Bullets Are My Business (9781101616413) (19 page)

I watch as Bruiser moves toward Maise. He stands before her and cocks his head. He's sizing her up, the sick, twisted masochist. He's like an artist looking at a block of marble. Maise looks up at him with her big blue eyes, wrought with all sorts of fear, whimpering from deep within her throat. Bruiser stands still for a moment, relaxing his shoulders, giving Maise a glimpse of hope that he's not going to hurt her. I can feel my neck muscles tighten. He's playing with her. I can see what's coming next.

Without warning, Bruiser lashes out. He backhands Maise across her cheek. I can hear the sharp crack as his hand connects to her skin. It sounds like a gunshot. I watch as the blood and saliva arc across the gymnasium from her lips. Maise lets out a sharp scream. Bruiser doesn't want to hear it. He wants to hear answers. He lands a fist in her stomach. The scream is cut short by an attempt to gasp for air.

“Do you know who killed Vincent?” Bruiser asks Maise. She gives no response. Bruiser moves in closer. His face is inches away from hers. “Answer me and this will all be over. If you don't, this is going to get unpleasant.” Still no response. Bruiser shakes his head.

“You're bringing this all on yourself,” he tells her as his monstrous hands engulf her head. I can't see exactly what he's doing, but I can hear a slow, small whimpering from Maise's throat that abruptly changes into an explosion of shrieks of intense pain.

“Megan,” I say, “you better tell your monster to back the fuck off if he wants his death to be quick.” Megan raises an eyebrow at me.

“I have to hand it to you, Levi,” she tells me. “For a guy who is a step and a half away from being shot, you certainly are a cocky bastard.” Bruiser releases Maise from whatever grip he had on her. Her shrieks fade into sobs. Bruiser leans in toward her again, putting his lips directly next to hers.

“Do you know who killed Vincent?”

Maise nods her head. Bruiser nods along with her. “Who was it?” Maise immediately begins shaking her head in the negative. Goddammit. Bruiser straightens up and grabs Maise by the throat.

“I'm getting sick of this. You had better spill whatever information you have, right now,” Bruiser yells.

Maise shakes her head as best she can. “I . . . can't,” she eeks out. I can't tell if she's trying to say something more. All that follows is a series of gurgles. He's going to kill her. I no longer give a shit about my own well-being. Something has to be done. I have to stop this and I have to stop this now. Megan may be right in assuming that I can't move faster than a bullet. That doesn't matter so much. The real question is, can I move faster than she can get that bullet out of the gun? I certainly hope so. I've only got one chance.

I keep my eyes locked onto Megan's. I can see the sweat standing out on her forehead. She overexerted herself when she was going to town on me. Good. All the better for me. I watch as a bead of sweat rolls down the side of her forehead. It lands in the corner of her eye. She blinks.

And away we go.

I shove my hand in my jacket pocket, grasping my .38. I pull it out and spin to my right. I'm on my feet, pushing away the pain from my beating. No time for that. Megan pulls the trigger once. The bullet grazes my side. The ball is back in my court. I lunge toward Megan and squeeze off a single round. It catches Bruiser in the back of the calf. He screams and releases Maise from his grasp. Maise falls to the floor. I connect with Megan. We recoil backward and land on the floor, hard. Megan's gun clatters across the gym, coming to a halt somewhere in the shadows. Out of sight, out of mind. I catch Maise out of the corner of my eye. She's still attached to the folding chair.

There's only one problem.

As if in answer to my thoughts, I feel a set of hands clamp down on my shoulders. I'm yanked from the ground like a marionette and tossed to the side. I land hard. The wind is knocked out of me, but the gun is still in my hand. The limping Bruiser pulls Megan to her feet.

“You just locked in both of your deaths, Levi,” Megan says. She grabs Maise by the hair and pulls her head backward. “Now, you better tell me who killed Vincent, you fucking cunt.” There's a sharp click. Megan is brandishing a blade. She moves it toward Maise's throat. The gym doors are flung open and three shadows walk through the doorway.

“The far better idea is for you to drop that knife.”

I recognize the voice immediately. Megan hesitates, glaring at the newcomers. Her hesitation ruins her plans. Veronica doesn't waste any time. She hasn't stopped walking toward Megan and Maise since she entered the gym. Without missing a beat, she snaps her fingers at the man behind her. The man moves gracefully, a flash of light, a bang. Megan's got a bullet in her arm. The blade is on the ground.

