Devil’s Fancy
Trackdown Series: Book 2
Michael A. Black
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
A Look At: Devil’s Brigade (Trackdown Series: Book Three)
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About the Author
Devil’s Fancy
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Michael A. Black
All rights reserved.
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To all who have served
Devil’s Fancy
Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head
The Merchant of Venice
William Shakespeare
Chapter One
Phoenix, Arizona
The blue Altima pulled into the driveway of the light green stucco house and Wolf watched as Lorna Adams got out and looked up and down the block twice before removing the brown paper grocery bag from the back seat. The vehicle’s rear bumper was almost hovering over the sidewalk because Luth’s pickup, wheel-less and propped up on four cement blocks, took up most of the driveway leading up to the house. He watched as she went into the house. She wasn’t a bad looking woman and certainly deserved better than the lot she’d drawn.
Much better.
Wolf had sought her out, asking for information on her boyfriend and at first, she’d been less than cooperative. Then she’d called him from the grocery store and asked for a meet. The discoloration under her left eye told Wolf all he needed to know.
Tim Luth was a hundred percent, grade-A scumbag and deserved to be in jail.
It had taken one too many beatings to finally bring her around to realizing this, too.
You don’t want to piss off the chicks, Wolf thought. Especially not if you skip your court date.
He adjusted his binoculars and focused on the side window on the front porch. It was an old-style house made of stucco and cedar board with an extended front section. It had seen better days. The house deserved better, too. Luth needed to spend more time on home improvement and less sampling his own product.
The long, bamboo-strip shade in the front window rolled down, then up, then down again.
That was the signal they’d agreed upon about ten minutes prior at the grocery store. The pigeon was in the coop. But this guy couldn’t exactly be described as a pigeon. Maybe he was closer to a rooster but, hopefully, he’d be the kind who was all crowing and little in the way of pecking and scratching.
Lowering his binoculars, Wolf checked his phone for the incoming text.
Perhaps the better part of a minute went by before the phone chirped.
Front door unlocked.
K, he texted back. Gun?
No. I think.
As soon as he read her response Wolf wondered what that meant as he dropped the phone onto the seat.
I think.
Not the best reassurance when you’re bringing a Taser to what might quite possibly turn into a gunfight.
Shades of Mexico.
He readjusted the straps on the vest Mac had given him, shifted the Escalade into gear and drove down the block at a rapid speed.
It wasn’t exactly how he wanted to play it but with Mac still being out and nobody to help him, flying solo was his only option.
Flying solo and unarmed and going to arrest a meth head on an outstanding warrant. Not a good combination. Meth heads could always be tricky and grabbing somebody inside his own house was always asking for trouble. He was certified on the Taser, but it would have been nice to have the comfort and reassurance of a gun.
But ex-cons couldn’t get concealed carry permits in the state of Arizona.
He wondered if that was true in other states as well and imagined it was. Once you’d served time, you were always placed in that restricted category—A second class citizen in every sense of the word. He couldn’t vote, not that he wanted to anyway. He couldn’t even reenlist in the army, or ever again wear his campaign ribbons again, or look at his stripes, or claim any of the veteran’s benefits he’d earned doing six years as an Army Ranger.
But that’s what happens when you get saddled with a DD and four years in Leavenworth.
Wolf cast a quick glance toward the target house as he went by then slammed on the brakes, jerking the Escalade to a halt and pulling into the adjacent driveway next to the green house. There was a white Ford pickup in that driveway and Wolf knew he was blocking it in and most likely pissing off the guy who lived there, but he couldn’t take the chance of pulling up directly in front of Lorna’s house. Not with a gun possibly being involved. She said he had a nine-millimeter that he usually kept under the mattress in the bedroom. But if he happened to be looking out the window and had decided to tuck the gun in his pants, Wolf knew he’d make a dandy target pulling up in front. He had her safety to think about, too. She had already taken a big chance dropping a dime on this abusive jerk. And at the grocery store, she’d said he was awake and a little paranoid from doing meth all day night long.
That would make Luth unpredictable and this apprehension problematic.
Wolf pulled the chain around his neck to free the gold badge that said BAIL ENFORCEMENT AGENT on the front. It was pinned to a leather base and dangled in the middle of his chest. It looked real official and hopefully, Luth wouldn’t pick up on the fact that Wolf wasn’t real law enforcement, had no weapon, no radio, or no back-up on the way … But he did have the black vest on that Mac had given him. It also looked official and was guaranteed to be bullet resistant.
He hoped he wouldn’t have to check out the veracity of that as he shifted the Escalade into park, pulled out the keys, and gripped the door handle.
One hundred percent guaranteed, he thought. Or your money back.
