Lucky Flash: A Lucky O'Toole Novella (The Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Series) (16 page)

We parted ways as I eased around the back, gun at the ready.
 
The back door stood slightly ajar.
 
Either they underestimated us in their arrogance, or they were vying for a spot on the Stupid Criminal show.
 
Either way worked for me—being a female in a male-dominated world, I’d learned to use people’s underestimation to my advantage.
 

Keeping my back to the wall, with two fingers I opened the door enough to peer inside.
 
Five guys clustered around a table.
 
Busta’ Blue, three of his sidekicks, Worm, the forger.
 
He looked unhappy and strung-out.

Freddy Mac, one of Vegas’s low-level fences, sat at the table, a jeweler’s eyepiece in one eye, as he held one of Teddie’s treasures to the light.
 
“Man, these are amazing.”
 
He glanced at Busta’ Blue with his non-eyepieced eye.
 
“I’ve heard about these for years—the stuff of Vegas legend.
 
Never thought I’d see them.
 
And never thought I’d have them all together.”

“You got us a buyer in mind?” Busta’ Blue asked as he carefully placed each figurine back in the valise.

I scanned the room looking for Jeremy and Pismo.
 
I didn’t see them.
 
I didn’t like it.
 
Throwing caution to the wind, I eased through the door, using some open shelving to hide.

“Several.
 
But these are going to be hot, real hot.
 
It’s gotta be a buyer who wants them only for himself.
 
I got a guy in Hong Kong who might be the best.”
 
He angled a look at Worm who stood off to the side, rubbing his arms, looking like he was heading for a crash.
 
“You work your magic on these?”

“Man, you got my stuff? I can’t do it without my stuff.”

Busta’ nodded to one of his guys, who pulled a syringe out of his pocket.
 
Worm held out his arm.
 
Everyone seemed fascinated, onlookers at a train wreck.

While they were mesmerized, I slipped around to my right toward a doorway.
 
I had no idea where it led, but I needed to find Jeremy and Pismo before the bullets started flying.
 
Knowing Flash, I didn’t have long.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness.
 
I found myself in a storeroom, shipping supplies on shelving, wooden crates, pallets, and, in the middle, two guys tied in chairs.
 
Jeremy’s eyes followed me as I moved closer.
 
He nodded, one side of his face covered in blood.
 
After glancing back through the doorway, I crouched and ran, then skidded to a stop on my knees, using the two men to hide.

Pismo started to turn around to watch me behind him.

“Straight ahead, Pismo.
 
You let them know I’m here, and you’re the first one I shoot.”

His head snapped forward.

Jeremy had almost gotten himself loose, so it didn’t take me long to free him from the ropes.
 
I hesitated behind Pismo.
 
Should I, or shouldn’t I?
 
No doubt he’d be better tied up—at least then I’d know where he was and what he was going to do.
 
But leaving him a sitting duck when the bullets flew didn’t seem charitable.
 

The crack of a bullet being fired.
 
Glass shattering.
 
I was out of time.
 
I tossed my gun to Jeremy and went to work on Pismo’s ropes.
 
“You mess with me, I swear I’ll hunt you down and your death will be painful,” I whispered in his ear.
 
I felt his shiver as his ropes fell away.

Gunshots sounded as I joined Jeremy by the door, one of us on either side.
 
Crouching low, I took a peek.
 
Worm had slithered down the wall into a heap in the corner.
 
Freddy Mac dove under the table and stayed there, his arms over his head. Romeo had made it inside and was driving Busta’ and his men back toward us.
 
He’d picked one of the men off—he held his knee as he writhed on the floor.
 
I didn’t see his gun.
 
Now three against one, the advantage was turning Busta’ Blue’s way.
 
They had Romeo pinned down behind the front counter.
 

I gave Jeremy a shrug, then launched myself into the fray, hoping Romeo didn’t shoot me.
 
Grabbing a chair, I swung it, using my considerable weight.
 
It broke over the head of the nearest bad guy.
 
He crumpled.
 
The guy next to him spun my direction, his gun pointed at my chest.
 
Jeremy took him out with a shot to the shoulder.
 
He fell, and I finished him off with a kick to the head.

That left Busta’ Blue.
 
He shot at Romeo but missed wide.
 
Then he swung the gun toward me.

“This one’s mine.” Flash shouted.
 
A human torpedo in Day-Glo Pink, she launched herself at his chest.
 

The air left him with a grunt as he went down hard on his back, Flash riding him all the way down.
 
I handed her the piece of chair leg I still held.
 
She hit him once across the temple, then another time just because.
 
I knew how she felt.

Romeo, breathing hard, his gun trained on Freddy Mac, loomed over her. His eyes caught mine.
 
“I ought to arrest you both.”

I played along. “For what?”
 

“Stupidity.
 
What did you guys think you were doing launching into a gun fight with no guns?”

“Ah, kid.” I nudged him with an elbow.
 
“I knew you had my back.”

Flash nodded.
 
“Me, too.
 
Never a doubt.”

Romeo tried to glare at us, failing miserably.
 
“I don’t know whether to shoot you both or hug you.”

“We have that effect on people, men especially,” I said.

Flash nodded, her face flushed with victory as she crawled off of the inert form of Busta’ Blue.
 
“He’s not such a badass now, is he?”

Romeo motioned to Freddy Mac.
 
“Get out of there.”

I grabbed the ropes from the storeroom, and Jeremy, Flash, and I tied up the bad guys while Romeo called the situation in.
 

We’d forgotten about Pismo.

A flash of mismatched colors.
 
