Rum Runner - A Thriller (Jacqueline Jack Daniels Mysteries Book 9)

by J. A. Konrath

  Ribs…

  I finally understood why Phin had been whining about his ribs. Cracked ribs hurt like hell.

  As I studied my right arm, checking for damage, a nail magically appeared in my shoulder.

  I stared at it, incredulous. It didn’t actually hurt, but I knew that was normal. I’d heard stories of construction workers who had accidentally nail gunned their own feet to the floor, and didn’t know it until they tried to walk.

  This, however, was no accident.

  “Jacqueline!” T-Nail roared.

  “This guy.” Phin shook his head. “I hate this guy.”

  “Jacqueline Daniels!”

  “We can hear you, Terrance,” I said. “Enough already. It’s over.”

  “It’s not over.”

  “It’s over!” I yelled, feeling myself grow faint. “Your gang is gone. And it sounds like your battery is dead. What are you going to do? Kill us then crawl ten miles back to town? Don’t be an idiot. You’re going back to prison.”

  “I’m never going back to prison. If I die here, so be it. But you’re dying first.”

  He fired again, and this one struck the floor a few centimeters from my hip.

  I was too beaten up to even flinch.

  “You talk about honor,” I said. “You have no idea what honor is. You don’t care about the world. And the world doesn’t care about you. Nobody cares about you, Terrance. Your stupid revenge fantasy doesn’t matter.” I looked at Phin. “The only thing that matters is family.”

  “I got five hundred 20d nails,” T-Nail said. “And I’m going to use every one of them on you.”

  He aimed the nail gun again. Phin tried to climb on top of me.

  “Not the best time for sex, babe,” I said.

  “I’m going to shield you with my body.”

  “Maybe I want to shield you with my body.”

  “Maybe we both should just try to crawl out of range.”

  “I’d be up for that.”

  The next nail hit me in the calf, pinning me to the floor.

  “Change of plans,” I said, very close to passing out from pain. “I’m staying.”

  Phin nodded. “Then I’m staying, too.”

  We put our arms around each other and waited for the end.

  T-NAIL

  Not the best way to end things, but he still wound up alpha.

  T-Nail wished he could be closer. To see the expressions on their faces as he put nail after nail into them. But he was fine with watching their slow demise from a few meters away.

  Plus, his aim was improving. The next nail was going to go right into Jacqueline’s belly.

  Then there was a loud hissing sound, from behind him. T-Nail turned and looked down.

  Del Ray, a nail sticking halfway into his forehead, had crawled over and cut the pneumatic hose going from the air compressor to the nail gun. He was currently hacking away at T-Nail’s legs with a straight razor.

  T-Nail whacked him in the head hard enough the kill him. Del Ray fell onto his face. T-Nail once again looked at Jacqueline and her husband.

  He couldn’t shoot them. But that was no problem. He’d do it the old-fashioned way.

  By hand.

  Undoing his straps, T-Nail fell to the floor and landed on his side. He shook off the impact, twisted forward, and began to drag himself toward Jacqueline and Phineas.

  HERB

  McGlade tried reverse for the fourth time then told Herb, “Get out and push.”

  Herb quickly exited through the passenger door.

  “Put your weight into it!” Harry called after him. “That’ll get us unstuck fast!”

  But Herb didn’t bother with trying to free the Crimebago. All he cared about was getting to Jack.

  He ran as fast as he could, the mud sucking at his shoes, winded after only a dozen steps but more determined than he’d ever been in his life. He could see the house. It was only fifty meters away.

  Then someone yelled, “Cop!” and the shooting started.

  A whole lot of shooting.

  Herb dove onto the ground, eating mud. Four gangbangers with machine guns cut the forest down around Herb.

  Visibility was shit. The fire, and illumination from the Crimebago’s headlights, reflected off the smoke and made it impossible to see more than a few meters ahead. Herb aimed where he thought he saw the nearest muzzle flash, squeezing the trigger twice.

