A Man Of Respect

by Remington Kane

  “And they bit off more than they could chew.”

  Caleb nodded at his brother. “I can handle myself.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” Tanner said.

  “They wanted to kill me, but I think they were going to torture me first, to find out if I had any money.”

  Tanner had heard enough. He drew his weapon and shot each of the handcuffed men in the head, then did the same to Jude.

  Caleb blew out a shocked breath, then looked sideways at his brother.

  “You’re not big on second chances, are you, Cody?”

  “It’s a mistake I rarely make,” Tanner said, and as he spoke, he thought of his decision to let Trevor Healy live. That lapse in judgement might have dire consequences if Ordnance Inc. came at him.

  Caleb asked a question, as Tanner assessed the cut on his back. “Where are you parked?”

  “The next block over. They would have heard the car’s engine had I driven any closer.”

  The wound across Caleb’s back wasn’t very deep and wouldn’t require stitches. He had also escaped having a broken nose. As for his left shoulder, it was still numb from the blow it had taken from the bat.

  Caleb’s prints, blood, and other DNA were inside the van and possibly on the men who’d grabbed him. Tanner lifted up each of the bodies and tumbled them inside the van, then he set the vehicle’s interior ablaze. Caleb offered to help, but his left shoulder was still suffering.

  When he was done with the grim task, Tanner began walking back toward the car and Caleb fell in beside him.

  “Thanks for your help.”

  “I’m not sure you needed it, but tell me, would you have let them live?”

  Caleb stopped walking, Tanner did the same, and they locked eyes.

  “I’m not an assassin, but I’ll do what has to be done. No, Cody, they weren’t walking away from here and getting another shot at me someday.”

  Tanner was pleased by Caleb’s answer, and the two Parker brothers walked on.

  18

  Good For The Tummy

  The following morning, Caleb drove his truck as Tanner sat in the passenger seat. The wound across Caleb’s back had been treated, and his nose, although sore to the touch, was fine. The shoulder still ached, and a huge bruise had formed upon it. Considering that he had faced off against three men who wanted to torture and kill him, Caleb wasn’t complaining.

  “What’s the name of this fence we’re going to see?”

  “Jackson Bennett.”

  “How did you make friends with him?”

  “His gallery is the one where Brick tried to steal that tractor-trailer full of stolen goods. I stole it instead, and later I passed it on to Jackson. We’ve helped each other out since then.”

  “He gives you information, but what do you give him?”

  “I’ve helped to eliminate some of his competition by telling the cops about their fencing operations.”

  “What is Bennett like?”

  “Smart, and out to make a fast buck, but I like him, and he’s never lied to me or tried to cheat me.”

  “How would he cheat you?”

  “Not everything I steal from crooks is cash, and Jackson will fence things for me, but only the items I can’t trace back to the original owners.”

  Tanner smiled. “You have an interesting occupation.”

  Caleb barked out a laugh. “Look who’s talking.”

  Caleb knocked loudly on a steel door located down an alley at the Bennett Art Gallery. When the door was opened, a man in a suit peered out at them. He was about fifty and had graying temples. When he saw Tanner, he swallowed hard.

  “What’s going on, Stark?”

  “This is a friend of mine, Jackson; his name is Tanner.”

  “A friend?”

  “That’s right, now let us in.”

  Bennett moved back so they could enter, and Tanner and Stark walked into a storage area.

  “I don’t like this, Stark. Now someone else knows about our arrangement.”

  “Tanner won’t say a word, but I trust him and so should you.”

  “Why should I trust him?”

  “Because I said so, Jackson, and you know you can trust me.”

  Bennett sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want this time?”

  “Information,” Caleb said, then he explained why they were there.

  “That’s the group that paralyzed that young woman, correct?” Bennett asked.

  “Yeah, and I want them. What can you tell me?”

  “I don’t know for certain who they’re using to fence the goods, but it’s not me. I can guess however, given the area they were robbing.”

  “I’ll need that name,” Caleb said.

