Chapter 74
CHAPTER
NASH TOOK UP HIS SURVEILLANCE spot outside of Rhett’s penthouse for three nights in a row with no hits. But on the fourth night, at around one in the morning, Rhett showed. Sure enough, Elaine Fixx was right there with him. The car pulled into the underground garage and the door clanked down.
Thirty minutes later something intriguing happened. A van pulled down the road, did a U-turn, and parked across the street and farther down from where Nash was and killed its lights.
Nash slid down lower, pulled out a pair of night optics, courtesy of Shock, and took a gander.
Two men were in the front of the van. They looked big and tough and focused, like they were on a job.
As Nash continued his observation, two other men in the back leaned into view and engaged in animated conversation with the driver and the passenger.
They were all attired in black and they kept their gazes continually on Rhett’s building.
One of them bent down and picked something up. It was a baseball bat.
Okay, this is looking promising, thought Nash. When Nash had seen them together before, and being aware of Fixx’s husband’s volatile nature, a possible plan had formed in his mind. He now just needed a catalyst. And this might be it.
An hour later Rhett’s Porsche pulled out of the garage, with Fixx once more in the passenger seat. The car turned left and Rhett gunned it.
As soon as the Porsche passed Nash, the lights on the van came on and it slid in behind the Porsche.
Nash fired up his truck, did a U-turn, and joined the chase.
They quickly left the city and headed up into the surrounding hills.
As they kept going, Nash had a good idea where they were headed: the Temple estate.
He wondered if Rhett had any clue about the tail, but he doubted it.
He was probably fully engaged with Fixx.
He wondered why Rhett would be bringing Fixx to the house where his stepmother was living, arguably with the child fathered by her stepson.
But then again, Rhett had never been known for his logic or for common sense.
Rhett was all about Rhett. And, in truth, it was a huge house; they could be in one part of it and no one the wiser.
When the Porsche made the last turn prior to the straightaway leading to the Temple property, the van sped up, hurtled past the Porsche, and cut it off, nearly running the other car off the road.
Nash had already killed his headlights. He slowed to a stop as he saw the four men emerge from the van. Two held baseball bats; the other pair wielded knives.
Nash grabbed a collapsible metal baton from his bag and quietly climbed out of the truck as the men surrounded the Porsche.
“Out of the car,” barked one of the men.
Rhett said, “Look, I don’t know what the hell—”
The man cracked the Porsche’s windshield with one swing of the bat. “Out, now!”
A trembling Rhett slowly opened his door and stepped out, holding up his hands defensively. “Please, I—”
“Shut up,” exclaimed the same man.
Fixx stayed in her seat, also shaking with fear.
“Out, bitch!” screamed the man. “Now!”
She climbed out of the car and stood trembling next to Rhett.
“Who are you?” asked Rhett. “I don’t have any money on me, but I—”
“I told you to shut up!” The man looked at Fixx. “Ain’t you married, slut?”
The blood drained from the woman’s features. “Oh my God, did Roger—”
The man waggled the bat in Rhett’s face. “Hope you had your fun with her tonight, asshole, ’cause it’ll be the last night you’ll be able to get anything up.”
Rhett backed away. “Please, whatever he paid you I’ll double, no, triple it. Just—”
The man punched him in the gut with the head of the bat.
Rhett collapsed to the asphalt struggling to breathe while Fixx screamed.
“Okay, I think you made your point.”
They all turned to look at Nash, as he stepped from the edge of the deeper darkness and into their view.
Nash held the baton out of sight while he eyed the four men and thought through his possible tactics and strategies, as Shock and Jackson had instructed him.
This would be the second time he would deploy his new skills for real, but the two jerks back in the bar hadn’t been wielding bats and knives.
Still, there were always ways to overcome challenges if you stuck to what you had been trained to do, and allowed some latitude for any surprises that might crop up.
“Who are you, hotshot?” the same man, and the clear leader of the foursome, called out.
He was nearly as tall as Nash, in his late forties, and overly bulky.
When he moved, he did so jerkily. Bad hips and a bum right knee, Nash concluded.
The man to his right was far shorter and muscle-bound.
That would impede his flexibility and adaptability in close-quarter situations.
