Gus shook his head while holding Mona’s rear entrance door in position for Nick to shim the bottom for reattachment. “I get it. You figure once the threat’s diverted, Mona will start beating her breast for the poor dead gangster unfortunates that have been terrorizing her.”
“Exactly,” Nick replied. “Okay, I think this is perched perfectly. I’ll fix the hinge, and the deadbolt. Then we’ll kick back and wait for the clowns from next door to drift over for a chat about what happened to their fearless leader. Wait until you see my performance, Gus. You’ll want to put my name in for the Academy Award.”
“Under what category, Muerto?”
“Good point, Payaso. I don’t think they have a category for me.”
Nearly an hour later as Nick and Gus drank a beer out on the front porch, three of Blackbeard’s posse walked down the driveway toward them. Nick had his 9mm Berretta under a newspaper setting on the small table at his side. Gus perused his laptop while holding his own Smith and Wesson 9mm automatic on the table behind the laptop. The three men, of varying heights just below six feet tall, and a little above it, stopped at the porch. Nick immediately dismissed two of them as wasted pieces of human debris living from one fix to the next. The middle one, a lean faced six-footer with a smirk looked to be the only one in the trio capable of firing a shot. He had tied back black hair, light blue eyes, and a perfectly trimmed goatee. Nick waved.
“Hi guys. Nice day, huh?”
Goatee spoke for the rest. “It sure is a nice day, friend. Our buddy stopped over here last night, and we were wondering if either of you had seen him.”
Nick sat up with a concerned look. “Why no… we arrived early this morning. We’re doing caretaking chores for the owner, Mona Charen. My partner and I only found a backdoor off its hinge. We fixed it, but didn’t see anyone else around. When was he supposed to come over?”
Nick’s question stymied the leader for a moment. Nick stood. “Sorry fellers. Would any of you like some coffee?”
“No… but thank you,” the leader replied. “I guess he decided not to come over. You guys have a nice day.”
Nick grinned like a redneck with a double cheese Big Mac in hand. “We sure will. Good to meet you. Do you have a number I should call if your friend stops by?”
The leader hesitated, but took a card out of his wallet. “Here’s where I can be reached. Thank you for your concern.”
“You bet,” Nick replied, taking the card in hand. “What does your friend look like?”
“He’s a big guy with a black beard. You’ll know him if you see him.”
“We’ll watch for him. Ya’ll have a great day. If we hear from your partner, I will sure get back to you on it.”
“Yeah… okay. Thanks.” The three walked off the way they had come.
“Damn. You should be on the ‘Blue Collar Comedy Tour’. What the hell does a drug dealer’s business card look like?” Gus accepted the card from Nick. “Name and phone number. Straight and to the point. Maybe you should have suggested they turn on the news.”
“It’s more fun this way, Gus. You haven’t seen the second part of my act yet,” Nick replied.
“Oh c’mon, Nick… you’re not going to run over there all excited, and tell them to turn on the news.” Gus studied Nick’s face. “Oh crap… that’s exactly what you plan to do. Have I told you that every cell in your body is rotten?”
“Not lately. It’s nice to be remembered. I’ll wait about fifteen minutes.”
“How compassionate you are. I’ll get the button cam. I suspect you’re doing this to get a look inside their place for me to record.”
“Very perceptive of you, Payaso. That is indeed what I have in mind plus a little more.”
“A little more what? You’re getting impatient. Anything you do right now will be messy. I know how much you like creating your murder scenes using unknowing gangbangers and drug dealers. What was wrong with your plan to give them all a hotshot to hell in the middle of the night using your famous stealth mode?”
“I’d like to go out to dinner tonight with our ladies, sip a few after dinner beverages, walk the Dekester, and get rested for our book signing. I need your help to do this adlib though, Payaso. I can’t have your usual negative vibes throw off my intricate plans, my reluctant sidekick.”
“Okay… spell it out for me. I’m at least three steps behind you on this.” Gus sat down, motioning for clarification with a resigned look.
Nick took a deep breath. “Sorry, partner. I have this thanks to Rachel.”
