by Freya Barker
The moment he's gone, I find Malachi looking at me.
"What?"
"You are one weird bird," he says slowly shaking his head.
I snort and tell him, "And you wouldn't be the first one to say that."
We just have the food on the table when the first beep announces Caleb's return. Despite knowing it's him, Mal still finds his spot behind the door with his hand on his gun, but as soon as Caleb's car drives up, he tucks it away.
"It's him."
"Okay," I call back from the kitchen, but when after a few minutes I still don't hear anything I look to the front to see Mal intently staring out the little window. "What's up?"
"Dunno. He's just sitting in the car. I think he must be talking on the hands-free."
"Well come sit down. He'll come in when he's done," I suggest.
Shrugging his shoulders, Mal turns away from the little window and comes to sit down across from me, and starts to pile food on his plate.
When finally the front door opens I immediately call out, "Hi honey, dinner's on the table," and only then notice the frozen expression on Mal's face across from me. He is watching the doorway behind me and I finally hear the increasingly loud growl of the dog at my feet. My eyes flick to the reflection in the sliding doors behind Mal and I can clearly see the outline of a second shadow behind Caleb. Fuck.
Aware there is no way to get my gun from the coffee table unnoticed, I feel the edge of the little wooden knife that came in the cutlery set with the diner food under my fingers on the table, and slip it in my sleeve. You never know.
"Well, well, well..."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
"I need the longer ones; the ceiling screws," I tell the young clerk at the hardware store who has pulled out every type of drywall screw except the right size so far. Diving back behind the counter and pulling at the large number of small drawers again, he comes back with another three samples for me to pick from. Been here too long already and I'm getting antsy. I wasn't happy about leaving Katie and Mal home alone to start with, but finding the regular old geezer who owns the place out on an errand and having to deal with this young kid left in charge of the store is seriously testing my patience.
Luckily this last trio of screws has one that looks close enough. I hold it up.
"This one. Give me about a hundred of these. Just to be on the safe side."
Then the counting starts. Sweet Jesus. I don't think the kid's finished elementary school. Every time he reaches twenty, he gets flustered and has to start again. Finally I take the drawer from his hands and say, "Count with me, okay?"
Hearing the irritation in my voice, he simply nods his head. I figure since he only seems able to get to twenty, I count out five piles of twenty and just to make sure he gets it, I clarify that five times twenty makes one hundred. From the fervent nodding of his head and the fact he is shoving them all in a brown paper bag, I'm thinking he's with the program. Thank fuck. I don't think I could've taken much more of this.
Bag in one hand, bought and paid for and my keys in the other, I walk up to the Tahoe on the far end of the parking lot. I click the remote lock and open the door to toss the bag on the passenger seat when I feel the cold steel of a barrel behind my ear. Damn. I wasn't paying attention and somehow walked right into this one.
"Take your gun out between thumb and index finger," I hear behind me, "drop it to the ground and kick it under the truck."
When I hesitate, my mind going a mile a minute he leans in and hisses, "Do it now and don't try anything or you won't be the only one with a bullet hole, esé. Promise."
Looking around me at the relatively busy strip mall I'm at, I know I can't take any chances and do as he says.
When I slide in my seat, my eyes immediately go to the rear-view mirror and I get my first glimpse of Gorge Guzman.
"Eyes forward, pendejo. Let's go."
Feigning ignorance I shrug and say, "Go where?"
"Don't play me. Bring me to your pedazo de mierda brother," Guzman spits out with venom.
I remind myself that although this is not the scenario we had counted on, there may still be a way to turn it around. That is if Gus is still at the house. So I turn the keys in the ignition and start driving toward Cedar Tree.
A few times during the drive I try to pull Guzman into conversation, but each time he cuts me off, getting more and more agitated. I strongly suspect he may be heavily into the shit he peddles from the sweat on his face and the constant twitching of his eyes. Finally giving up I spend the rest of the time working through all different scenarios―most of those involve Gus's presence at the bar. So when I pull into my driveway and I see his Yukon drive towards me on his way out, my heart sinks. I feel the barrel of Guzman's gun sliding between the top of my seat and the headrest and his voice quietly states, "don't even think about it or she suffers."