Veronica makes her way to Maise's side. She gives me a courtesy nod as she passes, then she looks Megan in the eyes. Megan doesn't know what to think. She stands, clutching her wounded arm. She and Veronica stare each other down. They look like welterweight boxers preparing for a championship bout. Veronica speaks first.

“I've heard a lot about you.”

Megan clutches her arm and scowls. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I'm the name that you were willing to take my sister's life for.”

No one in the room says anything. It feels like someone hit the mute button. It takes a moment or two for the words to filter their way into Megan's mind so she can make sense of them. It's visible when it happens. I can see the anger and confusion meld into some sort of stew of rage. Megan releases her arm and grabs Veronica by the jacket. “You killed him?”

Veronica doesn't lose her cool. She leans in close to Megan so that she can hear every word. “You're not the only one who was thirsty for revenge.” Megan looks as though she's been slapped in the face. She raises her hand to retaliate by physically doing the same to Veronica. The sounds of guns being pulled from their holsters doesn't sway Megan from her follow-through. Her hand connects with Veronica's face. Now the guns are being cocked. Good-bye, Megan. See you in hell.

The shots never come. Veronica has raised her hand, telling her boys to cease their initial plan. She wipes the small string of blood away from her lower lip.

“She was entitled to one,” Veronica says. Then her voice lowers a few degrees. “But only one. The next time, the bullets fly.”

“Why?” Megan snarls. Her voice is low and gravelly. It sounds like she's the victim of a demonic possession. “Why did you do it?”

“I did it because there are certain vermin that don't have any role whatsoever to play in society. This vermin needs to be wiped out,” Veronica explains. Megan clenches her jaw. She looks like a rabid wildcat and she's ready to pounce. I wish she would so I can go home. Veronica looks at Megan. “Let me back up a bit.

“Maise was, for lack of a better term, employed by Vincent, and to put it as nicely as possible, she was mistreated. When word came around to me about what Vincent was doing to her, how he was treating her, I paid him a visit. The visit was strictly a cautionary one and it seemed to go well. We parted ways and I left him with a word of warning that the next time I had to visit him under those circumstances, I would see to it that mine was the last face he ever saw. Thinking that the matter was taken care of, I put it out of my head. You can understand that, when I found out, days later, that Vincent wasn't pleased with my forced sit-down and took it out on my sister, I couldn't leave my threat empty. I contacted a close friend of mine, who in turn contacted Mr. Maurice, to create a diversion so that I could fulfill my end of the bargain. Vincent had received his warning, and when he did not abide by it,” Veronica concludes, “I carried it out.”

The echoing silence in the room returns. Megan stands motionless, but you can see the tension emanating from her body. She is prepared to take bullets if need be, so long as she tears Veronica in half. Veronica is a hell of a tough cookie, but my money would be on Megan in her present state of mind. She has enough adrenaline coursing through her body to stop a grizzly bear. Couple that with the rage and you've got a Molotov cocktail that could take on any contender.

“It's a good thing for Levi that his story checks out.” I spin my head toward the far wall and watch as the Asian emerges from the shadows. I didn't see that one coming. The Irishman and the behemoth enter from the weight room door. The three converge toward the gathering in the center of the room. On the upside, the night's getting more and more interesting with each passing second.

The Asian steps up to Veronica. Her henchmen raise their guns and train them on him. In turn, the mick and the ogre train their guns on the henchmen. I get the feeling that none of these guys are in the habit of playing nice. Someone's bound to get hurt.

“I don't suppose I need a formal introduction,” the Asian says. Veronica shakes her head. She's already bored with the whole ordeal.

“No, you don't,” she replies. “It was your duty to protect Vincent, and may I say, your boys didn't do a terribly great job.” The Asian forces a smile that reads something along the lines of, “I'm going to tear your heart out and eat it.” I'm waiting to hear his verbal response when the door bursts open again. Chenille and Jacks run in, guns out.

Jesus Christ. When's Monty Hall going to get here?

The Irishman and one of Veronica's guys both turn in perfect unison to level their guns at Chenille and Jacks. No one so much as flinches.

