King's Ransom: South Side Sinners MC

by BT Urruela

  Dimitri nodded, smirking at his friend’s sarcastic tone. He unholstered his own weapon. “Well, then back me up so I can get that rifle off of Motor.”

  Twenty-Six

  “What the fuck is going on out there, Hector?!” Robbie screamed, flipping the radio table over, scattering notepads, maps, and radio equipment all over the concrete floor. Charlie’s book and Trigger’s car magazines too. He kicked the screen door open and stomped to the porch. He eyed the two he had left out front, and took a nervous breath. There had been so much gunfire. And his men weren’t answering his radio calls. “What the fuck is going on, Hector?” he repeated, louder that time.

  “We can’t see anything, boss,” Hector responded, nervously pacing the front of the house, his eyes on the wood line. “Maybe they got those fuckers.”

  “Then where the fuck are they? Why aren’t they answering their radios.”

  “Maybe looking for her still? You did say they had two jobs to do, boss. Kill the two missing and the two enforcers, and get the girl. And radios, you know, they aren’t perfect.”

  Robbie nodded. It sounded convincing enough. “You and Brighton come closer to the porch. I don’t want you out in the open like that anymore. And radio Adams, tell them to get back here as soon as fucking possible to back us up. Which means now.”

  Only Dimitri had a rifle, and only the rifle could hit the porch accurately from their position. He had cursed when Robbie moved his two guys out front closer to the porch. He had had a shot, Knuckles and Annalise likely could have hit them as well. But with the two of them on the porch then, they had to wait. He knew there was a slight possibility a stray round from either Knuckles or Annalise’s gun could hit one of them from their position, which was certainly better than nothing, but he didn’t know how many were inside with Robbie … how many could come. And he knew that once shots were fired, whoever was left, and whoever came, would light the tree line up like the Fourth of fucking July.

  They could’ve low crawled in, perhaps. The grass and wild flowers were high enough for concealment, but what if the prospects saw movement and just opened fire? The three of them would be an island out there, ripe for the picking. No, they would have to attack from where they were, using the trees for cover as best they could and hope the two dropped quickly.

  Dimitri removed the Glock from its holster and handed it to Annalise.

  “I would give it to Knucks, but, you know … with the hand and all,” Dimitri said, his lips curling up into a grin.

  Knuckles had his back to them, his eyes on the rear, but he lifted the gun in his hand, his middle finger left off the grip.

  “You can carry my backpack,” Dimitri continued. 'It’s got clips for both guns.” He removed the pack and handed it over. “I wouldn’t normally advise firing two guns at one time, like you’re fucking John McClane, but we’re too far out for a handgun to be very accurate, so …” He shrugged. “I figure you play action hero for a little bit and give me time to get a good shot off on both of ’em with the rifle. I don’t know if I can trust One-arm over there.”

  Knuckles glanced back. “You’re really enjoyin’ this, aren’t you? You know, if I accidentally hit you when we’re providin’ cover, it’s just my hand, man. It hurts so bad, and I’m havin’ trouble controllin’ my body.” He pretended to convulse. “Can’t trust my shot, you know?”

  Dimitri grinned. “So be it.” He looked to Annalise. “You okay? Still trust me?”

  “Trust you with my life,” she whispered back, wishing they had more time. Annalise took the pack, her fingers grazing his, and smiled. “Tell ya what. When this is over, I’ll make the burgers and you buy the beer.” She winked at him and checked over the second gun to be sure everything was the same. “Is it bad I kinda wish I had my tutu?” she asked out of the blue. “I’d fucking love to see Robbie’s face when a Rambo Ballerina comes bursting out of the woods, guns blazing.”

  Dimitri laughed, stifling it quickly as Knuckles shot him a nasty glare. He did realize the seriousness of the situation, he knew it might be his last day on earth, but when he looked at her, when he spoke with her, it was almost like every single thing around them disappeared, felt like a dream. “I’ll have you shoot at the guy on the left.” He glanced toward his curmudgeon of a friend who gritted his teeth through the pain of his bullet wound.

  “Both of you will,” Dimitri continued. “I’ll take the guy out on the right before you start shooting.” He crossed his fingers. “Hopefully … and hopefully, your guy will be too surprised to shoot back before I can get him too.” He looked at Annalise, the stupid grin reappeared. “You ready, Rambo Ballerina?”

