Young Guns Box Set

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Young Guns Box Set Page 10

by Kane, Remington

“You’re not a man at all; you’re nothing but a weasel,” Willow said.

  Charlie laughed. “Whatever I am, I’ll be alive tomorrow. Can you say the same thing?”

  Willow’s eyes became wet with tears and she lowered her head.

  “What about you, mate?” Charlie asked Spenser. “Do you want to call me names too?”

  Spenser remained silent.

  “That’s good, the less said the better. If you’re lucky, Jock will kill you quick, but I doubt it. He’s got a mean streak that one does.”

  Charlie left the room, along with the man who was holding the shotgun. Before leaving, they shut off the overhead lights, but left the desk lamp on.

  Spenser shifted onto his side and dug his fingers between his pants and the belt he wore. Charlie’s frisk had uncovered the knife in his boot but not the razor blade hidden on the inside of his belt.

  Willow spoke in words that were a moan. “We’re going to die.”

  “No, we’re not. I have a way to get free.”

  “You have another knife?”

  “A razor blade, which… I’ve… just freed from my belt.”

  Spenser went to work on the rope, while nicking the skin around his wrists several times. When he managed to cut deep into the rope, the bonds loosened enough for him to free a hand. He worked on Willow’s bonds, and with full mobility he had her free much quicker.

  “Oh, thank God,” Willow said. “Now let’s get out of here.”

  “No. If we shove open that roll-up door they might hear it, and Charlie could still be inside the office with his hand near a gun.”

  “But… but we have to leave, or they’ll kill us.”

  “It would be better to stay and wait for Jock Martin. Then we can end this.”

  Willow looked over at the door while nibbling on her bottom lip. Spenser placed a hand on her cheek and stared into her eyes.

  “I need you to trust me, Willow. I have a plan. Will you trust me?”

  Willow met his gaze, then she covered Spenser’s hand with her own.

  “What’s your plan?”

  * * *

  Inside the office, Charlie’s smile faltered as he tried to ignore the sound of a horn blaring. The noise was coming from the hidden space behind the bookcase.

  “I bet that’s the Yank, Charlie,” said the man with the shotgun. He was named Adam. He had a mellow voice that was deep. “Should I teach him a lesson?”

  “I suppose so, but you leave some for Jock. He’ll want the pleasure of killing him.”

  Adam got up from his seat and shoved open the bookcase. The volume of the horn tripled and sent Charlie’s teeth on edge.

  “Bloody Yank,” he muttered.

  * * *

  Spenser saw Adam rush toward the car and removed his feet from the horn. He was lying on his back, making it appear that his hands were still bound behind him. Willow appeared likewise, as she was tucked in a corner of the rear seat with her hands behind her.

  “No one’s coming to save you, mate, so lay off the horn.”

  Spenser gazed at the man defiantly. When Adam turned to leave, Spenser placed the heels of his boots back on the horn.

  “All right, bloke, we’ll do things the hard way,” Adam said. He sat the shotgun on the hood of the car, then ripped open the rear door. While grabbing the front of Spenser’s shirt with one hand, Adam made a fist with the other.

  Spenser whipped an arm around before the punch could be thrown. Between the thumb and forefinger of his hand he held the razor blade, and Spenser put it to good use. He sliced open Adam’s jugular vein and felt the rich warm blood splatter him.

  Beside him, Willow stifled a scream, as she had been warned to do. Spenser had prepared her in advance, telling her that killing with a blade was messy, repulsive work, but that it needed to be done.

  Adam leapt away from the car with both hands clutching his neck in reflex. Spenser followed. As he did so, the rope around his ankles fell away, revealing that they had only been draped over his legs.

  With the shotgun in hand, Spenser slammed the butt of it against the back of Adam’s head. The body fell to the concrete floor with a thump. The man was still alive, but he would bleed out within another minute or two.

  “Adam?” Charlie called from the office. The hidden door was sitting open a foot but allowed no view of the area where the cars were. “Remember now, don’t kill that man.”

  Spenser cleared his throat, then did a passable impression of the man on the floor.

  “That wasn’t me. The Yank’s gone nuts and kicked the woman. I think he broke her neck.”

  “What?” Charlie said. That was followed by the sound of a chair scraping and the tap, tap, tap of rapid footsteps.

  Charlie was three steps inside the room before he froze in place at the sight of Adam’s bloody form, then his eyes shifted, and he saw an equally blood-drenched Spenser pointing the shotgun at his head.

  “On your knees,” Spenser said.

  Charlie continued to smile, but it looked sickly. “We can make a deal, eh mate?”

  The barrel of the shotgun was buried into Charlie’s stomach. The pain drove him to his knees and made him release a moan. While he was incapacitated, Spenser stuck his head around the door with the shotgun poised to fire. The office was empty, and the door appeared to be locked.

  Charlie received another taste of the shotgun, this time to the side of the head. The blow didn’t knock him out, but it stunned him. That made it easy for Spenser to frisk the freckled man. The only weapon found on Charlie was the knife he had taken off Spenser.

  As Charlie regained his senses, Spenser leaned over and spoke softly into his ear.