Nick showed Gus Blackbeard’s .45 caliber Colt she confiscated. “I carried it with me for a contingency in case a few pieces fell into place. The guy with the goatee showing up with his crew illustrated who he has for backup, and what their competence level is. I’m knocking on their door all excited with news I heard on Blackbeard. They let me in. You, my faithful sidekick make noise at their back entrance. I need only a second to make this work perfectly. With the targets’ attention drawn to your rattling at their chamber door, I will shoot goatee through the head, and stun-gun the crap out of his two cohorts. Then I can fix my scene of a tragic gangster falling out.”
“Gee, that’s wonderful, Muerto.” Gus cringed slightly at the dispassionate attitude of his chosen brother. “You just talked to that pleasant man only moments ago, Muerto. Now, you’re plotting to walk right in, shoot him in the head, and create a killing field with his crew. You are a very bad man.”
“What’s your point? Are you going to help me, or do I have to cut up your Payaso mask, and make poor El Muerto into a lone avenger?”
Gus laughed, standing and motioning at Nick in distasteful form. “You cold blooded prick! I’m in. I figured a more discreet ending for those murderous rubes, but I’m not bucking your record of creating police worthy scenes of death, involving only the targets. At least we already have the boss’s name from Blackbeard. Have you had time to trace this David Huxley’s name, or did Paul find out anything about him?”
“Paul told me he’s above legal suspicion, but has suspicious ties to Columbian financial interests. He owns a string of high end mercantile stores in Charleston simply called ‘Huxley’s’. He’d like me to consider sanctioning Huxley like I did in the old days. I’m thinking about it, but we don’t have much time scheduled for Charleston. Maybe I should pass on Huxley. It’s past time for law enforcement to earn their pay. Let the FBI have it. They’ll stake the guy out for six months, and then contaminate something, letting him go free. If he’s dangerous enough, Paul will come lay the big bucks on us to do him.”
“I’m surprised you’d consider not doing everything yourself. I like it. Anyway, one step at a time. We should get on with this fabulous Plan B you’re in love with.”
“Good deal. Let’s do this. I only have one more caveat to add into my plan I haven’t mentioned. I’m going to call the police, and report hearing gunfire anonymously somewhere between here and the hotel as we flee this soon to be horrible shootout.”
Staring in open mouthed amazement, it took a few moments for Nick’s added ploy to sink in. Gus didn’t hesitate. He remembered Nick saving his ass on a whim before. “I’m happy we’re recording this shit, Muerto. Indeed, let’s get your plan in gear.”
* * *
“Son-of-a-bitch!” The goatee paced the room after he and his three colleagues entered Blackbeard’s main place again. “Where the fuck could he have gone? I wonder now if he got a call, and had to take a meeting with the boss over this latest crap.”
His cohorts looked bleary eyed at each other. They sold dope. Sure, they’d cut someone up if they needed to, but they didn’t get into discussions about strategy or problems. They did what they were told. Period.
“He’ll be back,” one answered after many moments passed. “No one can take Blackbeard. Man… I don’t want to stick my nose in his business. Did you call him?”
“Fuck yeah, I called him,” goatee stated. “He ain’t pickin’ up.”
Th
e knock at the door startled the trio. They could see Nick waving through the screen door at them. They hadn’t closed the main door. “Shit, it’s that rube fuckin’ around over at Mona’s place,” goatee said.
Goatee walked over to the door. “Hey… what’s up?”
“The news,” Nick said excitedly. “I think they have your friend on the news!”
Goatee smirked at Nick. He opened the screen door, wondering if maybe he would have to take care of this retard. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? What’s this about the news?”
Nick walked in with intense concern, never wavering from his eye contact with goatee. “Sorry… sorry… turn on the TV. I think they’re still showing it on channel five!”
One of the drug-bots turned on the TV, using the remote to change the channel to five. It replayed the flagpole finding of Blackbeard in detail, along with the discovery of his name. Nick watched the rapt attention paid to the TV enlightenment with inner enjoyment while gripping Blackbeard’s .45 caliber Colt at his waistband.
“Oh my God!” One of the street thugs exclaimed. “That’s Blackbeard! Damn… what the hell do we do now?”
