by Bella Knight
Ignacio had always been angry; as a child, he had been called “Maquina de Rabia,” or Rage Machine. For a simple bartender to kill a dangerous man such as that meant she should not be underestimated.
La Diabla sipped and thought of the weapons of a bartender… a baseball bat, sometimes a shotgun. La Diabla had read the autopsy and ballistics reports. Two weapons had been discharged. Ivy’s weapon had been the killer’s weapon. She no longer had her gun. Would she have another? Most likely, a small one, a woman’s gun. She had friends; many had been at the house. So, she should be taken alone.
She ordered dinner, fish in a white wine reduction with dill and chives, asparagus, and brown rice. She relaxed and ate.
Pablo returned. “The club shall be closed for several days. There are no businesses close by. She has not been by her bank. She goes to a club for motorcyles. She has not been there for some time.”
“Very good,” said La Diabla. “Please order what you desire from room service.”
“Very well,” said Pablo.
Miguel came back with more intel. “She was not there. She has married a female and has two children. The other female and the children are not there.”
“Perhaps hostages for later,” said La Diabla. She pushed her empty plate aside. Miguel took it and put it back on the cart.
“I also discovered that she owns the bar with some person named Dolan. She also sends a large amount of money to a ranch. She made her money as a puta.”
“This is legal here in some parts of this area,” said La Diabla.
“I found a single email,” he said. “I printed it.”
He held it out. She took it.
“Stop emailing me here,” it said. “Callie will find out.”
“The person calling himself Ace is the Dolan man.” Miguel smiled tightly.
“Excellent,” said La Diabla. “We may have to kill a second for free. But, it may not be able to be helped.” She smiled at Miguel, a predatory one that made him quail just a little. “Go, eat as you so desire. We shall find these people and kill them tonight.”
“Yes,” he said.
She stretched, then went to the bathroom. She took a long, hot bath, then Lucia dried her hair and braided it for her. She had Lucia rub lotion into her body, aloe so it would be odorless. She slipped on her matching bra and panties and had Lucia help her put on her back holster for her long knife. She put on her ankle holsters, one for a knife and one for her small Glock 26 9mm. She put on the jeans that were just loose enough to hide the back holster, ready to hold her Beretta Nano 9mm. She put on a light gold blouse that hid her weaponry and allowed ease of movement. The gold blouse made her skin glow.
She laughed, looking at herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on one wall of the bathroom. She turned, giving herself a fashion show. She felt ready to kill.
“We have found the man,” said Manuel, as she came out. They had eaten; the trolley was filled. Lucia pushed it out of the door. “The man was seen with his female. Pablo is nearby. We will follow him to the woman.”
La Diabla smiled. “Excellent. Let us go.”
They took an SUV that Pablo had stolen and left for them, and he had smeared the license plates with wet, red dust. Manuel took the heavy traffic with equanimity. He got off the main road, smoothly zipping in and out of traffic. He pulled into a convenience store parking lot. Pablo got in the back, plastic bag in hand. He handed out sealed bottles of water.
“We may be watching for some time,” he said.
“Excellent,” said La Diabla. She watched tourists walk around, even on the back streets. “Where is the target?”
He pointed with his little finger. “The motorcycle club is there. You can see the edges of their motorcycles there. Both have gone in. We will follow her, but I suspect they will leave together.”
Darkness was beginning to fall when several people on Harley-Davidsons went to the edge of town and ate at a restaurant where people drove up and parked, and were served by people on skates or wheeled shoes.
“Strange,” said Manuel. “Americans do not cook in their homes.”
“No love for familia,” said Pablo. La Diabla and Manuel both nodded.
They watched the blonde woman with twisted hair and the man with dark hair, dark eyes, and the hint of a beard and mustache eat together with a large man with sunglasses at a concrete table. They had food they ate with their fingers and dipped in sauces.
“Strange,” said Pablo. “No rice, beans, tortillas, fish, soup.”
“America is a strange place,” said La Diabla. She tilted her chair back, resting while waiting for them to leave.
At the table, the large man in the wraparound shades smiled. “We’ve got eyes on them,” he said. “Hope you know what the fuck you’re doing.”
