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Chapter 16: Vengeance


Tuesday afternoon-

The old pier was in surprisingly good shape and gave his very heavy invention an excellent footing. He double checked to make sure everything was in working order.

It was.

He stood and looked at the gray sky overhead, the thick rounded clouds threatening rain.

The wind kicked up and he closed his eyes. After being indoors for so long the fresh breeze felt good on his scorched skin. Yes it was definitely going to rain. You could smell it in the air. He couldn’t take long with this.

He opened his eyes to the black lake in front of him; the water here was cold, deep and choppy in the chill wind. No one lived close by anymore. No one was around for miles. Likely another reason Holsun had felt free to use the area as a dumping ground for his victims. Even he had probably lost track of how many bodies he’d put in this lake and the surrounding area.

This was the most secluded place around for them to carry out their plan. Eric had had to drag the unconscious idiot here and then bring the necessary equipment from the auto shop while he had stayed with Sharlie and then they had switched.

It hadn’t been easy but his brother had set everything up before the idiot had come to.

Now for his part.

Nathan double checked the binds around the perverts ankles and wrists before he slapped him awake. Finally he opened his eyes, took him long enough.

The fool shook his head, trying to get his bearings before he finally looked at him, rearing back in disgust at the sight of his face before spouting a mix of arrogant threats, demands and insults about his looks.

Nathan smiled for the second time that day, a rarity for him.

He was going to enjoy this.

He wordlessly hooked the perverts bound ankles to the end of his makeshift crane.

His invention was basically a large version of the crane toy machines he remembered seeing as a child. He and Eric had made it from the back end of an old tow truck. It had no electronics in it, just old fashioned pulleys and winches set into a heavy base that that allowed you to lift a load without ever breaking a sweat.

The idea of this invention had been to lift car parts. The current load at the end of its hook wasn’t what he had ever thought would dangle there, but now that it was, he wasn’t surprised.

He maneuvered the crane to drag the pervert along the pier by his ankles, dangle him over the water- and dunked him into the freezing water- several times.

Even with only one arm to work the levers on the manually controlled device, his invention worked perfectly. This being the first time he had used it, he had been a little worried.

He enjoyed the fear on the fools face when he pulled him up; his screaming when he finally realizing this was not a game.

He kept his demands simple. He had the fool account for every hour of every day for the last four days, dunking him back into the icy water whenever he felt he was holding anything back. For how long depended on how angry he was at being lied to.

When they were done with his movements, they moved onto who he was, who he worked for, what he did for a living. Even his glossing over of the facts told him more than he had imagined.

He kept his face impassive as what he heard made his jaw clench.

Holsun was not only still alive but trying to rebuild his organization. Pervert here actually was bragging that he was going to be his new lieutenant.

Nathan dunked him.

Several times throughout the interrogation, the fool tried to scream for help but he just dunked him when he did. No one was there to hear him, but the pudgy man screamed like a girl, and Nathan didn’t want to get a headache.

When he was satisfied he had all the information he needed, he turned the crane to drop the shivering pervert back onto the pier.

“Now that wasn’t so hard was it?”

From the look of relief on his face it was clear the pervert actually thought it was over.

He had no idea.

He detached the chains holding him to the crane off his arms and legs and attached a different chain to the dog collar he’d put on the fools neck while he’d been unconscious.

Even without what he had done to Sharlie and Siah, the confessions he had just gotten out of the pervert made what he was about to do more than justified.

The perv was still sputtering as he squatted and picked him up by his hair, forcing him to look into his own melted face.

“I know who you are.” He seethed.

The man just looked at him confused. He had told him his name, but not who he was.

“I know what you did to Doctor Villalobos, to her daughter.” The pervert’s eyes widened.

“You thought you could get away with it. That no one would know. But I know. You need to kill her, otherwise she would never stop looking for her daughter- and you know it.”

The fool actually started tearing up. He didn’t take his eyes off the perverts face, but he smelled he had wet himself. Pathetic.

“You will never get the chance.”

He dropped the perv’s head back onto the pier as he rose. He watched as the perverts eyes followed the chain he’d been attached to, saw them widen when he realized what was on the other end. He watched for a pulse as the man began to squirm and scream for help. Hog tied as he was, he didn’t get far.

He kicked the huge old millstone into the water. The perv zipped across the pier, his screams dying abruptly once he broke the surface of the lake. Nathan felt a smile crack his face. The flabby pervert moved faster to his death than he probably ever had in life.

