“Slade, you fucking prick,” Nolte called out. “Why am I not surprised to see your ass here?”
“Hey, Nolte,” Slade announced almost casually and without care. “Didn’t recognize you. Doing something different with your hair?”
“You’re a funny man, asshole,” Nolte replied while lacking the humor of his fellow hitman. “Been waiting a long time to put a bullet in your ass.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Slade called back.
“How about we kill each other later?” Nolte called out to Slade. “I can think of a million reasons why we should work together.”
Slade considered the comment. “I accept your terms,” he announced.
Both men turned their weapons on the two men in the middle and fired rapidly at them. When the men took cover, Slade slid over his car's hood and leaped onto the other side closer to the two men. Nolte stepped out from behind his car as well. They descended upon the two men and fired several shots into them, killing both. Nolte and Slade then turned their weapons on each other and remained silently staring while keeping their guns aimed. There was a tense moment. Both men then chuckled and lowered their weapons, seeming to relax.
Nolte indicated the woods. “They ran into the woods that way,” he informed him. “We’ll need to go after them on foot.”
Slade nodded and replaced his empty magazine with a full one. They stepped over the two dead men between the cars, aimed their weapons into the woods, and made their way past Kirk’s borrowed brown vehicle. Both men were surprised when they heard Slade’s car burning out in the loose dirt. They spun with their weapons aimed and saw Slade’s dark blue sedan making a tight circle, creating a large dust storm as it pulled away.
“Motherfucker!” Nolte cried out in anger.
As the dust settled from Slade’s car, Zack could be seen standing on the old roadway. He dropped the pin to a grenade and tossed it beneath the gray car behind them. Both men cried out and ran for cover. As the gray car exploded, Zack threw a second grenade beneath Nolte’s black sedan. He then ran for Kirk in Slade’s borrowed, dark blue car. The grenade exploded, taking Nolte’s black sedan with it. Slade and Nolte leaped to the ground and took cover from falling debris. Once the debris settled, both men looked up and stared in silent disbelief as Kirk and Zack sped away in Slade’s car.
§
Nevada downed the last of her coffee while driving along the remote back road. Her eyes became heavy, and she nearly ran off the road despite the afternoon sun beating in on her through the windshield. She jerked awake and groaned loudly while rubbing her tired eyes. Nevada saw an out-of-the-way motel up ahead.
“Bates Motel it is,” she muttered and turned into the parking lot of the small, three-roach motel.
The motel, consisting of a row of cabins, wasn’t much different from the abandoned motel where they’d first found Marco. This one was in slightly better condition, but not by much. At least the windows weren’t boarded up, and the porch wasn’t falling apart. Nevada parked the car off to the side of the office so it wouldn’t be easily seen by anyone passing through. She then headed for the office attached to the first cabin. She entered the office and found an older man sleeping behind the desk with his feet propped up. Nevada hit the bell on the desk with a little more vigor than necessary. The man jerked awake and nearly fell from his chair. His near fall amused her. The man quickly stood and managed his best, weary smile at the attractive woman.
“Afternoon,” he announced somewhat cheerfully.
“I’d like a room for the night,” Nevada informed him and placed fifty dollars on the counter. “Will that cover it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he announced. “It’s actually only--”
“Don’t care,” she muttered. “Just give me whichever room has a comfortable bed and a hot shower.”
He handed her the old-fashioned key on the keychain to cabin number one.
Nevada eyed the key and groaned. “I know how this movie ends,” she muttered, then took the key and glared at the older man. “I don’t want to be disturbed. If anyone comes looking for me, I wasn’t here.”
The older man nodded almost knowingly. Nevada left the office and headed for the first cabin. She unlocked the door, entered, and bolted the door behind her. Nevada glanced around the ‘no frills’ room. It was about as bland as a motel room could possibly get. It looked more like a ‘charge by the hour’ sort of place. The furniture and bedding seemed as old as the motel itself. The carpeting had large, colorful patterns on it, or it was possibly just stained from years of neglect. Nevada didn’t even bat a lash at the condition of the room, apparently, having seen many like it in her day. Nevada removed her boots on the way to the bathroom. She started the shower then pulled her cell phone from her pants pocket.
