He believed in the American dream. All he had to do from here on out was work hard and keep his nose clean, and he and Pammy, in time, would be able to write their own ticket.
But it had all gone to hell, because the Bruiser wouldn’t, in the end, let him go. The Bruiser had decided to make an example of him—and hurt him in the worst way possible.
“Baby, I’m gonna get that bastard for you. I don’t worry about sending him to where you are, cause I know you’re with the angels. And The Bruiser is going straight to fucking hell.”
He closed his eyes and filled his senses with his Pammy. It hadn’t been that long since she’d been gone, but for some reason, he couldn’t really picture her anymore. Couldn’t remember how she smelled, or the sound of her voice.
He couldn’t even remember what it felt like to hold her close in the still of the night.
He fought back tears. It felt like the worst betrayal in the world that he couldn’t even remember those things now.
Razor didn’t care if he ended up dead, as long as he took the Bruiser out with him.
He cracked the top off the first bottle of booze he’d lifted, held the glass rim up to his mouth, and drank deeply. He came up coughing, spewing some of what he’d had in his mouth out onto the hay. Not his usual poison, but he’d decided that since this could be his last day on earth, he deserved the best—the most expensive brandy and the most expensive ride. He took another drink and this time, the brandy made a trail of liquid fire down his gullet.
Liquid fire, that’s what I need. I need to storm the Bruiser’s headquarters like the hounds of hell, bringing the flames of hell with me.
“Yeah, right. A flame thrower and a few hand grenades would sure come in handy right about now.” His words echoed in the cavernous building. Of course he didn’t have a flame thrower or a grenade. Hell, he barely had a full clip of bullets.
Razor pulled the Glock 9mm out of the waistband of his pants, and checked the clip. He only had four shots left, so he’d have to make them count. He’d need a lot more firepower to take down the Bruiser and his minions.
Unless he attacked in the dead of night—say, 3:00 a.m. Catch them all sleeping off their meth with booze chaser nightcaps.
He sat up and began to look around, truly seeing his surroundings for the first time. This barn looked old enough to have been around during the dirty thirties—that time in the nation’s history when Americans didn’t rely on the store-bought—if they needed it, they made their own. Fuck, they made their own everything.
He bet if he looked around, real good, he’d find enough stuff that he’d be able to make his own, too.
Tony Razor took one more long drink of his brandy, and then he got to his feet, ready to find what he could find and make what he could make. He hoped the Bruiser enjoyed his evening, because come hell or high water or Tony Razor, it would be his last.
Chapter 20
Jacqui was glad the Sheriff hadn’t ordered them to stay behind.
It had been a simple matter for him to contact Connor Talbot, one of Emily Anne’s husbands, who was a private investigator, and “on patrol.” Connor took a drive somewhere, and then reported back that there was a late model Cadillac parked beside an abandoned barn just on the outskirts of town.
Will drove behind Adam, following him to the scene. Not everyone who’d been in the community center showed up. She recognized the fact that most of the people who did were in law enforcement.
The bounty hunter, Katrina Lawson, had ridden with the Sheriff. She wasn’t sure how they managed it, but Matt chauffeured Nancy’s triplet brothers to the scene as well.
Emily Anne’s other husband, Mel Richardson arrived, along with Peter Alvarez Kendall, and Nancy’s husbands, Eli Barton and Jeremiah Winthrop.
“This is just like déjà vu all over again,” Connor said.
“No kidding. I think I’m with Clay,” Adam said. “When this is over, I think we should revisit the outlying properties and ‘rehabilitate’ them.”
At her look of confusion, Peter said, “This is the same barn where Gord Jessop was held when he was abducted last year.” Then he pointed to his left. “And about a mile that way is where that little SOB Manny Ramirez lured me with my wife as bait, in his quest to kill me.”
“Well, at least with available venues in the area, the nutcases can hole up close by,” Norm said. “What is it about this town, anyway, that seems to draw douche bags and desperados?”
Adam smirked and then jerked a thumb toward Matt. “Blame him. It all started with his wife.”
“Yeah, well your wife was no slouch in that department either, cousin.”
“Why not just go in there? He’s not expecting us. We could slip in and be on him before he even knows we’re there.” Katrina scowled as she looked around at the men.
Jacqui didn’t know the woman, but she was guessing that working in a male-dominated field had given her that bit of edginess she wore like a second skin.
Women often had to be twice as good and twice as ballsy as men in order to even be considered close to competent.
“Maybe,” Adam said. “And maybe the person who tries that isn’t so lucky. So let’s take a few moments to plan this out, shall we?”
“You’re the sheriff,” she said. Rather than push to be beside him, as Jacqui expected she might do, she stepped back and let the big strong feds crowd around him instead.
“For those of you who don’t know, this is what we have inside, structure-wise,” Adam said as he began to sketch out a quick diagram. “It’s an open space, only a couple of half walls from when there were horses kept here—a very long time ago. There’s one window in back, which is semi-boarded up. We haven’t scanned the place since last year, when we had one of our own inside.”
“There’s a fair bit of room to maneuver in, but absolutely nothing in there he could use to fashion an IED. Unless he brought supplies with him.” Connor looked at Adam.
