Cold Blooded III: Sins and Sanctions (Nick McCarty Assassin Series Book 3) (18 page)

“Dagger’s chomping at the bit to be with you and Gus of course, while Quinn’s been reminding me of his presence nearly every second.” Rachel turned away, walking into the bedroom out of hearing range with Deke following close behind. “I need you with me. You know what my pregnancy’s done to my hormones and… you know… other needs.”

Nick smiled, remembering his earlier thoughts about Rachel, Jean, and Deke. “I have a vivid imagination, babe. I will do my best to make up for this unfortunate absence.”

“I will hold you to that. Bye for now. Wake me no matter what time you get back, okay?”

“You bet I will. I love pregnant women, especially you,” Nick joked.

“I better be the only pregnant woman you love.”

“Your will, my destiny,” Nick answered, getting only a giggle as Rachel hung up.

* * *

Jean waited anxiously outside the bedroom. “I know that was Dad. Everything’s okay, right? I heard my secret identity mentioned. Did he ask about me?”

“Of course,” Rachel answered while roughing up Deke’s head. “Yes, he mentioned you too, dog. We need to turn on the news, paying particular attention to anything about a mystery corpse found at Patriot’s Point.”

“Yes!” Jean pumped her fist, ran into the main TV viewing area, swiping the remote from Mona’s side. “Sorry, Grandma, we need to check the news. We’ll watch the rest of the movie tomorrow.”

With Deke halfway in her lap and Rachel next to her, Jean blinked through channels until she found a woman in mid-sentence reciting something about Patriot’s Point. A stark photo of Gustoff Banning against the flagpole was discreetly on display behind the newswoman. She made reference to the discovery, along with what facts observers were willing to share at the time, noting the mystery man’s identity was being withheld pending next of kin notification. The video clip obtained for viewing, showed a closer profile of the bearded man, which evoked a gasp from Mona, and a giggle from Jean.

“That…that’s Blackbeard,” Mona whispered. She listened to the newswoman’s stating of police and coroner’s initial theory of suicide or accidental drug overdose with open mouthed amazement. “Why in the world would he commit suicide? I mean sure… I’m happy as hell the bastard’s dead, but-”

Jean reached over and patted Mona’s hand. “Don’t worry about it, Grandma. It looks like part of your neighborhood troubles are over.”

Mona clutched Jean’s hand, but leaned around her to meet Rachel’s smiling demeanor. “You were talking to Nick. He told you to turn on the news. What the hell’s going on here, Rachel? How can this all be happening?”

Rachel reached over to cover Mona’s hand with Deke getting into the act by laying his chin on the human hands. “It’s okay to react like you’re doing with us, Mona, but you need to get a grip on your reaction. This isn’t a game where we blurt out anything that comes to mind amidst strangers or the media in particular. Like the woman’s saying, it was probably a suicide or accidental drug overdose.”

“But-”

“But nothing, Grandma,” Jean stated. “Don’t take this so hard. When we had bad people after us, I found out sometimes no one can help us… at least no one in police departments and those stupid government agencies. Blackbeard would have killed you… and us. Now he’s dead. Well… that’s just too bad.”

“Good God, girl, you’re only nine,” Mona remarked with dawning realization. “We can’t condone murder!”

Jean stood, with Deke jumping down at her side. She stared into her Grandma’s face with a shrug. “My Mom, Deke, and I wouldn’t be alive if we’d depended on the police. Some things don’t work, Grandma. When things don’t work with dangerous stuff that will kill us, we have to depend on someone. We depend on Dad. Without him training us, you’d be dead. He taught us how to survive. He cares about us. Because of us, he cares about you.”

“Jean’s dead on right, Mona,” Rachel agreed. “We all have to express remorse if asked about Blackbeard’s death. We’ll play that card anytime it’s needed. Jean and I love you, but please don’t assume we’ll allow you to mess with Nick. If you want us in your life, you’ll have to accept some difficult facts. Now would be the time to blurt out anything you have a problem with. Later will not only be unacceptable, it will be dangerous.”

