by Jillian Kidd
“Excuse me,” he said, moving right along.
The snake’s dark eyes stared into mine, and I shook off a minor case of the willies.
Men and women smiled and laughed, carrying and sipping their alcoholic beverages. Triple-X signs advertised strippers inside clubs; sometimes the strippers themselves stood outside, beckoning horny males (and some females) to enter and watch their raunchy little shows.
Roberto was conducting business tonight in a bar called The Golden Sax. Directly across from it was a diner, where I made my perch. There were several balconies on the second floor, where women flashed their breasts for beads, though it wasn’t time for Mardi Gras. Seemed traces of Mardi Gras hung around at all times of the year on Bourbon Street, and people had no problem with it. I took a spot at one of the tables outside, the deafening wail of an electric guitar streaming out blues from the inside. I ordered a glass of water with lemon. The waiter looked at me as if I were nuts. Whoops, my mistake. Ordering water on Bourbon Street was like ordering broccoli in a bakery. Smiling, I told him I was only kidding, and requested a Hurricane.
The Golden Sax had a dark entryway. Neon signs within advertised the latest beer over a long wooden bar. It was a classic bar, a pianist inside banging away as a large black woman belted out soulful tunes. I could barely hear it due to the wailing guitar behind me. Women in the balcony above cheered and flashed their breasts while men below threw them yellow and purple bead necklaces.
But I remained completely focused on the dim doorway across the road.
Then I saw Hitomi. She had Merritt’s walk down to a T. Impressed wasn’t the word. I was mystified by her talents. She stopped right outside of the Golden Sax and flashed Merritt’s ID she’d swiped from him earlier. A man standing at the podium took it and looked at it, and then at Hitomi.
A group of college students, proudly bearing their school’s logo on their shirts, clouded my view for a moment, and I fought the urge to jump out of my seat and tell them to move. But patiently I waited, and they cleared the way.
The host nodded his head and pointed for Hitomi/Merritt to enter a doorway directly behind him, which would lead her/him to the second floor, where Roberto and crew were making their sale.
“Watch for him,” Hitomi had told me earlier.
She was going to get him outside of the bar, somehow, and into my hands. Once he was there, I had two minutes before she called the police. They would storm the place and arrest Merritt and Gerard, too. Everything was going to happen fast. But I trusted myself, which was the best weapon I could possibly carry.
The seconds ticked by like hours, but I kept my eyes on the doorway, unblinking behind my wide shades.
Just when I thought he’d never come out, I saw him.
Oh, yes. That was Roberto. Roberto with his cocky grin and his overly confident walk. I guess he had to make up for being short by radiating self-confidence. He probably thought he was being so slick tonight. Maybe even figured he’d land some good money. Little did he know.
I stood from my chair and dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table. My eyes locked on him, I wove around the tables and the people in the street. I was so close, and he didn’t even see me! I reached for the sword at my side.
Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. A rough hand that spun me around.
I shoved it away and went for my gun instead. When I brought it up to aim, my mouth dropped open.
“Colt?” I practically screamed.
“Mina,” he said darkly. “So I traced your phone. You weren’t in Fort Worth. You were here! Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Listen, Colt, I can’t talk right now, I—”
I turned. Roberto was staring at the both of us. At first he seemed in shock, then angry, and then when he saw my gun, afraid.
“That’s why,” Colt said, pointing to Roberto. “I knew it.”
My brother went for his gun.
“Oh, no you don’t!” I shouted, holding back his arm. “This guy’s mine! I’m not sharing him with anybody! This is personal!”
“Personal, my ass! This guy kidnapped you! I’m the one who’s going to get him, and I’ll friggin’ kill him!”
“No, Colt, you—”
“Mina! He’s getting away!”
I turned and, sure enough, the little coward had started to run up the street. He didn’t have too easy of a time, as it was packed with people.
“Colt, get out of my way!” I shoved my brother hard, and started to run after Roberto. “Hey! You! Roberto! Stop!” He didn’t stop. “You’re going to regret every step you take, you son of a bitch!”
