Action, danger, excitement, this story has it all! But if you’re looking for context, why not catch up on the previous instalments: Here. I stepped out into the open parking lot as the two bikers
Action, danger, excitement, this story has it all! But if you’re looking for context, why not catch up on the previous instalments: Here.
I stepped out into the open parking lot as the two bikers approached. Rusty leered at me as he rubbed the brass knuckles on his right hand. The other tucked my gun into the front of his pants and unwrapped the chain around his waist.
“Get out of the way, skank. He’s not worth it.”
“Funny, I was about to say the same to you.” I squeezed the handle of the expandable baton to assure myself. If they both attack at once, this fight won’t last long. “But then, I wouldn’t expect a couple of meatheads to see reason.”
The two men growled as they approached.
“What’s wrong, boys? Afraid one little girl will knock the shine off that over-compensating facade of yours?” I put as much mocking laughter into my voice as I could stomach.
If they don’t take the bait—
“She’s mine!” Rusty led with a right jab.
I sidestepped it and countered with a swift strike from the baton. He grunted as it made contact with his forearm, but didn’t slow down much.
I’d have to try harder.
He was bigger and stronger than me, but he’d given me an advantage—those brass knuckles. Sure, if he hit me with them I’d feel different, but in the meantime it telegraphed that every attack was coming from his right. I dodged his blows, making sure to keep space between me and the other biker, in case he got any ideas about helping his friend.
I returned every failed punch with a strike of my own. I landed them along his right side, probing for vulnerable spots. After a half-dozen tries, I connected with one. My blow caught the side of Rusty’s knee with a sharp crack.
He yelped and swore.
I hit him again. Harder.
His kneecap popped and he crumpled to the ground, screaming.
I stood over him and landed three more quick strikes to his arms and one to his head. He’d been the one to suggest “no guns” which implied he had one. I didn’t want to turn my back just to have him shoot me.
But in taking Rusty out of the equation, I neglected to keep my eye on the other biker.
The first reminder of my mistake was the feel of warm metal against my neck. The chain pulled tight faster than I could slip out of it. I gasped but no air passed my throat.
“You shoud’ve listened.” The biker said from close behind me.
I tried to throw my head back into his face, but he was too tall and all I managed was a soft lump against his chest.
Blackness crept into the corners of my vision. My pulse thundered in my ears. I flailed my baton against him, but the angle was too awkward to do anything serious.
The need for air crowded out everything else as, moment by moment, it grew harder to hold on to consciousness. But something solid pressed against my back. I seized onto that detail and held fast.
Then I remembered what it was.
Dropping the baton—it wasn’t helping me anyway—I reached back and grabbed my gun, still stuffed into the biker’s pants.
He tensed.
“Let me go, or it’ll be the worst day of your life.” Is what I tried to say. It was hard to tell how much, if any, made it past my constricted throat.
Regardless, the biker got the message, and the chain loosened.
I gasped a few quick breaths before turning my full attention to the man who’s junk I was holding hostage.
A mask of fear had replaced his anger. “Look, it wasn’t personal.”
“It felt kind of personal.” The words grated through my throat. “Especially since Bob Silver’s been dead for days.”
He shrugged. “Business is business. It don’t stop for nobody. Not even Bob.”
“Charming. Well, if Bob isn’t the one holding the loan anymore, who is?”
He started to shrug, but glanced down at the gun and thought better of it. “How should I know?”
“You expect to get paid by someone, right? Who is it?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
I tensed my hand on the gun, coming within a hairsbreadth of squeezing the trigger. “You sure about that? Lucky just wants to pay his debt. That’s what’s best for everyone, right? Or you can deny your boss his money. And sing soprano the rest of your life.”
He gulped. “The guy’s name is Manuel Aureo. He’s taken over all of Bob’s rackets.”
“Good to know. Where can I find him?”
“He works out of a warehouse in the Riverfront. Always has at least a dozen guys with him.”
“That’s pretty generic. Got an address for me?”
He did.
“Good boy. Now, I’m going to pull this gun out of your pants and you’re going to lay down on the concrete next to your buddy Rusty. Got it?”
The biker nodded.
Slowly, I extricated the gun from his pants, keeping it pointed at him as I did.
He complied with my instructions. A little gingerly—perhaps I’d done more damage the first time than I thought.
“Lucky! Start the car.” I knelt and retrieved my baton.
Behind me the engine coughed and sputtered.
I stifled a curse. “Lucky?”
“Working on it!”
I backed around toward the driver’s door.
The car gave one last growling turn then went silent.
I risked a glance through the window at Lucky.
He was waving away a small cloud of smoke that had burst out of the dash.
Great, just what I need.
I tapped on the window to get his attention. “Can you ride a motorcycle?”
He shrugged. “How hard can it be?”
I sighed. “Get out.” Walking back around the car, I called out to the bikers still lying on the pavement. “Toss me your keys.”
“Come on, not my bike.” The big guy groaned as he complied.
Rusty just laid there moaning.
“His too.” I gestured with the gun.
Shortly a second set of keys landed by my feet. I didn’t stoop down for them. “Lucky, grab the keys and get one of those bikes running.”
Carefully, he did as he was told. It took longer than it should have, and more than once the big guy winced at whatever Lucky was doing behind me.
When the engine finally roared to life, I shifted over to our new ride. Lucky looked like an idiot with a big grin on his face as he straddled the hog.
“Slide back, I’m driving.”
“But—”
“Just do it.”
Sighing he moved out of my way.
I settled in, keeping the pistol pointed toward the vehicle’s owner. I wasn’t good enough to drive the thing one handed, but I wanted to wait until the last possible moment to give up my advantage.
“Why you gotta take mine? This was all Rusty’s gig.”
“You want it back, check your boss’s place.” I shouted as I put the gun away and drove out of the lot.
To Be Continued…