High Voltage (Ramsey Security #3)

The street feels empty, and I worry about an ambush. If Black planned to hit us, he’d have done it while we sat in the car for the last hour. No, the street is quiet because the place is on edge.

Dino does move like a jaguar. Fast and fierce, he hurries to the back of the house. I’m right behind him. Our weapons at the ready, he nearly soundlessly opens the back screen door. We enter the house where our every noise is muffled by the loud TV.

Does anyone want to die with their dick in their hand? Blond deputy suffers this indignity when Dino fires into the back of his head with the other deputy’s stolen gun.

Rushing past Dino, I focus on the dark-haired deputy. He leaps for his gun, which is halfway across the room, but I kick him backward. He flops on the ground, scrambles around, and again lunges for the weapon. I punch him twice in the face. The first breaks his nose while the second makes a mess of his lower lip.

“Don’t,” he says, putting his hands up. “I have a family.”

“Better have a life insurance policy then,” I reply.

Dino yanks up the guy and forces him to walk to the couch. I take the dead deputy’s hand and rub it against the crying deputy’s bloodied face.

“They fought. He shot his buddy.”

“No, wait,” the drunken deputy mumbles.

Dino drags him into the kitchen where his broken nose bleeds on the counter. I tear off the deputy’s shirt and dump it into the sink and add bleach.

“He tried to clean up the evidence,” I say.

“He realized there was no way out. In a stupor, he took his life.”

“No, wait,” the deputy says again because he’s too drunk to say much else.

Dino maneuvers the deputy onto a chair in the adjoining dining room. He fires once against the side of the deputy’s head and then allows the body to fall. Looking over his work, he frowns.

“Where should I leave the gun?”

I take the weapon and set in the dead man’s hand. Adjusting it a few times, I want the gun to look natural in his grip. This isn’t CSI, and the scene just has to tell the story Black wants it to tell.

“There.”

“Let’s go before the neighbors call the remaining cops.”

We hurry out of the back door, around the house, and down the block where the car waits. The street remains quiet. In the few lit houses, TVs play loudly.

Dino drives us back to White Horse while I listen to the police chatter. Kids vandalizing the high school. A domestic dispute at Target. A large dog running around someone’s yard. Nothing on shots fired.

We dispose of the car and our clothes, leaving nothing for Black to find. Dino remains relatively silent until we walk three blocks from our dump site to the hotel.

Once we’re in the elevator, he says, “Fucking hallelujah! We can finally leave this dump and start our life.”

“Well not exactly.”

Dino sighs exasperated. “What now?”

“We have to make sure Black plays ball with Cooper. Oh, and get Ruby a new car.”

“Fucking shit fuck.”

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I wait until his angry eyes focus on me.

“I don’t want a long engagement.”

Dino’s irritation fades. “No. I want to make things official quick.”

“We’ll get married in a small hall and serve spaghetti at the reception.”

Laughing, Dino kisses my forehead. He can’t wait to get out of White Horse, but this is the place where I fell in love. Despite what Dino says, I worry about what our relationship will look like in the real world.





27


Dino

The Long Goodbye

Minka’s fake accents are perfectly awful. I especially enjoy the Italian one she does while leaving a message for Black the day after we eliminate his two deputies. My fiancée sounds like Mario from the Nintendo games I played growing up.

“Tell the sheriff that Mister Cooper Johansson wants a meeting in the next two days. He can be reached at the following number.”

Minka gives Johansson’s burner number to the sheriff’s receptionist and then hangs up.

“I think Cooper will be very happy to negotiate with that spicy meatball,” she murmurs while still playing up her Mario voice.

“I love you,” I say, wrapping her in my arms. “But never ever do that accent in front of my mom or anyone back home.”

“You’re not such a spicy meatball when you whine.”

“I’ll look like a douche if you talk like this in front of people.”

“Wuss.”

“Promise.”

“I swear on the world’s supply of spaghetti.”

Pressing her back on the bed, I straddle her and take her ripe tits in my hands.

“Let’s take the rest of the day off.”

“You’re an incredibly lazy man.”

“I think you underestimate how much effort fucking you takes. I pulled another muscle last night.”

Minka’s fingers dig into my thighs. “I remember that fuck. You were so determined to have me hanging half off the bed.”

“I like the way your ass looks at that angle.”

“You’re a man who knows his priorities.”

I tug up her shirt and sigh. “I own these tits.”