“If they are smart they will come at us from the front and back. If they do they are going to get surprised. That rear door can withstand a direct hit by a 67 Ford F100 Truck. At least that is what the man who installed it promised. The front one will get them funneled into a kill zone,” I explained to Royce, as I read it from the file. “Somebody really set this place up for defense.”
“They have the numbers and the weapons,” Royce said. “All we have is home field advantage and one piss ant .38 wheel gun.”
“Not exactly,” I said as I removed the 20guage over and under shotgun from Sam’s old desk. “You will find a box of #4 duck shot in the bottom drawer of the desk.” I had also read that in the file.
“Well it ain’t an assault shotgun, but it is better than throwing spitballs at them,” Royce said.
“Under the desk top is a piece of armored steel. So turn it over and get down behind it. We can keep an eye on them with the video cameras and know where to go next, if we have to chase them down. Remember Royce, I want one alive to make that call.”
“The man we want will most likely come in last or not at all,” Royce said.
“Then we go after him,” I said. If they all come to the front, you go out the back and put that .38 in his mouth.” I said. I can hold them off till you get back.” I had no idea whether I could or not, but I knew I was damn well going to try.
A big black Mercedes pulled into the parking lot. The man who took delivery of our pizza was out of the car immediately, along with two other men. The driver however did not get out. So he was the crew leader. “See where he is Royce? He is going to have his attention on the front door. You slip out the back and around in a big ass circle and come up behind him.”
“Yeah, that’s how I figure it,” he said not at all offended that I gave him the advice. “I do hate to leave you alone though.”
“I’m going to keep them bottled up, but not for long, so get you ass moving now.” I insisted.
Just as I expected everyone came to the front door. They thought they had the element of surprise. One man walked in with the pizza. I let him pass through the outside door then locked it behind him. He was cut off from his crew, even though he tried valiantly to open the outside door. Finally he dumped the pizza box and came through the second door with the 9mm full automatic pistol swinging around.
When he burst through the door, he was obviously looking to acquire a target. I already knew where my target was. I put a full load of #4 duck shot in his face. He pulled the trigger on the pistol as he went down. That would help with my self defense plea, even though I knew that I murdered him.
While I reloaded the shotgun, the two other members of the assault team were working on the front door. I had one shot for each of them, not very good odds, I thought. I did something that would cause most women to vomit, I dragged the body of the first man over to make an obstacle for the other two men to step over. It should be interesting to see their reaction, if the succeeded in breaching the door. I finally opened the front door, since I could not see any movement by Royce. Most likely he was waiting for a distraction.
The two men rushed inside the room and almost tripped over their friend. The half second of shock was what I needed to kill one more of them before they got off a shot. At that point the second one began to shoot into the overturned desk. I reloaded the shotgun again while he emptied his weapon. He didn’t try to move around the desk probably because he was standing in his friend’s blood. He most likely wanted to kill me through the desk to avoid exposing himself.
Unfortunately for him, I heard the sound of his empty magazine hit the floor. I took the chance and popped up over the desk to give him both barrels at pretty close range. Even though the threat was supposed to be finished I reloaded the chopped down shotgun again. I checked the video to see Royce standing by the driver’s door of the car. He seemed to be in charge, but I couldn’t be sure, so I went out the rear door. Sure enough there was a Latino male with both hands firmly on the steering wheel. Royce was looking at him hard while holding the .38 and a big ass automatic pistol.
I got into the back seat of the car, then I pressed the barrel of the 20 gauge against his skull. ‘Get in Royce,” I demanded. Then I turned my attention to the driver. “Get this thing moving mother fucker, or I’m going to splatter your brains all over the windshield.”
“Where,” he asked. “Royce give him directions to the Park. It’s after dark there won’t be anyone but gang bangers there. If a couple of them get caught in the cross fire, we might get a medal.
I stayed quiet until we got to the park. Once we were all stranding by a picnic table at least thirty yards from the parking lot, Royce used a couple of plastic zip tie to secure him to the table. Once he was sitting at the table and harmless, I said to the assassin, “For whom do you work?”
“Fuck you Puta,” he replied. I had expected it. What I didn’t expect was Royce hitting him across the nose with the barrel of his own gun.
