an arm to follow Monte up the stairs to Rosso.
For her part, Abby didn’t resist. At least they were bringing her to where she wanted to go.
***
On their way up the stairs, Monte thought about the movement he saw out of the corner of his eye in the doorway to the foyer that had caused him to look away a split second before that flash-bang grenade went off. He also thought about the smoking bullet hole in the wall just inches in front of his nose after the blast. A second later, Mikey came running from the foyer. It was obvious to him what happened.
As they climbed the stairs toward Rosso’s room, Monte made up his mind what he was going to do about it.
9
ROSSO WAS SITTING UP in bed. “Eight men?”
Mikey nodded his head.
Rosso looked at Abby, standing between Mikey and Franco, each with a hand on one of her arms. Mikey casually held onto her arm with his right hand, holding Abby’s knife in his left.
Rosso shook his head. “You came into my house and took down eight of my men before anyone got a hand on you?”
“The dog, too... if that counts for anything.” Abby gave Rosso a wink and offered a coy smile. She wasn’t being sarcastic; she was being flirty. She was also very impressed with herself. It had taken her just under fifteen minutes to cripple one of the largest organized crime syndicates in the country. Not bad, she thought.
Rosso eased back into the pillows that were propping him up. “Eight...” He shook his head. “You know, you should come work for me.”
<
br /> Abby smiled at him, the way a child smiles at her daddy when she’s trying to get out of trouble.
“Now why are you here? Obviously you want something.”
“Bryce,” Abby said. “Where is he?”
“What?”
“That’s why I’m here. I’m looking for Bryce.”
Rosso shook his head. “He’s not here, sweetheart.”
“I know, but you know where he is. I know you do.”
Rosso shook his head again. “Six feet under.” He stared into her eyes, trying to read her. “You didn’t hear?”
Monte spoke from his position behind her, Abby’s .22 still in his hand. “Bank robbery gone bad. It was all over the news.” He leaned in close, groping her backside with his free hand. “I would have thought you’d have heard. Where have you been anyway? I’ve missed this sweet little ass.”
She couldn’t see him behind her, but Abby could hear the smile on his face and the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Of course, he knew she had heard. Son of a bitch probably helped Bryce plan the whole thing to get me out of hiding.
She wanted to turn around and lunge for his throat but wasn’t sure she could take all three men at once, being unarmed. For the first time since entering the room, Abby acknowledged just how panicked she was.
Stay cool, Abby. Stay cool. You can do this.
Abby looked at Rosso. “Everyone in this room, including me, knows that Bryce is alive. I came here to find out where he is, and one of you is going to tell me.”
Rosso took his eyes from Abby and looked at the other men one by one, a small smile inching across his face. “Can you believe the balls on this little girl?”
When his eyes met Franco’s, they both chuckled. Mikey joined in and so did Monte from behind.
Abby couldn’t help herself and started laughing, too, which sent Rosso over the edge to a full belly laugh, in turn causing the other men to laugh even harder.
Escape, Dead End Page 6
