Iron Goddess (22 page)

“Where is my product
, mija
?”

“I told you I'd have Hunter bring it.” She reached into her jacket for her phone. The AK twins raised their rifles in a flash.

Shea took a step back, raising her hands in surrender. “Easy! You want your dope? I gotta call someone in the MC to bring it.”

“Rico, frisk her.”

Rico, one of the AK twins, swung his rifle over his shoulder and patted her down, pulling out her Glock and Eduardo's revolver. He handed the guns to Victor, whose frown deepened. Rico returned to his original spot, AK-47 in hand. Shea breathed a sigh of relief, grateful she still had the knife tucked next to the now-empty holster.

“Happy now?” she asked.

Victor stashed the Glock in his belt, stepped forward with the revolver, his eyes cold and dark. He circled her, reached into her waistband, and pulled out her knife.

Dammit,
she thought.
This is not going according to plan.

“You missed this.” He flicked open the knife and held it up for Rico to see while glaring at her. “Planning to kill another one of my men?”

“A woman's gotta right to defend herself.”

“Not in my house.”

“Fine, you got my weapons. Now if you want your fucking dope, I'll have to make a phone call.”

“If you try something, I will shoot you myself.” He closed and pocketed the knife, keeping the revolver trained on her. “I want Hunter to bring my product. No one else.”

“Fine.” She pulled out Monster's business card, along with her cellphone. It rang three times. Her hand tightened on the phone. If he didn't pick up, things would go downhill quickly.

“Yello.”

“Monster, you told me to call if I needed anything.”

“Sure, but now's not the best time. The MC's lying low at the moment. Is Wendy with you? I can't get ahold of her.”

Shea let a wave of hurt and anger pass before she answered. “Yeah, she is. Annie, too.”

“Oh, thank God. I's afraid something mighta happened.”

“Something did happen. The Jaguars got us and are holding us at their warehouse.”

“What? You gotta be kidding me.”

“If Hunter don't bring back the hex he stole, they'll gut all three of us, starting with Annie.”

“Goddamn fucking Mexicans!” He didn't say anything for a minute.

“Monster, you still there?”

“Yeah, I'm here. Hunter knows where this place is?”

“Yes. And he's gotta come alone.”

“Can you put Wendy on?”

“I want to, but the guy with the gun won't let me.”

“Let me talk to this guy.”

Shea looked at Victor. The corners of his crocodile grin curled as he reached for the phone. “Bring me my product or these
putas
die.” He handed it back to Shea.

“Hello?” she asked.

“You hang tight, girlie. Help is on the way.”

“Thanks, Monster.”

She hung up, heart pounding.
What will happen when Hunter discovers the deception?
Am I swapping one enemy for another? Do I have a choice?

“Who is this Monster?”

“He took care of Wendy after Ralph went to prison.”

“Will he convince Hunter to bring me what I want?”

“If anyone can, it would be Monster.”

“Very well. We wait inside and you will tell me the name of the rat.” He gestured toward the open garage door with her Glock.

Memories of her previous experiences in the warehouse came crashing down on her like fifty-foot waves. She took a step backward. “I'm fine out here.”

“I was not asking,” he said through gritted teeth.

Rico and his buddy raised their rifles, gazing down the gun sights at her. “Move,” said Rico.

Her boots dragged along the ground as she followed Victor inside, the AK twins at her back. Victor gestured toward a couple of chairs along the wall—the same ones they'd tied her and Wendy to last time. Someone had tried to clean up Oscar's blood, but the concrete still bore the brick-red stains, including smudge prints from Shea's boots.

Victor sat next to her, facing her, left arm hanging over the back of the chair. So casual, as if two men armed with Russian automatic rifles weren't standing a few feet away from them.

“So,
mija,
who is the rat in my house?”

“A kid named Eduardo Ortega. Got a tear-shaped tat by his eye. Him along with his cousin Oscar and Tiburón were all working with Sergeant Foster of the Cortes County Sheriff's Office.”

“Angel, tell Eduardo to come up here.”

Angel, the other AK twin, pulled out his phone and spoke with someone in Spanish.

The wrinkles on Victor's face deepened. “Why should I believe you?”

“I will show you.” Shea cautiously pulled out Oscar's phone, pulled up the call history showing the calls made to Willie, and handed it to Victor. “Oscar made these calls before I took his phone.”

Victor dialed the number and put it on speaker.

“Reyes, where the hell you been?” asked a familiar voice.

Victor's eyes met Shea's, but conveyed no emotion. “Oscar is not here. Who is this?”

