23. Dragon #4
I shifted down and drove up the rise until I hit the end of the slope, then I spun around and gunned it.
I flew up that plateau and then kept going over the drop, over the fence, coming down on the container with a thud and a shimmy that had me struggling to keep Pansy upright, particularly since I was applying brakes.
The end was coming soon, and the seams pulled while the top cratered.
I hopped that bike over the side and hit the dirt, six feet down in a thud that jarred my brain.
This may not be exactly the kind of thing people should do directly after coming out of bed rest.
But it felt so good to move. I slowed down, pulling up to the side of the truck, and then, with an apology to Pansy, I jumped from the bike to the door and punched the driver in the face through the open window.
His head jerked back while I unlocked the door, then grabbed the top and swung out while I opened the door so I could swing back in, kicking him over to the passenger’s side while I went in.
Once I was in the driver’s seat, I braked, killed the engine, pulled out the keys and then turned to see that the driver had a gun pulled on me. A nice snub-nose Glock. Efficient. Business. And I had a set of keys and training in gun handling from a very young age. He didn’t have a chance.
I disarmed him first, taking his gun and keying his face before I held the gun on him.
I gave him a sympathetic smile. “Look, this isn’t a day where you’re going to get paid. This is a day where, if you’re lucky, your face doesn’t get infected. If you’re lucky, you have a face that doesn’t get infected.”
The guy touched his bleeding face and then examined his fingers, astonished that he had a jagged cut instead of the gun. “Who are you?” he asked, big eyes wide and horrified as he stared at me.
“Me?” I said as I checked the sight and bullets, then aimed the gun back at him.
“I’m the dragon. And I’m here to carry off the princess.
Now I’m going to knock you out. You might die if this whole place explodes before I get out.
These things happen. Just know that it’s nothing personal against you. You just work for trash people.”
Over the intercom, Boney Hue’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“Dragon, stop pointing the gun at Mikey. He can’t help being a worse driver than you. Although, on the other hand, if you’d like a job, looks like there’s about to be an opening here.”
I looked at Mikey. “How many men does Boney have?”
He shook his head. “I’m not telling you anything. You can rot in?—”
I knocked him out with the butt of his gun and then opened the door and stood on the seat so I could have a good view of the situation.
Boney had a good dozen men with guns. If each one had a base pay of 30K, you were talking about a multi-million dollar operation he was running.
I gave him a slow clap while he smiled at me with his red loudspeaker from the crusher’s door.
“You run a real crew. I’m impressed, Boney.”
He lowered the speaker and shrugged his large shoulders. He’d been called boney for irony, and he’d only filled in more since he was shaking down twelve-year-olds.
“Trixie, I told you I was taking care of it.”
“And I told you that the family doesn’t run this city.”
He threw back his head and laughed, stretching out his hands to show his cards on the table.
The ones with guns. “You don’t run Vegas, sweetheart.
And you don’t step into my business just because you think you’re tough.
” He raised a gun, another Glock, resting it against his cheek.
“Maybe I’ll let you persuade me to let you leave here alive. ”
I smiled at him. “I’m not big on persuasion.
” But seriously, how was I supposed to get out of this mess?
Boney wasn’t supposed to have an actual armed force working for him.
Not that I believed he’d let me ‘persuade’ him to do anything.
If I were in touching distance, I’d kill him, and he knew it. Not literally kill him.
He sighed heavily. “You weren’t supposed to come here.
What do you care about this guy? It’s like that time when you were a kid, right?
When you pulled the rich snob out of his burning car?
You lose your mind when it comes to men with money.
Well, I’ve got some money. But I don’t need rescuing.
You love rescuing weak men, right? But now who’s going to rescue you?
You shoulda stayed away, Trix. This brings me no pleasure. ”
I took a deep breath. I was probably going to die. Was I okay with that? It beat another two weeks of bedrest, watching Horse walk around in his soft pants and nubby t-shirt, bare feet peeking under the hem while he put my feet up on the bench, calloused hands on my sensitive skin.
If I was dead, then he wouldn’t have to take the wrap for being my baby’s dad. My mom really would kill him. Literally.
The sun was going down, turning the sky golden with streaks of indigo and purple, pink and orange.
It was a good day to die. What kind of mother would I make, anyway?
A crazy one. Should I take out the three or four possible targets before I died?
Naw, I wasn’t really feeling it. I’d had a good ride, and it would be nice to die without taking another life.
I looked up at the sky and smiled. It was a good day to die.