"I have to acknowledge him," I say, at same time lifting my hand off the wheel in a risky and very uncharacteristic move. I hope Gus catches on, and as if it is the most natural thing in the world, I give him a military salute as his car passes mine on the narrow drive.
"The fuck was that?" Guzman is losing his cool in the back seat, jabbing the barrel in my skull and I'm having a hard time not reacting. "Did you just signal him?"
"Are you a moron? Check behind you. Does it look like he's turning around? Chill out man, if I'd have let him drive by without a wave he would've been suspicious."
I stop in front of the barn and keep half an eye on the door, willing it to stay closed. I hope to be able to avoid going into the house, but I need for Gus to clue in for that. He's taking a fucking long time.
"What are you on?"
"On? The hell are you talking about? I'm not on anything. Shut up, you mother-fucker! You don't know nothin’."
"Come on, man. You're twitching all over the place. What is it meth? Your boss know this? Ernesto aware you're testing the goods?"
A sharp hit with the butt of the gun against the side of my skull has black dots dancing in front of my eyes. Fucking hell. That hurts, but I have to keep him distracted and out here.
"Basta. Dentro... inside, now!"
I think about it; about trying to take him down and damn the risk for me, but knowing the people most important to me are inside and possibly completely unaware holds me back. I can't protect them if I'm dead and even if I manage to take out Guzman, there will always be the threat of Duarte who expects a delivery. No. This can only end one way.
I push the door open and the first thing I hear is the dog's low growl. Katie has her back to me, apparently unaware we have company, but Malachi freezes in place. I just look at him and tell him with my eyes to stay calm. No sudden moves. This fucker is so wired and unpredictable we have to wait for the right moment.
I can tell the moment Katie recognizes the situation, her back goes ramrod straight and she suddenly barely moves an inch. My eyes try to catch hers in the reflection on the sliding doors.
"Well, well, well..." Guzman drawls, eager to play the big man. "Just in time for dinner you say?"
I start moving forward, but he suddenly grabs my shoulder.
"Where the fuck is that dog, I can hear him. That dog comes anywhere near me, he's dead, and your woman too. You! Bitch, put that thing outside. Now."
Katie doesn't move, she just sits there not reacting. In fact, not acknowledging at all. Good girl.
"She can't walk. You that dumb you don't know that?"
Another knock over my head, this one brings me down to my knees and the growling gets louder when the hammer on the gun cocks loudly against my head.
"Get that fucking dog outside now!"
Malachi raises his hands in a defensive gesture, palms out and slowly gets up from the table, walking backwards until he hits the glass door. With one hand groping behind him he finds the handle and slowly slides the door open.
"Blue, come."
The damn dog won't go. Won't leave Katie's side but I can't have her move and turn
into a target.
"Go on Blue. See Mal." I can hear her voice coax the dog softly.
Reluctantly and with the bristles on his neck standing straight up, Blue comes out from under the table almost crab walking to the back door slowly, his eyes never leaving Guzman and he never once stops the insistent growling. The moment he slips outside, Mal closes the door and Guzman directs him away from the glass.
"Come this way, slowly."
There is blood running down my face and stinging my eyes and I'm fighting to keep my them open and my wits about me. Bastard must've torn the skin. Dropping down to all fours, I create distance between the barrel and my skull. Swearing, Guzman hauls back his big boot and plants it firmly in my ribs bringing me down all the way.
Jesus.
Takes everything out of me to stay sitting and pretend I can't get up, but it's killing me. When that son of a bitch kicks Caleb, I can hear the crack of ribs as he drops down.
In the next moment everything starts happening at once; Malachi is advancing on Guzman who swings his gun on him and fires, stopping him mid-stride and dropping him to the ground. He then turns to me. I'm halfway out of my seat, but Guzman is faster and wraps an arm around my waist.