Damn Colt for screwing this up! Now Roberto was going to get away! I glanced to my left and right, expecting my brother to be running right beside me. But he was gone.
“Wonderful,” I muttered. “Show up just long enough to ruin it!”
Roberto jumped over the cones that blocked traffic from the main portion of Bourbon Street then dashed to the right.
He was fast, the little cretin. I didn’t have a clear shot at him. When he dashed to the left into a hotel parking lot, I knew I was in trouble. He was going to get into a car; I just knew it. I was going to kill Colt for this!
I waited, slowing down, holding up my bullet and laser guns to catch him on the way out. I could blast through the windows. There was still a chance.
I had been expecting someone driving fast, so when a black Mercedes hover car slowly rolled out, I didn’t shoot. I didn’t even aim. I figured it couldn’t be my man. The windows were tinted. But when the passenger side window rolled down, I realized my mistake.
Roberto aimed a laser gun at me from the driver’s seat and shot. I dodged just in time, the pavement just behind me sizzling and smoking from the blast. I shot his bumper. And I shattered his rear window, but he floored the accelerator and sped up the street, his body unharmed.
I couldn’t believe it. He was getting away. This wasn’t happening!
But before I could stomp my feet and curse like a sailor, another vehicle pulled up beside me. A black Dodge Charger, to be exact.
“Get in, Sis!” Colt shouted, leaning over to hold the passenger door open for me.
Led Zeppelin music boomed from within.
I swung my head to the right, my long red hair flying. Roberto was still in sight, though getting farther away by the minute.
I took off my shades, put them on top of my head, and hopped into the car.
“How did you get here so fast?” I shouted over the music.
“Psh! You know how I drive!”
“Good point. Are you pissed I lied to you?”
“Kinda,” Colt said, vrooming like a maniac to catch up with Roberto. “But I get it. You wanted him, yourself, and I respect that. I was just worried about you. I didn’t know what to think.” He squeezed the steering wheel with both hands. “But since we both showed up for this party, how about I help you catch the bastard? You can even take all the glory if you want to. But under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I am going to kick his ass.”
“You and me, both, bro,” I said, my hands vibrating from the recoil of the guns and from adrenaline. “You and me, both!”
29
We pursued Roberto, steadily gaining on him as we drove out of the French Quarter, weaving around and over traffic like lighting bugs through a field of grass. Traffic thinned out the farther we got, the streets growing emptier, opening up for the chase.
Colt brought the Charger bumper to bumper, and I reached for my seatbelt so I could lean out the window and get a clear shot at Roberto’s shoulder—I still needed him alive. But before I could unlatch the belt, Roberto did something neither Colt nor I expected: he slammed on his brakes.
Colt’s car smashed into the back of Roberto’s, sending both vehicles to the ground. We didn’t have time to shout—the impact was deafening. The back end of the Charger swung to the left and into something hard. Both airbags burst out, sendin
g noxious rocket fuel fumes into our nostrils. Choking, I moved with fast trembling fingers for the seatbelt and had to use my feet to help shove open the passenger door.
Roberto was already out of his car, the back end of it crushed in, but the front fine. He used his laser gun to shoot the lock off a massive gate and ran into a large area confined within tall stone and iron fencing. A sign read “Lafayette Cemetery.”
Before running in after him, I wrenched Colt’s door open. He held his left arm to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Are you okay?” I asked, breathless.
“Yeah!” he said. “My arm’s numb.” He opened his eyes, and a sense of urgency made them wild-looking. “What are you waiting for? Go after him!”
“But what about you?”
“I’ll catch up! Just give me a minute! Go!”
I ran into the cemetery.
An eerie silence blanketed me as I stood on a worn path that led through the stone city of the dead. The aboveground tombs provided perfect places to crouch behind unseen. Roberto was behind one of them; I was certain. But which one?