  He had no idea if he hit his targets or not. But he assumed not when four people returned fire, the rounds landing short and spraying mud into Herb’s face.

  Herb aimed again. He wasn’t the crack shot that Jack was. And it had been months since he’d been on the range. And shooting while on his belly wasn’t an ideal position.

  But he couldn’t die now. Not when Jack needed him.

  Herb fired three more times.

  They fired another hundred times at him.

  No one was hitting anything. But they were getting closer.

  He’d fired a warning shot in the Crimebago, so Herb only had four more rounds in his SIG Sauer magazine. But he had another full mag in his…

  Oh, shit. When McGlade was rushing Herb out of the house, he’d forgotten to bring his spare mag.

  Herb glanced behind him. Harry was nowhere to be seen.

  “This is the police!” Herb yelled.

  “We know!” they answered. “That’s why we’re shooting!”

  They shot the shit out of the muddy driveway, just a meter from Herb’s right side. He fired back, three times.

  Leaving only one bullet left.

  One bullet for four assailants.

  Herb had failed.

  His mind flashbacked to twenty years ago. The undercover operation where Jack had nabbed T-Nail. He’d been late then. He’d failed her.

  And now he’d failed her again.

  Then four shots rang out in rapid succession. But they weren’t aimed at Herb.

  They came from behind Herb. Way behind Herb. It sounded like a rifle, and it sounded far away.

  “Hello?” shouted into the darkness.

  No one answered.

  “Nice shooting, babe!” he heard Harry yell. “You can get up, fatstuff. Threat neutralized.”

  Herb watched McGlade approach. He was carrying a flashlight, not a rifle.

  “What the hell just happened?” Herb said.

  “That’s my specialist friend. The one I tweeted. She just drilled them all through their brain pans.”

  Herb was confused. “I thought she told you no.”

  “She’s a spy, Dumbo. No means yes. She has to say that in case anyone is listening in.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

  “Because I’m a dick,” Harry said. “Want to see something cool?” He fished a quarter out of his pocket and tossed it straight up.

  The coin never hit the ground. She shot it right out of the air.

  “She’s the best long distance shot in the world,” McGlade said.

  But Herb hadn’t heard him say that. He was already sprinting toward the house.

  JACK

  I watched T-Nail pull himself toward me. Hand over hand. A blank expression on his face.

  With my unbroken arm, I reached into my bra and took out the tactical pen, hiding it behind my back.

  “Gotta give him points for determination,” I said to Phin.

  Phin didn’t answer. He’d passed out.

  When T-Nail was less than half a meter away, he stopped. “Every day, for the past twenty years, I’ve done five hundred pulls ups. I can bend a frying pan in half. Now I’m going to break every—”

  “Blah blah blah,” I interrupted. “So do it already. I’m sick of listening to your psycho ranting.”

  He lunged, grabbing my leg, pulling himself up to me until his huge hands wrapped around my throat.

  The last time we’d been in this position, twenty years ago, I had poked a crack pipe into his eye. Unfortunately, it hadn’t done any permanent damage.

>   The tactical pen worked much better. I stabbed it into his eye socket so hard it stuck there.

  T-Nail howled, rocking my head back with a slap. He yanked out the pen.

  Along with his eyeball.

  He screamed even louder, reaching for my neck with both hands, squeezing.

  As I blacked out, I realized the last thing I’d ever see was T-Nail’s shish-kebobbed eye, resting on his cheek and dangling from the optic nerve.

  T-NAIL

  The pain was extraordinary.

  And so was the rage.

  T-Nail lost all control. His plan had been to take his time hurting Jacqueline. To drag it out over a few hours.

  But he couldn’t contain himself. He squeezed the cop hard enough to snap her neck and separate her head from her body.

  HERB

  Panic. Like a jolt of liquid electricity flushing through Herb’s body, fueling every worst case scenario at once.