“Hope we do, too, Spike,” said Ivy, snagging a fry.
“You sure you can get this bitch?” he said, swallowing a slider as if it were a breath mint. “Read her file. Nasty, nasty. Thirty-six kills that we can directly attribute to her.”
“Why does ATF want her so bad?” asked Ivy. She sucked on her lime ice.
“She runs guns,” he said. He swallowed another slider. He took a drink of his enormous frozen lemonade. “What’s not to like? I guarantee that Men in Black SUV she’s driving has guns she’s acquired illegally.” He took another sip of his drink. “She likes guns and little knives. Heard she has a big pig sticker on her somewhere, so watch out for it.”
Ace took a sip of his drink. “How does she kill?”
“That stone bitch likes to do it herself, and close, too, with a handgun. She uses the knife when things get ugly, or if she wants to make a point.”
Ace groaned and Ivy laughed at his pun. “You said there are two more?”
“Her enforcers,” said Spike. “Miguel Flores Sanchez has killed children in front of their parents. He’s wanted by the Mexican police on a variety of charges. We think he goes crazy to impress La Diabla there, Devil Woman. Her Number Two is Pablo Lopez Morales. He has the morality of a cobra. He once sliced his girlfriend’s neck open when he thought she had slept with another man. We’re sure both of them are packing. You both good with the body armor?”
“Didn’t know it came that thin,” said Ivy, stroking the top of her breast.
Ace spluttered. “Damn, woman, wait till we get to camp to start that shit.”
“Planning on it,” said Ivy, eating her last Tater Tot. She ate her last honey barbecue chicken strip and drank the last of her drink. “I’ll take the trash in, and hit the head,” she said. “You-all got a tracker on the car?”
Miko, a member of the Iron Knights, walked by the empty car, carrying a chihuahua, and put the dog down, while simultaneously planting the tracker on the underside of the vehicle.
“Miko did,” he said.
“I’ll be back,” said Ivy.
“You sure your woman won’t kill you? Or Ivy’s woman?” asked Spike, who still had his huge drink.
“We cleared it with them,” said Ace. “Don’t wanna die after surviving the night.”
“You’ll make it,” said Spike. “Despite you being an idiot to do this on the little sleep you’ve had.”
“Gonna be fine,” said Ace. “Better we draw that bitch, as you put it… out rather than let her open fire on a crowded street, or when Ivy is home with Callie and the kids.”
“You’ll do anything for the Nighthawks, won’t you?” asked Spike. The men stood up.
“I’d do anything for Ivy. And, yes, damn right, anything for the Nighthawks. They came through for me and my family. Hell, they are my family.”
“Feel the same way about the Iron Knights,” said Spike. He passed a transmitter to Ace, and Ace put it in his pocket. “The on button is on the left-hand side. Press it and it will record.” He smiled. “Press it after your little shenanigans. No reason the horn dogs need to be kept happy.”
“None whatsoever,” said Ace.
Ivy came back out of the restaura
nt. They shook Spike’s hand, and then they all got on their bikes. Ace followed Ivy because he’d never circumnavigated Henry’s property before. Traffic was heavy, even on the back roads, with people going home and trucks taking the less congested way to their destinations.
Ivy pulled off on the back road, expecting a gunshot to her back. She didn’t relax until they pulled the bikes behind some trees. She led Ace to the changing tent, complete with a lantern that Ivy turned on. They took off their leathers and laid on the fattened sleeping bag. They pretended to kiss as they threw out articles of clothing hidden in the sleeping bag. Ivy unzipped it and laid down on it. Ace laid down on her in the plank position.
“What did Lily say when you told her about the plan?”
He laughed. “She asked me if I have to French kiss you. I pretended to gag. She hit me.”
Ivy laughed, loud and long. “Callie asked me the same thing.”
“What did you say?” asked Ace.
“I did this.” She made pursing kissy lips and moved her lips in and out. “She hit me, too. The girls were in the car. They laughed so hard that I think they’re still laughing.” She let her great laugh rip out of her.
Ace started doing pushups, slowly. Ivy twisted her head back and forth as if she were kissing him.