  Bennett had been staring at Tanner, he then began looking back and forth between him and Caleb.

  “This man is your brother, Stark, yes? Or perhaps a cousin?”

  “What makes you say that?” Tanner asked.

  “I’ve always been good at distinguishing family members. You two share the same mouth and chin, your builds are similar as well, although I must say, I’ve never seen eyes quite like yours before, Tanner.”

  Caleb smiled at Tanner. “I told you he was smart.”

  Bennett held out his hand toward Tanner; after a brief hesitation, Tanner shook it.

  “Your brother is a royal pain in my ass, but he’s also become a friend, look out for him.”

  “He did that last night,” Caleb said, “and I think of you as a friend too, Jackson.”

  Bennett supplied them with the names and locations of two men who might be fencing for the home invasion crew. As Tanner and Stark were leaving, Bennett gave Caleb some advice.

  “Don’t tangle with that crew, Stark. If you locate them, let the cops handle it. They must be desperate men with nothing to lose.”

  “I might do that, but if I get the chance, I’ll rob them first.”

  Bennett laughed. “You’re a thief’s thief, and also their worst nightmare.”

  “I just hope that we get to these guys before they hurt someone else.”

  In Texas, just outside Laredo, Roy Wicks was fighting the urge to vomit as he recovered from his hangover. His partners had filled him in on their plans to rob the elderly couple of their gold. Wicks agreed, only because he didn’t have a better idea.

  They were driving their modified delivery truck toward the home where the gold hoarder lived. Their plan was to strike fast and force the old man to open his safe. They had brought along a black metal footlocker to carry the gold in. They were hoping to leave the house with the thing filled with treasure.

  Wicks raised his head as the bout of nausea passed.

  “I hope there’s a safe full of gold; we’ll need that much money to stay ahead of the law.”

  “You think the FBI knows who we are?” Taylor asked.

  “It’s possible, thanks to that old woman picking up that we were cops.”

  Darren Stepp shook his head. “That’s not enough to identify us; they’ll need more than that. Once we get the gold, we can quit stealing and get back to our lives. I want to go visit my little sister.”

  “What happened to Florida and the fishing boat?” Hendricks asked.

  “That was a fantasy. We’ve been pushing our luck, guys. Once we have a big score, I say it’s time to quit while we’re ahead.”

  Wicks made a sound of derision. “And do what, Darren, go work at some dead-end job?”

  “Maybe, or maybe I can be a cop again somewhere. I liked being a cop.”

  Taylor was driving along a residential street where the homes each had space between them. He slowed as he neared the house that was their target.

  “That’s it on the right,” Taylor said, “the white house with the green trim.”

  “That’s a small house, Carl,” Wicks said. “Are you sure there’s gold in there?”

  “The dude that told me was their son-in-law, he should know.”

  Taylor continued p
ast the home and parked at the curb six houses away.

  Stepp looked around and made an observation. “This place is dead.”

  “It’s a senior citizens community, so no little kids or teenagers. They probably only leave the house to walk their dogs.”

  Hendricks handed out the ski masks. “Are we doing this or what?”

  “Yeah,” Wicks said. “Remember, we go in hard and fast.”

  “And don’t hurt anyone,” Stepp added, causing Wicks to turn in his seat and grab him by his shirtfront.

  “Hey, asshole, that woman who broke her neck was an accident. I wasn’t trying to hurt her.”

  Stepp held up his hands in apology. “I didn’t say you did; I just want us to be more careful.”

  “It sounded like you were blaming me.”

  “No, Roy, it was a freak accident, now get your hands off me.”

  “It was an accident, remember that.”

  “All right, all right, damn but you get mean when you drink.”

  Wicks let Stepp go, but not before giving him a shove.

  “Sherry said the same thing once. I’m not mean; I’m just not taking shit from anybody.”

  Taylor slid on his mask, then placed the truck in gear.

  “Enough, Roy. Let’s go get rich.”