She was about to toss her cell phone onto the bed when she noticed there was a missed call, which had apparently gone straight to voicemail. The number on the caller ID was from the hotel in Maine, where she had been more or less living the past few weeks. Nevada hesitated a moment, then switched the phone off ‘airplane mode’, and pressed in a code, allowing the message to play.
“Hey, Nevada,” the familiar male voice announced. “It’s Kane. Not sure if you’re coming back before the ‘mob convention’ in a few weeks, but Scorpio wanted to move you and Hayden to the third floor, so all the convention guests are together on the second floor. Call back and let us know if this is a problem. If we don’t hear from you, we’ll assume it’s okay and move your things for you. Talk later.”
Nevada tensed while listening to the message. She drew a deep breath, held it a moment, and was about to press the call back button. She hesitated, then frowned, thinking better of it, and tossed the cell phone onto the bed. She removed her pants before heading into the bathroom. A few minutes later, Nevada nearly fell asleep standing beneath the hot streams of water within the shower. A faint clunking roused her. She jerked awake and listened a moment. Despite not hearing anything, she grabbed the towel from overtop of the shower curtain bar and wrapped it around her wet body. She didn’t bother turning off the water. That would take away the element of surprise if there had actually been someone in her room. She quietly stepped out of the shower wearing her moderately wet towel, stood alongside the mostly closed door, and listened a moment. The sounds of someone moving around within her motel room was enough to spur a reaction.
She took a quick step to the sink, opened a folded towel on top, and removed her semiautomatic. She clutched the gun in her hand, threw open the bathroom door, and stepped into the bedroom doorway with her weapon aimed. Quinn and Rowen sat at the small table near the door and removed hamburgers from a fast-food bag. Neither man bothered looking at her as they tore into the hamburgers.
“Hey, Nevada,” Rowen announced, seeming more interested in the hamburger than the wet woman wearing only a towel. He didn’t even look at her.
Nevada eyed both men and sneered. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?” she demanded hotly while keeping the weapon aimed at them.
Quinn finally glanced at her with an almost innocent look on his face and indicated the take-out bag. “Late lunch,” he announced, then hesitated to take in a sweeping eyeful of her in the towel. “Looking good, Nevada.”
“Don’t worry,” Rowen replied and only briefly glanced at her. “We brought enough for you too.”
“I should shoot you both,” she snarled.
“But you won’t,” Rowen replied while eating and paying little to no attention to her.
Nevada sneered and lowered the weapon. She snatched her discarded clothes from the floor then glared at both men, who continued eating.
“You’d better save me some damned fries, or I’m killing you both,” she muttered, then disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Once she’d dried off and dressed, Nevada joined the men by the table. She dug into the bag and removed a carton of French fries. Nevada flopped onto the bed, picked at her fries, and glared at b
oth men.
“What are you doing here?” she again demanded. “And did you bring me a drink?”
Rowen extended a soda and straw to her while Quinn held up a flask. Nevada eyed both, then snatched the soda.
Quinn frowned and returned the flask to his jacket pocket. “It was worth a shot.”
Rowen stood, turned his chair, and sat in it backward, facing her. “Rumor has it you were in pursuit of our million-dollar baby this afternoon.”
“Are you surprised?” Nevada demanded while raising her brows. “Every bounty hunter has Marco in their crosshairs. Why wouldn’t I be one of them?”
Rowen grinned and chuckled deep in his throat, amused by her words. “Oh, sweetheart,” he announced. “We’re not stupid.” He then hesitated and cast a look at Quinn. “Well, Quinn is, but I’m not.”
Nevada’s eyes narrowed while glaring at Rowen. “Don’t call me sweetheart,” she snarled.
