She spoke rapidly fast, but slipped and said the person's name she was talking to. C-Note. Numbers didn't hear her at all. He was too busy trying to figure out where he was going to go after this.
C-Note wanted Numbers dead because of Miguel's death so he could take over his spot in the underground ring of hackers.
But Polly had another reason for wanting Numbers dead. She disconnected the call, not taking her eyes off of him as he moved to and fro, putting some ID cards in his bag as well.
Numbers powerwalked over to his front window. For the first time in a long time, his confidence dissipated. He had a bunch of cops at his house and they have blocked his path so he can't leave out.
He heard a helicopter above his house. The light from it shone through his window. He ran and ducked behind his dresser, looking out at his bag he left on the bed.
"Dammit!" he growled, going to retrieve it. He didn't want to get shot. He hurried back over to his dresser and sat down, breathing hard. His phone chimed with a notification from the news. It was a breaking news report. The national news had his and Brennan's old mugshots on the news already. They mentioned them being wanted in several crimes including illegal hacking, kidnapping, and murder. They showed Paul Hirsch's picture along with mentioning his female acquaintance.
"That stupid little bitch Hillary. I should've let Brennan put a bullet in her brain when he had the chance. I wanted those damn files so bad though. Damn! I gotta get out of here!" Numbers hollered.
"I just need my laptop," Numbers said to himself out loud. Getting up from behind the dresser, he went to his door to go downstairs. He opened it and came face to face with his own Desert Eagle from his bag.
"Bitch? What are you doing? Get the hell outta my damn house! I'm warning you or else!" he shouted.
"Or else what? You'll brutally kill me like you did Miguel Ortega?" she hollered. Tears were streaming down her face. She held fast onto the gun she swiped while Numbers peeped out of the window.
Numbers held his hands up. "Hey you little slut, I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.
She motioned him back inside with the gun. "Oh yes, you do Numbers. You're part of a big organized hacking ring and my brother was so desperate for money that he joined. When he made one mistake, you brutally murdered him. I have the tapes."
Numbers stared at her incredulously. He wanted to choke the shit out of her tanned neck, but he couldn't risk getting a hole in his head from that gun either. He glanced at her forearm, missing the tattoo with initials PO on them. He swore under his breath, his patience getting the best of him.
"You ruined my entire family. Miguel was the man of the house. Our father had a stroke last year and he is unable to work so Miguel took over," she said crying.
"You kill people for what? For fun? You could have easily given Miguel a chance. And those others on the news. You're a low down dirty dog. You and your English partner. When I'm through with you, I will be putting a bullet through his brain as well. Oh and I'm taking your money since you so conveniently left the door to your safe open," she hissed, keeping her finger on the trigger. She thought back on when Miguel taught her how to shoot at age twelve. She would be forever grateful for that.
"So here I am, exacting revenge for Miguels's death. You are a pathetic piece of shit coke-snorting loser! I hate you! Die!" she shouted, letting off a shot.
She missed. Numbers dove into her, knocking her down on the ground. He punched her in the face repeatedly, dismissing her muffled cries for help. He placed his hands around her neck, choking the life out of her, but she put up a good fight. Polly Ortega was strong, but not as strong as Warren "Numbers" Squires, Jr.
"You stupid bitch, you should've shot me when you had a chance, no one cares about your life stories," Warren snarled. He took Polly's head and banged it against the nightstand repeatedly, keeping one hand wrapped around her throat. Her cries for help went faint until her body went limp.
Numbers tossed Polly's dead corpse over to the side like it was a bag of trash.
Chapter Fifty-Three
We all heard a gunshot go off and I wanted to go inside so bad. I looked up at the helicopter circling around. Lance Steele, Crime Reporter, was reporting live in the winter night sky. He had a hashtag going on his social media pages that said, #LetRodneyGoNow!
I went and stood next to Officer Stevens, a swarm of cops, some state troopers, and the SWAT team. This felt like I was back in the city only I wasn't in the lead this time. I had to remember I was still on administrative leave.
