Stiff Trick

by Jude Mason

  Nate nodded and started the engine. A loud tapping on the glass separating the front seat from the rear got his attention. He quickly hit the button, and the window slid down.

  “Slide by Joey’s. Him and Hook’ll be there. We’ll pick them up on the way,” growled a still angry Sam.

  Nate glanced back and, with a quick nod, replied, “You got it, Sam. We’ll be there in loads of time. No worries.” He put the car in gear and gunned it, heading for the street and Joey’s dive.

  Five minutes later, the two goons climbed into the backseat with Sam, and they were once again on their way. Traffic was heavy, so Nate took a side street or two, getting them to the warehouse district in under forty-five minutes, which he thought was damn good.

  At the rear of the building lay the car park, and he pulled in there as he normally did. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so he shut off the engine and turned to face Sam. The three men looked at him. Sam’s scowl had softened to a mild frown. The other two passengers looked cowed, as they usually did in such close proximity to the boss.

  “Jason and I’ll get out and check around. Okay, Sam?” Nate reached for the door handle.

  “Yeah, but make it fast. The shipment’ll be here any minute.”

  “Okay, Sam. We’ll be back in a flash.”

  “No worries, Mr. Delany,” Jason reassured him then climbed out onto the pavement. He glanced across the hood at Nate and nodded towards the building a dozen yards away.

  “Got it.” Nate hurried towards the big, sliding doors and pushed one open just enough to gain entry, Jason right behind him. As soon as he was sure they were out of Sam’s line of sight, Nate turned and grabbed Jason by the shoulders. “What’s going down?” He glanced around but couldn’t see anything out of order. Inside the warehouse were stacks of crates lined up from one end to the other. The rafters could hide a small army, and he’d never know it without a thorough search, which they didn’t have time for.

  “Take a breath, Sklave.” Jason took hold of Nate’s arms and pushed them down. “You just listen for my voice and do what I tell you.” He released his grip and turned to one of the closest crates. Without hesitation, Jason wrestled one of the slats open and reached inside. Nate watched him pull something out then return the strip of wood to its original place.

  “What the fuck?” Nate couldn’t believe his eyes when Jason held up a handgun.

  “It’s okay. I needed the special cartridge in this one.” He opened the action, showing Nate a large, silver tube.

  “Well, you got me. I have no idea what that is.” Nate reached out, but Jason tucked the handgun into the back of his jeans before Nate could touch it.

  “No need.” Jason tugged his jacket over the grip and straightened the line of the garment. “Okay, Sklave, listen up. When I yell ‘Sklave’, you hit the ground, and you don’t move. I don’t care if a dozen men run over you with hobnailed boots. Don’t you move until I tell you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  The blare of a car’s horn halted any further conversation. Jason grabbed him by the arm and looked him in the eyes. “Do you understand, Sklave?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Nate replied quickly. Heart pounding, he pulled out of Jason’s hands and raced for the door.

  Outside, Sam stood beside the open driver’s door and glared towards the warehouse.

  “What the fuck is taking you two so long? Getting a piece of ass, maybe?” He chuckled at his poor joke and beckoned them to hurry up.

  “Sam, let me just zip around the building, make sure there’s no one around.” Nate turned to go to the hidden side of the warehouse.

  “Never mind, the trucks only a block away. They’ll be here before you can check it out, so just get your ass over here.”

  With Jason right behind him, Nate walked out into the sunlight and made his way back to the limo. Sam closed the driver’s door, and the two other men in the back climbed out a second later. They were big but not overly bright—that was how Sam seemed to like his muscle. Each of them simply stood looking around rather than taking up positions to protect their boss.

  A large, white semi pulled into the lot and headed straight for them.

  Sam leant against the front of the car and smiled. The drug dealer appeared pretty happy with how this was going, and even though the area hadn’t been checked over as well as it should have been, he seemed at ease. He crossed his arms and perched his ass on the shiny hood of the car, waiting for the truck to reach them.