He wondered if Mac would get that refund if it wasn’t. And it still left a lot of Wolf’s body area unprotected.
The oppressive heat rolled over him like a wave as he jumped out of the Escalade, reminding him of his three tours in Iraq. That body armor had been a lot heavier and he’d been well armed back then.
Wolf slammed the door, hit the remote to lock it, and did a quick dash for the front door of the target house. He saw a flash of movement inside the adjacent structure, the house with the driveway he’d usurped.
He flattened against the wall, gripped the doorknob and twisted.
It was indeed unlocked.
Maybe my luck will hold out, he thought as he slipped the Taser out of its holster.
“Hey, buddy,” a loud voice called from his left. “What the hell you doing? Get your truck outta my driveway.�
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A middle-aged Hispanic man wearing a wife-beater T-shirt and holding a can of beer was standing in front of the white pickup in the adjacent driveway.
“I’ll be just a minute,” Wolf said, holding up his Bail Bond Enforcement Agent badge from under his vest. “Official business.”
“What?” the man said, his mouth twisting downward in a scowl. “You a cop?”
“No, he ain’t,” another voice said as the door in front of Wolf whipped open. Tim Luth stood there, matted hair hanging down to his shoulders, leveling a Glock semi-automatic pistol directly at Wolf’s chest. “He’s just some piece of shit bounty hunter.”
Luth’s face twisted into a maniacal grin and Wolf saw the other man’s finger tighten. The look in his eyes was wild and unfocused. Wolf instinctively twisted to the side as a burst of flame and smoke erupted from the muzzle of the Glock and it felt like a heavyweight boxer had just delivered a whistling body blow to his right side. He saw the shell casing flipping upward in slow motion as the slide snapped back into place. The Taser discharged into the dirty carpeting beside Luth’s left foot. Wolf’s body was still twisting as he slammed his left palm into the back of Luth’s right hand, knocking the Glock away. Letting the Taser slip from his right hand, Wolf grabbed the weapon and surged forward. The gun felt hot and metal slide ripped his palm as it fired again, this time toward the ceiling or wall. Another shell casing erupted and Wolf’s hands felt the sear of the gaseous expulsion.
Both of them tumbled to the floor, things suddenly shifting inexplicably back to real time as their bodies made impact. Luth’s breath was flecked with particulates of spittle as they both struggled to obtain total control of the weapon. Wolf adjusted his grip and twisted the barrel to the right, toward the weakest part of Luth’s grip and managed to dislodge the Glock from the other man’s hands. Luth gleamed with a patina of sweat and had a pungent and sour odor about him.
The Glock tumbled on the floor a few feet away and Luth reached for it.
Wolf grabbed his wrist but could barely hold on due to the slickness of the perspiration. Looping his own hand and forearm under Luth’s right arm, Wolf yanked the other man back, away from the errant weapon and used his body weight to roll him over. But Luth somehow managed to slip away and slammed his left fist into Wolf’s jaw.
It was only an arm punch and stung more than hurt. Wolf smashed a hard left hook into Luth’s exposed right side. He grunted and scrambled to his feet, apparently still trying to go for the gun, but Wolf managed to grab a hank of hair and pulled him back. Wolf set his legs under himself and sprang upward, still controlling his adversary’s head. Luth spun away leaving Wolf with a handful of uprooted hair still in his fist.
Luth staggered forward, fists clenched, his face a portrait of total rage.
“I’m gonna kill you, motherfucker.” His voice was a low growl.
“You don’t want to do that,” Wolf said, delivering a kick to Luth’s left knee.
That stopped his advance and Wolf set the other man up with a grazing left jab before stepping in and slamming home a right to Luth’s liver. Knowing that those types of blows usually take a couple seconds to register, Wolf pivoted and sent a left hook to the solar plexus.
Luth expelled a foul-smelling burst of air and sank to his knees.
Body punches, thought Wolf. Works every time.
Kill the body, as Joe Frazier used to say, and the head will die.
Wolf straddled the now prone opponent and bent Luth’s left arm behind his back. Kneeling on the biceps area, Wolf locked the bent left arm in place with his thigh. Using both hands, he gripped Luth’s right arm and bent it back, and then taking out his handcuffs, ratcheted the cuffs in place over Luth’s wrists.
“What’s going on?” a woman said.
It was Lorna. She’d told him before that she didn’t want Luth to know she’d dimed him out, so Wolf played along.
“Bail Enforcement Agent, ma’am,” he said. “I have a warrant for his arres—”
“Your ass, bitch,” Luth said. “You did this. You snitched on me, and I’m gonna make you pay.”
Wolf exhaled. Was anything going to go right today?
