“Not good,” G-Baby said, watching two women in waitress uniforms smoking by the back door.
“Don’t look directly at them,” Michelle said. “Keep walking and we’ll see what happens.” Before they took three more steps, the women crushed their cigarette butts and returned inside.
G-Baby nodded. “Okay, that’s better.”
A vehicle drove up behind them in the alley. “Don’t look back,” Michelle whispered. “I’ll check it.” G-Baby’s wound-up emotions would show on his face, and she didn’t need the driver remembering someone who looked agitated.
“Turn in here like we’re going in this door,” she said. They stepped into a small, dark alcove to find a stinky trash can and a big rat. The stink stayed; the rat ran off.
A van with a restaurant name on its side passed and stopped at the doors she and G-Baby needed to go in.
“Okay,” she said, “we keep going and see what happens.” Then, “Wait!” She grabbed G-Baby’s arm, yanked him back into the dark alcove as the van driver came out with two kitchen workers.
“This will be the last run tonight,” the driver said. “Put those full trays on the rack and take these empties to the kitchen.” The whole thing took less than a minute. The driver hopped in and drove off.
“We’re good to go now.” Michelle said.
In the preceding weeks, Michelle had studied the blueprints of the two primary buildings and, to a lesser degree, reviewed the prints of the buildings on either side. Plus, dressed in various street disguises — secretary, waitress, deliveryman, taxi driver, and businessman and businesswoman in suits — Michelle and G-Baby had physically entered and checked that the buildings’ structures matched the drawings.
Having been there before, they knew what to expect. Through the double doors into a short breezeway where some mops in wheeled buckets usually lined one wall. On the left, the service elevator doors were next to the metal door to a large walk-in freezer. In some of their previous visits, a couple of service carts had been pushed up against the wall by the elevator door. To the right, two swinging doors led to the back kitchen, where the workers with the dirty pans from the van would have gone. Two more swinging doors stood at the other end of the breezeway.
Nerves jumping, Michelle pushed the call button for the service elevator. If anyone came in the breezeway, they’d be seen and would have to abort.
Where’s that damned elevator?
A male voice with a heavy Mexican accent drifted through the partly open kitchen door. “Hey, Pete, where’s the box of detergent?”
Michelle and G-Baby looked back to where a man’s fingers curled around the edge of the double door to the kitchen. He couldn’t see them . . . yet. One more step and they’d be screwed.
“Goddammit, Jose!” the man called back into the kitchen. “You couldn’t find your ass with both hands!”
“Maybe chew come here and help me fin’ my ass with both chew hands, chew faggot. But I still can’t fin’ the soap. No soap, no clean pans.”
“Stupid wetback. If you weren’t married to my sister, I’d call INS in a heartbeat.”
Sounded like good-natured joking between friends. The man stepped back into the kitchen. The door closed behind him.
Ding!
“Thank you, Jesus.” Michelle let out the breath she’d been holding and jumped through the opening elevator doors. G-Baby followed close behind.
Michelle hit the button, then crouched, flipped open the briefcase, and pulled out a Glock and a silencer. “Here, put this on.” She picked up the remaining Glock and threaded its silencer on the end of the barrel as the elevator ascended.
“How do you think we’re doing on time?” G-Baby asked.
“They might already be there. We won’t know for sure until we get inside the office. I don’t think they’ll beat us. It feels longer than it has been. A lot has happened since we saw Oxford up on the roof, but at most, it was only six or seven minutes from then to stepping into this elevator.”
G-Baby nodded. He didn’t visibly relax.
Michelle continued. “I expect they took some time to be careful coming up to our spot on the roof. When they found out we’d left, they probably figured we saw them. They wouldn’t know if we were still there behind cover or had left. At first, they’d duck for cover themselves. They’d take a few minutes to make sure we weren’t waiting to ambush them. Once they cleared the area, they’d most likely look over the rifle and examine our spot. Does that sound about right to you?” She needed him to say a few words to start breathing and begin to calm down just a little.
“Yeah,” he finally said, “that makes sense. It’s what I’d do.”
“What do you think?” she asked. “Would they leave the rifle or bring it down?”