“Sergeant Foster of the Cortes County Sheriff's Office. Who the hell's this?”

“Wrong number.” Victor cut the connection. “What does this prove?”

“It proves I wasn't lying about Oscar working for Foster. As for Tiburón, I killed him last night.”

“You what?”

“He and Foster kidnapped my niece and cut off her ear. When I tried to rescue her, he attacked me. He got what he deserved.”

“Hmmph. And how does Eduardo figure into this?”

“A couple hours ago, Eduardo tried to sell me back the motorcycles they stole from me.” Shea decided to leave out the part about his plan to help Wendy. “That revolver's his. Nice engraving work, by the way. Remind me when he gets here to ask him where he got it done.”

Victor examined the engraving, then popped open the cylinder. Five pinkie-sized bullets slid out and pinged off the concrete. He kicked them under the table and flicked the gun closed.

Eduardo pulled up in his purple Monte Carlo. When his eyes met Shea's, his jaw dropped. “What's she doing here?”

Shea and Victor stood while the skinny teenager approached.

“This nice lady was kind enough to return something you lost.” Victor handed Eduardo the revolver.

Suspicion crept into the kid's eyes as he accepted the gun. “Uh, thanks.”

“She also says you are working with the police.”

Eduardo raised the revolver and pointed it at Shea. “She lying,
jefe
.”

Victor, cool as ice, approached the kid. “Why you sweating,
mijo
? Is there something I should know?”

“
Jefe,
you know me!” His voice squeaked with fear. “I wouldn't ever betray you.”

“Oh,
mijo
! I believe you.” Victor put a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.

Shea's stomach knotted. Her plan was backfiring. Perhaps she underestimated Victor's loyalty to his crew. “Ask him how I got his gun.”

“Eduardo?”

The young man grew increasingly restless. “It's not what you think.”

“I grabbed it from him after he tried to sell us back the motorcycles he and Foster stole from my shop.”

Eduardo glared at Shea, eyes hooded, then at Victor. “It's not true.”

“Tell me the truth,
mijo
.” The consoling parent was gone. The sociopathic gangster was back.

Eduardo pointed the gun at Victor. “No.”

Victor growled and drew the Glock. “Put the gun down.”

The revolver clicked several times. Eduardo's face crumpled with realization. “No,
jefe
!” Eduardo screamed. “You…”

Victor fired. Eduardo fell, a gaping hole where his right eye used to be. Blood pooled around his head and dripped down the side of his face, obscuring the inked tear on his cheek.

“
Mija,
when you shoot a rat, you make sure he's dead.” Victor slapped his chest and set the Glock down on the table. “Never know when someone's wearing a vest.”

Shea's ears were ringing from the gunshot; the darkness swirled inside her. The color drained from Eduardo's face, stripping away the thug and leaving the broken body of a child. She felt the urge to kneel down and cradle him. The roar of an approaching vehicle tore her away from the dead teenager.

“Let's hope Hunter followed your instructions.” Victor walked toward the open garage door as the thunder of the engine grew louder. While everyone focused on the approaching vehicle, Shea eased slowly back toward the table, grabbed her Glock, and held it behind her back.

Hunter's Bronco rounded the curve at the bottom of the hill and raced up the driveway, skidding to a halt on the gravel between Eduardo's Monte Carlo and Shea's bike.

Rico and Angel pointed their rifles at Hunter when he climbed out of the truck.

“Where's my wife and kid?” shouted Hunter, pointing a SIG Sauer at Victor.

Hunter crossed the threshold of the garage and spotted Eduardo's body lying in a puddle of blood. “What the hell's going on? Who is that?”

“Someone who thought he could steal from me,” said Victor. “I showed him he could not.”

“Where's Wendy and Annie?” Hunter asked, looking at Shea.

How will Victor play this?
Shea's grip on the Glock tightened. The jig was up. The situation was about to go bad fast.

“I will give you what you want,
ese
. First, show me you brought what you stole.”

Hunter looked at Victor, then at the AK twins and stepped to the rear of the Bronco. He pulled out the plastic bins he'd taken, set them down on the concrete slab, and kicked them toward Victor. The Jaguar leader popped the latches on the first bin and lifted the lid.

“What the hell is this?” Victor scowled at Hunter, his face darkening. He lifted a package from the bin wrapped in duct tape and wires.

Hunter held up what looked like a garage door opener with a telescoping antenna. His thumb rested on the device's red button. “It's a little thank-you gift.” His voice was cold and monotone.

A strange calm came over Shea as she realized they were all going to die. “What'd you do, Hunter?”

