Shotgun Boogie

by Steve Brewer

  Nothing.

  "Do you know where they were going in that car?"

  More nothing.

  Romeo reached out and grasped her clutching hand, the one that never stopped moving. It went still, but she didn't look up at him.

  "Mrs. Nolan? Marge?"

  It was as if she couldn't hear him at all. He let go of her hand, which went right back to its clutching. The hem of her housedress was wadded with wrinkles from her nonstop grasping. Romeo wondered what it meant. What did she think she was holding onto?

  "Mrs. Nolan?"

  Nothing.

  Chapter 61

  Jackie Nolan killed the El Camino's headlights as she turned onto Rose Moore's block of Solano Avenue. She pulled to the curb, letting the car idle as she surveyed the neighborhood. Streetlights at the corners lit the intersections, but the middle of the block was shadowy. No one out walking around on the sidewalks and no other cars moving. Vehicles filled every driveway and a few were parked on the street, but none of them resembled the blue rental.

  The only car that worried her was a white four-door Ford that looked government-issue. It was empty, parked squarely in front of the Moore home. She parked the El Camino behind it and turned off the engine.

  Jackie sat for a minute, her window down, listening to the neighborhood. Traffic whirred on the One-Ways, but otherwise she couldn't hear anything but the breeze rattling the limbs of the bare elms that lined the block.

  She wondered if Marge was even in the quiet house. She hadn't actually seen her go inside. Had Rose called the authorities? Jackie looked over the white Ford in front of her. It had a regular license plate, but it sure looked like an official car of some sort. For all she knew, the Moore home was teeming with social workers, but you couldn't tell it from out here.

  Only then did it occur to her that the car might belong to ATF Agent Romeo Sandoval. Had Mom delivered his business card to Rose? Had Rose called him? It had seemed like such a long shot at the time, but it was possible.

  If Agent Romeo was in there, that wasn't necessarily good news. Was he here to rescue her or arrest her?

  The neighborhood remained still and quiet, but Jackie was starting to feel edgy. She couldn't just sit here, wondering what was behind that closed front door. Time might be running out.

  Jackie leaned across the seat and lifted the duffel bag from the floorboard. She set it on the seat beside her and unzipped it, opening the gap wide so she could see the sawed-off shotgun gleaming inside. She lifted the gun out of the bag by its carved grip, felt its unbalanced weight in her wrist, which still ached from the last time she'd fired this double-barreled cannon.

  She got out of the car, gently closed the car door and hurried up the sidewalk to the Moore house, holding the shotgun pointed at the ground, close to her leg.

  As she neared the low porch, Jackie looked back over her shoulder, checking the empty street one last time. When she turned back, a man stood in her way. El Gűero, scorched and muddy and smoke-smeared, pointed his big black pistol at her face. He'd stepped out from behind one of the gumdrop-shaped evergreens that framed the low porch of the Moore home. His girlfriend stood behind the other bush, leaning against the wall under the porch light, smiling as she looked Jackie up and down.

  "Oh, look," she said in English. "She brought us a shotgun."

  Rita stepped up onto the five-inch-high concrete pad that served as the porch, teetering for a second in her heels, her stockings in shreds around her skinned-up legs. Then she was standing over Jackie, looking down at her as the porch light backlit her tumbled black hair.

  His gun still pointing at Jackie's face, El Gűero leaned in and took the sawed-off away from her. He tucked the pistol into his belt and turned the shotgun to point at Jackie's stomach, which recoiled at the attention.

  "We knew we'd find you here," Rita said. "You had to come back for your mama. But we got here first."

  "I didn't see your car," Jackie said tightly.

  "We parked on the next street. We wanted it to be a surprise."

  Jackie sure as hell had been surprised, but she said nothing.

  "So nice of these people to grow these bushes by their door," Rita said. "We should go inside and tell them."

  "What do you want with me?" Jackie said. "The guns are all burned up, right? I can't change that."

  "The guns are gone. And it's your fault. If we can't take the guns to our bosses, then we will take them your head instead. It's strictly business. You understand."

  Jackie said nothing.

  "But when we're done with you," Rita said, "we'll kill your mother as well."

  She smiled brightly.

  "For fun."