"Where are you going little puta? No big boys to protect you now. All this blood makes me hungry for some pussy."
With his gun under my chin, his hot rancid breath on my cheek and one hand now groping my breast, he starts grinding a hard-on into my ass. Fucking gross. I try to ignore his animalistic grunts and carefully let my secret weapon slide from my sleeve into the palm of my hand. Almost gagging, I make sure I time his grinding rhythm right, knowing I'll likely have one chance, and the next time he rubs his package on me, I twist and pull away a little, plunging the little knife in his groin.
Howling he releases me and makes a grab for his balls, blood starting to run down his legs.
"Jesus, Katie. What'd you do? Castrate him?" Gus walks in gun drawn, with Neil closely behind him. Ignoring him I drop on all fours and crawl to where Caleb is laying blood coating his beautiful face. I'm about to lift his head in my lap when Neil says, "Better leave him the way he is in case of a concussion or spinal damage, honey."
Right.
"Mal?" I ask Neil who is checking him out, while Gus is handling the debilitated Guzman.
"Chest shot, but high close to the shoulder. Alive but struggling."
"Anybody seen Blue?"
As it turns out, Blue and I were the only ones without a scrape. For once.
Neil had been able to drag the dog away from the front door, where he was apparently trying to claw his way in, getting nipped in the process. I never heard a thing, too preoccupied with what was happening inside to worry about any sounds from out there. Safely locked in Gus' truck to make sure he couldn't get in the way, the guys finally were able to make their way in.
Malachi is airlifted to Durango, hanging on and Caleb... Caleb is refusing to go anywhere but follow his brother to the hospital. I can't blame him, but I try to convince him to get checked out first.
"Baby, please," I plead, holding his battered face in my hands. "I promise I'll get you signed out of there as soon as is possible and on your way to Durango, but for me... for us, let them have a quick look at you." I shamelessly grab his hand and place it on my abdomen. I'm not beyond emotional blackmail if it the situation warrants it.
"You don't play fair, little one," he croaks on a sigh, rubbing his fingers slightly over the swell of my stomach.
Bending over the gurney I kiss him gently and with my mouth still on his, say; "I'm sorry," But I'm really not. I'll do whatever it takes.
With a squeeze to his hand and a nod to the EMT's I move back so they can load him up. Gus steps up behind me and puts an arm around my shoulder.
"You ok, honey?"
I nod, keeping my eyes on Caleb.
"What happened with Guzman?" I need to know.
"He's being transported to Durango by ambulance, since his injuries are not life-threatening but he requires specialized surgery. I just got off the phone with Duarte. He knows. It's out of our hands, Katie. Go with your man, Neil and I will take care of things here, look after your mutt."
With a nod, I move to get into the ambulance with Caleb, getting a hand up from Gus, who closes the doors behind me.
Caleb grabs for my hand as soon as I sit down beside him and ignoring the EMT who is scribbling on his clipboard beside me, we focus only on each other.
"Did he hurt you?" Caleb growls beside me.
"Who, Guzman? No, he tried to, but was too hopped up on whatever he had in his system to think straight. I managed to take him down quite easily with Arlene's picnic cutlery," I chuckle.
"What?" Confusion is stamped across his face and I'm reminded he was likely out for much if not all of my confrontation with the creep.
"The only thing within reach was the wooden take out knife that came with the diner order Gus had just dropped off. I waited my chance, and well, I may have castrated him," I tell him matter of factly.
A loud clatter has me turn to look where the EMT has just dropped his clipboard and pen to the floor, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he stares at me in fascinated horror, causing both Caleb and I to burst out laughing. Not so great for Caleb who winces and grabs for his ribs, saying between clenched teeth to the poor paramedic, "Better watch it, her aim's been off for a while now. This is the second man she's maimed for life in as many weeks."