“That seems doubtful, if he’s mentally inside the role of Tony Razor.” Paul Jessop looked down at the drawing. “We did some research once on this kind of mental imbalance. He’s likely only in a temporary delusion, fuelled by drugs and stress. He lost everything, and he’ll never get it back. That makes him dangerous—but it also might make him stay with the role completely for the next while.”
“And in this part of the movie,” Wesley said, “just before the climax where he gears up and unleashes his fury on the Bruiser? He had a vision of his Pamela—that she’d come to him to tell him how much she loves him and how sorry she was that she had to leave him.”
Adam frowned. “No offense, but that sounds like a pretty lame movie.”
Lucas laughed. “None taken. We didn’t write the screenplay.”
“And we won’t comment on the one or two we did write that were just as lame. After all, screenwriters have to eat.” Wesley grinned.
“Okay, so how do you want this to go down?” Eli Barton asked.
“As drama free as possible. Unfortunately—or maybe I should say fortunately—we don’t have a savvy thinker in there with him to distract him while we rush the place. The best we can do is have one of you at the back of the building, gun aimed through that small opening. Carefully, so he doesn’t see you. We need our best shooter there.”
“If Jordan was here, that would be him,” Peter said. “But he’s not, so our best shooter is Jeremiah.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Adam said.
“I can do that.” Jeremiah looked at Adam. “Do you want me to use my Glock 22, or one of your rifles?”
“What do you feel most comfortable with?”
“It’s close quarters, so I’d prefer my FBI issue.”
“Okay, so we need to get from here to there as quietly as possible. We’ll give you a few minutes to get in place behind the structure. We didn’t have time to grab our hi-tech communication accessories, so we’ll have to go low tech, and synchronize our cell phones.”
Matt
snorted. “Cell phones as low tech. Good one.”
“Take a look around, Deputy,” Adam said. “None of us are wearing watches.”
“Welcome to the twenty-first century. Except I read in an article that people over thirty do wear watches. I’m pretty sure some of y’all are over thirty.” Will’s observation made the lawmen smile.
“No comment.” Mel grinned.
As they bantered, the men who were armed, to a one, checked their guns—all except Adam. Jacqui suspected he’d done that very recently.
“Okay, you two and Jacqui.” Adam pointed to them. “Don’t get any closer to the structure than that tree line until we give you the all-clear. The same goes for you guys.” He pointed at the triplets. “Ms. Lawson…” Adam looked up, then around. “Where is Ms. Lawson?”
Everyone looked around them, but couldn’t see the blonde. Then Paul moved so he could see the barn, several yards away and down in a natural hollow. “Damn it to hell. She just slipped inside the place. Is she fucking nuts?” He sounded mad as hell. But if Jacqui had to judge from looking at him, she’d say he was more scared than angry.
So were his brothers.
Adam’s expression appeared guilty—as if he should have known this would happen, and prevented it. He swore. “No, damn it, she’s a bounty hunter.” He pulled his weapon from its holster. “Let’s hope she’s good at what she does. Come on, gentlemen, let’s move.”
Jacqui, with her hands held securely by her men, moved to the point where Adam said they could go. Her attention was focused on the progress of the well-trained men who had but one goal—secure that barn and its occupants as quickly as possible.
“If she comes out of this okay, I’ve a good mind to haul her across my knee and give her a spanking she won’t soon forget.”
“That’ll be hard to do when she’s not even speaking to us.” Lucas sighed. He seemed as tense as Paul. “Let’s send positive thoughts down there, brother. Then when she’s all right, maybe we can fix what went wrong.”
“You’re right. But I think it would be better to start over.” Paul swore under his breath. “I need to chill—and accept that the reason she’s not talking to us is my fault.”
Jacqui tuned out the Jessops, her focus all on the police operation. The closer they got to the barn, the tenser she became.
“Jacqui, it’s going to be all right. The guys have vests on, and they know what they’re doing.”
“I know that.” She did know that. She just didn’t feel that. “Don’t look.”
“What?”
Jacqui blinked. “I just remembered something. Don’t look. That’s what one of the cops said—through the back window. I barely heard him. He couldn’t see me, the window was boarded. He just said it.”
“Maybe he was trying to let you know help had arrived.”
“Maybe.” But it seemed a strange choice of words, “don’t look,” not, “get down.” Not, “stay out of the way.” They must have known where I was, and that I was tied down. And that I could see the other room from where I was lying.
“Jeremiah must be in position,” Will said. “They’ll move any second now.”
And then a shot rang out.
“No!” Jacqui screamed, her knees buckled, and the world went dark.
* * * *
Sheriff’s going to be pissed. So are those three Valentinos. Katrina pushed both thoughts away. It wouldn’t be the first time a lawman wanted to rip a strip off her. Went with the job. As for those three hunks…she pushed that thought away, too.
If you’d been honest with them they wouldn’t have lost it on you before.
Kat told her inner imp to shut the hell up. So, yeah, she likely could have let them know she was working a case when she crashed that party in Malibu. She could really hardly blame them for the conclusion they’d jumped to. She knew how things worked in that town, and knew, just from some of the stories she’d heard, how far some wannabes would go to get their “big break.” She couldn’t deny there’d been an attraction there, between her and the three screenwriters, neither could she deny she used it to her advantage.
