Chapter Sixteen
Jerry asked. “Is it true you’re the Ninja Nun?”
“Do I look like a nun?”
“That wasn’t a denial,” Jerry said.
I gave him my best stink eye. “No comment.” The back of my neck began to prickle. Something was wrong.
Tinkerbell growled.
“You feel it too girl?”
The door to the motorhome flew open.
My eyes widened in horror as Tomas Lopez and El Muerte charged in. I took one look at the Uzi pointed at me and raised my hands. “Hide Tinkerbell.”
She ducked under a console.
“Oh shit!” Jerry reached for his police radio.
El Muerte cracked Jerry upside the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him to the floor.
I let out a blood-curdling scream to cover Tinkerbell’s growls. “Don’t shoot me. Don’t shoot me. I’m not a cop.” I linked with the Yorkie. “No barking or growling. Tomas will kill you.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Tomas snarled.
“Yes, sir.” I sure hoped Lieutenant Wilson had called for reinforcements.
“Keys are in the ignition,” El Muerte advised.
Tomas jabbed me in the shoulder with his Uzi. “You’re driving.”
“I’ve never driven a motorhome before.”
El Muerte backhanded me, slamming me into a wall. Pain exploded in my face and the room spun around me. Moaning pitifully, I crumpled to the floor. If he had broken my nose, I was gonna kick his sorry ass. Where in the hell were the cops?
The Yorkie bared her teeth in a snarl.
“No! Stay Tinkerbell.” I swiped at the blood running down my chin.
El Muerte yanked me to my feet, dragged me into the front compartment and shoved me into the driver’s seat. “Drive.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a brief glimpse of the SWAT team advancing on the motorhome. About friggin’ time. Now all I had to do was stall. “I need to adjust the seat.”
The barrel of El Muerte’s gun was jammed into my temple. “Drive.”
“But, I can’t reach the gas pedal,” I whined.
With a growl, El Muerte wrapped his hand around my throat. “Do you want to live?” He tightened his grip, choking off my air.
Funny little black spots danced in my vision.
The cage fighter roared, “Do you want to live?”
I managed to nod.
He released me. “Drive.”
I started the motorhome and noticed the guard dogs running toward the SWAT team. “Stop!”
They stopped.
“Sit. Stay.”
Tomas opened the door and yelled, “Sic ‘em.”
That was my line. I placed Tomas’s image in the pit bull’s head. “Attack.”
The mangy pit bulls charged Tomas.
“Stay! Stay!” The pendejo shouts turned to screams when the dogs trounced on him.
“Fuck!” El Muerte raised his gun.
Tinkerbell jumped out from under the console and latched onto his balls. Grrr. Grrr. Grrr.
“What the fuck?” El Muerte fired off a round and blew a hole in the floor.
Lieutenant Wilson rushed out of the back room, kicked the gun out of El Muerte’s hand and punched him.
El Muerte staggered back with Tinkerbell still hanging from his crotch. Grrr. Grrr. Grrr. Grrr.
I scooped up his gun. “Tinkerbell let go.”
Grrr. Grrr. Grrr.
“Get the fuck off me,” El Muerte yelled, grabbing for Tinkerbell.
The Lieutenant hit him again.
Grrr. Grrr.
“The Lieutenant can’t fight with you in the way. Let go! Now!”
As Dutch stormed into the motorhome, Tinkerbell scampered over to me. Arf. Arf.
“Yes, you were very brave.” I watched as the Lieutenant and Dutch pounded the hell out of El Muerte.
The cage fighter broke free and whipped out a knife.
I shot it out of his hand. “Do you want to live?”
All the men gaped at me.
“Well, do ya?” I used my Dad’s serial killer death stare.
El Muerte quickly raised his hands. Dutch and the Lieutenant started to raise their hands too.
The motorhome was suddenly full of angry cops who were more than happy to cuff the cage fighter and stuff him in the back of a patrol car.
“Nice shot Annie Oakley.” Dutch took the gun from me. “Can you call off the pit bulls before they kill Tomas?”
“Do I hafta?”
“I need to interrogate him about his criminal meat deliveries. I can’t do that if he’s dead.”
“Fine.” I linked with the pit bulls. “Stop. Sit. Stay.”
Dutch picked up his radio. “The paramedics can move in now. When the next crew gets here, send them to the motorhome.”
“Copy,” a male voice said.
Dutch tilted my head up and surveyed my face. “Damn, you look like hell.”
“Gee, thanks, just what a girl wants to hear.”
“Who taught you to shoot like that?” There was a note of astonishment in Lieutenant Wilson’s voice.
“My father.”
Jerry moaned and sat up. “What happened?”
“Bad guys tried to steal the motorhome,” I answered and pulled out my cellphone.
“Who are you calling?” Dutch the snoop inquired.
“Jana. I need a ride home.”
“I’ll take you home, after the paramedics check you out.”
“No need. Besides you stink,” I said.
Dutch sniffed his underarms. “My deodorant’s still working.”
“You reek of skunk, you idiot.”
“You do,” The Lieutenant’s nose was wrinkled in disgust. “Get back to that freezer. I’ll make sure Kandi is taken care of.”
“Yes, sir.” Dutch added, “Don’t forget our date tomorrow, sweetheart.”
“Wouldn’t dream of missing all-you-can-eat fajitas at Hilberto’s.”
The Lieutenant’s eyebrows shot up. “A fast food joint is your idea of a proper date, Callaghan?
“The best fajitas in town, sir.”
Lieutenant Wilson shook his head sadly.
I waved my hand in front of my face. “Go. Now. You’re stinking the place up.”
“Until tomorrow,” Dutch said and left the motorhome.