“How long do we have to do this?” asked Ace.
“We can switch if you want.”
“Can we?” he said.
“Wimp,” Ivy said. Ivy flipped him over, and she did the plank over him.
Ace said, “I’m so damn tired of being tired.”
“Well,” said Ivy. “It’ll be a while until they sneak up on us. We can catch some Z’s.”
“Thank you,” said Ace. He was asleep nearly before thanking her.
She stroked his face, pretended to come, screamed once or twice. He never woke up.
“Some bodyguard you are,” she said. She laid her head on his shoulder.
She found the pouch with the little bugs, slipped one in his ear, and the other in her own. She took the tiny mic, clipped one just inside Ace’s shirt, and pinned the other one on herself.
“Testing,” she said.
“Reading you loud and clear,” said Wraith. “Ace?”
“Dead asleep,” said Ivy.
“Some bodyguard he is,” said Wraith.
“That’s what I said,” said Ivy. “How are our special friends?”
“On the move,” said Wraith. “It’ll be awhile. Rest now.”
“On it,” said Ivy. She laid her head down on Ace’s shoulder and catnapped.
“Hey, girlfriend,” said Wraith. “Rise and shine. Queen Bitch is on the move. We’ve got Saber taking them out with a dart gun, of all things.” She crowed. “Got one!” she said. “My man can shoot.”
“He better,” said Ivy, reaching for her gun. “Man is ATF.” She shook Ace. He nearly brained her with his elbow.
“Mmmf?” he said.
“That’s articulate,” said Ivy. Wraith laughed in her ear. “Wake up, sunshine. Icky lady is coming for us.”
“Bad girls, bad girls,” sang Wraith.
“Coming for you,” sang Ivy. “How close?”
“Sneaking in the back, I daresay,” said Wraith.
“Ace, she’s a comin’ up our butts,” said Ivy.
He drew his gun. “She’ll be comin’ roun’ the mountain when she comes,” he sang, under his breath.
Ivy unsheathed her first shuriken. “Let’s get this bitch,” she whispered into Ace’s ear.
The fabric parted at the base. “Sharp knife,” observed Ivy, into Ace’s ear. “Showtime.”
They waited until she was all the way in the tent to go after her. Ivy threw a throwing star that caused her to rear back. Ivy kicked the gun out of her hand with a steel-booted foot. It clattered as it bounced on a rock under the tent. Ivy noted where the rock was so she didn’t trip on it. She threw another star. That one actually scraped her cheek.
Ace smashed into her. A second gun clattered away. Ivy couldn’t throw stars with Ace in the way. Typical guy, thought Ivy. Ivy took the knife out of her boot and rested her gun hand on her knife hand. She slid right and was not surprised when the woman simultaneously threw off Ace, reached behind her neck, and pulled out something halfway between a dirk and a short sword. Pig sticker, Ivy thought.
Ivy brought up the gun and shot the woman in the shoulder. She grunted. Ivy threw the knife into La Diabla’s right hand.
She screamed, “Puta!”
“Used to be,” agreed Ivy. “And you’re a murderous bitch.” She stepped forward and slammed the butt of her gun into La Diabla’s head. There was a sickening crack, and La Diabla collapsed like a sack of flour.
“Ace,” said Ivy, keeping her gun trained on La Diabla.
“Umf,” he said.
“Ace!” she said, sharpening her voice. “Some help, guys!” she said.
Ace stood, wavered, stood straighter. “Bitch got me in the crotch,” he said.
“Oh, thank God,” said Ivy. “Your man parts are fine. Wanna truss up that woman for me?”
“I’ve got it,” said Wraith, coming up behind La Diabla. “She’s alive. I’ve got a call out for a bus to take her down the mountain.” She put plastic cuffs on her and frisked her for weapons. “Now, what do we have here?” She tossed more guns and knives onto the sleeping bag, while Ace slowly righted himself. “Bitch knew how to accessorize.”
Ivy slowly lowered her weapon, and put it back in its holster, “Can we go home yet?”
Wraith laughed. “No, honey, now we do paperwork, and interviews, and more paperwork. But now, we have someone who can tell us all about the cartel. We’re gonna take Talamates all the way down to the basement.”