A whiff of bad cologne.
 
The hint of nicotine.
 
He dashed by me, grabbed the valise with Teddie’s treasures and ran out the front door.

I stopped Flash as she turned to run after him.
 
“No. This one’s mine,” I said as I bolted after him.
 

The night held an eerie glow from Fremont Street as we pounded down 10
^th
 
Street.
 
I closed the gap.
 
I could hear his labored breathing.
 
Three packs a day took its toll.
 
With each stride, the valise banged against his thigh.
 
The mental image of Teddie’s figurines banging around in there spurred me on faster.
 
My long strides ate up the distance between us. Almost within reach, I made a lunge for him.
 
He planted a foot and careened around the corner onto Carson.

I staggered, but didn’t fall.
 
Head down, I pushed off and ran after him.
 
The crowd in this neighborhood was thin, but up ahead I could see the lights of the Container Park.
 
At this time of night the central area would be packed with people eating, strolling, shopping.
 
Pismo would try to lose himself in the crowd.

The valise pounded against his leg.
 
He switched hands as he ran, throwing a look over his shoulder.

Measuring the distance as I ran, I lowered my head and reached down for another gear.
 
It wasn’t there.
 
The tank was low.
 
My legs churned, running on fumes.
 

I couldn’t let Teddie down.
 
Failure looming spurred me on.
 
My breath came in ragged gasps now.
 
My heart pounded in my ears.
 
I focused only on the valise and wringing Pismo’s scrawny neck.
 
Three strides behind, I was just short when he angled into the Container Park, heading straight for the tall slide in the middle.
 
The crowd slowed him down.
 
As he jumped on the ladder, I grabbed his foot.
 
He kicked off his shoe and me with it.
 

I watched him scramble up the ladder, holding tight to the valise with one hand, using the other to grab the rungs.
 
Following him would’ve been a fool’s game, probably bait he hoped I would take.
 
He had nowhere to go.

Hands on my knees, I watched him as I gulped air.
 
He elbowed kids out of the way.
 
Parents circled the slide below, yelling at him.
 
A particularly irate father elbowed in next to me, bellowing threats at Johnny Pismo.

When he’d made the top platform, he stopped and turned, looking down at me.

“Finally, you figured out how to draw a crowd,” I shouted up to him as I motioned to the gathering throng.
 
“You’ve got nowhere to go.
 
Get down from there.
 
I’ll see the police go easy.”

He held the valise in both hands and gave me a smile I didn’t like.
 
With a big windup, he coiled his body.

“No!” I shouted, every nerve in my body firing, adrenaline flooding my system.
 
The world came into focus.
 
My vision cleared.
 
Thoughts of homicide slowed the action down powering my reflexes.
 
Keeping my eye on the valise, I grabbed the father’s arm.
 
“He’s yours.
 
Kill him if you have to, but don’t let him get away.”

“You got it.”

Johnny uncoiled, stepping into the throw.
 
In slow motion the valise arced over the crowd.
 
Knifing through the gathering, I followed it.
 
Elbowing people aside, I stumbled, staggered, righted myself, following the valise as it arced over my head.
 
A kid stepped in front of me, a small girl.
 
I tripped.

A hand grabbed my arm, steadying me.

Jeremy.

“Get Pismo,” I wheezed as I ran, my eyes glued to the valise.

The valise started down.
 
Three strides as it fell.
 
I launched myself.
 
With a dive, I caught it, then rolled, cushioning it with my body.
 
My breath left me.
 
My vision swam.
 
I clung tight to Teddie’s treasures.

I didn’t lie there long.
 
I gathered myself.
 
A kind gentleman helped me to my feet.
 
People stepped out of my way as I stalked back through the crowd.
 

Jeremy held Pismo by the elbow, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

The valise in one hand, I barely slowed in front of him.

With an elbow to his temple, I dropped Pismo like a rock.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

F
LASH

Slumped down in the chair in the interrogation room at the Detention Facility, Johnny Pismo looked like the loser he was.
 
He’d wanted to see me.
 
Romeo watched through the one-way mirror.
 

Pismo didn’t look up when I pulled out the chair across from him and sat.
 
His hands clasped on the table, his head down, he looked like a whipped puppy, which actually was an insult to puppies everywhere.

“You were never meant for the big time, Pismo.”

His head snapped up, but acceptance slackened his features.
 
Lucky had given him quite a shiner, various shades of dark purple.
 
Personally, I thought she’d gone easy on him, but I was more the vindictive type.

“Want to tell me how all this went down?”

He shot a glance at the mirrored glass.
 
“You and your boyfriend there go easy on me?”

“It’s no fun hurting a guy when he’s already down, although for you I might make an exception.
 
I can’t promise anything for the cops, but I do know if you come clean, make this easy for them, give them some dirt on Busta’ Blue or whomever, they’ll try to return the favor.”

Staring at his hands, his knuckles white, he weighed his options for a moment.
 
When he looked up, he’d made a decision.
 
“Okay.
 
But look, Worm, he’s a victim here.
 
I got him in.
 
We were working it small time.
 
I kept him clean.
 
But Busta’ Blue, when he...” Pismo trailed off, an angry flush creeping up his cheeks.
 
“He knew how to hurt Worm.
 
I’m feeling real bad about that.
 
Got in too deep to get him out.
 
You’ll help with that?”

I nodded, and I could almost feel Romeo do the same.

“I started small, stealing stuff out of vaults.
 
Stuff nobody’d notice was missing.
 
Worm would do the fake and I’d put that one back in the vaults.
 
The gig was working fine.”