Rowen held his hands up defensively and smiled. “Sorry,” he replied, then lowered his hands. “We know you have some divine wisdom on this one. Giovanni is good friends with Sal Romano, and Sal Romano always liked you.”
Quinn chuckled almost knowingly and spoke with a mouthful of food. “Got a real hard spot for you,” he teased.
Nevada glared at Quinn. She wasn’t amused. Despite being a moderately handsome man, Quinn’s unrefined manners left much to be desired.
“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Rowen snapped at Quinn. “What’s wrong with you, boy? Ain’t you got any manners?” He then looked back at Nevada and resumed what he was attempting to pass off as charm. “You share the same problem as the rest of us. Too many interested parties.” He then pointed between him and Quinn. “Quinn and I are combining our forces, and we want to include you. A three-way split is still a lot of money.”
“I don’t need your help,” Nevada informed him.
Rowen snorted a laugh and shook his head. “No way you’re bringing Marco in on your own,” he insisted. “You’ve seen what’s out there. Holy hell, they’ve got themselves a helicopter.” He leaned his elbows on the back of the chair and met her gaze. “Ain’t none of us bringing that boy in, dead or alive, all by ourselves. You need us, and we could sure use you.”
Nevada stared at Rowen a long moment and seemed to consider what he said. Quinn finished his hamburger and turned in his chair as well.
“I may have some inside information,” Nevada finally announced.
Rowen and Quinn suddenly grinned and laughed.
“It’s not going to be easy, though,” Nevada insisted. “Giovanni sent men to protect him.”
Quinn removed a wrapped hamburger from the bag and tossed it to Nevada. She caught it and eagerly tore into it.
“Tell us everything you know,” Rowen remarked.
“I’ll give you the short version,” Nevada replied while eating the hamburger. “First, I need a few hours’ sleep.” She then eyed them suspiciously. “How did you find me?”
Rowen grinned, stood, and spun his chair around facing front. “I’m a lot smarter than I look,” he informed her. “I have trackers on more than a dozen cell phones of my competition.”
Nevada made a face and eyed her cell phone on the bed. “When I turned it on to check my voicemail--?” she muttered and raised a brow.
“We just happened to luck out that you hadn’t gotten that far from our location,” Rowen continued.
“Actually, I’ve put on quite a few miles,” she remarked, although she didn’t offer him any details. “Turned out it was just a very large U-turn.”
Chapter 25
Hawthorn and Wilson were still zip-tied within the old barn in their compromising position against the support beam. Hawthorn repeatedly sawed his zip ties against the support beam behind him.
He groaned while panting and gave up. “We’re going to be here all night,” he snarled. “Your turn.”
“Okay, this obviously isn’t working,” Wilson announced while attempting to control her growing hostility. “I have another idea.”
“I’m willing to try just about anything at this point,” Hawthorn grumbled.
“I have a knife in my boot,” she informed him. “I’m going to lift my foot up. If you hold it, I might be able to reach inside my boot and get the knife.”
“Well, that would certainly speed things up,” Hawthorn insisted. “Why didn’t you think of that earlier?”
Wilson met his gaze and appeared offended. “Your constant bitching may have interfered with my ability to think clearly,” she snarled.
Hawthorn groaned and shut his eyes, allowing his head to fall against the beam behind him. “Okay, fine,” he muttered. “Let’s try working together a little more.” He seemed to consider something, then suddenly smiled and laughed.
Wilson glared at him through squinting eyes. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“This is the longest we’ve ever been this close without trying to kill each other,” he remarked.
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Yeah, well, I’m killing you after we’re free.”
“Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” Hawthorn insisted and met her gaze. “We can work together just this once. Why fight each other? We have plenty of other people to fight on this. The only reason we’re in this predicament is because we were too busy fighting each other. Had we been working together, they never would have gotten away.”
Wilson stared into his eyes a long moment and seemed to consider what he was saying. “I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but you’re right.”