I fired up my laser gun and held it out in front of me. Okay, so we were going to play hide and seek. Very well.
Dark trees shaded the ancient graves, stealing much of the moonlight. Where was he? With all the racket we’d caused, someone most likely had phoned the police by now. I had a few minutes at most.
On silent feet, I danced from tomb to tomb, using each as cover in case Roberto were trying to approach me. My heart pounded. I could hear my breath, which seemed deafening in the quiet. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be in the same state as the entombed around me. It wasn’t a comforting thought.
I’d made it to the middle of the cemetery. I froze, listening. There—a twig snapping to my right. I stepped out from my hiding place and shot at the area where I’d heard the echoing ker-pop. Nothing. The grass smoked where I’d shot.
“Mina, look out!” Colt cried.
I spun around in time to see Roberto, originally aiming at me, turn and shoot my brother.
“NO!” I cried, not wanting to shoot at Roberto because Colt was in the line of fire as well.
The rat disappeared behind the graves once more. I dashed to my brother. A smoky hole in his shirt revealed where he’d been hit—his right collarbone.
“Shit,” I said, tears welling in my eyes. “Colt, damn it, why’d you have to come here?”
“He went that way,” Colt whispered, pointing to his left. “Go after him! I’ll make it. Just go after him!”
Biting my lip until it nearly bled, I shoved myself off the ground and raced in the direction Colt pointed me. A shadow moved up two tombs to my right.
“Gotcha,” I whispered, shoving my gun into the back of my pants.
I unsheathed Seigi. The blade was cold and deadly, the diamond edge sparkling. I ran right into view. Roberto saw me and fired. Raising the sword, I caught the blast with the flat edge and blocked it. Two more times he shot, aiming for my head and my legs. With precision driven by rage for wounding my brother, I blocked again, and when I was close enough, I swiped the blade across his hand.
Roberto screamed, dropping the weapon. He cradled his hand, which I’d sliced halfway through, in between his thumb and pointer finger. Blood dripped to the ground, smeared on his clothes when he held it to his chest.
A hard kick sent him sprawling onto his back. His gun was within reach, but he didn’t seem to notice, only let out a string of words in Italian that had to be curses, from the tone of them.
I stood beside him with the blade pointed at his throat. It took everything I had in me not to shove it through his neck. This cretin didn’t deserve to live, the way he stole young women’s lives and sold them like candy to gluttonous swine in the guise of men.
“Who are you? Tell me!” he screamed. “Who are you?”
The blood from his hand bled like tie-dye onto his white shirt.
“I’m a bounty hunter,” I said. “And you’re going to prison for a very long time.”
Then he smiled at me, his eyes glinting with crazy enthusiasm. I stepped closer, pushing the sharp edge of the blade under his chin.
“What are you grinning at?” I asked.
“Bounty hunter,” he said. “A pity. You’d be such a fabulous whore.”
“Only in your fantasies, Roberto. I’d just as soon chop off your overactive dick and shove it down your throat.”
He let out a loud belly laugh. “See? That’s what I mean! A real redhead. So much fire in you!”
“Enough!”
“Or what?” He grinned slyly. “You won’t kill me.”
“I might.”
“Oh, no you won’t. You need me alive for the bounty. Even I know that.”
He was tempting fate, taunting me like that. What was it worth to me, Number 25? I could always find another 25. Accidents happened during the chase. Sometimes people died. Nobody would be the wiser. I could claim self-defense. After all, he’d been shooting at me. And he’d shot my brother. Adrenaline raged through me. I needed to get Colt to a doctor. Roberto giggled, then laughed louder, positively shrieking. The sound of it was seriously getting on my nerves.
Then he suddenly stopped and looked to his right. Stupid me! I fell for it and looked in the direction of his gaze. It took me half a second to realize it was a trick when I felt my feet being kicked out from under me. I landed hard on my back, my gun cutting into my tailbone. That would be a nice ugly bruise in the morning.