“Anybody’s guess, I suppose.”
“I’m pretty sure they’ll bring the rifle down,” she went on. “They’ll have to break it down and wrap it in a coat. They won’t want to carry a big rifle out in the open on the street. It would catch too much attention.”
G-Baby took in a big breath, then let it go, saying, “You’re right. They wouldn’t leave it and wouldn’t carry it out in the open. You’ve learned a lot in the last three years.”
“I hope it’s enough.”
G-Baby chuckled. “Me, too!”
“Add a few minutes to call the elevator and ride it down. All in all, they should take at least ten or twelve minutes to get to the lobby downstairs. How does that feel to you?”
“I think that’s about right,” he said.
Good. He was breathing easier, calmer. “At most, we spent seven minutes getting here. That leaves us with at least three or four minutes.”
“That should be plenty of time to get our business done and get out,” he said.
“We’re not leaving immediately.” The elevator smoothed to a stop. “We’re here now. I’ll explain later.”
Michelle stepped out into an empty hall.
“Remember,” she said, “if Jackson and Peters are together, no matter where they are in the room, I take Jackson, you take Peters and we take them soon as we go in. There’s no time for talking or hesitating for anything. If we both cap the same guy, the other one will have time to get one of us. I’m in no mood to get shot tonight.”
Michelle laid her hand on G-Baby’s forearm. “You can do this, Unc. Just take a deep breath and blow it all out. When you’re ready, we’ll move.”
G-Baby took in a deep breath, blew it all out, and nodded.
With G-Baby only a half-step behind, Michelle was the first through the door.
Puhffiitt! Puhffiitt!
Two silenced shots. Two men hit. Two men down.
Jackson and Peters were standing in the middle of the room. Neither man had time to react. Fortunately, they were alone in the office.
G-Baby started to walk with Michelle toward the two men on the floor.
“No,” she said, “better you keep an eye on the hall. I’ll check these two.”
He went to the door and watched the hall.
Michelle crossed the large office. Peters was dead — one shot, center mass in the chest.
Gut-shot, Jackson tried to crawl away. He stopped when Michelle stepped in front of him.
“Muthafucka,” she said, “how did you know we were on the roof across the way?”
“Fuck you. You’ll never know.”
“Yeah, but you’ll be just as dead if I know or not. Before you go, you need to know who killed your sorry ass. That man standing over by the door? His name’s Gabriel. He goes by G-Baby. He’s the one who shot Peters dead. He’ll also help me kill your sorry security when they come in. He’s Gabe Jr.’s dad.”
Jackson glanced over at G-Baby.
“Three years ago, you had Lewis kill Gabe Jr. and my brother, Michael. Now, I’m getting a sister’s revenge on your miserable ass. I already got Lil Rich, Quincy, Lewis, and your dirty cop, Glover. Now we got your man, Peters, here. He’s real dead, like you’ll be in anot
her minute. Then we’ll get Oxford, too.”
Jackson rolled over onto his back and pulled himself upright, leaned against the front corner of his desk, coughed, and blood dribbled down his chin. “You’re the little sister? This is just revenge? How the fuck did you get this far?” He coughed again; more blood.
“Yeah, I’m the little sister. And you? You’re a dead asshole.”
“If you kill me, you’ll never find out who ordered me to set up the move on your brother. And you won’t know who told me about you being on the roof. Kill me, and you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your short life. And it’ll be short, because the people who ordered me to kill your brother will kill you. Kill me and you’ll never find out none of that shit.”
“You’re right about the part where I kill you; that’s definitely happening. The other shit you’re saying about taking orders? Maybe, maybe not. As far as I care, you’re the top man on my list of assholes responsible for killing my brother, so you’re dying here, now. And the sweet part? A guy named Ascia is even paying me to take out you and your crew. Seems like lots of people don’t like you.”
“Ascia? He’s behind this?” Jackson shifted, then coughed. More blood trickled down the corner of his mouth. “You’re working for Ascia? I didn’t expect that.”
“Didn’t expect me to know Mr. Ascia, eh? You’re surprised that he sent me. Does that mean you’re working for him, too? Is he the one who told you to look for me across the way?”
