Pretty Shameless, page 19
part #2 of Deputy Laney Briggs Series
Instead of coming across sincere, I snapped at his idiocy. “Come on, Wyatt. You really think I’m here to save your scrawny ass?”
Wyatt’s beady eyes got as wide as silver-dollar pancakes. “Why wouldn’t you? I’m your cousin, Laney. Hell, we’re blood.”
He choked back a sob as the weasel gradually backed himself up against a wall.
I tapped a heel. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” I seethed, getting nose to nose with the deadbeat.
“Not really. I’ve kinda been out of the loop. You know with helping Gunner”—he gestured at Gunner with his thumb—“getting arrested, running away, and spending even more time in the slammer for crimes I didn’t commit…” Wyatt let out a sigh. “Well, it has all just been fucking frustrating, so keeping up with you wasn’t really on my to-do list.”
I wanted to strangle him for being so ignorant.
“For starters, I’ve had my mother crawling up my ass from day one. And as you know, that ain’t a pretty feeling.” I eyed him down, keeping my finger against his shallow chest. “Second of all, the Man in Black over there,” I said, looking sideways at Gunner, “has had me on a wild-goose chase from day one, sending me all the way out here once already. I’ve stood toe to toe with Willie King himself and threatened the man, only to have my truck get blown up the next day at the grocery store. There’s also that damn detective I got questioned by who, I might add, wasn’t too damn nice. So do you really think I’m just going to let you walk out of here sitting all pretty just because we’re family?”
Wyatt’s face turned pale. “You can’t make me go,” he tried to argue.
“Like hell I can’t! You’re a wanted fugitive, Wyatt! I’m a deputy. Gunner’s a Texas Ranger. We are taking you in. Do you understand that?”
His lips started to trembled. “But we’re family.”
“I don’t care. You are under arrest,” I told him.
Everything seemed to be going fine up to that point, but the word “arrest” must have cut through the fog of marijuana clogging up his brain, because he took off running as soon as he heard the word come out of my mouth. I was in no mood to chase him down in my black pumps or get my dress dirty, so I moseyed across the living room, catching the tail end of Wyatt stumbling over his two left feet and crashing into an end table. He was such a fool.
“Happy now?” I asked, ready to strangle his neck before a round of questioning.
Wyatt shakily ran his fingers through his greasy, stringy hair. “No. But I think I’ll stay put for now,” he started, then lost all train of thought at the sound of boots stomping across the living room.
“I’ll bet you’re happy to see me,” Gunner said drily as he stood towering over my cousin.
Wyatt started to blubber. I took that as my cue to step in and save the dipshit from drowning in his own spit.
“Chain your dog, Gunner. He isn’t going anywhere,” I said. “I mean, look at him. He’s damn near about to wet his pants as is already. Scare him anymore and we might have to carry him out unconscious.”
Gunner stepped forward, all the while eyeballing Wyatt. He knelt down, stretching those Wranglers around that tight ass, and continued with the bullying.
“So tell me, Wyatt,” Gunner deadpanned, “why should I spare your measly little life? It’s not like it’s privileged information that Willie King wants to fry your ass.” He paused, allowing him a moment to squirm. “Not only did I give you a chance to nail Willie King, but I was going to help you clear your name. And then you just up and bailed on me with all the guns, although like the dumb little shit that you are, you got yourself mixed up with Mule Canton and attached to some murder case. So what makes you think I want to help you out now?”
“Well, I can help you get Willie King.”
Gunner eyed him, debating his next move, then finally holstered his gun and pushed the brim of his hat up. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“I can talk to Willie,” Wyatt said. “I can make him see that this was all a huge misunderstanding.”
Gunner shook his head and laughed. “What was that? You think you can convince Willie King that your being an informant on him was a misunderstanding?” He yanked Wyatt up by the ear. “You crazy bastard! You actually believe Willie King has gotten where he is because he’s stupid and naive? Do you wanna take a guess as to what men like him do to little snitches when they catch them?” He pinched Wyatt’s ear and pulled him in close. “They slice up little shits like you into hundreds of tiny pieces, bury the pieces in the ground, then use their money to have a strip mall built on top of your grave.”