The last two men were carbon copies of the other, six feet lean, around twenty-five, and they moved with catlike grace and power.
They were also the ones armed with knives.
They might pose a greater challenge than the other pair, Nash concluded, as, on a nod from the leader, they headed toward him.
Nash replied, “Good Samaritan. I suggest you get back in your van and head on.”
“Four against one, dipshit,” said one of the young men advancing on Nash.
Well, it’s not four on one anymore, because you just separated yourself from the wolf pack. And I thank you in advance for your overconfidence.
When the pair were close enough they both held up their knives in a threatening manner. The same one said, “Where you wanna be cut—”
The one rule Shock had drilled into him above all others was Don’t waste time jawin’. Just fucken do it while they be gabbin’ showin’ off how tough they are.
Nash smashed the first man in the kneecap with the baton and then jacked him with a punishing palm strike to the nose that knocked him out.
As the man fell backward Nash whipped the baton around and took out the other man’s knife, and hand, at the same time.
Howling with pain, the injured man bent over and got Nash’s size-twelve boot in his throat for his trouble.
He stumbled backward gagging, and Nash helped him along with a sharp, direct punch to his sternum and another punch to his jaw.
The man’s eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed into a deep sleep.
Two down for the count. Nash slowly advanced on the remaining twin problems.
Dollars to donuts they are going to do the stupid thing and rush me when they should use Rhett and Elaine as pawns to make me drop my weapon, or leave.
They rushed him.
The bat swung at Nash’s head, but he was no longer there.
The man with the bad hips and bum right knee stumbled awkwardly past him.
Nash hooked the man’s left leg with the baton, lifting it off the ground, and then swung around and used his boot heel to stomp the man’s Achilles, driving it far beyond all tearing points.
The man cried out and went down, clutching at his limb and moaning.
Nash eyed his remaining opponent, who was brandishing the bat but looking increasingly frantic, since he was the last obstacle standing.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” said Nash quietly. “I won’t beat your brains out if you collect your friends, load them in the van, and drive away.” He held up the baton. “So what will it be? Three… two…”
The man dropped the bat. “Okay, okay, shit.”
Nash helped the man load his injured and/or unconscious comrades into the van, and then watched as they drove off.
Rhett, who had recovered from being gutted by the bat, hurried over to Nash, “Jesus, man, how can I ever thank you? You saved my butt.”
Fixx came up and put her arm through Rhett’s. “Our butts.”
Nash noted that neither of them showed any hint of recognition toward him.
“Glad I could help,” Nash said in the low, slow, throaty drawl he had adopted as his new manner of speech.
“Seriously, can I pay you? You deserve it. That was amazing.”
“Not necessary. I was just helping out folks who needed it.”
“How did you learn to do all that stuff?” asked Fixx.
“I’m in the private security business. High-net-worth individuals who need protection.” He eyed the Porsche and then Rhett. “I don’t know you, mister, but I would advise you to get some professional folks covering your six in case something like this happens again.”
“My father had a team, but I let them go after he died. They were loyal to him, you understand.”
“I understand.”
“I was thinking about hiring a new team. I just haven’t made a decision yet.”
“Well, be extra careful until you get a new team on board.” He started to walk off.
Take the bait, take the bait, Rhett.
“Wait, what’s your name?”
Nash turned around. “Dillon Hope.”
“You’re obviously a pro at what you do.”
“I take pride in it. I train for it. And I keep my skill set up-to-date.”
Rhett took a card from his pocket and walked over to him. “Look, come and see me tomorrow at my office. Ten sharp. This little episode showed me that I do need protection.”
Nash looked down at the card. “Let me email you my CV, Mr. Temple. You should check me out before hiring me.”
“Good idea. My email’s on the card.”
“Okay, I’ll see you at ten, Mr. Temple.”
“Make it Rhett.”
“If I’m going to work for you, sir, it’s Mr. Temple.”
Rhett looked at Fixx and grinned. “I’m liking this guy more and more.”
“Can you drive with your windshield like that?” asked Nash.
“We only have a short way to go. Thanks again, and I’ll see you tomorrow, Dillon.”
“I’ll follow you until you get to where you’re going safely, Mr. Temple.”
When they got to the estate gates, Nash honked and drove off.
I’m in.