“Who I work with is none of your fuckin’ bidness, except they’re gonna come after you for this. What’re you doing working with Ascia?”
Michelle smirked. “Now you’re just trying to keep me talking, hoping your man Oxford will come up on us and save your sorry ass. Won’t happen that way. We know where he is and when he should get here. We have a few minutes yet.”
Jackson narrowed his eyes at Michelle and coughed again.
“We came at you when we saw him on the roof across the way, you arrogant dick. Did you really think we’d run off because you’re so bad and we’re scared like some baby-g with no stripes? You don’t have the brains to think we’d come at you real fast. Now you’re dead, and you know it was me and G-Baby who killed you.”
Jackson started to speak. She ignored him.
“Uncle G.” Michelle nodded for him to join her. “Time for this worthless piece of shit to die.”
Puhffiitt! Puhffiitt!
Two shots hissed; one from G-Baby’s gun, the other from Michelle’s.
“As good as that is, we’re not done yet,” Michelle said. “Oxford and his buddy will be here soon. Our next move will be out in the hall.”
“What’s the plan?” G-Baby asked.
Michelle picked the lock on the office door across the hall. “It’s open. Lock Jackson’s door.”
G-Baby quickly, quietly, locked and closed Jackson’s office door.
“When they walk past to go into Jackson’s office, we step out and take their asses down. I’ll go first; you come fast behind me. I’ll shoot left; you shoot the guy on the right. Not much of a plan, but they won’t be ready for us. If we move fast, they’ll be down before they even get their guns out.”
“Got it. I shoot fast and to the right.”
“Yeah. Fast is good; accurate is better.”
From inside the office down the hall and across from Jackson’s, Michelle heard the cop, Gerard, talking with Oxford out in the corridor.
“Mr. Jackson’s gonna be real interested in this rifle we found.” They walked past the door.
“On the count of three,” Michelle mouthed and held one finger up at a time. One, two, three. Together they burst out behind the two men who, almost to Jackson’s door, were about ten feet away. They spun around, grabbing for their guns, but not fast enough.
Puhffiitt! Puhffiitt!
Two shots fired. Two men hit.
Oxford, dead.
Gerard, gut-shot.
Gerard jerked up his gun—
Puhffiitt!
—and Michelle shot him in the arm. The gun clattered to the floor, and Gerard slumped back against the wall. His gun sat a few inches past his reach.
Michelle kicked his gun away. “Thanks for bringing my sniper rifle down. You’re right, it’s the one I shot your dirty partner with. Since it’s a cop killer, I have to get rid of it. You know how real cops feel about their own getting killed. Now you know it was me who killed him. And you know how you helped me, by delivering it like a delivery boy.”
“Fuck you, bitch. You’ll never get away with this.”
“You cops are all the same. You think you can do any shit you want and don’t have to pay. Well, you’re wrong. Your partner already paid for his part in killing my brother. Now you’re about to pay. Your price is a little different — it’s more. You’ll die a dirty cop in disgrace. I’ll let your scumbag partner stay clean so his little boy will get his pension, but your kids are already grown and shouldn’t get a free ride off the taxpayer’s money. They’ll know their daddy was a rotten, drug-dealing, dirty cop.”
“Me being here doesn’t mean shit. Lots of cops work extra security. You can say what you want. Nobody’s gonna listen to a lowlife street bitch from the hood.”
“I don’t need to say shit to nobody. See this?” She held up a half-kilo brick. “It’s smack, and your cop friends will find it on you.”
Michelle leaned over and stuffed the brick inside Gerard’s coat pocket. He tried to push her away but he didn’t have the strength.
“You’re dying with five hundred grams of street heroin in your pocket. You’re a heroin dealer, a disgrace to your family and the police.”
Puhffiitt!
The shot went through the heroin and through his heart.
The world would know he was a dirty cop.
A dead, dirty cop.
.
Thirty-One: Family
MICHELLE, DEJA, AND NIKKY climbed out of Deja’s car and waited for G-Baby to park.
G-Baby joined them on the sidewalk. “So, this is the famous Scott’s Diner?”