“Everybody, drop your weapons!” Jacks yells. He wasn't expecting such a crowd. Hell, I don't think anyone here was expecting so many guests to show up. I know I sure as hell wasn't. It's a good thing that Jacks works well under pressure. I just hope he has backup en route. No matter how well Jacks works, I can't see him bringing down eight armed people.

Car tires squeal outside in the parking lot. Jacks's boys are here to clean up. I catch a glimpse of confusion on Jacks's face. Maybe not. It dawns on me that Bruiser has been awfully quiet. I look at him. He has a cell phone in his hand. The doors slam open in the gymnasium.

The boys are back in town.

For a split second, nobody moves. Everything is perfectly still, perfectly serene. I wish I had a picture of this moment for posterity's sake. The literal calm before the storm. Megan ruins the moment. She dives past Veronica, slides across the floor, and comes up with her gun in her hand. She fires the first shot. A wild one. All hell breaks loose. No more standoff. This is the real deal.

The wild bullet catches Chenille in the shoulder. I scramble to my feet, moving quickly to Maise to untie her. I glance at Chenille to make sure she's still standing. She is and she looks pissed. A glimmer of pure evil has spread across her face. Jacks is by her side. Chenille can take care of herself. Hell, she lives for shit like this.

“Doll, this'll only take a second,” I tell Maise. I pull my switchblade out of my pocket and start sawing at the ropes. I feel them give. I help Maise to her feet. When she's standing, she turns to me with relief in her eyes. She starts to move in to give me a hug when the relief is erased and replaced by sheer terror. I wheel around just in time to catch Bruiser's fist like a cannonball on my nose. I hear it crack and my head carries the rest of my body backward. I'm weightless for a good three seconds before gravity catches up with me. Then my back meets up with the hardwood floor.

I've had enough of this shit. I don't even bother waiting for the wind that was knocked out of me to return. I'm back up on my feet in a heartbeat. Bruiser isn't expecting me to be up off the mat so quick. I lunge at him and knock him backward. We commence to scuffling on the floor. I have him on his back and I'm pummeling his face like it's meat in desperate need of tenderizing. He gets in a good jab to the kidney. I wince, just long enough for him to toss me like a rag doll. I hit the ground and I'm back on my feet again in no time at all. Round two. He lumbers to one knee, moves toward me like a big hairless bear. I back toward the weight room doors. People stagger and jump between us, guns bared. Bruiser doesn't even seem to notice. He has only me in mind. He lurches toward me. He wants blood. My blood.

My ass hits the door. I back through it, into the dark room behind me, just as Bruiser throws a random vigilante aside. He's like a juggernaut. As soon as I'm through the door, I spin and bolt over the nearest weight bench. Bruiser tears through the door a second later. He's on top of me as soon as I hit the ground. He gets a handful of my shirt. My momentum throws us both off balance. We crash into a weight set. The free weights roll across the floor. Bruiser straddles me. My face starts taking the brunt end of a beating. I gotta get him off me quick. I think my nose is already broken, and if it isn't, it's going to be pretty damned soon. I don't know any good reconstructive surgeons. I bring my knee up, catching him in his raisin-sized balls. He groans and slumps off of me, a look of anguish on his face. I grab hold of the overturned bench and pull myself up. I kick him in the forehead. Thankfully, no one said anything about a good clean fight.

He grabs my ankle and yanks me to the floor. I crack my head on the bench. A flash of light engulfs my vision. He pulls me toward his already poised free fist. I reach out to grab hold of something that will slow me down. All I can find is loose weights. That ought to do the trick.

I blink my eyes rapidly to beat away the fuzzy light. Bruiser is trying to get on top of me again. If he does, the last thing I'll ever see is a set of knuckles barreling down on my windpipe. I gotta act fast.

I grip the weight in my hand, heave it to my chest as I sit up. My stomach burns. It has to be a twenty-five pounder. Doesn't sound like much until you do a sit-up with it. I gotta start working out more. With my left hand, I bring the weight full force directly between Bruiser's eyes. He blinks, the skin above his nose tears open. He falls over backward. I get to my feet and stand over him. He opens his eyes just in time to see me let go of the weight. He barely has time to register a surprised look before the weight crushes every bone in his face. He gurgles and spasms for a moment. Then he lays perfectly still.