  Chapter 62

  Inside the house, Agent Romeo Sandoval heard voices on the porch. He was still on his knees, trying to talk to Marge Nolan, and he looked over at Rose Moore. She shrugged and said, "I'm not expecting anyone."

  One of the voices, a woman's voice, suddenly grew louder, sounded like she was cursing. Marge turned her head to the sound and said, "Jackie?"

  Romeo got to his feet and went to the door, his hand on the Glock holstered on his hip. He yanked open the door and found Jackie standing on the sidewalk between a raven-haired woman and a slim, smudged man whose blond hair glowed under the porch light. They were dressed for nightclubbing, but they looked like they'd been in a car wreck, banged up and smoke-streaked, their clothes dusty and torn.

  Romeo registered all this in a flash before his eyes settled on the oily gleam of the sawed-off shotgun the man was pointing at Jackie's midsection.

  "What the hell?" Romeo blurted.

  The blond man pivoted, swinging the shotgun toward Romeo.

  No time to draw the Glock. Romeo slammed the door shut just as the shotgun roared. He dived to the side, but the wooden door absorbed the shot.

  As he rolled to his feet, Romeo clawed at the Glock in its holster, desperate to help Jackie.

  Another shot boomed outside.

  Chapter 63

  The first shot was like a starter's pistol, spurring Jackie to action. She lunged at El Gűero, hitting him in the jaw with an overhand right that would've made her Dad proud.

  His blond head snapped to the side from the blow, and his finger automatically pulled the trigger, emptying the other barrel of the shotgun into the evergreen bush and the stucco wall next to the door, blowing dust and twigs and greenery everywhere.

  Jackie swung with her left, but missed his face completely. The punch turned her halfway around and left her vulnerable. El Gűero swatted at her with the smoking shotgun, cracking her across the head with the hot barrel.

  She went down hard, landing in a heap half on the concrete sidewalk, her back in the brittle grass. Her vision blurred for a second, but she very clearly saw El Gűero toss the empty shotgun into the yard. He lifted his damaged jacket out of the way and went for the black pistol tucked into his belt.

  Jackie kicked hard, her boot catching him behind the ankle and knocking his leg out from under him. He threw his hands out and wheeled his arms, trying to regain his balance, but he fell backward, landing on the lawn with a grunt.

  His girlfriend was still here somewhere.

  As Jackie tried to sit up, Rita set upon her, screeching and swinging the shiny razor at her face. Jackie fell backward as the razor whistled past the end of her nose.

  Flat on her back now, she kicked at Rita's legs, trying to take her down, but she danced nimbly away on her high heels. Laughing at the feeble attempt.

  Rita whipped the razor at Jackie's upraised feet, just clipping the toe of one boot and sending a sliver of its rubber sole flying through the air. Jackie rolled away in the dry grass, just as the front door of the house swung open again, spilling a shaft of light into the yard.

  Agent Romeo Sandoval was framed in the doorway, his eyes wide and his white teeth clenched. Rita wheeled toward him, swinging the razor, which flashed in the spilled light.

  A gun cracked, and red gore spouted from the
woman's back. The impact of the bullet knocked her backward into the grass next to Jackie. Rita's eyes were rolled back in her head.

  Jackie looked back to the door and saw that Agent Sandoval held a black Glock. Smoke curled from the barrel.

  Another shot roared, but it came from Jackie's left.

  El Gűero was sitting up, his face twisted in fury, bits of winter-dry grass clinging to his charred clothes. He held the black .45 in both hands. His booming shot hit the agent in the left knee, knocking his leg out from under him. Agent Sandoval spun around and fell back into the house.

  Jackie rolled over twice, coming up on her knees next to El Gűero, who had paused to admire his handiwork. She punched him in the eye, then grabbed for his gun hand with both of hers, trying to wrest the weapon away.

  He pulled the trigger and the pistol fired skyward. The sudden heat and noise and the movement of the gun's slide all conspired to make Jackie lose her grip. She gave up on taking the gun and went for his eyes instead.

  El Gűero howled as her fingers raked his eyelids. Another shot whined off into the night. Jackie went for the gun hand again, grabbing his wrist this time, burying her short nails in his skin.

  He swatted at her with his free hand, but Jackie ducked her head and the blows mostly bounced off her shoulders. Still holding onto his wrist, she lunged forward, falling across his stomach with her full weight. The air woofed out of him, and she twisted the .45 from his grip.