  Jack was more than a co-worker. More than a partner.

  She was his friend.

  And he had to get to her. Fast.

  Harry’s house looked like it had been lifted up and dropped from a great height. Herb rushed around the perimeter, where several bonfires had been lit.

  There, in the flickering light less than twenty meters away, he saw Jack being choked by T-Nail.

  I can’t fail her again.

  Not again.

  Herb didn’t fire a warning shot.

  He didn’t announce himself as a police officer.

  He just stopped, aimed his last bullet, and squeezed the trigger—

  —blowing the top of the bastard’s head off.

  Jack flopped on her back, arms and legs akimbo.

  “Jack!”

  She didn’t answer.

  Herb ran to her, staring down at her motionless body.

  “I’m too late. Oh, god, I’m too late.”

  Then her eyelids fluttered, and she stared up at him. “On the contrary, partner. You’re right on time.”

  JACK

  I chased the rest of the gang off,” Harry McGlade said to me. “You’re welcome.”

  “I never thought I’d be happy to see you, Harry. But I am.”

  “Well, I’m not happy to see you, Jackie. Damn, you look like hell.”

  “It’s not all blood. Some of it is spaghetti sauce.”

  “Damn, you need to learn how to cook. The sauce is supposed to stay in the pan.”

  “So the gang’s all here?” Phin had roused himself.

  “Phineas,” McGlade nodded at him.

  “Harrison,” Phin nodded back.

  “We came in the nick of time to save your asses,” Harry said. “Yet again. It’s practically a full-time job.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Harry said. “Also, the two of you owe me three million dollars for trashing my house.”

  I heard a car drive up. Harry tugged out his gigantic handgun and pointed it into the darkness. But the woman in the Jeep was a familiar face.

  “Chandler?” I said.

  She shook her head. “No. I’m her better-looking twin sister.”

  I knew who she was. And she wasn’t one of the good guys.

  “This is Hammett,” McGlade said. “Don’t piss her off. She’ll kill you.”

  Harry wasn’t exaggerating.

  “We appreciate the help,” Herb said.

  “You need to get in some range time, chubs,” Hammett told him. “That was some really bad shooting.”

  “It was dark. And smoky.”

  “And I still hit them, through the trees, from one and a half kilometers away.”

  “Thanks.” I kept my voice flat.

  “I didn’t do it for you.”

  “Well, thanks just the same.”

  “You’ve got some skills,” Hammett told me. “You were doing pretty good in that gang fight, for about ten seconds. And nice move poking out that cyborg’s eye.”

  “You saw that? Why didn’t you help?

  Hammett shrugged. “As I said, didn’t do it for you. I did it because I was bored, and someone promised to tap my sweet ass.”

  “That’s me!” McGlade said, raising his hand. “We’ll be in the Crimebago. Nobody bother us for the next three and a half minutes.”

  “What about the fire?” Phin asked.

  “Wind shifted,” Hammett said. “It’s heading the other direction.”

  Harry took Hammett by the hand, and they walked off.

  “Are we sure we want to leave McGlade alone with that psychopath?” I asked.

  Phin and Herb nodded. I supposed I agreed with them.

  Moaning, from behind us. We all looked, and saw Del Ray sit up.

  “Hold it!” Herb said, pointing his weapon.

  I raised a palm. “Wait a sec, Herb.”

  The gangbanger got to his feet, wobbling a bit, then stared at us.

  “Del Ray, right?” I asked.

  He nodded. “You guys kill T-Nail?”

  “Yeah.”

  Del Ray spat on T-Nail’s corpse. “Dude was crazy.”

  “Says the guy with a bunch of scalps hanging on his vest,” Phin said.

  Del Ray looked down at his colors. “These are my dead homies.”

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  “C-Notes. My gang.”

  “That’s how you treat your homies?” Phin said. “Killing them and scalping them?”

