by Martha Carr
A closely shaved head rose slowly above the other side of a display case, followed by wide, red-rimmed eyes and a gaping mouth. The man—probably in his late twenties—registered both the knife and the gun. “Shit!”
He scrambled away from the mess he’d made when he destroyed the display cases and a handful of gold and diamond-encrusted watches dangled from his fist.
“That too,” the bounty hunter snapped as he raced around the other display cases to cut the man off from the front door.
“Man…” The thief stared at the knife, then glanced at the door and raised both fists in a loose, sloppy fighting stance. “I don’t…I don’t wanna have to hurt you, man.”
“You won’t.”
Without responding, he hurled the handful of watches at Johnny and darted across the shattered glass toward the door.
The dwarf ducked the jewelry, snagged a designer purse with a thick chain of silver links off the stand, and raced after him. In almost slow motion, his quarry stumbled over his own feet with a cry before he barreled into him from behind and brought him down in a solid tackle.
“Fucking get off me, man! I didn’t do anything!” The young man kicked his legs weakly as Johnny pressed his full weight onto his back.
“That’s not what it looks like, pal.”
“Aw, fuck. My legs, man. You’re hurting me—”
“I ain’t on your legs, shithead. Shut up.” The bounty hunter flipped his knife closed, thrust it into his belt, then grasped his captive’s wrists and pulled them roughly behind his back. He knelt on his arms to pin him down and ripped one side of the purse chain from the leather. “You got no business tryin’ to steal from—”
Without warning, the prisoner stabbed a broken shard of glass into his captor’s thigh and sliced both the dwarf’s flesh and his own hand. He grunted and lost his balance and the thief squirmed out from under his knees and scrambled to his feet. The man hissed and his injured palm dripped blood across the floor.
Johnny growled and leapt off the floor as he ripped the other side of the purse chain out of its expensive stitching.
“FBI! Freeze!” Lisa shouted and raised her gun.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” The man raced to the door. Before she could fire a warning shot, the bounty hunter whipped the heavy chain and cracked it across the back of the thief’s head.
His target cried out, lurched forward, and yelled again when he rammed him sideways with a shoulder. Both of them fell against the center display case beside the door, shattered the glass, and broke the shelves where the gemstones nestled in shiny little boxes.
“Woah, man! Hey!” His quarry shrieked when the dwarf grasped the back of his jacket and hauled him off the broken case. “What gives? This isn’t your—”
Johnny’s fist connected with his face and he fell on the glass-strewn floor.
Lisa stepped forward, her weapon still raised. “Johnny—”
“I got it.” The bounty hunter knelt on the prisoner’s back again and jerked the man’s flailing arms together even harder.
The thief screamed. “You’re gonna break my arm, asshole! I only need—”
“Stop runnin’ your mouth.” With a growl, he wound the purse chain around his prisoner’s wrists and pulled it tight, eliciting another shriek. Satisfied, he tied it off with a tight knot and shoved the man’s face against the floor. “It might not be my store but I’m here. You chose the wrong day and the wrong shop.”
He slid his hand into the man’s pockets and pulled out two more watches, a pair of quarter-carat diamond earrings, and a thick bracelet of silver links.
“Aw, come on, man. I only need a little—”
“You need to shut up before I crack your skull open.” He set the jewelry on the broken shelf of the display case beside them and went through his prisoner’s pockets again. “You break in here and take the least expensive stuff? What, did you think Wallace wouldn’t miss a few lower-end pieces?”
“Who the fuck is Wallace?” the thief shouted again when Johnny pressed his cheek harder against the floor as he pushed to his feet.
“You’re not very good at this, are you?”
The man squirmed on the ground and bucked against the very effective purse chain. He sniffed and scratched his wrist vigorously with the opposite hand. “I only needed a little, man. You don’t need to bring the fucking feds into this.”
“Watch it,” Lisa said and stepped toward them over broken glass. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll call it in.”