He sat cross-legged on the pier and smiled as he watched the bubbles slowly disappear. It took only two or three minutes before the water stilled.

Good.

It was a clean kill. There was no blood to clean up.

The perv was gone.

Siah and Sharlie were safe.

It began to drizzle as he detached the base of the crane from the pier. He took the hook and chain off the end, along with several smaller parts. Eric would come back later to take the large parts back to the mechanic shop when it was his turn with Sharlie.

He walked back to the apartment and he let his mind wander over the puzzle that was Siah. She prayed openly, looked danger in the eye, wasn’t afraid to draw a gun or go on the attack, but also wasn’t afraid to show affection- at all.

He had always thought being strong meant closing yourself off, of making yourself into stone, but Siah flew in the face of that.

He’d been touched more in the seven weeks they had spent with her than he had in the rest of his life put together.

Eric had told him how he’d told her about Dad and Ryan. He still couldn’t believe he’d done that. Sure she’d reacted okay to that, accepting even, but that had been self-defense.

This was cold-blooded murder, and they both knew it.

He doubted, Christian that she was, that she would be okay with this.

He fingered his shorn hair. When he drew his hand back, he could still smell the essential oils she’d put on him.

Siah would never know what they’d just done for her.

He took a breath and assessed what the perv had told him. Nearly everything had been past tense and provided no present danger- with one exception: Holsun was still alive; he wanted Siah and Sharlie, and thanks to the pervert following them home after Eric had decked him, he knew where she lived.

He had one last call to make.

*

The drizzle turned to rain; Eric had to leave the crane covered in bramble against an abandoned house.

They made a plan. They would leave the equipment where it was. They would stay where they were. Holsun was coming after Siah and Sharlie. Until he did, they would take no risks. They would not take Sharlie outside and Eric would walk with Siah whenever she had to go anywhere- until Holsun was dead.

The monster may know where Siah lived, he may know about, “A big guy” who was living with her- but he didn’t know them.

Holsun was a coward. When he came, they would be ready for him.

*

It was still raining when Eric went to go walk Siah back from the clinic and when they both came back to the apartment.

It went without question there would be no shooting lessons tonight. After they ate, Siah had the boys go over what she called, “dry movements” with an empty gun over how to hold it in various situations and how and when to shoot from the hip.

Both boys seemed- tired. Had Sharlie run them ragged today?

She had Nathan wash up for her to massage the oils into his back and while she was rubbing, she thought she smelled something- odd.

It was on his clothes, it smelled- marshy. She knew he’d been going for occasional walks, but thought that had stopped after she’d been mugged. Had he been caught out in the rain? He’d always mentioned when he’d gone out before. Where had he gone today?

She was about to ask him about it when she felt a familiar check in her spirit. It was the sense that now was not the time. She would wait until after she was done massaging the boy. He felt awkward enough about her touching him.

*

When she finished putting the last of the oils in his hair, Sharlie began to babble to her about how she and Nathan had run today. So that was what had happened. She turned back to Nathan and glared.

“Nathan, go to bed.”

“What?”

“You clearly didn’t take a nap today, you overexerted yourself and you’re exhausted. Go to sleep, right now.”

She braced herself for lip, but received none. He just nodded.

“Just lie on your side so the oils’ll have time to absorb into your skin.”

“You sure that’s okay?”

She nodded and had him lie on his left side, facing the wall. He didn’t protest when she tucked him in. He was asleep in a minute.

She turned to Sharlie and sat her down, explaining to her that Nathan was still hurt very badly and that she needed to make sure he didn’t get too tired again like he was today. The little girl nodded seriously.

Siah cuddled Sharlie and sent her to brush her teeth.

She turned to Eric. He just sat there staring into the fire like Nathan had been. In the dark room, the firelight reflecting off the angles of his face made him look more fierce than usual. Both boys were old souls; it reflected in their eyes, but she had never seen them this tired, this drawn before. There was a world weariness, a hopelessness there that frightened her.

“Eric?” She touched his shoulder. He startled at the touch but didn’t shirk her off.

“Are you alright?”

He didn’t answer as he looked up at her. She could see it on his face, he was struggling with something. What had happened today? When he finally spoke it was barely above a whisper.

“Will Nathan really be okay?”

She knelt down next to him facing the fire.

