High Voltage (Ramsey Security #3)

Studying where Dino’s pointing, I admire his ability to use the cleanest car in Tennessee as a mirror.

“Want me to go around the other side so we can hit them from both directions?”

Dino glances back and frowns again. His concern for me would be more endearing if I actually were a damsel in distress rather than an experienced operator.

“I’m going,” I say, moving past him.

His arm reaches out to stop me from advancing, and I’m ready to argue. A shotgun blast startles us instead.

“Maybe they’re so scared of us they’ve decided to kill themselves,” I suggest, hearing a second shotgun blast.

Dino’s dark eyes study me. “Stay behind me.”

“No,” I growl and take off around the corner.

Dino is right behind me as we run towards the back of the hotel. We turn the corner at nearly the same moment, more interested in being in charge than staying alive.

Jerking to a stop, I stare at the faceless man on the ground in front of me. The shotgun blast tore off most of his flesh, leaving only a meaty skull.

A second faceless corpse rests not far from where Hayes lights a cigar.

“We had that, Whopper Boy,” Dino mutters.

Puffing on the cigar, Hayes grunts. “I think the words you fucks are looking for are ‘thank you.’ They teach you those words back on the Jersey Shore?”

I roll my eyes at their instant dick measuring contest. “Thank you, Mister Hayes.”

“Call me Angus, for fuck’s sake.”

“No, I’d rather not.”

Dino snorts. “You’re a real ladies man.”

“What the fuck are you going on about now?” Hayes growls.

“Good thing you had that shotgun. You don’t need any skill to aim with that beast.”

“Dead is dead, Snookie.”

Returning my gun to the holster, I interrupt the men’s flirty banter. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I have breakfast down the fucking street at the Waffle House. One of my people called to say two armed fuckers were hanging out around your fucking hotel.”

Squatting down to check the second guy’s pockets, I find a billfold and cell.

“This guy’s name is Dick Richey,” I announce. “Let’s see who his last call was from.”

Checking his phone’s history, I press the last incoming call. The phone rings twice before I get a nondescript voicemail. Returning to the history, I choose Dick’s last outgoing call. This time, the receptionist at the sheriff’s office answers.

“Can I speak to Sheriff Black?” I ask, sporting a Minnesota accent. “Tell him Dick Richey is calling.”

While on hold, I check the second guy’s pockets. He was smart enough not to bring all of his shit with him.

“Sheriff Black is in a meeting,” the receptionist says.

“Okay then. I’ll leave a message. See, about that job the sheriff gave Dick, can you tell him that it didn’t go as planned. Dick will call him later. Okay?”

“Okay,” the woman mutters, clearly wanting to laugh at my accent.

I hang up and hand the phone to Dino. “Now he knows we know,” I say to Hayes.

“That accent was horrible,” the giant asshole says.

“No worse than you sound every day,” I mutter, not in the mood to deal with shit from either man. “Now, what do we do about the dead weight here?”

“I got people coming to clean it up.”

“Good for you, slugger,” Dino says, challenging Hayes again.

“I just saved your fucking asses.”

“No, you shortened these fuckers’ lives by like three minutes. I won’t give you an award for shooting your wad early.”

Hayes opens his mouth, and I sense he’s about to get very loud. Before I get a migraine, I raise my hand and smile.

“Thank you for the help, Mister Hayes. Can I ask you a question?”

“Why ask him?” Dino mutters. “Ask me. I know shit.”

“You don’t know dick, fuckwit.”

The men growl at each other again, and I’m never happier to be a chick. I couldn’t deal with using my crotch as a brain like these two.

“Doesn’t this kill attempt feel like an amateur move?” I ask loudly.

While never looking away from his nemesis, Dino shrugs. “Sure, but it’s fucking Hicktown. What do you expect from rednecks?”

Hayes wants to say something. He’s a guy with no patience for turning the other cheek. I understand his ego’s need to react, but fuck it. I’m getting bored of their dick measuring contest.

Snapping in front of the big guy’s face, I ask, “We’ve been in town less than twenty-four hours, and Black calls in a hit team. What if we were cops?”

Hayes glances at the passing traffic on the nearby road. “His backers might be connected to the state. He’d know if the attorney general sent investigators to sniff around his area.”

“Bullshit. If we were DEA or some other federal agency, no way would he know so quickly. Would you?”

Hayes knows Black can’t be better than him and instantly shakes his head. I glance down at the dead men.