“Nothing, you moron,” goatee said, still staring at the screen, and listening to the accompanying news banter. “What do you think we should do, idiot, go collect the body. He was next door waitin’. I can’t believe it, but maybe that pregnant bitch got the drop on him. I can’t figure it out. I have to think.”
Gus banged on the rear door. Every head turned toward the noise. Nick drew Blackbeard’s Colt, and shot goatee in the temple over his left ear. A split second later, Nick was stun-gunning the two drug-bots into unconsciousness. He then searched goatee for a weapon. Goatee carried a Ruger .40 caliber automatic. Nick put on his black Nitrile gloves. He aimed the Ruger with goatee’s left hand, because he had noticed the weapon was positioned for a left handed draw. Nick shot both drug-bots in the arm, a leg, and the head.
“That’ll teach you minions to mess with me, the Goatee.”
After making sure the two drug-bots were dead, Nick wiped Blackbeard’s Colt clean. He positioned the drug-bot nearest to goatee with the Colt in hand, and fired at goatee’s shoulder, making sure the gunpowder residue would be all over the firing corpse’s front.
“Take that, Goatee! We are avenged.”
Nick held up the corpse’s gun hand, and let it fall. The hand hit the floor, and the Colt jolted free near his fingers. Nick surveyed his scene with satisfaction before striding to the rear entrance. He unlocked and opened the door to a very tense Gus awaiting the conclusion of Nick’s gang cleansing.
“Good timing, Payaso. It worked to perfection. Let’s go into town, find a public telephone, and call 911. I believe there was a gun battle here.”
“You are without a doubt the coldest bastard I’ve ever seen or heard of… even in the movies. Do I want to know how many murder scenes you’ve staged?”
“Not if you want to sleep at night.”
“I’ll take your word for it then. Let’s get out of here,” Gus said. “It’s lucky the distance between places will keep people from noticing or reporting the gunfire, especially with the trouble people have had here with these dealers.”
“Yep. I believe we’re done here. Let’s go find a payphone. That task in itself will probably take an hour. My ploy will be when I heard the gunshots, I took off in the car until I could find a public phone. The reason being, I didn’t want the drug gang to know who called the police.”
Not for the first time did Gus wonder about Nick’s cold logic, placing each action into a pattern reinforcing his endeavor. “On it, boss. Let’s go.”
“I don’t think you’re very accepting of this fine ending, Gus. No matter. Let’s adjourn to our pleasant hotel where we will put this problematic day behind us. Don’t feel so bad, Payaso. No animals were hurt in this video. Let’s have nothing but positive thoughts for our neighborhood reclamation project. The shootout didn’t attract any nosy neighbors. We will have to stay a bit longer after the book signings to ensure we don’t have to make any more adjustments. I’m hoping the one who drove the truck was in the group I helped into the afterlife.”
“Oh no, say it isn’t so. The great Muerto forgets to find out an important fact. This is a tragic day scarring the El Muerto legend.”
“That’s just mean, Payaso.”
* * *
Gus called in an anonymous 911 call to police, warning of shots fired at Blackbeard’s address at a convenience store halfway between Mona’s house and the hotel, claiming fear of retribution as his reason for not giving his name. He and Nick drove to the hotel in time to take Deke for an early evening walk, and accompany their group to dinner. Rachel, pleasantly surprised at Nick’s earlier than expected arrival, watched for any telltale signs indicating trouble on the horizon. She decided the direct approach would be more productive while they dressed for dinner as she stripped to get into the shower.
“You haven’t said a word about your excursion to Mona’s house. Is everything okay there now? I figured we should have been issued a news watch order by now.”
Instead of answering, Nick began stroking Rachel’s bare skin moving his hands in such a manner as to evoke a low moan of pleasure. In moments, his attention escalated into a rather lengthy delay in their showering. By the time they walked to their in room shower, Rachel was glistening with sweat, her breathing returning to normal slowly.
“God Nick… I appreciate the nice hello. What brought that on?”
“You looked too sexy for me to allow your showering without giving you a reason for needing one. In answer to your earlier question, we completed the neighborhood renovation a bit differently than anticipated, and here we are back early. We’ll check the news before dinner. Did you talk to Cassie at all yet?”