Three fucking broken ribs and a concussion. I wish I could've killed the bastard. Not fighting back had taken every ounce of restraint out of me, but I knew doing so would've been too big a risk. Too much at stake with Duarte waiting to have this man delivered to him alive. I expected to feel some guilt over sacrificing a human being to what was sure to be inhuman torture awaiting him, but I felt little. Not even a twinge of remorse over circumventing the FBI in our dealings with Duarte, since they were more than willing to sacrifice my brother for the sake of their investigations into the cartel. Nothing but frustration remains at being bound to a bed, with Katie sleeping in a chair beside me, waiting to be released so I can go and be with my brother.
"Hey–" Gus's low voice comes from the doorway. "Okay if I come in?"
"Please."
He must've just come from the barn and looks like shit. I'm eager to get a status on my brother's condition and have about a million questions for him.
Pulling up a second chair from against the wall, he sits on the other side of my bed, running a hand over his face.
"Long day."
"Can say that again," I agree.
"Have you heard–" I start.
"Malachi–" he begins at the same time. I nod for him to go on. "is out of surgery. The bullet hit him between the first and second rib, piercing his lung on the left side and nicking an artery, but missing the heart. By the time he got to the hospital his lung had collapsed and he was losing blood in his chest cavity, making it difficult for his heart to pump. They got him to the OR right away where they managed to stop the bleeding, repair the artery and the lung, and retrieve the bullet intact from where it was lodged in the trapezius muscle in the back. Aside from an initial rough patch in the OR, he's expected to pull through. He was lucky, my friend."
Choking back emotion, I swallow hard before I force out a shaky "Thank you" to Gus.
The small fingers lacing through mine on the bedspread tell me Katie is awake and heard every word.
"Hey," her soft voice whispers against my ear.
"Sorry to wake you," Gus apologizes.
"Not at all; we needed to know. As soon as we can get out of here, we'll be on our way."
My little one. For someone who grew up without knowing what family means, she has come in and taken hold of this one like it's all she knows.
"Neil volunteered to drive you, 'cause as far as I know the Rav is still at the shop, right?"
At my nod and Katie's 'yes', he continues. "Before they come kick me out let me quickly up
date you. First off; Blue is fine, albeit a little whiny. Neil is staying at the barn with him, since he went ballistic when we tried to drive off with him in the truck. He won't budge. It also gives Neil a chance to do a bit of clean up. It's a bit of a mess. Next the Feds swarmed in as soon as the calls went out on the airwaves, so be prepared for a visit at some point. The paperwork on this may follow us for a bit to come, but what else is new," he chuckles, but then sobers immediately and takes a deep breath. "Finally there's Guzman; he never arrived in Durango. A call came in to Joe about an hour and a half after they left that a state patrol car had spotted the ambulance just past the 140 turnoff at Hesperus on a dirt road maybe 100 yards from the highway. Both EMT's and the guard were tied up and duct-taped, but otherwise unharmed, in the back of the ambulance. No sign of Guzman."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
"Blue! Where are you! Blue?"
"Sweets, he'll come when he's good and ready."
"Yeah but what if he doesn't come back?"
I chuckle when I spot her pouty lip again; something she's taken to doing from time to time and I can't quite figure out whether she does it on purpose ‘cause I think it's cute, or whether pregnancy hormones have brought out some new and unusual behaviors. Doesn't matter to me, I'll take it either way; it's still cute as hell. Especially on hard-nosed, ball-busting Katie Acker.
Last night she let Blue out and he hasn't been back since. I say he's got a bitch lined up somewhere he goes to visit every now and then, but Katie is convinced he's hurt or caught in a trap somewhere or something. She's been protective as a mother hen over all of us, Blue, me and even Malachi ever since his release from the hospital. I thought she'd cry when he announced he was going back to the apartment over the diner instead of staying with us. His reasons were clear, and apologetic when he saw Katie's disappointment, but he just didn't want our house to be overrun with law-enforcement day in and day out. They have been relentless in their pursuit of answers from him, but there just haven't been many to give and there is little concrete that can be pinned on him other than suspicions and conjecture. Guzman is still in the wind without a trace and none of us knows where the hell he is, although some of us have a pretty good idea who might.