“Easy Royce, never go at them when you are angry,” I said it quietly, then I turned my attention back to the assassin. “I assume you are pretty good at your job, so you should recognize someone who is determined not to die today. I need to know who you are working for, because that information might keep me alive. So here is the deal. If you don’t tell me, I am going to make a cripple of you. If I shoot you in the spine, it is worse than killing you. You will be sitting round for the rest of your life dependent on strangers to wipe your ass. So I am going to give you a moment to think about it. No one will ever know.”
“In the meantime Royce give me the .38 and move away from us,” I said I waited about five minutes then I moved to stand behind the assassin. I pressed the barrel of the .38 against his spine. “It’s time to decide. You get only one chance, so make it a good decision,” I suggested.
“I work for Miss Angel Gomez,” he said. “You already knew that.”
“Yes, but who do you report to?” I asked.
“Angel Gomez, she is here now. She is staying at the Brightwood Inn.”
“And is Angelo with her?” I asked.
“Yes they are both there,” he said.
“Now you will use my phone and you will call her. You will tell her that you are bringing Martin’s daughter to her. Tell her that I have a minor injury but that I am alive and not likely to die before I get there. If you do this, I will tie you up like a Christmas turkey. Then I will call the police to come get you. If you do not, I will call an ambulance, because I do not want you to die. But you will never be a threat to anyone again. That I promise you. So decide how you wish to spend the rest of your life,” I demanded.
The assassin decided to go along with me. He made the call, so Royce made a call to Burke. Then I called 911,” There is a man sitting at a picnic table at the downtown park. He is holding a little girl who is struggling with him. Please send someone to help her.”
From the park we drove to the Brightwood Inn. The Brightwood was a small bed and breakfast. It’s claim to fame was that it started life as a tourist court in the 1940s. It had been renovated for the bed and breakfast within the last five years. “They have to feel secure,” I said.
“Yes, probably celebrating the end of any threat to Angelo. Mommy most likely thinks she has it all taken care of again,” Royce agreed.
When we arrived at the Brightwood, I parked outside the property. I was close enough to have line of sight to the cabin where they were supposed to be. I saw Angelo’s BMW convertible and another car with two men sitting in it.
“Bodyguards,” Royce said.
“Yes, now Royce climb into the back seat then roll out the back door,” I said.
“Lucy, don’t do this,” he said quietly.
“Tell Daddy if I kill that bitch, he owes me when he gets to hell. If I don’t, then it’s up to him.” I said it way too calm for someone about to commit suicide. The shotgun was loaded and on the seat beside me. The Glock from the Assassin was in my lap. “Get out Royce.”
When I heard the door close, I put my foot down all the way to the floor and the big car took off toward the little wood frame cabin. As I passed the bodyguard car I emptied the shotgun into it. The heavy Mercedes continued on and rammed through the front door of the cabin. The airbag deployed and I got it full in the face. I was really in bad shape but I managed to free myself. I stood over the bed staring down at the two injured people. A middle aged Latino woman and a teenage boy also Latino. Both seemed to at least be in shock. Before the bodyguards could make it inside I shot them both in the head. I could smell gasoline. Somehow the fuel line of the car had ruptured, I thought then I realized that it was a plastic can of gas they planned to use on my body.
Angel Jo and Angelo were both very dead, but I had no way to ignite the gasoline. Well I guess you can’t have everything. I looked into the eyes of the body guard who was obviously wounded. I heard him say, ”Puta,” then nothing.
“You know I can violate your parole for this,” The state police captain said to Royce.
“I knew it all along, but tell me this, who should I have trusted? A police force still being investigated, or a woman I knew was as honest as Christ himself?” Royce asked.
“Well there are no witnesses to testify to anything, so it would be hard to get a conviction. Especially if your lawyer got the victim’s records admitted into evidence. I have a feeling your lawyer would be Jeff Ayers and if he let you go to jail, I would be shocked.” The captain said. “So Royce go and sin no more.”
Royce got into his cruiser covered with signs, and drove away to deliver a gallon of liquorish flavored corn liquor.
Stay tuned for Silvia Porter deputy sheriff in a rural mountain town.