The sergeant used a bullhorn to lure Numbers out of the house.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP! WE WANT TO HELP YOU KEEP EVERYONE SAFE!"
We waited for another five minutes, but Squires never came out.
"Shit, this is crazy. What are they going to do?" I asked Officer Stevens, trying to mask my impatience.
"I don't know, but we want to make sure that if Squires is in there, he doesn't harm anyone and that includes himself," he said evenly. He walked off from me going to his team.
I felt alone, frustrated and helpless. Lance wasn't by my side. Mom and Dad were still not here. I looked to my right around toward the side of the house. Two state troopers were manning the area.
I don't know what made me do it, but I figured it was worth a try.
"Excuse me? I believe you two are who's needed up at the front to help with the SWAT team," I said, lying a little bit. In all reality, the SWAT team didn't need any more help, they were a team of their own. But they were needed up front to have extra hands.
"Really? Okay, we'd better go then," the shorter one said.
I watched them go to the front of the house then turned my attention back to the door. I needed to move quickly in case they came back.
I took my Timberland boot and kicked through the door, not realizing it was going to lead to a space down below. I fell through it down the stairs, tumbling down them, hurting my back and shoulder. I didn't care, I needed to do this on my own. Struggling to stand up, I looked back up through the hole at the evening sky and went through the door. Fortunately, it was unlocked. I locked it back, making sure no one could come in behind me.
I had to admit, this was one big house. It was three times the size of our cabin house. The land itself was sprawling from what I could tell. Once I navigated through the hallway with my gun out in front of me and phone flashlight, I came to a halt. I heard a CLICK sound behind me, and I unmistakably knew what it was. Whoever it was, they pointed the gun at my head.
"Drop it, bitch!" the guy who had to be Numbers seethed. I turned around to face him.
Yup, it was him, just like in his mugshot only this time his hair was wild and all over the place.
I did as I was told because I didn't want him to shoot me. I also wanted to hear what he had to say.
"So you must be Warren Squires, Jr., aka Numbers," I said evenly, putting my hands up. He kept the gun pointed directly at my face. I held my phone up as a light in the tight hallway. I looked down at his attire. "Nice uniform," I said with a smirk. He was wearing his old Navy uniform as if he was going away on deployment.
"Shut up bitch!" he growled, moving closer to me. I didn't flinch but kept my eyes on him the entire time.
"You know taunting your brother James Perkins was a long time in the making. How is he by the way? Should be closer to death, thanks to me," he asked with a fake smile.
"Not good, no thanks to you," I said in an angry voice. I was letting him get to me, but I needed to fall back and let him talk so I could distract him as much as possible, pick my gun back up and light his ass up.
He laughed like he was the Joker. "Really? Hmm, let's see. I don't know how that could be considering he is the one who made my life a living hell!" he said eerily calm.
"How so Numbers? He was just doing his job. If the roles were reversed, you would've done the same thing. You respected the Navy and-"
"And I don't respect it now!" he hollered, rus
hing closer toward me with the gun still aimed at my forehead. He grabbed my head, squeezing it with his thick hand. I almost forgot I was still healing from the concussion, but I would deal with that later.
"Okay, okay, I understand. Let's talk about this. First, tell me that my nephew Rodney is alive and safe," I said in a negotiating tone.
"I can't answer that, but I will tell you this. He's not built for this game, but of course, you already knew that. After he hacked into my files and stole from me, I wanted him to feel the same treatment. How it feels to do something to someone when they are in trouble. He is the same as his father which is why I had to take him out!" Numbers seethed in my ear.
"Numbers, I can help you. If you turn yourself in, you could get immunity for all that you've done, if you give up the names of the plug. The hacker ring you work for and the shadow brokers you sell illegally stolen data to," I said calmly.
"Bitch, please! I'm crazy, not stupid!" he said with a sadistic fit of laughter. He wouldn't let go of my head, breathing hard in my face. I stayed cool, wondering if breaking in here was such a smart idea after all.