“Eric, Nathan is healing well. As long as he takes it easy, doesn’t catch anything, and doesn’t do anything that might reopen the wound, there is no reason to think he won’t make a full recovery.”

She stayed where she was, warming her hands by the fire. The movement- the situation reminded her of their first conversation.

Then, as now, she could tell he was holding back.

Sharlie came out just then. Siah read their story and Eric crawled into his sleeping bag as they both went to bed.

When Sharlie was asleep, she carefully scooched away from her, walked over to Eric and knelt down beside him. He was on his side, facing the wall.

“Eric.” He didn’t move; like she didn’t know a fake sleep when she saw one.

“Eric.” She put a hand on one big shoulder. She was still speaking gently, but she would shake him if he kept up the pretense.

Finally, he grunted, pretended to stir and rolled over to face her. It was surprising and refreshing what bad fakers/liars they both were. But what was bothering them so badly?

“Eric, I hope you know you can tell me anything. Anything at all, anything that’s bothering you, worrying you, that you have questions about, you can tell me. I mean that.”

He just looked at her before barely nodding. She rubbed her hand into his hair a bit before going back to bed herself.

Her last thought before falling asleep was to kick herself; she’d forgotten to ask Nathan where he’d been today.

Wednesday morning-

The next morning Nathan was already awake when she was.

“Hey sweetie, I glad you’re up. Listen, starting today I want you to start going without the sling for a few hours. Don’t lift anything or put any stress on your shoulder. Just let your arm hang at your side until your shoulder gets tired, then put it back on.”

“Okay. I’m healing that well huh?”

“Yeah you really are.” She ruffled his hair and smirked fondly.

He gave her a lopsided grin in return that reminded her of her brothers’ or maybe herself… when had the boys started copying her? Not that she was complaining, but had she missed when their mimicking began, or was this it?

She ruffled her hand through his hair a little bit as she studied it. The stubble she’d left the boys with had grown to a decent crew cut. It was a nice clean look for the both of them. Too bad she knew neither of them would keep it that way.

She gave him a few more instructions on how to take care of himself and what to expect while he weaned his shoulder off the sling before she headed into work with some food in a pail, Eric right by her side.

Wednesday Afternoon-

“Can I get some help over here?”

“Mason-” Siah caught herself. Mason was gone. Not long after she’d come in, the ambulance Mason had called in from Boulder had come to take their last two critical patients to Boulder General. He had gone with them, taking most of his worldly possessions in a single suitcase and backpack. She had known this was coming but still- she had bid a tearful farewell to her friend who had made her promise to call him as she could.

The way he had looked at her, she wondered just how much of her secrets her friend knew- and wasn’t telling. That circle was not finished yet.

Siah turned to the sound of the shout. Had that been a Southern accent she’d heard? Two tallish men were coming in through the clinics double doors, one holding the others’ arm over his shoulder as he limped, visibly in pain.

She jogged over to the newcomers. “What’s the problem here?” She let her own accent slip as she put the injured man’s free arm over her shoulders.

“Me and Hal here are movin’ our families over to Henley. We were almost done loadin’ up the truck but then a strap broke loose and a dresser fell on Hal’s leg.”

Yup, she smiled, he sounded like Alabama.

“My foot, it fell on my foot. I’m sure it’s just twisted and I’ll be fine with some ice. You have any ice?” The injured man looked at her hopefully.

“Hal is it?”

“Yeah. Hal. Hal Finney. This here’s my brother Doug.” She helped set him onto a gerney.

“Okay Hal, let’s see the problem before we come to any conclusions.”

Once she took off his boot and sock, she knew mere ice would NOT help. After a thorough exam, and an x-ray, her diagnosis was confirmed.

“I’m afraid ice isn’t gonna cut it Mr. Finney, you have a fractured ankle and two broken bones in your foot. I’m going to need to set your bones and put your lower leg put into a cast. ”

“What? Now how’m I supposed to work with a cast on? Can’t you just set me up with a walkin’ boot?”

No one’s ever happy to be told they need to have a bone reset and a cast put on, but a southern man should be less whiny about it.

“I’m afraid we don’t have any walking casts I could give you, and leaving this break untended could lead to dire consequences if it doesn’t heal correctly.”

That was enough to stop his whininess. She gentled her voice.

“Mr. Finney, this could be a whole lot worse. You don’t need surgery, there is nothing wrong a cast won’t fix. You can handle it.”