Mona embraced the feeling of relief Blackbeard’s death clip had brought to the surface. She met Rachel’s eyes without hesitation. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

“That’s real good, Mona,” Rachel replied. “You won’t regret it. Remember this though: Jean, Deke, and I don’t play games regarding Nick. If you want us out of your life, say so. We want you in our lives, but we’re with Nick… period.”

“Oh yeah,” Jean said, reinforcing Rachel’s statement. “Anyone messing with Dad, messes with me, Mom, and Deke.”

Mona allowed a slow smile of acceptance to spread across her features. “Understood.”

Chapter Seven

The Fixers

“How’d the troops take the news?”

“Very well. I knew Rachel and Jean would be coming undone without something to do, so I put them on the news watch. They’ll check the main gist of anything reported. Plus, it was a great way to let Mona in on reality without any straight forward comments. She looks steady, but the troops will ease her into the facts of life in case she starts blurting out touchy-feely crap about her former neighbor who wanted to kill her.”

Gus shook his head while holding Mona’s rear entrance door in position for Nick to shim the bottom for reattachment. “I get it. You figure once the threat’s diverted, Mona will start beating her breast for the poor dead gangster unfortunates that have been terrorizing her.”

“Exactly,” Nick replied. “Okay, I think this is perched perfectly. I’ll fix the hinge, and the deadbolt. Then we’ll kick back and wait for the clowns from next door to drift over for a chat about what happened to their fearless leader. Wait until you see my performance, Gus. You’ll want to put my name in for the Academy Award.”

“Under what category, Muerto?”

“Good point, Payaso. I don’t think they have a category for me.”

Nearly an hour later as Nick and Gus drank a beer out on the front porch, three of Blackbeard’s posse walked down the driveway toward them. Nick had his 9mm Berretta under a newspaper setting on the small table at his side. Gus perused his laptop while holding his own Smith and Wesson 9mm automatic on the table behind the laptop. The three men, of varying heights just below six feet tall, and a little above it, stopped at the porch. Nick immediately dismissed two of them as wasted pieces of human debris living from one fix to the next. The middle one, a lean faced six-footer with a smirk looked to be the only one in the trio capable of firing a shot. He had tied back black hair, light blue eyes, and a perfectly trimmed goatee. Nick waved.

“Hi guys. Nice day, huh?”

Goatee spoke for the rest. “It sure is a nice day, friend. Our buddy stopped over here last night, and we were wondering if either of you had seen him.”

Nick sat up with a concerned look. “Why no… we arrived early this morning. We’re doing caretaking chores for the owner, Mona Charen. My partner and I only found a backdoor off its hinge. We fixed it, but didn’t see anyone else around. When was he supposed to come over?”

Nick’s question stymied the leader for a moment. Nick stood. “Sorry fellers. Would any of you like some coffee?”

“No… but thank you,” the leader replied. “I guess he decided not to come over. You guys have a nice day.”

Nick grinned like a redneck with a double cheese Big Mac in hand. “We sure will. Good to meet you. Do you have a number I should call if your friend stops by?”

The leader hesitated, but took a card out of his wallet. “Here’s where I can be reached. Thank you for your concern.”

“You bet,” Nick replied, taking the card in hand. “What does your friend look like?”

“He’s a big guy with a black beard. You’ll know him if you see him.”

“We’ll watch for him. Ya’ll have a great day. If we hear from your partner, I will sure get back to you on it.”

“Yeah… okay. Thanks.” The three walked off the way they had come.

“Damn. You should be on the ‘Blue Collar Comedy Tour’. What the hell does a drug dealer’s business card look like?” Gus accepted the card from Nick. “Name and phone number. Straight and to the point. Maybe you should have suggested they turn on the news.”

“It’s more fun this way, Gus. You haven’t seen the second part of my act yet,” Nick replied.

“Oh c’mon, Nick… you’re not going to run over there all excited, and tell them to turn on the news.” Gus studied Nick’s face. “Oh crap… that’s exactly what you plan to do. Have I told you that every cell in your body is rotten?”

“Not lately. It’s nice to be remembered. I’ll wait about fifteen minutes.”

“How compassionate you are. I’ll get the button cam. I suspect you’re doing this to get a look inside their place for me to record.”