  “If you hope to live through this you’ll do exactly what I say.”

  “I will, I will. Just tell me what you want.”

  * * *

  A few minutes later, Charlie opened the office door and smiled at the two men who were in the shop. One was the young guy named Brett, while the other was the man who had held a knife at Willow’s throat. This time, Charlie’s smile was a leer.

  “Hey, boys. Willow told Adam that she would do anything if we let her live, and she proved it to him too. I’m next, but if you want some, come get it.”

  The two men looked at each other, then laughed.

  “Never pass up a freebie,” said the man who had held the knife. He and Brett entered the office as Charlie disappeared from view. They were barely inside the room when the door slammed behind them. Both men whirled around to see Spenser, bloody, and holding a shotgun on them.

  “Get in the back there,” Spenser told them.

  Brett’s knees weakened, and he leaned against his friend.

  “Don’t kill me, oh good God, don’t kill me.”

  “Move,” Spenser said, and the two got moving.

  At the sight of Adam’s corpse, Brett’s knees gave out all the way and he sat on the floor and began crying. Willow was holding Charlie’s revolver, which was found in the desk. As earlier instructed by Spenser, Charlie had lain on the floor with his hands in plain view.

  “What now?” asked the man who had threatened Willow. Spenser answered by shoving his knife into the man’s side at an upward angle. He had moved so fast that the man never saw the blade.

  “Why did you punch me?”

  “That wasn’t a punch.”

  The man lifted his arm, saw the blood soaking his shirt, and the hilt of the knife. Then, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he tumbled to the floor with a ruptured heart.

  Brett’s crying became a keening sound as he looked at his friend’s body. Spenser ended the noise by slamming the shotgun against Brett’s temple. The blow was a hard one, hard enough to kill him. In any event, it silenced him.

  Spenser looked over at Willow. Her eyes were wide, her breathing quick, but she was holding things together. He had told her that he would have to be rough with the men, and she had said she could handle it, and so she was.

  “Am… am I next?” Charlie a
sked, and there was no trace of a smile on his face, which was white with fear.

  “No,” Spenser said. “You’re the bait I need to reel in Jock Martin.”

  “I never liked Martin, you know?”

  “He won’t be very fond of you either,” Spenser said. “Not once you betray him.”

  “I’ll do whatever you want if you’ll let me live.”

  “You have my word, now let me tell you what I need you to do next…”

  20

  The Old Switcheroo

  PHOENIX, ARIZONA, AUGUST 2018

  Tanner got lucky and tracked Tonya down overnight. That luck came about after he’d spent the night checking out twenty-four motel and hotel parking lots. As someone once said, “The harder I work, the luckier I get.”

  Kayla joined Tanner at sunrise, so Tanner caught a nap in the van while Kayla kept watch. The van was parked some distance away from Tonya’s car, and partially hidden behind a corner of the building.

  Tonya’s car had two distinct bullet holes in it and the license plate matched the vehicle caught on the dash cam.

  Tanner had been thinking that Tonya might have switched out the plates, which would have made things more difficult. The fact that she hadn’t either meant that she was an amateur at staying hidden, or that she had simply dumped the car and taken off on foot. The truth was actually somewhere in the middle.

  * * *

  Before getting her rented vehicle, Tonya had parked her old car in front of Room 19 while she had taken Room 8. As she was walking away from the vehicle, a woman stepped out of Room 19. The woman was about Tonya’s age and size and had dark hair. Judging by the way she weaved in place, she was tipsy.

  “Why are you parking in my space?”

  “Because I’m hiding from someone, that’s why.”

  “Is somebody after you?”

  “Yeah, my old boyfriend and his new girlfriend.”

  “Why?”

  Tonya smiled. “I trashed their place. He cheated on me with her, so I thought I’d get even.”

  The other woman laughed. “Good for you.”

  Tonya pointed at her car. “I can move it if you want.”

  “Oh, honey, I don’t even have a ride. You just leave it there.”

  Tonya did so, then walked down the highway, where she rented the hybrid car.

  When she came back, the other woman called to her. When Tonya walked over, the woman told her that no one had been around asking for her yet.

  “Thanks for looking out for me. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Denise.”

  “I’m Tonya.”

  Tonya had returned to her room, showered, and changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She had planned to go to bed early, but the shower revived her, and she was hungry. She was considering ordering a pizza when there was a knock on the door.

  “It’s me, Denise. Would you like a drink?”

  Tonya had opened the door and let Denise in. Denise had more than wine, she also had pot. Tonya discovered that it helped her headache. After the pizza came, they finished the bottle of wine while discussing how shitty men were. When Tonya gave Denise money to get more liquor, she endeared herself to the alcoholic for life.

  As she had done with any friend she’d ever had, Tonya thought of a way to use Denise. When Denise returned from her trek to the liquor store, Tonya revealed her plans.

  “You want me to spy for you?” Denise said.

  “Kind of, I just need you to look around in the morning and let me know if you see a black van in the lot. There will be a woman driving it.”

  “That’s the bitch that stole your boyfriend?”