An attraction. Right. You got hot and wet for all three of them. So much for always telling yourself you’re asexual.
The truth was that it didn’t matter if she was more attracted to them—all three of them—than she’d been to any man, ever. Her lifestyle and the choices she’d made together weren’t conducive to having a romantic relationship, period. Kat used every bit of will she possessed to shut out her thoughts and focus on the mission at hand. The door to the inside of the barn was ajar, mostly, she saw, because the bottom hinge was broken. Likely from the last op to take place here. Good, that was better. Her thoughts should be only on the situation. The sun’s brightness might be a disadvantage, so she’d have to be careful. She kept her gaze down and her steps as light as possible. When she drew close to the structure, she slowed, and then stopped.
With a quick forward motion with her head, she peeked inside. The perp was there, kneeling on the ground, a bunch of…stuff surrounding him. He was looking at his gun as if lost in thought.
Or falling deeper into his psychosis.
She hadn’t mentioned, when Paul Jessop had made the connection about Rick Wilde living out his role, that she’d already come to that conclusion. She’d been about to but seeing him—seeing all three of them—had temporarily stolen her thoughts and her breath.
After, she’d seen no sense in admitting that when she’d decided to go after him, she’d watched Razor’s Edge.
She’d been around the business enough that she knew what she had to do to get inside that barn. She cast a glance back at the road and all those testosterone-laden cops. She saw them move, saw them looking around, and knew her time was up.
And…action.
She slipped into the barn, focused her eyes on the subject. She catalogued the situation as naturally as drawing in her next breath.
Subject is kneeling on the floor, his gun in his hand, his eyes unfocused. Around him, small piles of hay, in a semi-circle. Flash back to the image in the movie, and those were his IEDs. Subject jerks, and slowly raises his head, looks toward her.
“Tony.” She took one step closer, and hoped it was close enough. “Tony, I’m so sorry.”
“Baby. You have nothing to be sorry for. I let you down. I should have protected you. But don’t you worry. I’m going to get him. I’m going to get that bastard for killing you, for taking you away from me.”
“I had to leave you, my love. It was my time. But it’s not yours. It’s not your time.”
“It doesn’t matter. Whether I live or die, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters without you.”
That was the end of the scripted dialogue. Hurry up, sheriff, we’re out of time. She didn’t move, just waited for a sign of some sort that the cavalry was ready to move.
“You…you’re not my Pammy. She disappeared. You’re still here. You’re not her.”
She’d seen the madness in his eyes. Now she saw something that worried her even more. For a heartbeat of time it seemed as if his gaze cleared, as if he was no longer Tony Razor, vigilante, but Rick Wilde, ego-driven hack-turned-murderer.
He raised his gun, and Kat moved. She took one step forward, and with her other leg kicked out, knocking his gun from his hand. The weapon discharged, and the door burst open.
She didn’t have time to think. She just tackled her subject, pinning him to the ground.
* * * *
“Jacqui!” William caught her before she fell, terror streaking through him. Norm was running his hands all over her body—instinct, she’d collapsed as soon as that shot rang out. But they knew she hadn’t been hurt.
Not physically, at least.
He held her close, and her soft moan reassured him. “Wake up, baby. It’s all right. We have you.”
“Is she okay?”
Will looked over at Paul, saw the anxiety, and understood it had two causes. He was worried about Jacqui
, and he was worried about…his own woman.
“Yes, she wasn’t shot. She fainted. Go.”
The triplets clearly didn’t have to be told twice as they took off, running, for the barn.
He felt Jacqui begin to move. He set her on her feet but held on, just in case. When she inhaled deeply and blew that breath out, he cupped her face.
“Scared the hell out of us, lady. Are you all right?”
She nodded, even as tears overflowed her eyes. “I remembered. When that gun went off it was as if I was right back there, seeing it all over again.” Then she looked toward the barn. “Is everything okay down there?”
“I think so,” Norm said. “Peter just stepped out and waved—I think that was the all clear.”
“We should go down there, then. I’m okay. I need a minute before I tell you what I remembered.”
Will didn’t like it, particularly, but he was curious about what had gone on in that barn, too. Curious? Hell, that slimy little prick Wilde was after you.
And compared to the health and safety of the woman he loved, that came in a distant third. Jacqui Bethune was more important to him than his next breath.
It took a couple of minutes to walk from the road down, across the matted grasses to the barn.
Will thought he’d stepped in to pandemonium.
The brothers Jessop had formed a three-man cadre in front of Katrina Lawson. “Damn it, woman, you could have gotten yourself killed!”
“I knew what I was doing, Paul.”
“And what the hell was that? Risking your life?” Lucas sounded as furious as Paul. Will tried not to smirk. The one of the three most counted on—as their reputation had it—to be calm cool and collected, was anything but.
“My job. I’m a bounty hunter. I apprehend fugitives who’re wanted, and I turn them over to local law enforcement—as I just did now.”
Love Under Two Extroverts [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 18