  “Get the suitcase out of the back, Joey,” Sam said loudly.

  One of the hoods nodded and reached inside the back door. His hand came out with a silver metal suitcase. He placed it on the tarmac at his feet.

  Nate slid his hand inside his jacket, his fingers curling around the grip of the .44. Beside him, Jason also reached inside his jacket, hand going for the gun Nate knew he carried there.

  The truck pulled to a stop, and the driver’s door swung open. The man who climbed down wore what looked like military garb, but the unshaven face and filth was enough to nix any thought of him actually being in the forces. A cigar stub hung out of the corner of his mouth, and when he hit the ground, he turned and spat it onto the pavement.

  The passenger’s side door creaked open, and another grimy character climbed out. Both men ambled towards the rear of the truck.

  Sam, Nate and Jason followed. Behind them, Joey and Hook brought the suitcase. They reached the rear at just about the same time as Ugly Number One hoisted the door up.

  Inside, Nate saw the usual small crates that the dope arrived in. Disguised as antiques, the shipment was rarely opened and, even if it were checked carefully, had so far never been discovered.

  “Any trouble?” Sam asked conversationally.

  “Nope, not a thing. Went as smooth as a whore’s ass,” the cigar smoking hoodlum replied.

  All hell broke loose.

  Sirens blared as a dozen unmarked cars screamed into the parking lot from every direction. Shots rang out. Sam bolted from behind the truck and raced for the warehouse. Joey, swinging the silver suitcase, was on his heels.

  Nate pulled his handgun and ducked down beside the rear tyre of the truck. He kept his eyes on Sam but didn’t follow, determining he’d have a better chance of knowing whatever Jason was doing if he stayed close to the man.

  Jason grabbed Nate by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. “Get back to the car. Don’t do anything else, just go to the car and listen for me to call your name.”

  His face held a seriousness Nate had never seen before.

  Nate wanted to protest. He could help. He could go after Sam or cover Jason’s back, something. But, one look into those eyes and he swallowed his argument. A quick nod and he turned and raced towards the car.

  Behind him, gunfire blazed from a half dozen locations, but he kept going straight for the vehicle. He nearly made it. A sharp slap against his shoulder and the word ’Sklave‘ yelled from somewhere to his rear dropped him.

  He hit the ground and slid. His right side burned as pavement tore through his clothing and chewed into his flesh. Agony knifed into his arm, another drove like a hatchet into his forehead. Vision blurring, he groaned but didn’t try to rise. His shoulder felt like someone had slammed him with a baseball bat.

  He tried to inhale and found it a new torment. Sharp, stabbing pain lanced into his side with each breath.

  Shot. I fucking got shot.

  He groaned again.

  The gunfire raged for several minutes. Men yelled, cursed and screamed all around him. A loudspeaker came to life. A male voice declared the cops had indeed arrived. The ultimatum to surrender went ignored for a few more minutes. More cries of pain, a few more vile curses from men Nate knew. Then came a silence that frightened him.

  The pavement beneath his cheek cooled the pain in his face. The sharp stab of agony in his side became like a rabid dog gnawing at him. His shoulder throbbed. Something wet ran across his neck.

&nb
sp; Footsteps approached.

  Nate froze, remembering what Jason had said. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see who stopped beside him. He heard something, the scraping of shoes on tarmac, the slithering of clothing as the person moved. Fingers touched him, dug at the pain in his shoulder. He bit the inside of his mouth, determined not to move.

  “Sklave.” A whispered word, Jason’s voice, from the person examining him. “Stay put. Move your eyes if you’re all right.”

  Nate, eyes still closed, moved them side to side. Adrenalin seared though him, and he prayed he’d be able to pull this charade off.

  “Ten minutes and we’ll be done. You can do this.” Jason patted his arm, then his face. He rose and walked away, calling, “This one’s done for.”