This beat all. He was wasting time when we didn’t have any to spare. I moved behind Wyatt and placed a hand on his shoulder. I’d had enough testosterone to last me a lifetime. It was time to put Gunner and my cousin in their rightful places.
“Enough!” I said. “I’ve had enough from the both of you.” They turned, mouths agape. “It’s time for y’all to start listening to me. Wyatt”—I looked at my cousin—“you’re going to come with us, and I’ll stash you at my place while Gunner and I hash up a plan on how to snag Willie King.” I sucked in some air, then plunged on. “Gunner”—I cocked an eyebrow at my troublesome Texas Ranger—“I’m trusting you to play nice and not break Wyatt’s nose. Now let’s go before Manny gets back and causes us all kinds of trouble.”
Both men remained silent, still stunned from my sudden take-charge attitude. Of course, they were both jolted out of their shock when the back door burst open and in stepped Manny Sanchez. Perfect. The last thing I needed was another dingbat on my hands. Today he’d chosen to dazzle us all with an orange tank top, his nipple piercings visible through the thin, tight fabric, a pair of snakeskin green pleather pants, and his hair was spiked and tipped neon blue. Although I was impressed with the lengths the man took to get ready in the morning, still I wondered if there was a set of tweezers big enough to pull those pants out of his butthole.
A devilish smile curled up his lipstick painted lips.
“Hey there, bitches!” Manny greeted us with a warm welcome.
Gunner grumbled, “Not now, Manny,” not even taking the time to acknowledge Miss Prima Donna.
Manny shifted his weight and threw a hand upon his bony hip. “If it ain’t Gunner Wilson, the boss man himself.” The rotten-teeth smile grew larger as he began to move around the dimly lit room. He stopped next to the end table and flicked on the lamp. “Not now? You pigs are in my house, and you’re telling me ‘not now’?”
My mouth dropped open.
“How dare you call me a pig,” I demanded, resting a hand on my gun and wrapping a finger around the trigger. “You’ve been in cahoots with my cousin this whole time, you shitbag,” I said all pissy as I approached him.
An arm slapped across my breast and practically took my breath away. “Laney,” Gunner said, laying his cop voice on thick. “Let’s not do anything stupid.” He glanced down at me. “Nothing stupid, okay?”
Manny let out a laugh, sounding like a swarm of clacking crows. He flapped his hand in the direction of the front door.
“Seeing that neither one of you have a warrant to be here, I suggest you get the fuck out of my house while I’m still giving you the option of walking out of here,” he said, his voice growing darker by the minute.
Gunner grabbed my hand and said, “Come on.” He then turned and shrugged a shoulder at Wyatt, motioning for him to follow along, but Wyatt didn’t budge. “Wyatt, if you leave with us peacefully, I won’t cuff you.”
Wyatt’s face brightened, the color returned, and he didn’t look like he was going to toss his cookies anymore.
“Really, Gunner?” Wyatt said, his voice full of promise. “You’re going to let me off the hook.”
I was almost ready to pat my lover on the back for a job well done when his face took a turn for the worse. The stubborn cowboy was back.
“Like hell I will.” Gunner snorted. “You’ve put me through hell and back. I need this promotion, so I’m gonna make sure you man up for your crimes.”
Wyatt blubbered. “Don’t you think I’ve been through enough already?”
Gunner glared at my idiot cousin and whipped out his cuffs. “Let’s go, Wyatt. I’ll have you home in no time.”
Wyatt closed his eyes and moaned in defeat.
Wyatt had certainly caused me a lot of shit over the past several days. Hell, he’d almost gotten me killed. Given all that, I should’ve been fighting back the urge to tie him up to the back of Gunner’s Yukon and drag his bare ass across a briar patch. But instead, I was more pissed at Gunner than my cousin. Why should he get a promotion when I worked my ass off and risked my life solving this case? I decided to throw in my two cents.
“Manny, you’re a big a man about town and know a fair share about what goes on and who does what in these parts,” I said, buttering the butthole up. “What are the odds that once Willie King gets his guns back, he’ll let bygones be bygones? I’d prefer to just wrap this whole thing up, clean and quick.”