  She toggled the pistols back and forth, a sideways grin playing on her face. “Cue the orchestra, I guess.” She tried to look more confident than she felt. Robbie and God knew how many men were in that house.

  Dimitri nodded, a smile on his lips. “Okay, I’ll take the first shot. When you hear it, you guys shoot as many rounds as you can.”

  Annalise moved into position as instructed. Just like before. She went through the steps in her head and readied the pistols. Looking over at Dimitri, she nodded and took a deep breath, awaiting his signal. Knuckles dug in beside her.

  Dimitri steadied his rifle, one knee to the ground and the other supporting his elbow. He took a deep calming breath. He looked to the two beside him, both obviously frightened beyond belief like he is, they show it in their worried faces. He smiled at her, wanting her to feel okay before everything went to shit. He wanted her to know he was thinking about her, even then, before they entered hell together.

  Annalise caught sight of his smile and her breathing slowed. I do trust you. She held the guns, ready to go on his mark. She would follow him straight through the brimstone, if that’s what it took. When she saw his head lean against the rifle, the barrel steadying, zeroing in, her body went rigid, focused on the men on the porch, guns out and ready to fire. The world was in slow motion when Dimitri took the first shot, and she unleashed hell beside him.

  The rifle fire was thunderous, and Dimitri’s eardrums felt as if they would explode from it, along with the three handguns going off just beside him the second he took his shot. But he didn’t flinch, didn’t lose sight of the objective, and he was thrilled to see his first target crash down to the porch. He set his sights on the other and saw the man stagger with a hand to his gut. He’s been hit, Dimitri thought, and then he zeroed in on the wounded man and fired, putting a bullet in his head, and the man dropped just like his buddy, to the porch with a thud.

  “Damn good job, you guys,” Dimitri said, standing and letting the rifle hang from its strap, and he smiled wide. “Now, let’s get in there. Trig and Charlie should be down any second.”

  Robbie was in the house when the two men on the porch dropped, and he had scurried to the back of the room. He sat in wait from the doorway of the dilapidated kitchen, his breathing ragged, adrenaline rising. He was thankful he had thought to bring his AR-15 inside with him, enough to handle two to three men from his vantage point. He would go out fighting, that’s for sure. And whoever it was coming better bring their worst, because Robbie was a seasoned killer. Both in war and on the street. He knew what it was like to have rounds whizzing by his head, the natural panic that set in and needed to be snuffed out, and the know-how to operate under such conditions.

  Robbie heard the footfalls from outside, gravel crunching beneath their feet. He focused in on the sound, trying to guess the number … four, maybe? It didn’t sound like more to him. It was in the midst of his silence, his focus, that he heard rummaging from just above his head. He glanced up to the ceiling, spotting the attic’s rectangular entry door opening right in front of him, and a ladder slid from it down to the floor.

  He crept back into the shadows of the kitchen, out of sight, his rifle up and waiting.

  He heard the first of them jump down, boots heavy against the floor, and he peeked around the corner. Charlie. Another cockroach descended the la
dder. Robbie didn’t wait. He hurried out from the shadows and shot Charlie first, the bullet piercing his chest and exiting his back, leaving blood splayed out against the wall behind him. Charlie clutched at his right pec, crumpling to the floor, his face ashen, and mouth sucking at the air. Robbie shot the other man in one of his knees point blank as he froze on the ladder. The knee cap exploded, and the man came crashing down from the ladder on top of Charlie.

  “Ah, Hello, Trigger,” Robbie said, walking up to the big man and looking down upon his sprawled-out body, on his back like a turtle.

  Trigger reached for the nine mil that fell from his hand, but Robbie shot out his other knee, and Trigger screamed out in agony, grabbing for the appendage, as if his hands would mend the terrible bleeding wound.

  Robbie let the rifle hang from his back by the strap and unholstered his sidearm quickly, seeing movement through the busted-out front windows. Grabbing Trigger by his ponytailed hair, he sat his big body up and hunched down behind his large torso, putting the barrel of the gun to Trigger’s temple.

  He saw Dimitri hit the porch first, and Robbie screamed, “Don’t you dare come closer, motherfucker, or this cocksucker gets it!”