She pulled out the supplies she would need and set them up on a tray.

The poor man gulped when she pulled out the first needle and the vial of anesthesia she would be using. He groaned when she gave him the injections.

Men: such pain wimps.

She gave him two injections of the local anesthesia. She knew the medication she was using was not adequate for what she was about to do; there was simply nothing else left in the supply cabinets.

“Well more importantly how’m I supposed to play baseball?” he whined.

It was always a good idea to divert a patient’s attention off the pain of a treatment. “Oh you play baseball?” He lit up and went on to tell her, in his beautiful Alabama accent ALL about the amateur baseball league he was a part of in Henley. He played outfield.

She waited for the anesthesia to take effect before she began the process of setting the two broken bones in his foot. He took only a quick inhale after she set each bone, continuing to regale about his teams wins and stats and scores without missing a beat. His brother left the room. Apparently the sound of bones being snapped didn’t set well with him.

“You took that like a real champ.” She unrolling the first layer of casting components she would put on his leg.

She wasn’t being patronizing, she actually meant it. She knew the mild anesthesia she’d given him would only take the edge off the pain and he’d taken it pretty well.

He gave her a weak, lopsided smile. He went on about his team for a while as she wrapped the first layer of casting components on. She didn’t mind. It had been a long time since she’d last heard a southern drawl.

She saw out of the corner of her eye as Doug poked his head back in.

“The coast is clear Mr. Finney.” The man walked in, sheepish.

“Wimp.” Hal muttered. Doug didn’t argue the point.

She went on with the next layer of wrappings and felt herself being studied. She knew exactly what they were thinking. Usually she enjoyed making people squirm a little, but she decided to have mercy on them.

“So, where you boys from? I’m sure I hear the South in you.”

“Lafayette Alabama.” Doug answered, smiling. “How ‘bout yourself? Is that Texas I hear?”

She laughed as she glanced at him. “It certainly is.”

She had to be careful how she tied this.

“I hail from the Coastal Bend, grew up in Corpus Christi and Houston.”

“Well now no wonder you been so nice and all, I should’a recognized a Texan when I heard one.” She laughed out loud at that. Both brothers began peppering her with questions; she did the same with them, taking her time with the cast. It turned out both brothers had spent some time living in Texas for a while, working in the oil industry up until the Ruin had begun.

“So hey Doc, you know the Carvers? I remember they said they’re from Dallas. ”

Siah stopped mid wrap and turned to Doug. “Who?”

“I was wonderin’ if you knew the Carvers over at the Trading Post? I remember Mr. Carver sayin’ he was from Texas too.”

“Wait, you mean Manaen Carver? Was his wife’s name Elaine?”

“Yea, I’m pretty sure it was. Black family, little girl named Candice?”

“Wait, when did you see them?” Did she dare hope?

“Just this morning. They were opening up shop over on Main Street. Said they were gonna be here for a few weeks.”

Could it really be? Elaine and Manaen were here. In Tinplate! Elaine, Candice! Girl talk!

“Yes, I, I do know them, they’re old friends of mine. I didnt know they'd come to Tinplate though!” Siah put her hands to her chest. Oh, man she had to get out of here. She couldn’t wait to introduce Manaen to the boys! She hoped Sharlie would remember Candice. And girl talk with Elaine sounded like Heaven!

“Well since you’re a fellow southerner and you’ve given me great news and all, I’ll actually give you a choice of colors for the finally layer of your cast.”

She gestured to the tray so he could assess his options, it should be quick, there were only four, a hot pink, a royal blue, a purple and a black. He immediately picked out the royal blue.

“That there’s my team colors. If I can’t play, I can at least wear my team’s colors and cheer from the dugout.”

“Good for you.” She wrapped the last layer on and surveyed her work. In less than fifteen minutes she had formed a lovely below the knee cast with minimal patient pain.

“Okay, that’s that. Now just wait here and I’ll go get your paperwork and some crutches for you.”

She took her time as she walked to the back storage room. She decided she would visit Manaen and Elaine tomorrow. Hopefully by then they’d be settled in and they’d be able to talk. Oh there was so much to talk about…

She looked around the clinic as she walked. It was hard to believe how quiet the place was now. It was just as well that it was. Today was the last official day the clinic would be open. As far as the general populous of Tinplate was concerned it was already closed. Not that there were that many people left in town. After that last outbreak of bad water most of the population had left town as soon as they were able, even folks whose families had lived in Tinplate for generations.