  Thomas and Marlene Dwyer were in the middle of preparing to eat a late breakfast. They were in their seventies and had lived in their home since they were twenty-one-year-old newlyweds. Marlene had kept her slim figure and dyed her hair brown. Thomas had little hair left, save for the fringe of wispy white strands that still clung to his scalp.

  Wicks and his crew broke in through the home’s rear door, frightening the old couple. They were seated at the kitchen table dressed in worn clothing. After breakfast, Thomas and Marlene had planned to do some spring cleaning in their garage.

  Marlene let out a scream as Thomas began saying the same word over and over.

  “Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!”

  Hendricks clamped a gloved hand over Marlene’s mouth as Taylor pointed a gun at her husband. In the doorway, Stepp and Wicks were bringing in the metal footlocker.

  “You’ve got gold hidden in a gun safe inside your closet. We want it,” Taylor said.

  “My gold? Who told you I had gold?”

  “Someone with a big mouth, gramps, now get up and start moving.” Taylor gestured with the gun and the old man stood and walked toward the narrow hallway that led to the rest of the house.

  Marlene managed to push Hendricks’ hand aside so that she could speak.

  “Tommy… don’t forget the key.”

  “What key?” Wicks said.

  “You need a key to open the safe… it’s, it’s kept hidden inside a cereal box.”

  The old man stared at his wife. “She’s right, I’ll need the key.” Thomas began walking toward his wife until Taylor grabbed his arm and held him back.

  “Your wife can get the key and bring it here.”

  “No. I have to get it,” Thomas said.

  Marlene stood. “It’s all right, Tommy. Let me get it.”

  Stepp followed the woman over to the cabinets. After Marlene had swung the doors open, Stepp saw that the larder was well-stocked with food and canned drinks.

  There was also a bottle each of rum and whisky on one of the higher shelves. Seeing the whisky made Wicks sweat, as he felt his desire for alcohol increase.

  “Which cereal box has the key?” Stepp asked.

  There were several boxes on the shelf Stepp was staring at. They were mostly sugary concoctions and meant for the Dwyer’s grandkids. Marlene bypassed those and reached up, then back behind the whisky bottle, to grab a red and white box that contained sugarless flakes touting a high fiber content. The slogan on the box claimed that the cereal was, Good For Your Tummy!

  With Taylor keeping an eye on her husband, Hendricks looking out the back door for signs of trouble, and Wicks staring at the whisky bottle, Marlene shoved her hand inside the cereal box.

  BAM!

  The bottom of the box erupted in a shower of wheat flakes, paper, and bits of plastic wrapper. Somewhere in that mix was the .22 slug that ripped a hole in Stepp’s gut. Marlene was swinging the box around to fire at Taylor when Wicks shot her twice in the throat.

  “Marlene!”

  Dwyer wrenched his arm free of Taylor’s grip and rushed to his wife. Her wounds were such that she had already lost enough blood to kill her. Insane with anger, Thomas Dwyer charged at Wicks. He had managed to get his age-speckled hands around Wicks’ throat before Wicks shot him beneath the chin. Blood went in all directions along with bits of Dwyer’s brain. Wicks was temporarily blinded by the gore until he wiped it away.

  Taylor let loose a string of expletives before rushing over to Stepp, who was leaning back against the cabinet with his hands over his midsection. Taylor arrived at Stepp’s side in time to keep him from sliding to the floor.

  “We have to move now!” Hendricks said. “Those shots will bring the police for sure.”

  “What about the gold?” Wicks said.

  “Can you carry a six-foot gun safe, Roy?” Taylor said. “The damn gold is still locked inside the safe and you killed the man who had the combination.”

  “There’s no time for that even if the safe were sitting open,” Hendricks said. “We have to go now.”

  Stepp moaned as Taylor placed an arm around him and led him toward the door. Stepp had been gut shot and was leaving behind a trail of blood.

  Wicks held the door wide open for Taylor to help Stepp through. When he was the last of the robbers in the house, he went over to the cabinet, reached up, and plucked the bottle of whisky off the shelf. As he left the home, he was leaving his shoe prints behind in Marlene Dwyer’s blood.