  Dimitri froze upon hearing Robbie’s warning. He backed up and out of view from the front windows.

  “You and whoever you’re with, I mean it, you back up and away from the house now, or I’ll kill him and his buddy and then every last one of you,” Robbie yelled, pushing the gun tighter against Trigger’s head.

  Trigger grimaced, and then muttered, “Fuckin’ coward.”

  Robbie whacked him upside the head with the barrel of the gun and Trigger yelped, his hands meeting his skull. “Shut your mouth, bitch,” Robbie snapped.

  “All right, Robbie. All right,” Dimitri said. “We’re backing up.”

  “I mean it, Dimitri. I will kill him if you try anything.”

  “We’re not, Robbie. We want to end this, all right? We want to end this as easy as possible.”

  “Fuck you!” Robbie yelled, his voice hoarse. “Back the fuck up!”

  “Okay, okay. We’re going.”

  Robbie gave it a few minutes, and then he made Trigger get on his stomach, which brought a hideous wail out of him.

  “Shut up,” Robbie muttered. Glancing back toward Charlie, who agonized behind them, Robbie added, “You too, motherfucker.” He put the gun to Trigger’s head, clutched his hair with his other hand, and said, “Now crawl, bitch. Crawl to the window.”

  “M-My knees.” Trigger gasped.

  “I don’t give a fuck. Use your hands.”

  Trigger did, slowly, dragging himself inch by excruciating inch across the floor.

  “There you go, bitch. Just like that,” Robbie hissed.

  Trigger stopped just before the window, turned back toward Robbie, and grunted, “Just wait till I get my hands on you. Just wait.”

  Robbie laughed loudly, pulling Trigger up by his hair, forcing him to sit on his ass, his mangled legs out in front of him, and Robbie hunched his body down behind his large torso, the gun still tight to Trig’s temple. “You won’t be alive long enough to get your hands on me, motherfucker.” He brought Trigger’s head with him as he peeked out the window frame and scanned the area out front. He located the three of them, crouching behind the Blazer parked to the right of the house.

  “Well, I’ll be fucking damned.” He leaned back and out of sight. “You have my girl with you, I see,” he called out, a pleasure to his tone that made Dimitri angry.

  Dimitri yelled back, “What have you done with her father, Robbie? With Preach?”

  Robbie cackled. “You want to know about her father, aye? And what if I told you Daddio was in on the whole fucking thing, what would you think about that, princess?”

  Annalise kept the guns on Robbie and glanced at Dimitri. It had to be a lie. Her father was a self-centered bastard, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. She turned back to Robbie, fresh hatred burning her eyes and throat. “No fucking way,” she yelled at the house.

  “You want to take a look in the back of that Blazer, sweetheart? No tricks … you’ll find half of daddy’s money in there. Well”—Robbie chuckled—“I guess my money now. And just a little over half. See, your old man’s halfway back to St. Louis by now, and he wants his daughter dead. Now, be a good little girl and get your ass in here, so your new daddy can get a good look at you. You might want to do it quick before I kill both of these motherfuckers.”

  Her hands shaking, Annalise gripped the pistols tightly and looked to Dimitri. She wanted to pepper the house with bullets and plaster his fucking head to the wall … but Trigger. Her heart broke at the sight of him. And Charlie. She knew he was still inside. Her hands wavered, as she watched Robbie’s unforgiving hand fisting his hair. Trigger was ready to fight to protect her. “Just let them go.”

  “No, no, no, Miss. You don’t call the shots around here. I do. I made the deal, and part of that deal is the death of your two friends, and, well, to be quite honest, I never did plan on killing you right away, like I told the senator. No, I plan on keeping you for a while.”

  “Fuck off, Robbie,” Dimitri yelled hoarsely. He could only see a little of Trig, but no Charlie. “Tell us what you did with Hale.” He moved to the back of the Blazer.

  “I’ve already told you,” Robbie said in a playful tone.

  Dimitri looked through the back window. Four duffels stuffed to the gills. He had seen Samson loading the empty duffels a night before the exchange, knew they were the same kind as those in the back of the Blazer, but there should’ve been eight. He opened the hatch on the Blazer, flinching, half-expecting something to blow. It didn’t and he let out a heavy breath. He unzipped one of the duffels and checked its contents, finding neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills rubber banded together.