"All of this could have been avoided had Rodney never hacked into my system. He is a nosy prick just like his dad. They were so busy snooping around my desk when they should've been working like a real man, a real sailor," he hollered, puffing out his chest. He released my head with a shove and kept on talking.
"James made me out to be a loser just like my father used to tell me. I hated him. He was horrible to me and to my weak ass whiny ass mother. Very arrogant and sociopathic. He didn't have a care in his bone about anyone but himself. That's why I killed him, Nina Westbrook, my own father. That's why I killed Mom. And guess what?" he asked me as if we were playing Jeopardy.
"What is that?" I asked, swallowing hard, afraid of what I'd hear next.
"I enjoyed it. Just like I enjoyed hearing how my sidekick Brennan ran you off the road, rammed his truck into your little bartender friend's truck and taking Rodney out of your house right underneath your detective's nose."
He circled around me slowly, still aiming the gun at me. "I enjoyed every bit of killing people who crossed me. Those who took advantage of me when I looked out for them. For example, Bly. The dirty cop everyone loved. He was a soft ass, trying to play hard. He went out like a sucker. I had to off his wife, pretty as she was, but so what? She couldn't stay alive knowing I was responsible for killing her husband!"
There were several muffled hard bangs on the door I had locked. "Open up! It's the police! Come out with your hands up, NOW!" one of them yelled.
They would eventually get inside the house, but what they don't realize is how to get down to the underground level though.
I decided to wait until Numbers was in a vulnerable state to try to wrestle my gun back from him. With his back slightly turned, I waited until he turned around all the way and high-kicked him in his nose. His head snapped back, but he bounced right toward me.
"Ahhhh! I'm going to kill you!" he bellowed, his eyes going feral.
Before he was able to pounce on me, I ducked from a punch swinging my foot around so that he'd trip. His gun now skidded down the hallway floor.
"Bitch!" he snapped, trying to get up to flip me over, but I was faster. I landed on his back and repeatedly punched him in the back of his head and neck. The coward had the nerve to cover up his head to avoid my hits. He got up, but I stayed on his back, digging my fingernails into his eyes. My martial arts and boxing classes were coming in handy.
"Aarrghh!" he screamed in a high-pitched voice. He tumbled backward into a wall, forcing me to slide off of him. I fell, losing my footing, but without taking him down with me again. I straddled him while he tried to recover from my eyeball digging. Giving him several chops in his throat, he choked, his head lolling to the side.
"How does it feel? Huh? Get up you fucking punk!" I gritted, giving him blow for blow in his face, ears, eyes, throat, chest. I didn't care, I was taking all my anger and frustration out on what this animal did to my family and countless others.
He gathered the strength to knock me off of his chest, coughing and gagging, trying to breathe for air.
"When...I...get my hands...on you...I'm going to kill...you," he hissed, spittle flying out of his dirty mouth.
I was out of breath, but I wasn't finished. My entire body was on fire, but I didn't care. I wanted him to feel how I felt.
"Yeah bitch, try it," I said with a chuckle. "Get your bitch ass up!" I screeched.
I yelled out for Rodney but I didn't get a response. I repeatedly yelled for him while Numbers struggled on one knee to get up. I really put that work on his ass.
"Stupid...bitch," he can't hear you because he's dead!" he hissed, laughing at the same time.
Just as he was about to leap for me again, I spotted my gun. Seeing red, I leaped for it, but so did Numbers.
However, I was quicker.
Sliding toward it, I grabbed it, turned on my back and pumped his hideous body full of bullets.
He fell backward.
Chapter Fifty-Four
I guess the sound of the gunshots alarmed the police and the SWAT team.
"We're coming in!" they hollered, storming through the door upstairs. They used a battering ram to bash the door open, but that didn't work.
"We're going to use an explosive!" I got up to secure myself away from the powering of the door being blown up. A few seconds later, the doorway exploded. A herd of cops burst inside the house which was fully secured with a bulletproof door. They had to blow it up.
My ears were ringing, but I realized Warren was still breathing, lying flat on his back from my gun's riddled bullets. I reached down to his dress blues Navy uniform and ripped open the jacket. He was wearing a vest.
