I Kill Monsters: Fury (Book 1) (9 page)

A discarded H&K lay on the ground before
the woman Boone held.

“We got us a situation here, Gossitch.”
Madison called from the van where he knelt, the barrel of his Colt
SMG not wavering as he drew down on the woman standing above
Hamilton.

“Sisters…” Gossitch held his hands up. “Let’s
talk.” The pistol in his right hand hung from its guard on his
thumb. “I’m just going to put this down, okay?”

“Gossitch, call off your man.” The woman
standing alone said it without her eyes leaving the sights of her
MP-5.

“Boone, we cool?”

“I don’t know,” growled Boone. “This chicks
got a knife to my balls. Think I’m getting a woody. You feel that
on your back lady?”

“That’s a nun who’s got a knife on you,
Boone.” Gossitch smirked. “Sister Emmanuela, how have you
been?”

“Gossitch.” The way the woman Boone clasped
said it sounded strained.“Emmanuela?” whispered Boone. “That’s a
sexy name. And damn girl, you smell good.”

“Shoot him, please!” Emmanuela called again
to the two other women.

“Let’s all just put our guns down and talk
this out, okay?” offered Gossitch, who placed his Glock on the
ground.

Jay looked at Santa Anna. The black man
shrugged and lay his own 9mm down. Bowie had already surrendered
his weapon.

Hamilton rolled over onto his back and looked
up at the muzzle of the MP-5 holding steady above him and beyond it
to the beautiful face of the woman who held it.

“You wouldn’t shoot me, would you sister?” he
asked.

“In a heartbeat.” She planted a booted foot
in his chest and pressed him to the ground.

“We just came to talk, Gossitch.” The nun
with the bead on Boone spoke. “Your men jumped the gun.”

“This is the one who jumped the gun,
Isabella,” corrected Emmanuela, still pressed firmly against
Boone.

“You feelin’ what I’m feelin’ lady?” Boone
whispered to her. “The chemicals between us?”

“You feel that?” Emmanuela raised the blade
of her kukri an inch, causing Boone to rise up on the balls of his
feet.

“Damn...”

“Boone.” Gossitch spoke clearly and firmly.
“Take the gun off the lady. Now.”

Boone looked from Bowie to Santa Anna to Jay.
They had all put their pistols down. Hamilton was eating pavement.
Madison still had his SMG in hand. Boone looked at Gossitch and
Gossitch held his gaze.

Boone buried his nose in the woman’s hair and
breathed, then said “fine” and aimed the barrel of the Smith &
Wesson at the sky.

Emmanuela turned, the blade of the kukri
still pressed to Boone’s crotch.

“You like that, don’t you?” her voice was
poison and promise.

“More than you’ll ever know.” Boone was ready
to back hand her with the revolver if he needed to.

Emmanuela removed the blade and twirled the
kukri a few times before sheathing it at her waist.

Bowie whistled.

“Impressive…” Hamilton noted. “Hey!” The
woman above him used her booted foot to push his head back down
again. One of her submachine guns was still on Boone. The other had
tracked to cover Gossitch and the cluster of men with him.

Boone’s eyes had never left Emmanuela. He
looked her up and down. She wore some kind of elaborate branched
charm on a chain around her neck. Her tits looked huge under the
tank top.

“You really a nun?” he asked her.

“Not the kind you’re thinking of.”

“Yeah, no nun I know got breast
implants.”

“They’re not implants.” The woman sounded
angry.

“We need to talk, Gossitch.” The third woman
spoke.

“Agreed, Daniella. But first we should all
put our toys away, no?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Daniella still had
her submachine gun aimed at Boone, who didn’t seem to notice or
care.

“
Mierda
…” muttered Jay.

“I mean, we’re all on the same side, here?”
Gossitch tried. “Ultimately, right?”

“Wrong, Gossitch,” said Daniella. “You and
your men are common thieves. Me and my sisters are brides of
Christ, sworn to—”

“—
sworn
to
uphold
the
covenant
of
Man
, yadda yadda
yadda,” Gossitch held his hands up. “I’m just trying to lighten the
situation, Daniella, before we all blow each other in half here in
Astoria.”

“There’s a good chance that’s going to
happen,” Daniella agreed.

“I knew I shouldn’t have put my gun down,”
said Jay.

“Daniella,” called Emmanuela. “We need to
go.”

“No, Emmanuela. We need to talk to them.”