Roberto stumbled to standing, retrieved his gun, and shot at me again. I raised my sword to block. He started to run down the main path through the cemetery and toward the front gate where we’d entered. Already far enough ahead to get away, he started to sprint.
I found my feet and shook off the dizziness of the fall and ran after him. He scooted backwards, shooting, and I didn’t even have to block; the shots were several yards off. Spinning around forward again, he ran at an Olympic pace. My legs ached as I tried to catch up to him. He reached the gate. Went through.
He didn’t have enough time to see the van barreling toward him.
The horn blared a frantic cry, and the vehicle attempted a swerve.
But it was too late.
It was an old van, one with wheels, and they made a sickening double crunch as they crushed Roberto to smithereens.
I stopped running then. Stood there, defeated. The sword hung in my hand, crimson-edged with Roberto’s blood—blood that now stained the street.
Sirens in the distance.
Cops.
The van door opened and shut. A couple of young men shouted curses at one another.
Red and blue lights in the distance. The police were close now. They’d handle this.
Numbly, I reached for the phone in my pocket and rang Hitomi.
“Where are you?” Hitomi asked.
I told her.
“Did you get him?” she asked.
I didn’t answer.
“Be right there,” she said and hung up.
The red and blue lights of the cop cars blurred as the vehicles stopped outside of the cemetery. Colt limped up beside me, groaning with each movement. I barely felt his presence.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”
The sirens, still wailing, grew distant to my ears, echoing surreally as if they were in some other reality.
“Ciao, Roberto,” I said quietly.
* * *
Hitomi didn’t say much on the ridiculously fast trip back to the Metroplex—I swear we made it home in less than an hour. She came into the emergency room of Parkland Memorial Hospital in Dallas with us and made sure Colt was taken care of. It didn’t take long before he was raced into the back with a flock of doctors flying around him, checking his vitals, paging employees in the back to ready specific instruments and machines.
Feeling secure that my brother was in good hands, I walked Hitomi to the front door of the hospital. But on the way I sneaked into
the kitchen and grabbed a spoon.
“Do the trick, just for me, one more time,” I said.
Her smile small but amused, she took the spoon. She stared at it, holding it at the base. Then with her free hand, she moved her fingers toward it but didn’t touch it. The spoon bent below the head. I swear, she hadn’t touched it.
“Show me how you do that,” I said.
“Some other time,” she said, handing me back the spoon. “Perhaps as a gift for going Global, when you do.”
I gripped the spoon and used all my strength. With shaky arms, I bent it back. I tucked it into my pocket, walking out through the automatic doors, and under the Texas stars.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, “even though it didn’t work out.”
“It was not a failure,” she said, taking my hands in hers. “I got to see you, my sister, and we brought some criminals to justice.”
Hitomi had phoned the police soon after Roberto and I had taken off. The cops stormed the Golden Sax and had made 10 arrests, not counting Merritt and Gerard, whom the police found wrapped up in the electric rope in their hotel room. Hitomi had given the authorities instructions on how to disable the shock current. The drugged and kidnapped women were identified and sent to the hospital to detoxify, and their families notified. So, yes, all in all, it had been a productive trip.
“Life does not always turn out as you expect, Mina,” she said, giving my hands a squeeze.
“I know,” I said, and I truly did.
“Farewell,” Hitomi said, giving me a hug. I squeezed her small body tight.
“See you soon.”
*
I now stood staring out Colt’s hospital room window and into the morning. I wasn’t staring at anything specific; I was just staring out. I’d been up all night.
The hospital room was full—A.J. and Bryan had brought video games and junk food. Even Colt’s girlfriend, Deirdre, was there. She wore the cat necklace Colt had gotten her. It rested against her chocolate skin. She donned a yellow wrap-around dress, her dark hair dusted with gold and styled into a spunky afro. Smiling lovingly, she spoon-fed Colt some chocolate pudding.
“Don’t do that,” A.J. told her. “He can do it himself. He’s still got one good hand.”