Manny slowly slicked his tongue along his upper lip. Then his bug eyes narrowed into thin little slivers.
“Bitch, you must be stupid.” Manny cackled. “Willie King is gonna just walk away, and I’m gonna eat me some papaya tonight.” He shook his head in amusement. “Doll, you better listen to your man in the tight pants there. Willie’s coming after y’all with guns loaded.”
Well, great. I was hoping for a better answer, or at the least an answer with a little less sarcasm. Something along the lines of, “Laney, I think you’re the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met coming to such a wonderful solution.” But hell, did anything ever go smoothly in Pistol Rock?
“Let’s get going, Laney. I have a plan for this loser,” Gunner said, scowling at Wyatt.
Sweat dripped from Wyatt’s patchy brown mullet. He took a step back but hit nothing but wall. And Gunner had no intentions of letting go of his wrist anytime soon.
Gunner was busy cuffing Wyatt as I turned to make my way to the door, but before I took my first step a rifle swung right in front of my face, catching me off guard. I stumbled back. My pumps caught on the ratty carpet, and I toppled backward hard, my head hitting the ground first. I blinked, and after shaking the cobwebs out, my worst fear about coming to Manny’s was realized. Manny was straddling my legs, and I was staring straight into the barrel of his pink camouflage 30-6 rifle. “Doesn’t anybody want to hear my plan?” Manny taunted.
He certainly had my attention, and from the looks of Gunner’s shocked face across the room, I’d say he had his eyes and ears as well.
“Of course, Manny,” Gunner responded, stepping in to action. “What’s your plan? Killing a deputy, or killing a Texas Ranger?”
“Nobody has to get killed, handsome. As a matter of fact, the last thing I want to do is to have to shoot Laney in that pretty face of hers and have her brains and stuff all over my carpet. I would never be able to get that stain out.” He paused a second, and a diabolical smile snaked across his face. “Well, you would know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you, Laney? Tell me, were you able to get Nathan’s blood out of your carpet when Gunner killed him?”
Almost two years ago Gunner had lodged a bullet in my fiancé Nathan’s head, saving my life and solving the ketamine case that’d brought him back to town. Even though we’d all done our best by moving on, the events of that fateful day still haunted my dreams at night.
“You piece of shit,” I answered while he waved the barrel of his rifle in my face.
“Okay. That’s a touchy subject.” Manny laughed and turned his attention to Gunner. “All righty now, Mr. Tall, Dark, and I’d Love to Strap a Saddle On That Ass And Ride It Till It’s Raw, if you would please let Wyatt go; we’re going on a little joyride.”
“Where to?” Gunner asked.
“Wherever you have Willie King’s guns, baby.”
“Odessa.”
“Odessa? Why so far?”
“That’s where the Ranger station is.”
“So you have the guns at the Texas Ranger station in Odessa?”
“Yep.”
Gunner allowed Manny to think about that a moment.
“So tell me how you plan on taking Laney and me hostage all the way to the Ranger station in Odessa to get the guns stashed away in the safe in my office?”
Gunner had Manny befuddled to the point that he wasn’t paying that much attention to me anymore. I didn’t appreciate the comment Manny had made about Gunner having to kill Nathan. It wasn’t right. Knowing that I’m not the type to let an offense to my person or reputation slide like water off a duck’s back, I reached for my gun and pulled. Out of the corner of his eye, Manny caught sight of me drawing. I rolled to get away from his rifle just as a round of shots rang through the living room and smoke clouded my vision. My ears were buzzing, I was sweating, my heart was racing, and my head was pounding. The air tasted of gunpowder. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and tried to gain my footing. As I attempted to scramble to my feet, an earsplitting shrill sucked the life out of the entire room and stopped me in my tracks. Sitting cradled in the corner, clutching his bloody kneecap, was Manny Sanchez, wailing like a newborn baby.
“Goddamn it,” Manny squealed, wallowing in pain. “You fucking shot my leg.”