He realized a substantial amount of the wet hair he’d pulled out of Luth’s head before was now clinging to his own forearm. Wolf wiped the hair off and rubbed it on the other man’s T-shirt, which was now ripped.
“I’ll kill you,” Luth said. “You bitch and this prick, too.”
Wolf gripped more of Luth’s shaggy hair in his hand and pressed his face into the carpet.
“Shut your mouth, asshole,” Wolf said. “You’re going to jail and for the record, she didn’t snitch. I’ve been watching this place for a week.”
“Your ass, motherfuc—”
Wolf clipped him on the temple with an open palm. It wasn’t meant to injure as much as stun and it worked.
Wolf lifted him from the floor and began walking him toward the door, pausing to retrieve the Taser. He heard the distant wail of police sirens.
“That gun yours?” he asked Lorna.
She grimaced and shook her head.
“Better give it to the cops when they arrive,” he said and pushed Luth out the door.
Hopefully, what Wolf had said would sow the seeds of doubt that Lorna had been instrumental in his capture but he was going to jail for the foreseeable future. He doubted any of the local bail bondsmen would take a chance and post bond for him after he’d skipped out on Manny.
As they got outside, the Hispanic man with the beer was watching the procession. Lorna stayed at her door.
“You better move your damn car,” the man said. “I called the cops on you.”
Wolf nodded to the man. After all that had happened, he could hardly blame him: some guy blocking in his truck, a physical disturbance, a shot being fired. Wolf was just glad it had taken the man so long. Obviously, he had enjoyed watching the show through the window as it had progressed.
Maybe I should’ve sold tickets, Wolf thought.
Hitting the remote button, Wolf unlocked the Escalade and shoved Luth into the left rear seat.
“Stay there and behave,” he said, slamming the door.
Luth immediately rotated onto his back and began using both of his feet to kick at the glass window in the door. It buckled outward and Wolf sprang to rip the door open before the glass shattered, but he was too late. The shards flew into his face and he instinctively closed his eyes and whipped his head to the side.
Luth’s filthy tennis shoes hung out the broken window.
Wolf opened the door and delivered two punches into Luth’s side. He gasped with each punch.
“You through playing around now?” Wolf asked.
He could hear the sirens getting louder.
Shit, he thought. Just what I need. To go a couple of rounds with the cops.
Grabbing a nylon dog leash that he kept on the front seat, he looped the noose around Luth’s feet, pulled it tight, and then slammed the door on the excess. It would prevent any more movements or kicks. Wolf opened the door of the Escalade and hopped in.
“Hey,” the Hispanic man said. “Who’s gonna clean up all that glass on the lawn?”
“Sorry about that,” Wolf said, resisting the urge to retort, Whose lawn is it?
But time was of the essence. He shifted into reverse and backed out, hearing the tires making a popping sound as they rolled over the broken glass.
Office of Emmanuel Sutter
Bail Bondsman
Phoenix, Arizona
“Jesus,” Manny said. “This fucker stinks.”
“Yeah, well I would’ve run him through the carwash,” Wolf said, “But he kicked out the window in Mac’s car.”
Manny’s mouth twisted into a grin. “No shit?” He glanced at the handcuffed figure of Luth, whom Wolf had deposited in the chair opposite the big bail bondsman’s desk. “Were you a bad little boy, Timmy?”
“Come on, Manny,” Luth said. “This asshole broke down t
he door at my girlfriend’s place and dragged me outta there with no explanation of who he was, or what?”
Wolf knew better than to get into a verbal confrontation after all he’d been through with this idiot.
Besides, he thought, glancing at his watch, we’re almost out of time.
“He took a shot at me, too,” Wolf said.
Manny’s eyebrows rose like twin caterpillars on his wide face. He probably went about three-fifty and had an old-fashioned bob-style haircut. A chrome snub-nose revolver rode on the belt next to his enormous belly which stretched the material of his short-sleeve Hawaiian shirt to the max.
“He miss ya?”
Wolf shook his head and pointed to the black stain and hole on the right side of his shirt.
“Hey, that was your fault,” Luth said. “You grabbed my hand and the gun went off. How was I supposed to know who you was?”
“Shut up,” Wolf said. “I want any shit out of you, I’ll squeeze your head.”
“It was an accident, Manny,” Luth said. “Honest. And I didn’t mean to miss court. It sorta just slipped by me.”
He’d calmed down a bit now with the realization that he was going back to jail and facing the bleak prospect of not getting bonded out again after skipping his court date.
“Is that a fact?” Manny grinned and plucked another donut out of the box on his cluttered desk. “Good thing I give that extra vest to Mac.” He bit into the donut. “Now you owe me, big time.”
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