Hard Case VII - Red Waves (John Harding Series Book 7) (36 page)

Achmed leaped to his feet, pumping his fist and singing. “I am the Walrus!”

Now that was funny.

Chapter Thirteen

Face Offs

We split up then. I got ready to go with Oaktown’s finest while Casey and Lucas left to meet with Clint and Crue. They would be the most deadly support group of all time. We weren’t playing tonight. We would play this farce out to the end because of the trouble Alexi went through to assemble the event. In addition, Oaktown’s reputation hinged on what people saw tonight. I didn’t know what brought Dragon Hands to this nasty business. Tonight we would find out. The limo slowed to a halt in front of the warehouse entrance. Our support crew rushed over to open the doors for Oaktown Cartel and their pug. The ‘Loners’ were already waiting.

“Pappy’s in the nest, Cheese. Clint quietly called in three of our gangs to ring the area. We’ve already been insulted. They brought a dozen donuts with them. What the hell kind of respect is that?”

“They think they’re getting help from above. I see they’re all in dark face paint and hoodies. Anything entertaining?”

“Not yet. ‘Hands’ isn’t here yet either. We had to leave word at our perimeter to allow anything that looks like a ‘Hands’ arrival through without question. We’ll handle any fallout.”

Then the entertainment started in a way we never visualized. A woman, dark of skin, ripped off her hoodie. She wore a tightfitting tank-top, skintight shorts, and very solid footwear. Her braided hair, tied tightly at the back of her neck, shone in the lighting. She paced slowly in front of the others, her eyes never leaving the now grinning Cruella Deville. This woman bore the scars of knife fights long ago and healed. She didn’t say a word. I could feel the adrenaline peak in the most dangerous woman I had ever met beside me.

“Oh my… thanks be to God,” Lynn whispered. “I thought this would be a boring kill fest. I’m glad I wore my fighting togs. Cheese… this is just so special… and it’s not even my birthday. Look at her. Darla’s measuring me for pruning right now, wondering which piece to take off first. Do I look alright?”

Lynn starts turning, showing different poses for my approval… and Darla’s.

“Excellent, Sis.” I saw Clint and Casey deciphering what was happening with amusement. “Lucas is already laughing his ass off in your ear isn’t he?”

“Yeah… quiet down, Pappy. A girl’s got to think with an opportunity like this.”

“What the hell’s going on,” Tommy asked with my Snow Whites around him.

“Monster business, T. There could be some gaming though.”

“Damn, Crue, that girl look like she been downtown and back,” Jess said. “She wants the cuttin’, huh?”

Crue struck a hands on hips pose with a very seductive smile. “Yep. Don’t you Snow Whites ruin this for me or I’ll show you some cuttin’.”

“No need threatening your support group, psycho,” Tommy retorted. “We wouldn’t get in the way of you and a knife fight to save our own souls.”

“We’re here, Dr. Deville,” Dev said. “I bet she attracts some heavy betting, T.”

In answer to Crue’s posture, Darla ambled to a halt matching Crue. She then slowly retrieved her blade in a way so sensual as to almost be sexual in nature. Darla didn’t do tricks. She fondled it as if the blade were her pet while never looking away from Crue. For a split second I almost drew the Colt at my back to shoot her in the head. This was the real deal and Dr. Deville knew it. When Monsters are challenged, it’s best not to disturb their thinking process. It’s complicated.

“C’mon, Tommy,” Lynn said. “I need to make this official. I need you at full flavor, White Sands. Are you up to it?”

“I’m with you, Crue… no matter what.”

Lynn nodded and sauntered out to face her counterpart with Tommy shadowing her in professional carnival barker expertise. He was indeed the perfect wingman. “Hello, Darla. I’m Lynn Montoya Dostiene.”

Lynn’s introduction did not sit well with Darla, mostly because she didn’t see fear, angst, or even an indication Darla had made an impression at all. Lynn never even showed her blade. “My damn name ain’t Darla, bitch! My tag is ‘Cutter’! That’s because that’s all I do… cut up posers like you.”

“Awww… you didn’t have to frost this cake for me, Darla,” Lynn replied. “You look like an apple dumpling ready for the pie already, sweetie. I see your scars. I’d show you mine but I don’t have any, baby. Know why? Want to find out?”