He was right about that. You could see the peach-pit-sized bullet hole the hollow point had left in his kneecap. Gunner didn’t kill him, but Manny would never sashay again. At any rate, it wasn’t smart to threaten me when Gunner was around. I felt no pity whatsoever for the fool. I placed both hands on the ground and started to push myself up.
That was before a tender, strong hand fell on my leg.
“Are you okay?” Gunner asked, searching my face and tracing my legs for any sign of a gunshot wound.
I nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Of course she’s fine,” Manny hollered, interrupting our special moment. “I never fired a shot, you fucking pinche.”
Gunner turned. His dark eyes narrowed into a scowl. I was fine, now this angry lawman was all his. He stalked over to Manny and knelt down on a knee, then pointed a finger at Manny’s cotton-white face.
“You’re lucky I aimed below the waist,” Gunner growled.
A drizzle of slobber leaked from the corner of Manny’s mouth. He tried to plaster on a tough-guy face, but all efforts were lost when Gunner squeezed the bullet wound.
Manny screamed and tears ran down his cheeks. He lifted both hands in the air and wailed, “Just take me in!” before he passed out.
“My pleasure,” Gunner said, smiling. He whipped his cuffs out and slapped them on Manny’s limp body.
With Manny taken care of, there was still one stone left unturned: my cousin. I looked over to where Gunner had him before the shoot-out, but he wasn’t there anymore. I scanned the room and saw a couch, a coffee table, and a fifty-seven-inch flat screen—but, shit, no Wyatt. Then the back door creaked open, and I caught the blurry image of Wyatt’s pancake ass fleeing the scene. Sorry little shit. I stumbled to my pumps, lunged over the coffee table, and totally tried to ignore the crisp breeze blowing up my backside as my dressed bunched around my cotton panties while I launched it out the back door. The backyard was overgrown with weeds; a push lawn mower had apparently run out of gas in the middle of cutting the lawn. Muddy slush kicked up into the air, and the chilly wind showed no mercy as it pounded down on my shoulders. When I got my hands on the idiot, I’d stomp on his balls just for the hell of it.
Wyatt was ten feet in front of me, with a black duffel bag slung over his left shoulder. He looked back, and I shot him the bird. We were never that close. He hauled ass toward the chain-link gate, but he was not going to pull a Pink Panther on me. I picked my target and catapulted myself, landing smack-dab on Wyatt’s back, and wrestling him down on the brittle, dead grass.
“Goddamn it, Laney!” He spit blades of grass.
“Hold still, you little shit,” I said as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
“Not on your life,” he shot back and smacked me across the cheek.
I gouged a knee in his side, then drove a fist into his nose, taking all the fight out of him.
“You didn’t have to hit me in the face,” he whined.
I dug deeper with my knee. “Stop being a shithead,” I said, pulling out my cuffs.
“Ruth ain’t gonna like it that you’re using me to get Willie King.”
“You cost her ten grand when you skipped bail. She doesn’t give a damn about what happens to you so long as she gets her money back.”
That’s when Wyatt rolled to the side, taking me down with him. Like hell was I going to loosen my death grip on the shitbag. I face-planted on the ground, eating blades of soggy grass. We floundered about, biting, scratching, kicking, and pulling at each other.
“Get off me!” Wyatt screamed, kicking and flailing his arms in all-out tantrum.
“You’re going down,” I shot back, grabbing onto his shirt collar.
Then he socked me in the gut, and his shirt slipped from my hands. He was dead meat. I didn’t care if it was Willie King who put him six feet in the ground, or me. I sucked down the pain and hobbled to my feet. It didn’t take long to spot his Metallica tank top scurrying across the lawn. I was out of gas but charged after him anyways. I caught up to him as he was starting to climb the fence. I drew Gunner’s semiautomatic and whacked him across the back of the head with the butt of the gun. He fell from the fence and crumpled on the lawn.
“Holy shit!” Wyatt said when he woke up. “Did you just pistol-whip me?”
“I most certainly did. Do you feel like running anymore?”
He then realized his hands were handcuffed behind his back and looked at me as if I was crazy and had just leaped off the deep end.
“We’re family,” he cried.
That mattered to me about as much as my mother worried about her house smelling like cigarettes.
“Get up,” I ordered.
