Authors: Max Austin
Duke City Hit (17 page)
“Whoa! Whoa!” Vic held up his hands like a cop stopping traffic. “Everybody take it easy!”
Ring!
Ryan and Penny froze in place, guns pointed at each other. Vic slipped his hand under his shirt in the back, gripping the .22 stuck in the waistband of his jeans.
“No reason to shoot.” He tried to keep his voice calm. “We can talk this out.”
“She'll just lie,” Ryan said. “We can't believe anything she says.”
Ring!
“Please,” Vic said. “I don't want either of you hurt.”
He eased his gun out of his belt, but kept it pointed at the floor. Ryan and Penny didn't waver, didn't even blink.
Ring!
“However,” Vic said. “You should know this, Penny. If you shoot him, I'll be forced to put you down. I don't want to, but I will.”
Penny snorted. “Don't kid me. You'd never shoot a woman. It's against your
code
.”
He raised the pistol. “I might feel bad about it. But you're guaranteed to feel worse.”
Her finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger. If she fired, Ryan would be gut-shot, but he might live. If Ryan fired first, a big .45-caliber slug would decorate the walls in Penny.
Ring!
“Come on,” Vic said. “Put the guns down. We can still walk away from this.”
Neither moved.
“Okay,” he said. “I think the phone's done ringing now. Everybody take a deep breath and relax.”
Nothing.
“Let's all put our guns on the table. We can step back from the table, everybody at the same time, and then we can talk about this thing calmly. Like adults.”
Still nothing.
“Goddammit! Put the guns on the table. Right now.”
Ryan broke the eyelock with Penny. He looked over at Vic and smiled.
“Sure, Dad.”
He set the .45 on the end of the table farthest from Penny, then stepped back, hands out to his sides.
Vic said, “Your turn, Penny.”
She looked up at him from under her bangs. Vic felt a little thud in his chest. He'd miss her, no doubt about it.
She turned the Ruger on its side and set it on the tabletop. She scooted her chair back and stood, running her hands over her hair. He gestured with the gun, and she took a step back and leaned against the wall behind her.
“There,” she said. “Happy?”
Vic set down his gun and stepped back. “All guns on the table. Everybody calming down.”
Penny crossed her arms and said, “Now what?”
Vic sighed.
“I'm afraid our partnership comes to an end,” he said. “In fact, I never want to see you again. Keep the million you'll get for Zamora. Set yourself up in a new life somewhere.”
“Not here?”
“I think you've worn out your welcome in Albuquerque.”
“It's my home.”
“Our paths would eventually cross. I might not be feeling as charitable as I am now. It's better if you're gone.”
Penny hesitated only a moment, pooching out her lower lip, then said, “I can live with that. I was getting tired of this cow town anyway.”
She stepped away from the wall, and Vic tensed, ready to lunge for his gun.
Ring!
The wall phone made everyone jump again.
“Good Christ!” Penny said. “I'll answer it.”
She grabbed the receiver off the hook and shouted into the mouthpiece.
“What?”
A smile spread across her face, and she raised her eyebrows at the men.
“Hello, Tina,” she said. “Yes, I know you've been calling. Take it easy. Everything's fine. Ryan's fine.”
Penny rolled her eyes, mocking the girlfriend's concern.
“No, really. He's standing right here. So's Vic.”
She listened for a few seconds, then said, “This is a bad time, Tina. But we're almost done. He'll be there soon. Okay?”
Penny hung up the phone.
“She's having a shit fit. You'd better go tend to her.”
“All right,” Vic said. “But you leave first.”
“And go where?”
“Your office would be good for now. We'll tidy up here. You can go sit at your desk and dream about the new life you're going to make with that million bucks.”
She went around the table to reach a copper-brown jacket hanging on a peg by the door. She slipped it on and checked the pockets for her keys.
“I suppose this is all I need. So long, Vic.”
Penny went out the door, the screen slamming behind her. Vic watched her walk along the driveway until she reached the street. She paused for traffic, then crossed to her office and let herself inside.
She never once looked back.
“You're letting her
go
?” Ryan howled. “After all she did? You're letting her walk away?”
Vic raised his hands again. Ryan was getting awfully tired of being told to calm down.
“Not exactly.” Vic turned to the cabinets, started opening doors and checking shelves.
“What are you looking for?”
When Vic turned back, he had a box of quart-sized Baggies in his hands. He pulled one free and slipped it over his hand.
“This gun here?” he said as he went around the table. “The one I loaned to Penny?”
He gingerly picked up the Ruger with his bagged hand, then rolled the plastic down over it. Started sealing the bag shut.
“I told her it had a history. It's the one used to shoot Marc Troy.”
Ryan tilted his head to the side, not getting it.
“The record producer in Santa Fe? You shot his poor dog?”
“I know who you mean. What about this gun?”
“It's got Penny's prints all over it. If somebody were to deliver it to the Santa Fe cops, they'd match her up in no time.”
“They couldn't make it stick,” Ryan said. “Not with just fingerprints and ballistics.”
“Maybe not. But they could be a pain in her ass.”
Ryan smiled.
“Think of it as insurance,” Vic said. “If Penny makes any kind of stir, I'll threaten to drop this in the mail. I'd rather let the police deal with her than shoot her myself, if it comes to that. I've known her since she was a kid.”
They stowed their guns and went outside into the crisp air. As they climbed into the battered Escape, Ryan said, “Wouldn't the cops find your prints, too?”
“Maybe. But I'll be long gone by then.”
Ryan cranked the engine before he said, “You're leaving?”
“At least for a while. Too much heat now. Too many entanglements. You were right when you said I know everybody in town. Without Penny's business as cover, I've got no
context.
People will start wondering. They'll start asking questions I don't want to answer.”
Ryan had plenty of questions himself. If Vic left Albuquerque, then what? What was
Ryan
supposed to do? He felt like he'd arrived at a party just as everyone was leaving.
“I could use a change of scenery,” Vic said. “Meet some new people.”
“New waitresses to flirt with?”
“It's a fine pastime. One a man can pursue most anywhere.”
“Where will you go?”
“Someplace with a beach, I think. Take a little vacation. Eat seafood for Christmas dinner.”
“That sounds good,” Ryan said as he turned the car around in the dusty backyard.
“You want to come along? You and Tina? My treat. We'll go pick up your new passport from Kirk. Then we'll take Tina someplace warm and sit in the sun and get to know each other better.”
Tightness crept up Ryan's throat. He barely trusted himself to speak.
“I'd like that,” he croaked.
“Good. We've got lots to talk about. I've been thinking, maybe we should go into some sort of business together. Like you always see on stores. âWalters and Son.'â”
Ryan could barely breathe.
“I'm getting too old for the killing business, anyway. It's a young man's game. Maybe it's time I became a broker like Penny. Handle the business end of things, the logistics. Let somebody else do the heavy lifting.”
“I could do that.”
“We'll talk it over.”
Ryan glanced over at Vic and saw he was grinning.
“What's so funny?”
“You get to be the one who tells Tina about our business plans.”
“Aw, hell.”
For the first time Ryan had ever seen, his father laughed.
M
AX
A
USTIN
is a pseudonym for Steve Brewer, author of two dozen books about crooks. He lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
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