  “I’ll get the meat wagon out here,” a man’s voice replied loudly.

  “Where’s Delany?” Jason called, his voice receding as he moved farther away.

  “That way. Sarge got him.”

  Nate lay quietly for the next hour, year, it felt like forever. His nose itched, and that made him bite back a smile. He heard moans, curses and the clink of handcuffs. Men walked by him, some hurrying, others staggering. None stopped, thank whatever gods there were. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to pass a close examination.

  Finally, cars pulled out and drove away. There were fewer voices, fewer curses and growls of anger.

  Footsteps approached again.

  Nate strained to remain still. Someone crouched down beside him, and he heard the creak of leather. A hand slid over his face.

  “Sklave, you did good. Almost over now. Sarge and two regulars are just getting ready to leave. I told ‘em I’d see to you.

  “You’re the only casualty, by the way. Sam and the others all came out of this in pretty decent shape.” Jason stopped talking then and got to his feet.

  A car drove passed them.

  “See you at the office, Sarge,” Jason called and walked a few paces away.

  The car’s tyres chirped when they hit the road. No sirens this time, just the acceleration as it headed towards the main part of town.

  Jason was back, squatting down at Nate’s side. “Give it another couple of seconds. They’re almost out of sight.”

  Nate complied but did breathe an enormous sigh of relief. “Jason, what the fuck was that?”

  “What?”

  “Something hit my shoulder. Felt like someone creamed me with a club.” He shifted a little and groaned. He’d be sore for days.

  “The cartridge I picked up earlier. A special load. Next to no powder, just enough oomph to get that special load to its target. The thing has fake blood, designed to break when it hits the target—you—and spread so it looks like you were shot.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Nate grinned and worked his shoulders. Sorer than hell, but he’d live.

  “The Sarge knows. He had to, or I’d have had to call the paramedics. This was all to get you clear of Sam.”

  “What about—”

  “It’s fine. As far as Sam and his gang know, you’re dead. You’re out of it, free and clear.”

  Nate didn’t know what to say. It was like a dream come true for him.

  “Here, you can get up, now.” Jason hooked his fingers under Nate’s arm and helped him sit up. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  “My side feels like I’ve got some gravel rash. Head smacked the pavement some, but I’ll be all right. So, you shot me.”

  “Yeah, I did. Nice shot, too, don’t you think?” He checked Nate’s side and brushed the hair from his face then peered at the bump on his head. “Nothing a cold compress won’t fix.”

  Nate looked down at his leather coat and sighed. “My jacket’s had it. The slide tore it up pretty bad, but it saved my hide.”

  “Here, let me help you.” Jason rose to his feet and held out his hand for Nate to grab. The cop carefully pulled him to his feet, steadying him until the world stopped spinning.

  The next thing Nate knew, he was in Jason’s arms. A warm breath of air brushed his cheek when his lover’s mouth got near.

  “We made it. You’re dead, my sexy Sklave.”

  Nate couldn’t stop the smile. “Yes, I guess I am, Sir.”

  Jason pulled him close, their bodies melding together as Nate hoped their lives would.

  “I love you, Sir.”

  “Yes, I know you do.” Jason replied in a gruff voice. Leaning close, he kissed the flesh just below Nate’s ear and whispered, “I love you, too. Let’s go home.”

  About the Author

  Jude’s imagination frequently leads her astray, and she eagerly follows while trying to keep out of trouble, or at least, not get caught. For those of you who know her, you’ll know that's not always easy. A picture, a smell, an unexpected glimpse of flesh, or a load of soil in the back of a pick-up, are all fodder for her writing. Her male characters run the gamut from the dominant male ruling his women with an iron fist, to a simpering purple-clad boy-toy whose only desire is to please. As diverse and as richly depicted, her women find themselves in a myriad of exotic and erotic situations.

  Email: mason.jude@gmail.com

  Jude Mason loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

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