  19

  A Doctor In The House

  FBI Agent Amanda Eriksen looked down at the body of seventy-three-year-old Marlene Dwyer. Marlene’s right hand was still inside the cereal box and gripping the .22 Smith & Wesson that wounded Stepp.

  Eriksen grimaced as she turned her head to take in Thomas Dwyer’s corpse. A chunk of the old man’s skull was missing, and blood was beginning to dry on the ceiling.

  There was a footlocker near the back door. Examining it by eye, Eriksen could see the smudge of fingerprints on its metal surfaces.

  When her examination of the scene was complete, Eriksen stepped outside while passing by the crime scene technicians and the coroner’s assistant. The hair net, mask, and plastic booties she’d worn went inside an evidence bag, although she’d managed not to tread through the blood or touch any surfaces.

  After joining the other agent who had been assigned to the case, Ericksen spoke in a tone laced with passion.

  “We have to get these guys.”

  Her partner on the case was an agent named Larry Greene. He was a twenty-year veteran of the Bureau and had seen everything twice. He sent Eriksen a nod of agreement then stuck a stick of gum in his mouth.

  “We’ll get them, Amanda.”

  “There are prints on that footlocker. It might belong to our guys. They’ve been known to bring things along to cart items away in. If it’s theirs, we should be able to positively identify them soon.”

  “Judging by how much blood one of them left behind, there’s a good chance they’ll need to find a doctor too.”

  “We need to issue alerts to hospitals and clinics.”

  “I called that in already,” Greene said. “If they show up at a hospital claiming they were mugged, we’ve got them.”

  Ericksen looked back at the house. “The man might be dead already; that was a lot of blood in there.”

  Darren Stepp was lying in the rear of the gang’s small truck, which was parked outside a shopping center that had over a dozen stores, plus a Walmart. Stepp was in great pain but luckily the slug in his stomach had missed his arteries, including the abdominal aorta, or any vital organs. If such had been the case, he would already be dead.

  Hendricks had wante
d to drop Stepp off at a hospital, but Wicks and Taylor fought that idea. If Stepp were identified, it would be just a matter of time until the authorities figured out who his partners were. Hendricks had argued that it didn’t matter since it was inevitable that the Feds would narrow down their search to include them eventually. Still, Wicks and Taylor wanted to avoid being identified for as long as possible. As for Stepp, he wasn’t part of the conversation. He was in too much pain and distress to do much more than moan. The one time he did speak, he indicated he didn’t want to go to a hospital.

  “I’ll be locked up for life.”

  “At least you’ll be alive,” Hendricks had contended.

  Knowing Stepp still needed medical care, the men were considering their options. Before settling on a plan, they stopped to get first-aid supplies. Wicks had volunteered to go inside the store and get what was needed. When he came back, Hendricks saw that Wicks had an underlying motive for going into the store.

  “That son of a bitch. He took the time to stop at a damn liquor store.”

  Wicks had downed what was left inside the whisky bottle he’d taken from the Dwyer home. It had only fueled his thirst. He carried a bag with three more bottles of whisky while sipping from a fourth one. He had also made the trip into Walmart for the medical supplies. Hendricks grabbed the bag from his hand as soon as he climbed inside the truck.

  “Darren is suffering, and you take the time to stop for booze? You’re an alcoholic, Roy, you realize that, don’t you?”

  “The hell with you; I needed a drink. I just killed an old lady back there at that house.”

  “Sure, use that as an excuse.”

  Wicks reddened with anger and was about to reply to Hendricks; however, raised voices from outside the truck caught his attention.

  Beyond the windshield was a couple arguing in the parking lot. The woman was around thirty, Asian, attractive, and dressed in a gray skirt and white blouse. Her boyfriend was holding onto her arm as he attempted to calm her down. He was in his thirties, white, and dressed in jeans and a green polo shirt.