“Great,” said Ivy. “Wake me up when that happens. I’m catching a nap.” She kicked the weapons off the sleeping bag, laid down, and fell asleep.
“What she said,” said Ace. He laid on his side, his back to her, and slept as well.
“Well, fuck,” said Wraith. “Looks like I’ve got to truss her up like a Thanksgiving turkey.” And she did.
Golden Dawn
Ivy awoke to the scents of pine resin and coffee. She sat up, pushing away the top of the sleeping bag, and stretched.
“Oooooh,” she said.
Tommy Red Fox put his head in the tent. “Good, you’re awake. Happy to see your clothes are on.”
Ivy snorted. “Where’s Ace?”
“That male with the two in custody went in with him. Ace helped him wrestle them into one of our cars. Winona Shepherd drove them into the city, and Ace followed.”
“Sounds good,” said Ivy. She stretched again and stood. She put the stray clothes and put them in the sleeping bag, then rolled up the sleeping bag.
Tommy popped the top on a Coke, grabbing her attention. “Thought you might need this.”
She dusted off her jeans, wiped her hands on her jeans, then grabbed the Coke. “Bless you, Tommy,” she said.
“So glad David Chasing Hawk told us about your little operation,” said Tommy. “No one messes with Henry’s land, especially since he’s in the hospital.”
Ivy took a sip of the elixir and sighed. “Well, I’m nine kinds of stupid,” she said.
“Not a problem,” said Tommy. He held the tent flap open for her. “We didn’t want that scum-sucking Talamates to run anything —guns, drugs, people. Not through our land. This way, we get jurisdiction.”
“I take it you let the ATF and DEA have the bad guys,” she said, shuffling forward.
“Yeah,” said Tommy. “Good to have them gone off the land. David is going to come down here with some sage and smudge the place, get rid of the evil energy. This could be a real-good spot for something.”
She walked out into a golden dawn. Shafts of light came through the trees, turning the rocks streaked with yellow, and black, and gray, to a golden red, like red tiger’s eye.
“Beautiful,” said Ivy.
“Yeah,” said Tommy. “Glad I g
ot to see it.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “The DEA lady wants you to come with her to give your statement. She says it’s another step in getting the murdered woman to a Supermax.”
“On it,” said Ivy. “Just give me a minute.” They stood there in silence, looking at the golden dawn.
Wraith was next to her bike; Tommy had ridden in on Trace, his favorite horse, a lovely chestnut. Trace was tied to a bush he was denuding as breakfast.
“Hey, Trace,” said Ivy. He whuffled her hair. She laughed.
Wraith smiled. “So, the horse gets a ‘hello,’ and I don’t?”
Ivy took two fast sips of the Coke. “Let me finish this, and we’ll go.” Wraith nodded.
“Okay.”
“Come here.” Confused, Wraith came over.
Ivy took her back to the tent. They all stood there with Tommy, watching the sun turn the rocks different colors.
“Wow,” said Wraith.
“Wanted you to see this,” said Ivy. “Why those Talamates people must be stopped. This land is theirs, and it stays that way.”
“Ours,” said Tommy. “You’re family.”
Ivy stood there until she could hold back the tears. She’d chased family into some places she’d never go again. But, for this moment, it was worth it.
She finished her Coke, crushed the can with her boot, and pocketed the trash. She headed to her bike and led Wraith out of the canyon.
The ATF field office was small. It was in a stucco building in the northern part of town. It was mostly used for gun licenses, gun safety classes, and a shooting range hidden in the basement. It also had a great ballistics lab.
It also had three separate interrogation rooms, all wired for both video and sound. Each prisoner had been placed in a different spot, handcuffed to the desk.
Despite having very little sleep for days, Saber, AKA Agent Arlen Thanh, was relaxed and happy. He stood leaning on the bar of the registration desk.
“Frisked them a couple times. Glad we did. Turns out Gorgeous there had piano wire in her hair, along with hidden pins. We’re having them tested. Think there’s some poison involved.”
“Cute,” said Wraith. “How are they?”