“Hell yeah, skank!” Darla couldn’t match Lynn’s killer persona. She could yell, threaten, and blandish a well put together act though. “I hear ‘bout you all the time… big cutter bitch! I know a poser when I see one. You been playin’ with the boys. They don’t know blades. You best show respect, Ho! Maybe I put yo’ skank ass to rest without a lot of pain.”

Even the Snow Whites around me backed away from that verbal smack-down. Lynn tried to hold a straight face, failed, and began laughing uncontrollably. I saw Clint. If anyone would have interrupted his wife’s unarmed enjoyment, he would have killed until not a single soul stood. Naturally, he would have had us with him. Lynn regained control, waving a hand at Darla.

“Go on, Tommy. I can’t take much more of this. Darla… you’re the best. I almost wish I could let you live.” Suddenly, Crue began dancing around. “Bad…bad… Leroy Brown… just like the song. I’ll make Darla look like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple pieces gone. No offense, Jess.”

“None taken, Crue,” Jessie Brown answered.

Darla hated the Monster laughter. I could tell she wanted to do tricks and probably kill a few people to get us to stop. The problem was Crue owned her ass now and she knew it. Darla went for the gusto. She tried to shiv Lynn so fast I had trouble following it. Lynn turned only slightly, deflecting the blade away from target. At the same time her own blade made an appearance. Lynn sliced Darla from wrist to elbow only tip deep. Darla’s knife clattered to the cement. Horror flooded Darla’s face for a moment as she clutched her wrist.

Lynn leaned toward the startled Darla and caressed her cheek. “Hi Honey, I’m home.”

Lynn straightened with a sigh. “So good. I loved it even if it was just a small poser interruption. Get up and bow to the crowd, poser. Then walk away. You’ve been entertaining enough for the evening’s beginning. Do anything else and I carve my initials in your forehead. Believe me, Darla. You don’t want that, kid.”

Darla never hesitated. She didn’t even wipe the blood away. With a lightning fast grab, she had blade in hand again. “I’m in all the way, skank!”

“You heard Darla, Tommy,” Lynn said. “I’m not doing major surgery for free. I hope you other chumps brought some money.”

I watched one of the guys look at the rooftop, smile when he saw the dead gangster profiles at the ledge, and move over by Tommy.

“I want three to one. I have ten large says Darla carves your bitch up.”

Tommy smashed him in the face, dropping the prick to his ass. “That’s enough trash talk, asshole! Speak with respect or I stomp it into you. We accept the wager.”

The punk spit blood and scrambled to his feet. “I take care of you later, old man!”

“Not likely,” Tommy replied. “Okay… the bets are in for Crue VS Darla. It’s your show Darla. If I were you, I’d lay the knife down and walk away.”

“You ain’t me, fossil!”

Darla moved with the utmost care on Lynn. She had underestimated an opponent; but instead of taking Lynn’s offer, Darla played it dumb. The match would escalate into a knife wielding demonstration seldom seen. I was sure of that. I saw Lynn’s speed. Darla had been weighed, measured, and came up wanting. The Danse Macabre began seconds later.

Every offensive movement ended in a new Darla bloodletting. Lynn stayed deadly serious. Darla feinted to Lynn’s side. Instead of moving where Darla wanted, Lynn slashed Darla down the forehead and across before Darla spun away. It was a perfect bloody L. Blood ran thickly from the wound, getting into Darla’s eyes. She batted at it and Lynn took the opportunity to sculpt an M. Slashing out in frustration, Darla lost her knife as Lynn cut the nerves in the knife wielding wrist. The jigsaw puzzle with a couple pieces missing screamed out in rage, falling to her knees clutching the squirting wrist.

“You’re lucky I don’t want my husband’s initial on your head. I was running out of writing space. One of you clucks go get a car and take Princess Darla to the ER or the morgue. If your damn fighter ever shows we can finish our business.” Lynn patted the somewhat subdued Darla on the head. “Hey, kid. You survived. Yay you.”

Darla wiped the blood from her eyes and spit on the ground in front of Lynn. “Maybe I teach yo’ baby boy some knife tricks, bitch!”

A split second later, Darla gagged out her life, trying to hold the gaping wound in her throat closed to no avail. Lynn bent down and wiped her knife off in Darla’s hair. She straightened. “Get our money, Tommy.”

Tommy walked over to get our winnings from the punk he dropped earlier. “Pay or play, pussy.”