Hawthorn grinned and chuckled. “See,” he announced. “We can get along.” He then gave a nod. “Toss your foot up.”
Wilson pressed her body against his for balance and swung her leg up and around him and the pole. His hand grazed the leather on her boot. She groaned in frustration.
“A little higher this time,” he insisted.
Wilson swung her leg up and around him and the post, giving a little extra rise to her booted foot. Hawthorn caught her boot, maneuvered her foot in his hands, and firmly held onto the heel. As Wilson reached for the top of her boot, her zip ties strained against his. He cringed in discomfort.
“Just a little further,” she groaned. “I can feel the handle. I just need to get my fingers around it.”
“Just do it,” he insisted.
Wilson tugged against his zip ties and gripped the handle of the knife with her fingers.
“Okay,” she announced. “Don’t let go. I need to slide my leg through your hand in order to remove the knife from this angle.”
“I have it,” he insisted. “Just don’t drop the knife.”
Wilson pulled the knife from her boot and breathed a sigh of relief. She turned the blade and carefully slit through the plastic zip tie. She then moved around the pole behind Hawthorn and freed her left wrist as well. She hesitated a moment, rounded the pole, and met Hawthorn’s gaze. Her look was sly and somewhat unpredictable.
His eyes suddenly narrowed despite the mild horror on his face. “Don’t you dare,” he snarled.
She smiled almost mockingly and played with the knife while taking a step closer to him. Hawthorn sneered in anger and fought his restraints.
“I kind of like you this way,” she cooed while giving him a quick once-over.
Wilson seductively slid the knife blade down his jacket without taking her eyes off his. Hawthorn sneered while staring at her playful but mischievous look.
“Wilson--” he snarled.
She maintained her devious grin, then lowered her mouth to his and aggressively kissed him. Hawthorn tensed, uncertain of the psychopath’s intentions. While kissing him, she slipped the knife behind the post and cut the zip ties binding his wrists. Wilson broke off the kiss and pulled back just far enough to mock him with her smile. Hawthorn glared back at her, not amused. He violently knocked the knife from her hand, grabbed her by the throat, and spun her around, slamming her against the support beam. Wilson gasped wi
th surprise but didn’t defend herself. Hawthorn sneered while staring into her eyes. He then kissed her while pinning her body with his against the post behind her. Wilson returned the aggressive kiss while swiftly slipping him out of his jacket. He was barely freed from his jacket when he just about ripped her shirt off her. She resumed kissing him and aggressively threw her legs around his waist. Hawthorn caught her beneath her buttocks, spun her around, and just about tackled her to the nearby pile of hay.
§
After their wild but brief romp in the hay, Wilson slipped back into her shirt while standing not far from Hawthorn, who sat on one of the bales of hay and hurriedly laced his combat boots.
Wilson glanced at her watch and then frowned. “They got more than an hours’ head start,” she remarked while picking up her discarded knife and replaced it to her boot.
Hawthorn stood, found his semiautomatic on the ground partway across the barn, and replaced it to his shoulder holster. He then glanced outside the wide, main entrance where the barn doors had been demolished.
“They stole my car,” he muttered, then looked back at her. “What kind of shape is your car in?”
“The wheel wells are clogged with corn stalks,” she informed him, “but once we remove them, it’ll run.” Wilson then frowned. “Any idea how we locate them now?”
“It’s obvious they were just a decoy and knew about the tracker someone had placed on the chopper,” Hawthorn remarked as they left the barn together.
“I’m sure the trackers been disabled by now,” Wilson muttered. “After they had their fun leading us on a wild goose chase.”
“That means we’re back to square one,” Hawthorn scoffed. “We need to hack into the computer at that airfield and check the flight log for that helicopter. See if we can figure out where they were heading.”
“Then we need to return to the airfield,” Wilson remarked as they walked along the overgrown, dirt driveway in the direction of Wilson’s abandoned car. “Let’s just hope we can find some information on that helicopter.”
Witness Protection 9: S.N.A.F.U. Page 19