“Naw, don’t bother.” The dwarf pulled his cell phone out and scrolled through his contacts until he found the gnome’s number. “We’ll let Wallace take care of this idiot.”
“Man, come on.” The prisoner coughed and squirmed. “You already took the jewelry. Let me go. I didn’t do anything.”
Johnny typed a text to Wallace: Sorry about the display cases. Put it on my bill. Bag of trash in your shop needs to be taken out.
He sent it, shoved his phone into his pocket, and nudged the thief’s ribs with the toe of his boot. “You stabbed me. That ain’t nothin’, asshole.”
“I can’t go to jail, man. Come on. I won’t last two days in there. Hey! Hey, where you goin’?”
The bounty hunter tugged the shard of glass out of his thigh and tossed it on the floor, then strode to the back counter to retrieve the case of Crystal-magic formula. Lisa trained her gun on the thief until her partner marched past them both and shoved the front door open. The bell jingled. “Maybe Wallace will give you enough time to rethink your choices.”
“Dammit! Come on!” The thief wriggled furiously to escape. He panted and scratched his wrists and for some reason, seemed unable to stand.
Lisa stepped outside and the front door closed behind her with another jingle as she holstered her weapon. “He’ll probably get up and walk out, Johnny.”
“Naw. Wallace will come pick him up in a minute.”
“He’s busy with the lab—”
“Did you see that bastard’s eyes?” He eased the case through the open window onto Sheila’s back seat and jerked the driver’s door open.
“Wallace’s?”
“No. The wannabe thief.”
She climbed into the passenger seat and strapped her seatbelt on. “What about his eyes?”
“Red. Watery. Sunken. The guy couldn’t keep his balance even to escape, and he was scratchin’ himself through the damn chains.” Sheila’s engine roared to life.
“What? Do you think he’s sick or something?”
He slipped his sunglasses on and shifted into reverse. “That’s probably what he calls it. Have you ever seen a junkie jonesin’ for a fix?”
“Shit, Johnny.”
“Some of ʼem will break into anythin’ they can get their hands on.”
“So why didn’t you call the local PD?”
Sheila jerked when he shifted into drive but fortunately, he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the adjacent road at a sane speed. “I don’t need a pat on the back, darlin’. Wallace will deal with the guy. He’s been down that road and made it out on the other side. And if that idiot shows his face ʼround here after that, he’s stupid enough to go to jail the next time.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
They headed away from Marco Island and toward the cabin but at the halfway mark, Johnny turned off the freeway down a side street and pulled over at a gas station.
Lisa glanced at the gas gauge on the dashboard. The tank was still over three-quarters full.
“You want anythin’?” He nodded toward the gas station and closed the door.
“No, I’m good.”
He gave Sheila’s hood a little thump, turned toward the gas station, and disappeared inside.
Two other cars pulled up at the pump—a beat-up, rusted blue station wagon and what looked like an older model of the bounty hunter’s truck. Lisa leaned back in the seat and drummed her fingers on the door’s armrest.
The dwarf returned two minutes later with a bottle o
f water and nothing else. He scrambled into the driver’s seat and offered her the water. “Thirsty?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “No. That’s all you stopped for?”
“Uh-huh.” He placed the water in the cup holder and started the engine.
“Okay, what’s going on?”
“In a minute.” He pulled slowly out of the gas station and didn’t move his head when he glanced in the rearview mirror through his dark sunglasses.
Lisa looked at the speedometer and folded her arms. “You’re going at the speed limit.”
“Yep.”
“Johnny—”
“We’re being tailed.” He draped one hand over the steering wheel and hung the other through the glass-less window and patted the door casually. “That station wagon looks like it came out of the junkyard.”
The agent looked in the side mirror and raised her eyebrows. Sure enough, the rusted station wagon rolled along the freeway about six car-lengths behind them. “Do you know who it is?”
Johnny grunted non-committaly. “It could be anyone. But that POS has been on our asses since we left Jordan’s club. There were three of ʼem in Marco Island.”
“And now there are only two.”
