Vasquez was in charge, although he had to make a deal to partner up with Dante Cardoso, which wasn’t so bad. After placing his own people in the positions of the men who were killed, Cardoso let Vasquez run things and stayed out of their way.
Jax liked Vasquez, and the man was treating him good. He could have kicked him out after what Henry did, instead, he said he would teach him the business. Jax liked that. There was so much money to be made, so many women, and best of all, he got to kill sometimes.
He thought of Henry again. The fool had gone back home to live in that little house with his grandmother and to be with Olivia. He could have been a prince in a palace and banged a different woman every night. The stupidity was off the chart.
Maybe he’d look Henry up someday. Yeah, maybe he’d travel back to Stark and find him married to Olivia with 2.5 brats and a dog. If he ever saw him again, Jax knew he would kill Henry. Kagan had treated him good, so he owed the man at least that much. Yeah, maybe someday.
Christopher Monte left the hospital a week after being shot and had been transferred to the sick ward inside the state jail to continue healing from his injuries.
The news that he was a disgraced cop spread throughout the jail and Monte begged his lawyer to do whatever it took to get him transferred before he could be released into the general population. The request was granted, and a date was scheduled. Monte lived in continuous fear of being murdered. He had failed to kill Laura Knight for Kagan and the man was not known for having a forgiving nature. Monte had no idea that Kagan was dead. Even if he were aware of that, as an ex-cop he was still a marked man. If convicted of the charges facing him, he’d be looking at serving years. Life inside prison would be hell.
He asked his lawyer to present a deal that would emphasize his service record. He had saved a woman’s life recently and in his second year with the DEA he’d helped to keep tainted heroin off the streets where it might have caused an unknown number of overdoses or seizures.
His lawyer said that he would highlight his past behavior but not to expect too much. When Monte told him that he was hoping to be sentenced to a year in jail or less, the lawyer said he had unrealistic expectations.
Monte had felt like crying after the lawyer said that. He feared prison and had fantasies about escaping the sick ward.
The doctors all told him he was lucky to have survived the shot to the skull he’d taken that had grazed his scalp and taken off a chunk of his ear. Lucky? He looked bizarre with his lopsided ears and suffered from headaches and dizziness.
The round he’d taken to the chest had lodged in his breastbone. He still felt pain whenever he took a deep breath.
Cody Parker. That’s the son of a bitch who’d shot him. Where the hell he came from Monte still didn’t know. One second he was about to finish off Laura and then he was shot himself. He’d look Parker up someday when he was a free man again. And Caroline too. The bitch never visited him even once. She could have at least listened to his side of the story.
The time arrived for Monte’s transfer. He was glad to be on his feet again and out of bed, although he was forced to shuffle along with ankle restraints.
He was the only prisoner being transferred, so they used a van. Monte hoped the damn thing would crash and give him a chance at freedom.
The new jail was in a rural setting and the population had less violent offenders. He would be one of only four men there facing charges relating to homicide. It increased his odds of not being attacked because he was a cop.
Something made a thumping sound off in the woods as they drove along the narrow road leading to the institution. The guards commented on it and the driver guessed that maybe a tree had fallen nearby. When they rounded the next curve, he proved to be right. There was a tree blocking the road. The driver cursed and got on the phone to call the jail.
As they sat idling, Monte’s attention was captured by something on his right, glinting among the trees. That something was the scope of a rifle that was five hundred and eighty-three yards away. Branches had been pruned to allow an unobstructed path for the round that struck Monte in the face and killed him. He’d gotten his wish. He’d never have to spend a day in prison.
Cody lowered a pair of binoculars and smiled at Henry. He was pleased to see that he was already breaking down the rifle he’d used to kill Chris Monte.
“That was a hell of a shot, Henry. Good job.”
“He should have never hurt my grandmother.”
“And now, he’ll never hurt anyone else.”
They gathered up their gear and headed for home. A Tanner and his apprentice.
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FLESH AND BLOOD
Copyright © REMINGTON KANE, 2020
YEAR ZERO PUBLISHING, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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