  He bucked under her, arching his back, tossing her off. They were side by side in the dry grass. But Jackie had the gun now.

  He lunged at her, howling in anger, going for her throat with both hands.

  She pulled the trigger. The .45 roared, blasting him sideways, blowing a hole through his chest and spraying blood across the dry lawn.

  Her breath coming hard, Jackie sat up and looked around. The blond man wasn't moving and neither was his girlfriend.

  Rose Moore was crouched in the doorway of the house, cinching a leather belt around Agent Sandoval's damaged leg. Jackie couldn't tell how badly he was hurt, but his foot was moving, so he wasn't dead.

  Above them, Jackie's mom stepped into view through the doorway. She stood rigidly, looking out into the yard at the carnage. But when she met Jackie's eyes, she relaxed all over and flashed her familiar old smile.

  "You're all right?"

  "I'm fine, Mom."

  "Good. Let's go home now."

  Chapter 64

  Three days later, the door to Romeo Sandoval's hospital room eased open and Jackie Nolan peeked inside.

  "Hello," she said. "Is now a bad time for a visitor?"

  He tossed aside the month-old Sports Illustrated he'd been thumbing through. "Now would be a great time. I'm bored out of my skull."

  She carried her black jacket folded over her arm, and she wore a red cowl-necked blouse and a snug black skirt that reached to her knees. Flat shoes. He couldn't help but notice that she had nice legs.

  "Hey," he said, "I've never seen you like this before."

  "Like what?"

  "You look like a girl."

  Jackie stuck her tongue out at him, but she came over to the bed and plunked down beside him. She set her coat and handbag aside and took his hand in both of hers.

  "How are you feeling?"

  "I feel fine," he said. "They're supposed to do the second surgery on my knee tomorrow, but for now all I can do is lie here and wait."

  "So it would be okay, health-wise, if I kissed you?"

  He felt his own eyebrows shoot up, like he might have to peel them off the ceiling. But he played it cool.

  "I'm told that kissing is particularly good for patient recovery."

  She leaned over him, still holding his hand in both of hers, and gently pressed her lips to his.

  Her lips were soft.

  She smelled like violets.

  When she pulled away, he said, "Wow. What was that for?"

  "For being my hero. For saving my life."

  "The way I hear it, you saved us all after I was shot in the knee. Wrestling the gun away from that guy—"

  She reached out and put a finger on his lips.

  "Don't talk about it. We don't have time to waste on that."

  He smiled at her. "You're in a hurry?"

  "I'm leaving," she said. "Taking Mom with me. The marshals have a place for us to stay."

  "Witness protection?"

  "Just a temporary thing," she said. "While we make sure nobody else is coming after us. I'm telling them everything I know about the cartel and Howard and Duvernay. Then Mom and I are planning to disappear."

  Romeo felt gut-punched. He swallowed and said, "And go where?"

  "I don't want to say. If nobody knows, the cartel won't have any reason to hurt people here, trying to find us."

  "You think they'll keep coming after you?"

  She sighed and looked away. When she looked back at him, she was trying to smile, but not completely succeeding.

  "I get the feeling," she said, "that the cartels take things personally. We killed a couple of their people and burned up a shipment of rifles. They'll remember us for a long time."

  "Let 'em come," Romeo said. "Soon as I'm back on my feet, I'll track down the sons of bitches and—"

  "Stop it. The marshals are waiting for me in the hall."

  She leaned in and kissed him again, longer this time, with more heat. He ran his fingers through her short hair, then she pulled away and reached for her coat.

  "I have to go," she said. "But I didn't want to leave without kissing you. I wanted to carry away the memory."

  "We can do it some more," he said. "I feel there's room for improvement. I'd like to really throw myself into the effort."

  She stood and shrugged into her coat. Then she picked up her purse and turned toward the door.

  "So long, Romeo."

  She stopped at the door and looked back at him.

  "'Parting is such sweet sorrow.' Isn't that from 'Romeo and Juliet'?"

  "Yeah," he said glumly. "I've heard it all my life. But I never really knew what it meant until now."

  She graced him with another sweet, sad smile. Then Jackie Nolan went out the door.