He sniffed and nodded.
Lisa pressed her head back against the headrest and peered into the mirror again. “Did that have anything to do with you parking in the restaurant lot?”
“Maybe.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“I got it.” The bounty hunter pressed a little harder on the accelerator to bring the Jeep a little above the speed limit, then turned the radio on. Pantera blared through the speakers, and Lisa jerked her head away from the grind and squeal of heavy metal.
“Oh, yeah. Scare them off with loud music. Good plan.”
“It works sometimes.” He darted her a sidelong glance behind his glasses and smirked. “Music ain’t for them, though.”
Before she could ask what the hell the music was for, he made a sharp right turn onto an unmarked dirt road. She braced herself against the door and gritted her teeth as Sheila fishtailed across the dirt and kicked up a spray of pebbles and dust. Here we go.
The rusted station wagon slowed like any law-abiding citizen before it made the turn. The driver had even put the blinker on.
Johnny snorted. “They’re tryin’.”
“Or they merely happen to have the same map around town.” Lisa gave him a challenging look. “Are you sure they’re following us on purpose?”
“I am now.”
They barreled down the dirt road that lanced through the thick growth on either side and blocked the sight of the station wagon behind them with a thick cloud of dust. The agent clutched the armrest of the door and stared straight ahead. If anyone else comes driving the other way toward us, one of us will go off the side.
The dwarf coaxed the Jeep to a faster speed and the speakers pumped a dizzyingly fast guitar riff seconds before they reached the end of the road. Sheila skidded to a stop when he braked sharply and parked, but he didn’t turn the engine or the music off.
In front of them, the road ended in a wide dirt lot exactly like his, although the ramshackle shack with a drooping roof on one side wasn’t his cabin. Even the door on the screened-in porch hung crookedly on its hinges. A dozen bright-pink plastic flamingoes dotted the patches of dry grass that still attempted to grow in front of the shack.
He glanced in the rearview mirror again and grimaced as the station wagon bounced along at a normal speed through the dissipating cloud of dust. “All right. Time to get out.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure getting into a standoff outside an abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere is the best idea you’ve had.”
Johnny finally turned the engine off and slid out of the Jeep without taking anything with him. Lisa turned in her seat to look at the station wagon, which was closing on them fast, then sighed and opened her door.
“Stand right there.” He pointed at the grass on the other side of the shack’s dangling screen door. “A little more to the side.”
She took one step sideways. “Are you gonna tell me the plan? ʼCause you must have one.”
The bounty hunter didn’t have the chance to answer, even if he’d intended to.
The station wagon slid to a stop beside Sheila and both front doors opened at the same time. Two huge men in jeans and button-downs stepped out of the vehicle and looked very much like the Everglades locals they’d pretended to be for the last few hours. Except, of course, for the semi-automatic rifles nestled in each of their hands.
“Howdy, boys.” Johnny hooked his thumbs through his belt loops—conveniently close to his knife on one side and the row of explosive disks hooked on his belt.
Lisa steadied her hand and didn’t draw her weapon although she was tempted.
“It looks like y’all took a wrong turn,” the dwarf said casually.
“Nope.” The station wagon’s driver smacked his lips and lifted his weapon enough to aim it at Johnny’s boots. “We’re exactly where we wanna be, asshole.”
“We came to deliver a message,” the other said with a grunt. He tossed his mop of heavy brown curls out of his eyes and swatted at the mosquitos that flitted around his head.
“Huh. Well, I ain’t seen y’all before.”
“We’ve seen you,” the driver said. “So has the man we’re working for. He knows what you’re up to, dwarf. And he says you better drop it before things get worse for you. Because they will.”
The bounty hunter sniffed and glanced at the man’s weapon. “Who y’all workin’ for?”
“None of your fucking business asshole.” The accomplice raised his weapon to aim it at him.
His partner gave him a warning glance. “All you need to know is he has a huge chunk of Florida in his pocket. Real powerful guy.”
