“—no matter who I kill, Theresa?” He regained his cool. He stood and walked around the chair, his two flunkies still remaining stock still, like statues. “See, here’s what I’m thinking,” he smiled. “I’m thinking that, no matter what you say, not everyone in that DA office is as tough as you are, Theresa. I’m thinking that it’s possible, more than possible, that when they see what can happen, they might change their minds about what’s worth pursuing and what’s not.”
“When they see what can happen? What does that mean, Antoine?”
“Oh, I dunno,” he said coyly. “Like how about finding your broken and mangled body on the side of some fucking river bank? Covered in mud and trash, looking like something that even the cat wouldn’t drag in. Oh yes indeed. I think that may change more than a few minds. Yes, indeed.”
He pulled a switchblade out from somewhere on his person, moving so fast I hadn’t spotted it at all. He pressed the point against the skin of my right cheek, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough for me to feel the pressure, the sharpness. “Like maybe cutting your whole fucking face off, for starters. Maybe just letting your pretty blue eyes bulge out from the rest of your damn head. Think that might be enough to scare enough people to back off the case? I think it might be. I think it very well may be more than enough.”
Whatever window I was looking for… it was going to need to show up soon.
16
The Fixer
Creeping around the corner of the building, I could see at least three of Larroca’s men stationed by the door of the loading dock, along with three more on an easy patrol of the perimeter.
I sighed silently.
The odds weren’t in my favor, but there was nothing for it. I had to take these guys out. Otherwise, who knew if I would ever see Theresa again?
And frankly, that wasn’t an option.
I check what I had with me. My gun. Useful, but loud. Would draw a lot of attention. My knife, Good for close quarters, but not much beyond that. I also had my retractable baton, the kind that cops used in riots and in civil unrest situations.
Non-lethal, but you could knock someone right out. What’s more, fully extended, it had more range than the knife. That was the one for me right now.
I ducked low and hustled over to the far side of the alley, just as one of Larroca’s men was making a sweep my way.
Flattening myself against the wall, I waited for half a breath and then grabbed him with the baton around the neck.
He didn’t have time to shout or make a sound. He struggled against me, but it was no use. He couldn’t get any leverage with me. I pulled back hard, and heard his neck snap.
I hadn’t intended to kill him, but it was what it was. I didn’t hold onto remorse
Dropping him like a stone, I grabbed a radio from his belt.
“Could I get a patrol back up over here?” I said in a husky, low voice. Something not fully recognizable.
“Copy that,” a reply came right away. Coming right to me. They should all be this easy.
A few moments later, as I was crouched in the doorway, the second of Larroca’s patrol came over my way. Just as he stepped past my location, I snapped out with the baton, cracking him hard on the back of the skull.
Down he went like a ton of bricks. Out cold and likely with a concussion. Ducking out from the doorway and hustling back the way I had come, I ran down an opposite alleyway, figuring the third of the patrol would be there, covering it.
I reached the end and stopped myself before running out into the open. Good thing too, as the third goon was right there, back to me.
Carefully stepping forward, I looked to do another knock out job. Just as I pulled out the baton and raised it…my luck turned.
The guy turned around, spotting me.
“Jesus Christ!” He shouted, bringing his gun up to fire. I brought the baton down hard on his wrist, knocking the gun and causing him to shout in pain.
“FUCKING HELL!” He yelped. Fury in his eyes, he lunged at me.
This was not good. All the noise we were making would bring the others running to me. I needed to end this quickly.
As if on cue, I could hear the shouts and the stomping feet of the rest of Larroca’s men as they came running towards our location.
Swinging back, I managed to crack the guy in front of me hard across the jaw, sending him spinning and eventually hitting the deck hard.
Then I took off, gunshots firing off around me as I did. They were packing some serious firepower.
I could only hope that wherever Larroca was in the building with the rest of his team, they couldn't hear the gunfight outside. I wasn’t sure I could take all of them out safely as it was.
Running back towards my car for cover, I pulled out my gun and turned as I ran, firing off a couple of rounds at the three men pursuing me.
I tagged one in the shoulder and I saw him go down. Not out, but down for the moment. At least it helped with the odds, somewhat.
“You’re fucking dead, motherfucker!” One of them shouted behind me, squeezing off a couple more shots in the process.
I ducked and weaved, getting to my car and diving in the front seat. Another shot rang out and I heard it hit my door.
Bastards just fucked up my paint job. Well. Now this was serious.
I turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. I put in in drive and hit the pedal to the floor, tires squealing out as my ride leapt forward.
“Let’s see if you like this,” I said out loud as I shifted gears, bearing down on the two mean pursuing me.
I watched as they realized what was heading their way and they both tried to turn tail and run.
But it was too late. I was on them.
My car plowed into them both, knocking them to either side of the alleyway. They went down in crumpled heaps to the ground and I hit the brakes.
They were all down now. Even the guy I shot in the shoulder was out cold from shock and blood loss.
Fine by me, I thought. Let ‘em rot here.
I moved way back over to the loading dock, not sure if I should just charge in, my blood being up the way it was.
But caution overcame rage, as was often the case with me. Better to think it through. I crept over to the far side of the building and found a dumpster positioned on the side.
I climbed on top of it and peered in.
Through the grimy glass, I could make out Theresa, tied to a chair, with Larroca hovering over her.
I wasn’t able to make out what he was saying or what her response was. But whatever she said, he didn’t like it.
He reared his arm back and cracked her across the face.
Rage flooded through my system. That would not stand.
“Time to fucking break this motherfucker,” I murmured to myself and headed around front.
17
Theresa
Breathe.
Just Breathe.
Stress had been a part of my life for years. I knew how to keep it under control. To conquer it. To use it. Letting fear and anxiety take over my thoughts would do nothing to help me or my situation. Honestly, it was just like any number of my court appearances. There was always a lot on the line, but by honing my anxiety I could perform at my highest level and put away the bad guys.
The only difference was my life was on the line this time and there was a literal psychopath standing right in front of me. He grinned at me, and not in a “haha” kind of way. It was more of a “boohoo” type of grin. That could be the name of a clown. Boohoo the Clown, I’d watch his show. Oh boy, my mind’s wandering. Focus up, Theresa!