  “That’s right. Can you do that and then let me know if you see anything?”

  “Sure,” Denise said.

  “Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Tonya said.

  * * *

  The next morning, it was Tonya who called Denise’s room. The temporary relief the pot had given her was gone. She felt worse than ever.

  Tonya had spotted Kayla’s van from her position in Room 8. She couldn’t make out details, but she was sure there was a man and a woman sitting in the front seats. That meant that Tanner was riding along in the van. That was good. It made them one easy target.

  “Do you want me to do like we planned?” Denise asked.

  “Not just yet,” Tonya said. “I’ll call you back.”

  After talking to Denise, Tonya called Russell.

  “What’s up? Are you okay?”

  “I feel like shit, but I know a way to get rid of Tanner.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Can you get in touch with Kuper?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good, I’ll need his help, since he knows the area well. I need a good spot for an ambush. He can do it too. The way I feel right now, I couldn’t kill a fly.”

  “You’ve got to get to a damn doctor, Tonya. I told you infection was nothing to play with.”

  “Russell, just shut up and listen.”

  * * *

  Tanner had woken after only sleeping a short time. After having spent the last few hours sitting in vehicles, he needed to stretch his legs.

  “I’m going to walk back to where I left my car. Call me if she goes on the move.”

  “Right,” Kayla said.

  Tanner had been halfway back to his car when Kayla phoned.

  “She just left the room.”

  “Did you see her face?”

  “She was wearing sunglasses, but she has on that same red scarf I told you about, oh, and now she’s getting in the car.”

  “Follow her and I’ll catch up to you.”

  “Okay,” Kayla said.

  * * *

  Tonya watched Kayla’s van drive off through eyes that were becoming blurry. Russell was right. She needed a doctor. Her head felt like someone had it in a vise and she thought she might pass out soon. She grabbed up the keys to her rental and went outside, there had to be a clinic or a hospital somewhere along the highway.

  * * *

  Tanner reached his car, which was parked nearby, and prepared to race off. After starting the engine, a thought occurred to him. It was a memory, and something he had read in the book of Tanner. Something written by Kayla’s grandfather, Tanner Five.

  Farnsworth had once temporarily lost a target by being fooled when the man had another guy pretend to be him. In that case it wasn’t a red scarf, but rather, a bowler hat that had been used as a prop. Tanner cruised the motel’s parking lot, then smiled when he saw a woman matching Tonya’s description leaving a room. She was wearing a scarf too, but hers was green.

  At first, Tanner thought the woman might be drunk, but no, it was more like she was confused. She opened her car door as he was walking up to her, then collapsed across the front seats.

  “Hello, Tonya,” Tanner said. Her scarf had slipped down, and Tanner saw the pus-filled lump on the side of her neck.

  “I need a doctor,” Tonya said, and then she passed out.

  Tanner looked around and saw a family of five leaving their motel room on the other side of the parking lot, but they were paying him no attention.

  After they drove off, Tanner secured Tonya, then headed for the highway to catch up to Kayla.

  21

  Flaming Lady

  PADANG, INDONESIA, NOVEMBER 2001

  Bagus was smiling as he took his old boat, the Sea Woman, out onto the ocean. The American boys had done a fine job of restoration and needed less supervision than Bagus had guessed. The upgraded galley gleamed and Bagus thought he might raise his asking price when he put her up for sale.

  Thinking of the Americans made him wistful. He had liked both of the boys a great deal, particularly Romeo. That young man had been curious about everything boat-related and Bagus had taught him to read paper charts. Romeo would have made a fine hand on a charter boat, but of course, the boy had other plans.

  Despite the warm sun beating down on him, Bagus shivered as he thought abou
t the day the men with the machetes had boarded his main boat. Those men wanted to kill them, even his little Nadya. He knew that it was only the boys’ guns and their skill at using them that saved him from death. Still, he could not have such men around his family.

  No, he would find another way to protect himself. The man who wanted to take over the charter business couldn’t be like the animals he hired to push his agenda. Chance Cramer was a businessman, like himself. Yes, he would have to compromise with Cramer and refer customers his way, but surely, the man would see that he needed to make a living too.

  Peace could be made, and an agreement reached. People had been run off and other boats had gone missing. The missing boats must have relocated to other marinas as well, that had to be the answer. To consider that their owners had been hacked to death while at sea was too vile to comprehend.

  And while it was true that the men killed by Romeo and Xavier had been murderous thugs, Cramer couldn’t have known about the means they were using.

  The more he thought about it, the more Bagus was certain that Cramer would be appalled to learn that he had been threatened with death. Those men with the machetes had been acting on their own and crazed or on drugs. No sane man would have sent them to murder him and his daughter. There could be peace, they could live in safety.

  Bagus told himself these things over and over as he sailed. He needed to hear them, to believe in them. If he was wrong, and the man he was dealing with was truly ruthless, then he and his family were marked for death. That was something he could not contemplate, for he had no way to defend against it.

  * * *

  The boat had proven itself to be seaworthy and the rebuilt engines were sound, and so Bagus was heading back to the dock.

 

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