“Sure.” He jerked his chin up. “That’s why he sent two thugs in a hulk of metal scraps to come talk to me instead. I reckon I could pull his name up with three guesses. What d’ya say?”
“You don’t know everyone in Florida, asshole.”
The second man sneered. “But we know you. And all your friends you paid visits to today. So back the fuck off and let the big boys handle it.”
“You’re getting in the way.” The driver raised his eyebrows and swung his weapon to aim at Johnny’s chest while he studied Lisa with a smirk.
She frowned at the bounty hunter, who didn’t look at her. He doesn’t simply stand there and take threats like this. What the hell?
“All right, fellas.” He sniffed and nodded. “Tell your boss I don’t like being followed. So if he wants to chat, let him schedule a meeting. In person.”
“You don’t leave it well enough alone, you won’t be doing shit in person—”
Johnny uttered a piercing whistle.
The telltale click of a weapon issued from the darkness of the shack before the door to the screened-in porch flew open with a bang and a shriek. A hunched old Wood Elf stormed out with a sawn-off shotgun in both hands, his wrinkled eyes wide as he fired a round of buckshot at the side of the road. The flamingo closest to the edge of the dirt drive exploded. “Plenty more where that came from, buckos!”
“Shit! What are you doing, you crazy old—”
The resident cocked the shotgun again and fired at the station wagon. A series of holes peppered the hood and sprayed the dirt around it. The accomplice got a round of buckshot in the foot and howled.
“Aw, fuck! My fucking foot! I’ll fucking kill you—”
Another shot followed, the elf’s expression calm and determined.
The station wagon’s still-hot engine hissed when the next shot drilled more holes through the hood.
“Get the fuck in the car!” The driver darted around the open door and threw himself behind the wheel.
“Fucking elf.” His partner limped around the open passenger door and pointed at Johnny. “You stay the fuck away from those properties—”
The old-timer readied his weapon again as he continued to walk forward. “Mine too, ya bastards!”
“Go, go, go!” The passenger door slammed shut as the engine sputtered and growled. The driver stepped on the accelerator with the vehicle in reverse, then spun with a spray of dirt and hurtled down the road while steam billowed from beneath the hood.
The Wood Elf fired another shot for good measure and the vehicle’s back windshield exploded. “Yar! Go fuck yerselves and yer sissy pea-shooters! Come back ʼgain, I’ll make y’all eat this here lead!”
A huge dust cloud rumbled down the road before the fleeing vehicle disappeared.
Johnny burst out laughing. Lisa, who hadn’t moved an inch since the Wood Elf burst out of the shack, turned slowly to look at the dwarf with wide eyes. “That was your plan?”
“It works like a charm, don’t it?” The elf swung the shotgun down at his side and his hunched shoulders relaxed as he winked at her.
“Every damn time.” The dwarf ran a hand through his hair before he stepped forward to shake the old-timer’s hand. “You haven’t lost your touch at all, Ronnie.”
The elf responded with a high-pitched, whistling giggle and took the proffered hand. “Ain’t nothin’ on two worlds gon’ make me lose aim with this’n, Johnny. I thought my days of hearin’ yer damn music blarin’ through my head was over.”
“Not yet.”
Ronnie turned toward Lisa with a wrinkled grin. “Sorry fer scarin’ ya, darlin’. That there look on yer face says ya don’ know if’n ya wanna run fer the hills or slap someone.” He raised his hands with a chuckle. “ʼSlong as it ain’t me.”
“No.” She managed a shaky laugh. “No running or hitting. Not now, anyway.”
Johnny snorted. “Ronnie’s been scarin’ off all the wrong kinda folks think they are smart enough to tail me for a long time. Or make threats.”
“Goin’ on what? Fifty years?” The elf nodded with another wheezing giggle. “Gets ʼem every time. Even when ya ain’t workin’, Johnny, ya know I got yer back. And you got mine, eh?”
“Damn straight.” He patted the old Wood Elf on the shoulder. “But I am workin’ again. At least for now.”