Chapter 53
“Just let my daughter go,” Mickey said. “I don’t care if you kill me.”
The barrel of Pedro’s gun stared him down, big and vengeful. Hatred filled Pedro’s eyes.
“You just got out,” I said. “You don’t want to go back on a murder charge.”
“I suppose you’ll just forget all about the kidnapping,” Pedro said. “I’m sorry. But you all have to die.”
Rage boiled Mickey’s face. Angry tears misted his eyes. “Let Kendra go!”
“She really is a beautiful young woman. Maybe I should keep her around. Use her as my plaything.”
Mickey snarled at him. “You motherfucker!”
Pedro laughed. “Yes. I think that’s exactly what I’ll do. Who knows? Over time, she might even come to like it.”
It was all Mickey could do to keep from attacking the guy.
Pedro’s finger wrapped tightly around the trigger. Smoke wafted from the cigarette. He was ready to squeeze.
“There’s more money,” Mickey said.
Pedro paused. “How much more?”
“Another $50 million.”
“Where?”
“Let my daughter and Tyson go. I’ll take you there. You can do whatever you want to me as long as you leave them alone.”
I didn’t know if he was bluffing, but it was a good tactic to buy some time. Jack and Flynn couldn’t be far away.
“Why would I need another $50 million?” Pedro asked. “This is enough.”
“If you don’t need it, give it to your men. Something to reward them for their loyalty.”
Mickey was smart. He put a bug in their ear. I’m sure Pedro’s men were already dividing $50 million by three in their heads. Though some of them might need a pen and paper to figure it out.
Headlights raked across us as another vehicle pulled into the lot. It was a black four-door Rampage GT. The late model muscle car crunched to a halt. The doors flung open, and four goons spilled out, weapons drawn.
I recognized them right away.
"That's my fucking van, homey!” Rico shouted to Pedro as he marched forward, an AR-15 shouldered.
That grabbed Pedro's attention. He swung the barrel of his pistol away from Mickey's head. "Excuse me!”
"You heard me, motherfucker. That's my van. Those fuckers stole it from me," he said, motioning to us. "We’ve been looking for it everywhere.”
"It seems all you’ve found is trouble," Pedro said. "You can have the van, but the money is mine. It belongs to me.”
"I don't care about the van, homey," Rico said. "That money is mine. I stole it fair and square.”
The air was thick with tension.
"Do you know who I am?" Pedro asked.
"Do I give a fuck?”
"I'm Pedro Sandoval."
"Good for you. Now put your guns down, and nobody gets hurt. I'll take my van, and my money, and you can go about your business, Pedro Sandoval," he mocked.
Thugs on both sides stood barrel to barrel.
Rage clenched Pedro's jaw. The last time he was on the street, people feared his name. The Sandoval reputation preceded itself. Today, no one cared. There was no respect.
"Put your toys away before you hurt yourself," Pedro said.
Rico's jaw clenched tight. He wasn’t going to let anyone talk down to him.
Mickey and I both shifted out of the line of fire.
Twitchy fingers wrapped tight around triggers.
“This ain’t no toy, motherfucker.”
Muzzle flash flickered, and bullets crisscrossed the night air. Molten copper spewed. The deafening cacophony of gunfire clattered, echoing off the neighboring buildings.
Mickey and I dove for cover. We scrambled away, trying to get out of the fray.
Bullets smacked into flesh and peppered the van.
Groans of agony filled the night.
Weapons clattered to the ground, along with bodies.
Adrenaline spiked, and my heart thudded my chest.
The intense fury lasted only a few seconds, though it seemed longer.
All of them fell to the ground, bleeding out. Pools of crimson swelled around bodies. Moans and groans filled the air. Lungs gurgled, filling with blood. Last breaths rattled.
Pedro was the last to hit the ground, still barely alive. His cigarette fell away, and he clutched at the holes in his chest, trying to stop the unstoppable.
Rico reached for his rifle that lay on the ground beside him. He managed to snag the grip with a bloody hand. The two thugs took aim and managed to get a last shot at each other before departing to the afterlife.
My ears rang from the gunfire.
I looked myself over and patted myself down, feeling for warm blood.
I was okay.
I shouted for Mickey. "You okay?”