  “Naw. I never killed nobody. Never.” He pointed to a scalp on his vest. “This is Jamal. Died on February tenth of last year. Robbed a liquor store, shot by cops. This here is Franklin. Gun deal gone bad, October eighteen, last month. This one…” he sniffled. “Lil’ K. Died because this asshole cared more about revenge than he did about his brothers.”

  “Other people just save the ashes in an urn,” Phin said.

  “We’re C’s. No funerals. We don’t pray over each other’s graves. But this vest… it makes me remember. Remember my friends. And remember not to let the same mistakes happen again.”

  In a very warped way, that was poetic. “So, you’re in charge of the C-Notes now?”

  He nodded, then reached for the nail sticking in his head.

  “Don’t touch it,” I said. “A doctor needs to do that.”

  “So, what now?” Del Ray asked.

  I thought for a moment. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, considering how messed up I was. “I’m tired. Really tired. I want all of this behind me.” I glanced at Phin. “We want all of this behind us.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I don’t want to put you in jail, waiting for the day you break out to kill me.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “So you want to make a deal?”

  “We take you to the hospital, then go our separate ways. You don’t bother me, I don’t bother you.”

  “How about the mobsters who own this house?” Del asked. “They gonna bother me?”

  That was perfect. I’d alluded over the intercom that the house was owned by dangerous people, and Del had ran with it. “I’ll handle them. They’ll leave you alone as long as I tell them to.”

  He nodded, then stuck out his hand. I didn’t stick out mine.

  “Where’s our daughter, Del? Samantha?”

  “Some of my crew went to pick her up. I told them not to harm her. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

  “And how about Officer Knowles?”

  “Never wanted to hurt the lady. When you put Samuel L. Jackson on the speaker, I was the one that pulled her away from T-Nail. She took off.”

  I held out my hand. We shook.

  “We need to go find Tom and get you guys to a hospital,” Herb said. “There’s one in Rice Lake, about an hour away.” My friend’s face got serious as his eyes searched mine. “Are you going to make it?”

  My good hand found Phin’s and we laced our fingers together.

  Are we going to make it?

  I answered with as much certainty as I ever had
about anything.

  “Yes,” I said. “We are.”

  PHIN

  Hell yeah, we are.”

  Phin kissed her like it was the first time and the last time. He knew they’d be together forever. Knew it more than he’d ever known anything.

  True happiness. What a lucky son of a bitch I am.

  EPILOGUE

  Months passed.

  Wounds healed.

  Life got back to normal. Better than normal. Jack was her old self again.

  They were happy.

  But Phin knew the happiness could vanish at any moment.

  Not due to any trouble between them. Jack and Phin’s relationship was stronger than it had ever been before.

  The problem wasn’t their marriage.

  The problem was his wife’s past. She had one more skeleton in the closet.

  A maniac named Luther Kite.

  If they were to ever be truly safe, truly happy, Kite would have to be dealt with.

  And Phin knew how to find him.

  THE END

  A NOTE FROM JOE

  I highly recommend checking out the Val Ryker series by my frequent collaborator, Ann Voss Peterson. Jack and Harry often have extended cameos in her novels, and both the Jack Daniels books and the Val Ryker books crossover with the CODENAME: CHANDLER series that Ann and I write together.

  PUSHED TOO FAR

  BURNED TOO HOT

  DEAD TOO SOON

  ABOUT J.A. KONRATH

  Joe Konrath is the author of more than twenty novels and dozens of shorter works in the mystery, thriller, horror, and science fiction genres. He’s sold over three million books worldwide, and besides Jude Hardin he’s collaborated with bestsellers Blake Crouch, Ann Voss Peterson, Henry Perez, Tom Schreck, Jeff Strand, Tracy Sharp, Bernard Schaffer, Barry Eisler, Ken Lindsey, Garth Perry, Iain Rob Wright, and F. Paul Wilson. He likes beer, pinball machines, and playing pinball when drinking beer. www.jakonrath.com

  JOE KONRATH’S