“Maybe this isn’t the time or the place,
Daniella,” remarked Gossitch.

Emmanuela looked from Isabella to Madison
crouched down beside the van, then back to Isabella. She nodded and
the other woman did likewise.

“He’s right, Daniella.” Emmanuela retrieved
her Heckler & Koch from the ground. “We’ll come around.”

“Is that a promise?” snarled Boone.

The woman caught his gaze and stared at him.
Boone didn’t back down.

“Daniella,” as she said it, Emmanuela’s eyes
didn’t leave Boone’s. “Next time I say shoot this buffoon, do
it.”

“Next time I will,” promised Daniella.

Though they kept the barrels of their
submachine guns lowered, the three women didn’t turn as they walked
backwards down the alleyway. The black cat under the van dashed
after them.

Gossitch and his men watched them go.

“They really nuns, Frank?” Santa Anna
asked.

“Yeah, but not the kind you’re thinking of.”
Gossitch hot boxed his pack of Marlboros. “That, gentlemen, was
‘the Sisterhood’.”

“I think that one broad kind of liked me.”
Boone holstered his Smith & Wesson. The other men picked up
their pistols.

“Nah,” said Madison. “But she was definitely
checking
you
out, Jay. What’s up with that?”

“You’re imaging things,” he shot back.
“That’s what’s up with that.”

“Maybe she smelled the pussy too,” offered
Bowie.

“Come on, Jay,” said Boone. “Didn’t you ever
want to fuck a penguin?”

Jay ignored him.

“You comin’ out tonight man?” Hamilton asked
Jay.

The din of the diner’s late morning breakfast
crowd competed with their conversation in the booth. Santa Anna was
on the pay phone near the entrance and Madison was in the
bathroom.

“Gotta see,” said Jay, flipping through the
enormous laminated menu.

“What, you hafta check with the woman first?”
Hamilton asked it with a smile but Jay didn’t take it that way.

“It’s not like that, Ham.”

“Come on, Jay, it’s exactly like that. And
it’s all cool, playa. I’m happy for you, man. I really am.”

“It’s not like I’m a whipped boyfriend
or—”

“Said the whipped boyfriend.” Hamilton smiled
and Jay had to laugh. “No, Jay, seriously, it’s all good.”

“I know I haven’t been coming around as
much.” Jay, Hamilton, and Madison socialized outside of jobs.

“Bring the lady, man,” said Hamilton. “She
got any friends?”

They quieted down as Santa Anna slid into the
booth with them.

“Call your wife?” Hamilton asked him.

“Yeah, let her know I was grabbing some
breakfast with you guys. Thanks for inviting me.”

“It’s good you came,” said Hamilton. “You
been runnin’ with Gossitch for how long?”

“Man,” Santa Anna thought back. “Mid-80s we
started. Me and Bowie, few other guys.”

“That why you guys have those Alamo names?”
asked Jay.

“Exactly. Everybody in that crew did.”

“And we’re the fuckin’ Federalist Papers.”
Madison joined them at the table.

“You seen
Lethal
Weapon
Four
yet?” Hamilton asked Madison.

“Yeah, that Jet Li is a bad ass fuck, ain’t
he?”

“Shit yeah,” agreed Hamilton. “How’d he strip
that nine millimeter like that?” When the waitress came they
ordered their food and made small talk about the Mets and Armando
Reynoso.

“Let me ask you guys a question,” Santa Anna
asked after he’d swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “What’s up with the
kid, Boone?”

Hamilton rolled his eyes in his head.

“He’s alright,” offered Madison. “So long as
Gossitch keeps him on his leash.”

“He took a shot at that vamp in the
trailer.”

“Might have been a good thing he missed,”
said Jay.

“Well, bet he didn’t miss on purpose,” stated
Hamilton.

Santa Anna asked what that meant.

“Boone’s crazy,” explained Hamilton. “And
he’s a bad shot.”

“He missed at that range,” noted Santa Anna,
“he sure is.”

“Problem with Boone,” suggested Jay, “he
don’t respect the game.”

“Knew some guys like the kid Inside,” nodded
Santa Anna. “But you know what? Most like him never get to see
prison.”

“I doubt you knew anybody like Boone in
prison,” said Hamilton. “No disrespect, but I doubt you ever knew
anyone like Boone.”

“Yeah,” said Madison. “It’s a good thing he’s
on our side. Even if he can’t shoot for shit.”