“Yes,” Michelle said, “and it’s about time you met Scott. Shall we?” She went in first. “Hey, Scott, got a minute?” she called out. “I want you to meet someone.”
“Hey, Michelle.” Scott came over, wiping his hands on a clean towel. “What’s up?”
“Scott, this is my uncle, G-Baby. Uncle G, Scott. He makes the best breakfast on the whole coast. Does pretty good with lunch, too.”
“Happy to meet you.” Scott shook hands with G-Baby. “I’ve gotten to know Michelle, and think she’s the best. I’d say good things about her, even if she wasn’t standing here. It’s an honor to meet some of her family. You guys get seated, and I’ll bring some coffee to get you started.”
“Seems like a nice guy,” G-Baby said.
“He is, and he’s a good judge of character. Apparently this is—”
“What do you mean by ‘he’s a good judge of character’?” Nikky interrupted.
“Oh, you’ll like this. After I’d been here for about a month, Scott started making comments on my guys. You know, the ones I sent in for takeout breakfast.”
“What guys?” Deja asked.
“The guys who give me some good loving. I send them out to get us something to eat. I’m damn sure not cooking for some guy just because he gave me some good sex. Guaranteed, he got as good as he gave.”
“Oh, hell yeah!” Deja bumped fists with Michelle.
“Besides,” Michelle said, “not one of them ever came in my kitchen with a bag of groceries asking, ‘Where’s the frying pans?’ So, I send them down here for takeout.”
Nikky scoffed. “I’d really like to see the guy who cooks breakfast. You find one, grab his ass because he’s a keeper.”
Michelle continued, “Scott figured I was the only sister around for them to be with and after a while, he started saying stuff like, ‘Good guy. Good looking but cheap. He was a punk, dissing the waitstaff.’
Pretty soon, we created ourselves a routine. He tells me what he thinks, and I tell him how I rated the guy based on having spent the night with him.”
“How many are we talking about?” Deja asked.
“Wow, you want details, huh? Well, let’s see . . . most weeks, there may be a couple. Can’t remember when a week went by and I couldn’t get lucky at least once. I mean, I like sex, and I’m not ready for a steady boyfriend.”
“Not even a GFB?” Deja asked.
Scott interrupted the conversation by taking their orders, then he asked, “What’s a GFB?”
“Don’t look at me,” Deja said. “He’s your friend, Michelle. You tell him.”
“It means good fucking buddy,” Michelle explained. “Sort of like a friend with benefits, but it’s mostly about the sex.”
Scott grinned and walked off, not saying a word.
“No, I don’t have a GFB,” Michelle said to Deja, “but I met a guy last week who might qualify. I’m thinking of giving him a try.”
“So, one, two, maybe even three men, been coming in here most weeks.” Deja bugged her eyes out. “How do you keep them straight?”
“Hey, don’t look at me like that. It’s not that much sex. A woman our age moves in with a guy and they have sex every night. Everybody thinks that’s normal. Hell, if she doesn’t want to do it more than once or twice a week, people say she’s frigid. I get laid a couple times a week, but because I’m not living with the guy, somehow, I’m a slut. I mean, really, if I was a guy, would we even have this conversation? It doesn’t make sense, if you ask me.”
“Damn skippy!” Nikky said.
“I think I need to go outside and buy a newspaper,” G-Baby said. “Didn’t I see a store up the street a short ways?”
“Yeah,” Michelle said, “but there’s a paper rack right outside the diner.”
“Nah, I’m going to walk to the store. If I’m lucky, you’ll finish discussing your sex life before I get back.” G-Baby headed for the door.
“I’m not ready for a real boyfriend,” Michelle went on. “I’ve been with some pretty good guys, but none of them have been keeping material. Not keeping forever, anyway. I figure if I’m not interested in keeping him forever, why keep him for a little while? Why waste our time? I’d like to fall in love as much as the next girl, but with this business of Michael and Gabe Jr. hanging over my head, I couldn’t let go and do that. Maybe now, that can change.”
Hard Revenge: Action Adventure Pulp Thriller Book #1 (Michelle Angelique) Page 19