“Very perceptive of you, Payaso. That is indeed what I have in mind plus a little more.”

“A little more what? You’re getting impatient. Anything you do right now will be messy. I know how much you like creating your murder scenes using unknowing gangbangers and drug dealers. What was wrong with your plan to give them all a hotshot to hell in the middle of the night using your famous stealth mode?”

“I’d like to go out to dinner tonight with our ladies, sip a few after dinner beverages, walk the Dekester, and get rested for our book signing. I need your help to do this adlib though, Payaso. I can’t have your usual negative vibes throw off my intricate plans, my reluctant sidekick.”

“Okay… spell it out for me. I’m at least three steps behind you on this.” Gus sat down, motioning for clarification with a resigned look.

Nick took a deep breath. “Sorry, partner. I have this thanks to Rachel.”

Nick showed Gus Blackbeard’s .45 caliber Colt she confiscated. “I carried it with me for a contingency in case a few pieces fell into place. The guy with the goatee showing up with his crew illustrated who he has for backup, and what their competence level is. I’m knocking on their door all excited with news I heard on Blackbeard. They let me in. You, my faithful sidekick make noise at their back entrance. I need only a second to make this work perfectly. With the targets’ attention drawn to your rattling at their chamber door, I will shoot goatee through the head, and stun-gun the crap out of his two cohorts. Then I can fix my scene of a tragic gangster falling out.”

“Gee, that’s wonderful, Muerto.” Gus cringed slightly at the dispassionate attitude of his chosen brother. “You just talked to that pleasant man only moments ago, Muerto. Now, you’re plotting to walk right in, shoot him in the head, and create a killing field with his crew. You are a very bad man.”

“What’s your point? Are you going to help me, or do I have to cut up your Payaso mask, and make poor El Muerto into a lone avenger?”

Gus laughed, standing and motioning at Nick in distasteful form. “You cold blooded prick! I’m in. I figured a more discreet ending for those murderous rubes, but I’m not bucking your record of creating police worthy scenes of death, involving only the targets. At least we already have the boss’s name from Blackbeard. Have you had time to trace this David Huxley’s name, or did Paul find out anything about him?”

“Paul told me he’s above legal suspicion, but has suspicious ties to Columbian financial interests. He owns a string of high end mercantile stores in Charleston simply called ‘Huxley’s’. He’d like me to consider sanctioning Huxley like I did in the old days. I’m thinking about it, but we don’t have much time scheduled for Charleston. Maybe I should pass on Huxley. It’s past time for law enforcement to earn their pay. Let the FBI have it. They’ll stake the guy out for six months, and then contaminate something, letting him go free. If he’s dangerous enough, Paul will come lay the big bucks on us to do him.”

“I’m surprised you’d consider not doing everything yourself. I like it. Anyway, one step at a time. We should get on with this fabulous Plan B you’re in love with.”

“Good deal. Let’s do this. I only have one more caveat to add into my plan I haven’t mentioned. I’m going to call the police, and report hearing gunfire anonymously somewhere between here and the hotel as we flee this soon to be horrible shootout.”

Staring in open mouthed amazement, it took a few moments for Nick’s added ploy to sink in. Gus didn’t hesitate. He remembered Nick saving his ass on a whim before. “I’m happy we’re recording this shit, Muerto. Indeed, let’s get your plan in gear.”

* * *

“Son-of-a-bitch!” The goatee paced the room after he and his three colleagues entered Blackbeard’s main place again. “Where the fuck could he have gone? I wonder now if he got a call, and had to take a meeting with the boss over this latest crap.”

His cohorts looked bleary eyed at each other. They sold dope. Sure, they’d cut someone up if they needed to, but they didn’t get into discussions about strategy or problems. They did what they were told. Period.

“He’ll be back,” one answered after many moments passed. “No one can take Blackbeard. Man… I don’t want to stick my nose in his business. Did you call him?”

“Fuck yeah, I called him,” goatee stated. “He ain’t pickin’ up.”

The knock at the door startled the trio. They could see Nick waving through the screen door at them. They hadn’t closed the main door. “Shit, it’s that rube fuckin’ around over at Mona’s place,” goatee said.