“I ain’t got it on me. It’s comin’ with our fighter.”

“That’s okay. Maybe I’ll just bitch slap it out of you.”

“No!” Bloody mouth backed away. Apparently he didn’t want any of Tommy after all. “It’s comin’.”

“I hope for your sake it’s real soon,” Tommy replied. He surveyed the other ‘Loners’ in front of him. “I see our cutter, Dr. Deville, hushed you puppies with her patented surgical techniques. Any of you other pussies have anything to say?”

Silence. More than one glanced toward their dead snipers. The bloody mouth tried his cell-phone, thinking he needed to prompt them into action. We Monsters watched the hands edging toward weapons with detached amusement. Then more entertainment came along with the call as some rap song played on top of the roof from one of the dead sniper’s phones. Casey walked over to drape an arm around the caller’s shoulders, looking up at the roof with him comically.

“I don’t think anyone’s home, kid.”

We enjoyed the moment as a gleaming white stretch limo drove alongside ours. The driver, in chauffeur’s garb, ran around to the passenger side to open the door for the occupants. Three burly suited thugs exited the vehicle with Dragon Hands exiting last. Clint opened the driver’s side rear door and I dumped Darla in the back. It was their mess.

“Sorry about that,” I told the suits. “We have an audience coming tonight. They get turned off by bloody corpses. Hey, Dragon, I see you’re popping the pharmaceuticals, kid. What the hell do you want to do that for? You could have been somebody.”

“He’s bad,” Tommy said, noting the overly chiseled physique, enlarged head, and red eyed scowling features.

“Shut the fuck up, Harding! I get your ass tonight for good. You lucked out I didn’t kill you.”

“If Jack Korlos hadn’t saved your sissy-ass, Betty, you’d be dead. Cheese was going to kick your head into the next dimension.” Lynn was obviously still fired up.

Hands pointed at Lynn with a smile. “We got a cutter for your bony ass, bitch.”

Dragon Hands looked around in surprise as my Monsters and Snow Whites started laughing. He obviously missed my vehicle insertion.

“Oh… you mean Darla?” Lynn sauntered around to open his door on the other side. “I did an emergency throat surgery on Darla the cutter. She didn’t make it, Hands.”

Darla’s bloody corpse drained the blood from Hands’ face. The suits with him were more than impressed. They scanned for the dead snipers too, finally looking at the guy Tommy decked already. Their hands were drifting toward weapons too. The .50 caliber round from Lucas’s M107 sniper rifle smashed into the ground in front of the suits and Dragon Hands.

“No one reach for anything,” Clint told them. “The first one who does will be responsible for all of you dying instantly.”

Yeah, the Monsters convened a meeting to discuss the fate of the ‘Loners’. We decided to play this out in a slightly dangerous vein. The surprise entertainment with Crue and Darla cemented our decision. I’d meet Hands in the cage no matter what and we would disband the ‘Loners’ once we found out who the hell controlled them. I could tell Clint had decided the suits were our ‘Loners’ creators. They would be dying or coming along with us.

“We have a fight to do,” I said. “None of you are moving from this spot with a weapon. Submit to being disarmed or die. We don’t care which. Please stop looking up at the roof. I killed all your snipers earlier. All of you get on your knees for the frisk with hands locked behind your heads.”

A suit went for it. Clint put a hollow point surprise right between his eyes. No one had seen Clint draw. Not many do. I went over, snatched up the twitchy dead one and pitched him in through the door Lynn had opened.

“The demo is over,” I said, straightening. “Kneel or die. You kiddies get to live if you obey orders. I won’t even extract the pound of flesh I should for having my house front violated. It needed a paint job anyway. The ‘Loners’ gang won’t exist after tonight anyway. Now… get on your damn knees!”

They did as they were told this time. The cheap talk was done. They were professionally frisked and relieved of everything of an identity indicator. Jafar took pictures and fingerprints. We no longer took any chances. He would work until fight time making sure of our prisoners’ notoriety. I could tell from Dragon Hands’ red-faced rage, he didn’t like this turn of events. He saw his new gang going away in the same manner his old gang did, except we didn’t disband his old gang. We absorbed them. By the time we were done, Alexi showed with Claude and his entire security team. I figured Jafar had showed initiative and texted Alexi we’d have to open early.