“She hasn’t called or anything. Maybe she won’t be arriving until later,” Rachel said. “I hope Cassie checks in early enough to get a good night’s sleep before the signing tomorrow. I like her. She enjoys the signings as much as you do I think.”
Nick led the way into the shower, setting the water temperature before pulling Rachel in with him. “Her eyes beam in a cash register type glow when she spots a line of hundreds waiting to get into the signing. I doubt she sleeps much before a signing. She goes on a caffeine high. When it implodes, I see her start to drag.”
Nick began soaping Rachel down in a less than utilitarian way. Before his cleaning ministrations ended they had jointly found another reason for showering. Only the pounding on their bedroom door pierced into the erotic shower scene Nick had created.
“Hey! Anybody home in there?” Jean’s screech carried through over the water noise. “I’m hungry! Quit foolin’ around in there, and come to dinner, Damn it!”
Rachel clung to Nick, gasping for breath and laughing. “Did Dagger just cuss us out?”
“I believe so.” Nick shut off the water. “I can hear Gus and Tina chortling away out there too. I guess we’d better dress for dinner before Jean leads a break in to get us.”
Rachel kissed him with lingering breathless frenzy. “Jesus, Nick… that was a wonderful shower. What the hell got into you?”
“Just a little bit of life for a moment, Rach,” Nick answered, thinking I am El Muerto. Damn if Gus didn’t get that nametag right as rain. I wonder if I’m getting caught up in this giving and taking life to an unhealthy level. It’s starting to invade my reality. He noticed Rachel watching his face as he dried her off. “What?”
“Nothing. I sense El Muerto invading our conversation.”
Wow, we’ve been together long enough for her to start reading my mind. Scary. “You’re starting to know me too well. I’m not sure how comfortable I am with that revelation.”
“Yes!” Rachel pumped her fist, looking like an older spitting image of Jean. “I can make the deadliest killer in the universe uncomfortable. I can’t wait to hear the news. I’ll bet it’s the stuff of nightmares for bad guys. I have only one question �
� is there any more targets on this visit?”
“Possibly one. We know the boss’s name from what Blackbeard told us. We’re allowing Paul to sort through everything. If he thinks we can divvy the network into parts for local and federal authorities, I’m leaving the next steps to him. If he thinks the boss has a chance of fleeing or beating out anything we have to pin him with, I’ll handle him while we’re in Charleston. It has turned out to be more than just a neighborhood drug problem.”
Rachel hugged him. “I’m so proud of you. Thank you for fixing Mona’s situation.”
“Hey… I’m only a cleanup tool. You practically aced out the whole gang by yourself. I can’t tell you how juiced I was, listening to how you handled Blackbeard, and the truck episode. I sure as hell chose the right time and person to make me into a family man. It seems like you serving me at the diner while in the witness protection program happened a hundred years ago.”
“I know! It doesn’t seem possible with all that’s happened,” Rachel agreed. “C’mon, Muerto, let’s get you dressed.”
“Want to give me a little taste first?” Nick made inappropriate erotic nuances, making Rachel gasp.
“Damn it, Nick! Now I won’t be able to think of anything else through dinner. I hate you! Couldn’t you have kept your perverted tendencies to yourself until we returned to the room?”
Nick massaged Rachel’s shoulders. “I believe El Muerto’s work is done.”
“Not hardly.”
* * *
In the Charleston Grill they were all seated with prompt courteous attention. Nick immediately ordered appetizers Jean found suitable. Once they were delivered post haste, Jean quieted down. Mona, Rachel, and Tina ordered a Merlot they thought sounded good, while Nick and Gus stuck with a favorite: Bushmill’s Irish Whiskey.
“I saw more news today, Nick,” Mona kept her gaze on the table after the drinks were served. “There was a shootout in the drug house next door with three men dead. They apparently disagreed about something, and it ended in all of them dead.”
“It’s really sad when people adopt such a dangerous lifestyle,” Nick replied. “It was advantageous they had a falling out at this time, and you’ll be able to return to your home without worrying about those dangerous thugs.”
Cold Blooded III: Sins and Sanctions (Nick McCarty Assassin Series Book 3) Page 14