  Moving back toward the others and nodding, Dimitri yelled to Robbie, “And how do we know you didn’t take him, or”—Dimitri looked at Annalise, and felt the painful twinge of remorse in his chest—“or worse, and the rest of the money is somewhere else?”

  “I don’t need you to believe me,” Robbie responded. “I just need you to give me the girl and then, well, then I need you both to die. That would be really helpful.”

  Annalise struggled to breathe. Would her parents have really just let her go, like a piece of trash, with that fucking monster? No, no, no. She shook her head. It had to be a lie. She couldn’t bear to believe anything else at that point. “I’m never going with you. Never!” She heard herself screaming at him but couldn’t stop.

  “At least not until I kill your friends,” Robbie said, peeking out and blindly taking two shots at them. The window on the driver’s side of the Blazer shattered. Robbie hid behind the wall again and said, “And then we have our fun.”

  Annalise ducked behind the vehicle and glass peppered her hair. Rage and fear meshed into a hurricane of adrenaline. She felt helpless and furious at the same time. “Not a fucking chance,” she breathed through clenched teeth.

  “Now, you don’t want to die, do you? Because that’s your only other option.” Robbie took another blind shot, but missed completely, hitting the gravel road and peppering the Blazer with rock shards and dirt. “Do you have any idea how many more are coming? Things are only even for the time being. You are all in for a rude awakening very soon. You’re going to be outgunned and outmanned.”

  Annalise turned to Dimitri, eyes wide and mouthed, “Please say he is bluffing.”

  Dimitri could only shake his head, his lips pinched tightly together. He knew how many were out there, how many unaccounted for.

  “You think I’m lying? Check the cell phone in the front seat of the Blazer,” Robbie said, but the three of them remained still, huddled behind the vehicle, passing dubious glances.

  “Go ahead,” he continued, a gleeful hint to his tone. “I won’t shoot. You’ll want to take a gander at the last audio message on there. Might find the voices familiar. And Dimitri, it should answer your
question about Preach too. I record all of my dirty little conversations. Just in case.”

  Dimitri paused, looking Annalise in the eyes. He wondered if she should even listen to whatever was on that message, wondered if he should either. Fear enveloped him. He thought for a second then that maybe it was a trap, and the three of them would be left in bits and pieces upon entering the vehicle or opening the phone.

  “Fuck you, Robbie,” Dimitri shouted, shaking his head stiffly. “I’m not falling for your shit.”

  Robbie cackled, louder than before. Dimitri thought it must have been practiced by how it sounded, like Robbie saw himself as one of those evil villains in the old Saturday morning cartoons. “You were supposed to be dead, remember? You think I’d booby trap my own phone, in a vehicle containing my new spoils?” He scoffed condescendingly. “You can’t be that fucking stupid.”

  Dimitri hesitated a moment, realizing Robbie was right—no way was a standoff ever in his game plan. They were meant to die on that road.

  He maneuvered to the door and opened it, flinching even though he knew there was no bomb, but could still almost feel an explosion, the shrapnel tearing into his face. He opened his eyes and saw no explosion, no shrapnel, no flame. Instead, he saw only the cell phone on the seat, along with a few clips and a pack of cigarettes, and shards of glass from the shot out window. He snatched the phone and the cigarettes and he shut the door.

  “Well …” He sighed, taking a cigarette out of the pack and trading the pack out with a zippo in his pocket. “Here goes nothing,” he said, the American Spirit bobbing along with the movement of his lips. He lit it, pocketed the lighter, and took a deep puff, eyeing the phone in his left hand warily. He glanced at Annalise and asked, “You sure you wanna play his game?”

  She nodded and he handed it over.

  She played the audio twice to be sure she heard it right. The world spun and she felt as if the life drained out of her like a wave. The phone dropped into the dust and she slumped against the Blazer, her knees suddenly too weak to hold her up. Her mouth was as dry and barren as the Sahara, and it betrayed her when she tried to speak. Eyes that had run out of tears looked up helplessly to Dimitri. The wreckage of her life crashed down on her, a tsunami of doubt and self-loathing, and at once, she was drowning.