You just couldn’t live without clean water.

They had been directing as many of the sick and injured to the hospital in Henley for the last few weeks. It was a four hour drive from Tinplate, but there would no longer be a choice in the near future, might as well get used to it. Beginning tomorrow, it would be the last place to go for medical treatment in northwest Colorado.

Those still coming were usually out of towners unaware they were on the verge of closing, hence the vast tapering off in patients the last few weeks.

Mr. Finney would likely be the last such case. He was fortunate. The break was mild- nothing a cast wouldn’t fix- but to go on it for the day’s drive it would take to get to the Hospital in Henley might have led to deadly complications.

Again she worried for the people of the local area. Once the clinic closed down the people here in Tinplate would have nowhere local to go for medical treatment, and there were few in town that still had cars to go to the hospital in Henley.

She felt God calling her to move on, she knew it was time, but a part of her would miss this place. Despite the bad memories, a lot of good had happened here too. She took a long, deep breath and took her time blowing it out. This place was just something else to say goodbye to. She gathered the supplies she’d come for as tears pricked her eyes.

She felt a sudden urge to go out the back door. Why? She turned abruptly and nearly crashed into Stephanie, their last remaining volunteer. The freckly young woman had her face scrunched up in a frown.

“Oh, sorry Dr. Villalobos, hey, I was just taking the trash out and there’s a man out back of the building, says he needs to talk to you.”

Since Stephanie wasn’t weirding out about the guy’s looks she knew it wasn’t Eric. She stopped herself from furrowing her brow. She hated that the expression now. It gave her forehead wrinkles now. She chided herself for her vanity. You are a vain woman Siah Villalobos.

“Huh. I’ll go check it out. Hand these to the tall brunette guy in room one.”

“Tall brunette? Is he single?”

She quirked an eyebrow and smirked at the younger woman. “Well, I didn’t see a ring. Go for it. FYI though, he is a baseball player. Outfield.”

“Oooo.” The younger woman took her long hair out of its pony tail before she took Mr. Finney’s paperwork and crutches. Siah watched, smirking, as the tall young woman strode into the waiting room.

When she stepped into the alley, she could not have been more shocked at who was there.

It was Marshal Thompson. She had seen him only once, nearly a year ago but there was no mistaking that bulldog face of his. He was wearing a brown leather sheepskin jacket over his uniform. He looked as fit as ever, but also like he hadn’t slept in a week.

He looked as shocked at her as she did at him. She kept forgetting how bruised her face still was. “Is it time?”

“Yes.” She could hear the weariness in his voice. “Sorry it took so long Doc. But as of last night, we finally arrested the last of the Ochoa cartel in one mass arrest. We’ve already arrested what’s left of Holsun’s old allies. They’re all trying to be the first to make a deal. We have the judge with us. We’re here now for the ones you have in custody, once we take them in, we’ll have rounded up the last of Holsun’s men.”

Siah felt tears forming in her eyes. “So it’s over? It’s really over?”

“Yeah Doc, as of this morning, the Ochoa Cartel has lost all grip on the western United States.”

Siah had to lean against the brick wall for support. She put a hand to her forehead as she heaved a sigh of relief and let the tears flow.

Eight months ago she had called the US Marshal Service in a desperate attempt to get help to clean up this small crime ridden town whose citizens were suffering from the drug trade going on so blatantly around them.

Shockingly they had not only listened, but had asked for her help and read her into their plan. Until she had spoken with Marshal Thompson and his team, she hadn’t realized that Holsun was just a small cog in a much bigger operation. The Ochoa Cartel had taken full advantage of the chaos of the Ruin and blatantly spread their tentacles deep into the United States. They even had the gall to call what they were doing, “The Reclamation”: a taking back of the American states that had once belonged to Mexico. Pathetic, like there was even a Mexican govt to fight for any more.

Holsun, as the head of one of the largest biker gangs in the state had simply become their man in charge in western Colorado, using Tinplate and its easy access to the highway for his base of operations.

The plan was simple but bold: she would act as an informant, be their eyes and ears in Tinplate and when they accumulated enough evidence, they would take down not only Holsun, but also every other Ochoa lieutenant, sergeant and foot soldier in one massive interstate arrest sweep.