"Son of a bitch!" I yelled, about to hit him in the face, but this time he was faster, grabbing a fistful of my hair. He pulled out his knife from underneath him. I tried to grab it from him but he held fast onto hit, lifting his head up and headbutting me on the side of my head where I had my concussion.
I was a bit dazed but still held on to where I was able to keep tussling for the knife. Laying on top of him which made me cringe in the back of my mind, I grabbed the knife, cutting my hand.
With a few more grunts and rolls on the floor, we fought over the knife. I was on my back this time and Numbers held the knife up in the air, ready to bring it down to my chest to send me to sleep forever. I held my arms upward, screaming, "No!"
Just then, the police stormed through like a stampede. "Drop your weapon!" They let out a shot, but he grabbed me up instead, draping me in a strong chokehold with one arm. I struggled against him, feeling myself going to sleep.
But I had one more card to play.
I took every ounce of strength I had and elbowed him in the groin area.
"Ahhhh! You stupid cunt!" he squealed, dropping the knife.
I picked up the knife and stabbed him in the arm repeatedly. He's lucky that's the only place where I stabbed him.
I felt a pair of hands lift me up in the air. "Let me go! I'm going to kill him! He tried to kill us! He said my nephew was dead!" I screamed, my voice going hoarse. I was breaking down, but I had to hold on.
The police jumped all over Warren "Numbers" Squires, Jr. and arrested him.
As they handled Warren, I stood off to a corner and broke down crying. I am tough, but I'm also human.
"He can't be dead! Stevens, please tell me he isn't dead!" I cried out.
"Mrs. Westbrook, please calm down!" Stevens screamed out. He held onto me, trying to calm me down.
I pushed him out of my way and went further down the hallway. I yelled out for Rodney repeatedly. I refused to accept that this psychopath murdered my nephew. My mind quickly went back to the way Miguel Ortega was taken out by Numbers and I screamed louder.
"Rodney, Rodney, Rodney! It's me, Aunt Nina, where are you, baby? Please come on out, you're safe now!" I yelled out.
Stevens and t
wo more officers followed me. Stevens was about to say something to me when I heard something.
It was a faint banging.
I screamed out for him again. "Rodney, Rodney, Rodney! Is that you? Where are you? Please tell me where you're at! I'm coming to save you!"
I ran down the hallway with Stevens and his colleagues on my heels. At the end of the hallway, I noticed there was another level to the house. I went down toward it and ran down that hallway, too, until I reached a door. I could hear the banging louder now. It was still muffled, but I knew it was relevant.
I kicked open a door that wasn't bulletproof like the one upstairs. Running downstairs, I had to cover my nose from the bad scent that wafted in my face. Turning on the light, I saw a half-incoherent, pail and frail Rodney. He was lying down near another doorway. That's how I was able to hear him.
"Rodney? It's me, Aunt Nina. You're safe now. Can you hear me? I asked, tears flowing out of my eyes.
I didn't wait for an answer from him. I hugged him and held him like a baby in my arms. The same way I used to do when he was a baby.
Stevens and the other cops came running down the stairs and stopped with guns drawn, looking around the room that looked like a dungeon. Stevens' eyes landed on us and he put his gun away.
"Tell EMT to get the paramedics to come and help!" Stevens said, ordering the other cops. They ran to go get assistance.
Rodney cracked a smile at me. "Yes, I can hear you loud and clear now."
I was so happy that I found him. I gave him a kiss on the forehead, smoothing his hair down.
He then fainted in my arms.
Chapter Fifty-Five
A couple of hours later...
Brennan was in his low-budget hotel room that he paid cash for pacing back and forth.
"And it looks like the police have a suspect in custody. From what the police have told me, there is only one suspect acting alone in the house. We haven't received any word about the status of hostages." Lance Steele reported on the ground level. Brennan had been watching the entire time, also monitoring social media. The pictures of him and Numbers were splattered all over different news outlets and had even reached CNN.
I Know What I Saw Page 23