Jay dabbed at his mouth with his napkin,
reached down and checked his pager.

“Be right back,” he said and left the
table.

“This woman of his, she something else, huh?”
asked Santa Anna.

“Man’s pussy blind,” sighed Hamilton. “I
never seen her. Maddy has.”

“Once, briefly,” noted Madison, sipping his
coffee. “And yeah, she is a site to behold.”

“That beautiful, huh?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know to describe
it…
exotic
I guess you could say.”

“Exotic how? Like foreign?”

“Well, she’s a white girl. But there’s
definitely something Mediterranean or something about her. And
she’s tall. Real tall.”

“Oh,” said Hamilton, “I like tall women.”

“How tall?” Santa Anna wanted to know.

“How tall are you?” Madison asked him.

“I’m six one.”

“She’s taller than you. And I seen her
without heels.”

“Damn,” noted Hamilton. “Jay’s gotta look up
to her, eh?”

“Yeap.” Madison cut into the last of his
pancakes.

“She’s got that guy wrapped around her
finger. Wouldn’t be surprised if he marries her.”

“Nah.” Madison said it with his mouth full.
“She don’t seem like the marrying type.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Santa
Anna.

“I don’t know. What I do know,” he swallowed
the food in his mouth. “I only met her the one time.”

“Hey, look,” said Hamilton. “It’s
Carmine.”

He indicated a man at the counter. The guy
was dressed well, slacks, a collared shirt, sport jacket with a
rain coat on top of that. The woman behind the register was handing
him his change. He returned the bills to an enormous roll of green
and stuffed it in the pocket of his slacks.

“Who’s Carmine?” asked Santa Anna.

“One of Dickie Nicolie’s men,” noted Madison.
“He’s a soldier.”

Carmine left the diner with a cardboard box
with four coffees and a brown paper bag of food.

“Mind if I ask you about prison?” Jay had
returned to the table and rejoined them.

“Damn,” said Santa Anna. “Everybody wants to
know about prison today. Go ahead.”

“How long were you away for?”

“Nine years. Almost ten.”

“Damn,” said Hamilton.

“That’s what I said,” agreed Santa Anna.
“Every day.”

“What’s prison
like
?” asked Jay.

“It’s good to be out.”

“Is it anything like the movies?” Madison
asked.

“I don’t know,” admitted Santa Anna. “Are the
vampires in this world anything like the movies?”

“Well,” Madison replied. “Not like that Anne
Rice shit.”

“My wife loves them books,” noted Santa Anna.
“So, I know you got yourself a woman,” he said to Jay, and then
addressed the other two men, “but what about you guys. You married
or anything?”

“Married, shit,” said Hamilton. “Fuck that
noise. No offense.”

“We’re players for life, man,” added
Madison.

“Know this place over off Roosevelt Avenue,”
explained Hamilton. “Got the finest ladies in the city. Gonna go
over there and get our knobs slobbed when we’re done here. Want to
go with us?”

Santa Anna grinned. “No. Think I’ll head
home. See my wife and kids. Can one of you guys drop me off at my
car?”

“Yeah,” said Jay. “We got you.”

Hamilton was looking at his watch. “Let me
up, I gotta go call my bookie. Yankees playing the Angels tonight.”
He threw some bills on the table. “Ask the lady for the check.”

“Mr. Mojo Rising, my man.”

Every time Boone walked into the record store
in Harlem the old black man looked up at him from behind his
sunglasses and his counter and greeted him the same way. Not much
unnerved Boone, but he did have to wonder how the blind man knew it
was him each time.

“Blind.” Boone bumped the outstretched fist
with his own.

The store was packed with bins of records and
CDs and some customers perusing them. Boone had been coming here
for a few years and had judged technological advances by the
products the old man stocked. Cassette tapes had disappeared,
replaced by CDs. Walkmen gave way to Discmen. Phonograph turntables
were joined by digital turntables. The old man continued to stock a
large supply of records: everything from Do Wop for the old timers
to twelve-inchers for the DJs and club kids.

An old bluesman was singing about John the
Revelator on the house system.

“Give me a second, Mojo.” Blind, talking to a
young Indian guy at the counter, held a finger up for Boone. Boone
sidled up to the counter and leaned against it.

“That Twin Hype you recommended last time,
they loved it,” the Indian guy was saying. Boone gave the cat the
once over. Flashy clothes, platinum. Some kind of DJ or something.
“What else you got, get people on their feet?”