The level of secrecy they had ordered her to abide to was, to her, over the top, she hadn’t even been able to tell Mason all this time, which she felt terrible about, but she understood Thompson’s reasons. Even before she had come onboard, the Marshals’ had uncovered several high ranking judges, politicians and law enforcement who were directly working with the Cartel. They were taking no chances.

Just from the little Thompson had told her in their brief phone conversations, the level of intrigue and secrecy surrounding the investigation had sounded like something from a spy novel.

But now it was over, it was finally, finally over.

Her joy was tempered when Thompson went on to explain that they hadn’t found Holsun yet. He had been spotted in Henley as of last week by an anonymous informant, but no one had seen him since.

Thompson had mentioned this strange informant before. The guy had actually called him at his home, told him quite a bit of personal information just so Thompson took him seriously, and then gone on to give detailed information about Holsun and his operation.

The trail of evidence he had led them to was damning.

That in itself was a relief. If they hadn’t had enough evidence on Holsun, they might’ve had to cut a deal with him. She had been terrified he would get off.

Thompson surprised her by putting a big hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry ma’am. There will be no deals for Holsun when we find him. We have him dead to rights.”

He went on to describe some of the latest information their “Anon” had told them. She reeled that Holsun was more of a monster than even she had thought. That was saying a lot.

*

Holsun seethed as he waited beside the stolen truck. Where was that idiot? He chewed another Vicodin.

He had come back to Tinplate last week, believed it to be the last place anyone would think to look for him. Laying low in an abandoned house, scraping by as he had in the past, he seethed at his current living conditions. He had clawed his way up the food chain, he deserved better, he had earned better. He would get his life back.

The hitman the Ochoa’s had sent had nearly killed him before he’d managed to get the upper hand. He flexed his shoulder, nothing was broken but everything hurt.

Just yesterday he had bought several active grenades from his old arms dealer before shooting him in the head. He’d paid good money and the idiot had been stupid enough to try and call the cops on him from the back room of his shop after their transaction.

He’d shoved the idiot’s body aside to use his radio and listen in on the chatter to catch up on news. It was only then that he’d discovered how alone he was. Everyone he had ever worked with had either been arrested, was on the run, or dead, and judging by the descriptions of how they’d met their ends- it was the handiwork of the same hitman that had come after him.

The Ochoa’s were cutting off loose ends and he was one of them.

Then he found out about the bounty the Marshals had on his head. That was going to be a problem. There was also the rumor was someone had been informing on him to the state police and US Marshals for at least several months. At first he had thought it was one of his men, but then he realized, it had to be her, Siah. No one else would have had the gall. No, that wasn’t right. Dr. Mason would have, but he lived at the clinic and he’d kept careful tabs on him via the bugs he had there. He’d known Dr. Villalobos’ reputation before he met her, part of the reason he had always been so suspicious of her; a woman with her skill set was as much an asset as a potential liability.


He didn’t know who could have learned so much to be able to cause him so much trouble. Just thinking of her defiant face time and again, sent his blood boiling.

Meeting the child molester in that bar in Henley had been a boon. Not only had the pervert found out where the doc lived, but he was more than willing to help with taking her down if it meant he could get the little girl he’d been lusting after.

Getting help from him was a last resort but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

So where was he? It was an hour past their meet up time and the pervert still hadn’t shown. He had seen it in his eyes, that kiddie-diddle was chomping at the bit to get what he wanted. If he wasn’t here, he was dead. If he wasn’t dead, he was going to be for flaking out on him like this.

He had passed the clinic several times in the past week. It was still in operation. Bizarre, the staff was staying on without a paycheck. He had seen Dr. Villalobos through the big front windows several times and each time he had wanted to take a shot at her, but with his injuries and having to drive with one hand as he was, he hadn’t trusted his own aim.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He was going to do this. The sheep in the clinic should be easy to kill. No one in Tinplate was armed anymore. He’d made sure of it.

His plan was perfect.

It would work.

It would be harder without a partner but it would work. He had already parked his second car in its spot in case someone actually did fire back at him. He had his bullet proof vest on. He was ready.

If she was still alive when he was done, he would take Siah and sell her- He’d get good money for a doctor, but only after he had some fun with her. Doctor or not, she was still just a woman, and he would enjoy being the one to put her in her place, he would show her what a real man felt like, and that cute little kid of hers – well little girls always sold well.

It briefly crossed his mind that he was very high on his own product. He smiled and chewed another pill.



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