“A little insurance—a bag of screws taped around three pounds of C-4 and wired to a remote receiver.” Hunter extended the antenna on the detonator. “I'll ask again. Where the hell are my wife and daughter?”

“Wendy's dead,” Shea said.

Hunter glared at her, his nostrils flaring. “The fuck you say?”

“Last night when we were rescuing Annie.”

“Who the hell shot her?” His voice grew ragged while his face reddened.

“Sergeant Foster,” said Shea, “the deputy who showed up at the drop house.”

“Fuck!” He pressed his hands to his face, pacing around like a caged animal.

“I'm sorry, Hunter. I really am.” Perspiration dotted Shea's forehead as her eyes stayed glued to the detonator.

Hunter twisted and bobbed back and forth, unable to contain his anguish. He turned to her, eyes blazing, and pointed the SIG at her. “What about Annie? She dead, too?”

“No, she's safe.” Shea brought the Glock to her side. “She's recovering at Cortes General.”

“You fucking lied, bitch.” The SIG shook in his hand.

Shea pointed the Glock at him. “I didn't have a choice. They'da killed me if I didn't get you to return the hex you stole. You wouldn'ta come if you knew they only had me.”

“Damn straight, I wouldn't. Why would I save your perverted, rug-munching ass?”

“Hate me all you want, but this is your fault.”

“My fault? How in the
hell
is this my fault?”

“You're the one who stole the Jaguars' dope.”

“You stupid bitch. You stupid, stupid bitch.” The pain reflected in his eyes was burning through his sanity like a wildfire. His face was bright red and shiny with sweat. His finger trembled on the detonator's trigger.

Shea resisted the urge to shoot him, fearing he could still set off the bomb. “Put down the detonator, Hunter, and go home. Everybody lives.”

“That's bullshit. Wendy's dead.” He closed his eyes and took long, slow breaths. When he opened them he pointed the SIG at Victor. “And your boys down the road are just itchin' to kill me. Call them off. Tell 'em to go home. Then I'll leave.” His voice resonated with a sudden confidence that set Shea on edge.

“Put down the detonator, and I will do as you ask.” Victor took a step toward Hunter.

Hunter shook his head. “No way. I'm done listening to your lies. All of y'all. Now call off your boys, or I will blow us all to kingdom come. Ya got me?”

“Okay,
ese
.” Victor inched toward Hunter—a jaguar stalking its prey. He pulled out his cellphone, held it up for Hunter to see, then dialed a number. “Emilio,
prepárate para venir aquí, por favor.
”

Shea didn't understand much Spanish, but something in Victor's eyes told her he wasn't calling off his fellow Jaguars.

“In English, motherfucker!” insisted Hunter, his voice hoarse but commanding.

“Emilio, go back to the house.
¡Andale!
” Victor enunciated each word, then hung up. “Satisfied? Now you are free to leave.”

Hunter pointed the SIG at the AK twins. “You two, put down your guns.”

They looked at Victor, who shook his head. Victor's voice turned icy. “It is time for you to go, hombre.”

“I ain't leaving here empty-handed, you fucking beaner.” Hunter whistled a call. Red laser dots appeared on Victor and each of the AK twins. Hunter laughed. “You screw me; I screw you. How 'bout that? Guess neither of us can be trusted.”

Victor's frown twisted into a bitter mask of hatred. “You were told to come alone,
pendejo
.”

“Deal with it. Tell your spic buddies to drop their weapons.”

“This is my house. I give the orders here, not some
pinche gringo
.”

From the woods, a gunshot shattered the relative quiet. Angel cried out and fell. Bullets shot from his rifle in random directions as he went down. Hunter disappeared on the far side of the Bronco.

Shea took cover behind a shelving unit filled with fifty-pound bags of cornstarch. She stayed low, keeping an eye on what was going on. Ten feet away, Rico fired several rounds into the woods, ripping through leaves and trees.

Another volley of bullets came from the woods, hitting Rico in the chest. He stumbled and fell next to Angel's body.

Victor picked up one of the AK-47s and ducked behind the parked forklift. “I gave you a chance, Hunter. All you had to do was return our product.” He fired several rounds on full-auto at the Bronco, putting holes in the windshield and hood. Hunter returned fire.

From the woods, Mackey, One-Shot, Monster, and several other Thundermen emerged, all armed with assault rifles. They took up positions by the edge of the garage door and joined Hunter in shooting at Victor.

“Goddammit.” Shea's plan, like so many of her previous plans, had gone to shit.