Outlaws by Matt Rogers (phonics books TXT) 📕

the scene of slaughter, navigating the bodies. He found the receptionist bolt upright in her swivel chair, on the verge of passing out from terror.

He locked eyes with her.

She screamed.

He waited for her to finish.

She sat there, practically catatonic.

He said, ‘Nothing I say will make you understand. But know I’m the only person keeping this man alive.’

He gestured to Beckham, and then wheeled him straight out of the Hooper Quadriplegic Centre.

Leaving seven dead men in his wake.

79

King stared down the chamber of the snubnose revolver.

It was a Colt Detective Special, short and fat and guaranteed to blow his brain to pieces at this range. An ineffective weapon for combat, as all old-school revolvers were, but good for making a statement. Which the owner was currently doing.

King said, ‘That’s not very nice.’

Violetta sat rigid beside him.

Banks didn’t say a word.

The thug pierced them all with his baby blue eyes, which settled on Violetta. He said, ‘Hello, mamacita.’

King said, ‘Don’t talk to her like that.’

‘I talk to her how I want, ese. You came here.’

‘This is where we were told to come.’

‘Were you? Cause I don’t recognise a single fucking one of you.’

‘I’m Liam Kingsley,’ King said. ‘Duke would have sent my file over. I’m new.’

The blue eyes pierced him, now. A glimmer of recognition passed over the man’s face. ‘Maybe you right. Maybe I do know you. But these two...’

He shook the Colt at Violetta and Banks.

King could have ripped it right out of his hands, pistol-whipped him in the face with it, then turned it on him and put one through his temple. It might have taken him two seconds, tops.

But he didn’t.

He sat still, tense and ready for anything, forcing an aura of calm.

It was critical.

They needed to get inside before they started a war.

Before anyone could respond, all of them noticed headlights far behind them — first the trio in the cabin saw them in the side mirrors, and then the gate guard caught them in his peripheral vision and turned to look.

It was a civilian vehicle, not a truck — long and low to the ground — and it was making a beeline for the compound.

An old-school muscle car.

Maybe a Dodge.

Hard to tell in the darkness.

King said, ‘Expecting company?’

‘Yes, actually,’ the guard said. ‘A private client. Here for one of the girls in particular. He’s right on time.’

‘You know him?’

‘We’ve dealt with him before. He has … a certain arrangement with the boss man.’

‘Right,’ King said. ‘Doesn’t make a difference to me. Where do you want the container?’

‘Inside,’ the guard said. ‘But I’ll need your weapons first.’

‘That’s not happening,’ King said.

‘Pinche gringo. Excuse me?’

‘This isn’t charity. We’re not beneath you. We have cargo in the back that you want your hands on. So it’s a two-way street. Treat us with respect, and that’s how we’ll treat you.’

‘There are sixteen of us here,’ the guard said. ‘We can take it by force.’

‘Maybe. But we’ll kill at least a few of you. And yes, I know how this works — you’ve got a reputation to uphold. It’s worth losing a few men to avoid looking weak. In your world weakness is death. But you’ll also lose access to the supply we consistently provide, and that won’t make upper management happy.’

The guard bristled on the elevated step, looking King right in the eyes, waiting for him to back down.

King didn’t.

Then the guard started truly considering it.

King said, ‘I’ll do many things, but I won’t hand over my weapon. I respect myself too much to submit to you. But if you let us through, you have my word there’ll be no problems. We’ll get the container out of the trailer, you’ll pay us, and we’ll be on our way. Simple as that.’

The guard said nothing.

King said, ‘Or we go the other way.’

For dramatic effect, he placed his hand on the grip of his weapon.

The guard leered.

He was enjoying this.

He clearly respected confidence.

‘Okay,’ he conceded. ’But I don’t know about letting all three of you in. I only know you, Liam Kingsley.’

Violetta leant forward. ‘Honey, if you ever want to do business with Ryan Duke again, you’ll let his woman in. And Josh here is his right-hand man. You think he’s going to tolerate any bullshit you try to put us through?’

The guard stared at her for a long beat.

Then he drifted the Colt slowly over to aim at her face.

But the Dodge pulled up behind the truck, and the muscle car’s engine rumbled in the night, and the guard became aware that he was keeping an important client waiting.

He winked, blew her a kiss, and leapt down off the step.

King breathed out.

The guard signalled, and two men on the perimeter wall ducked into a booth atop the parapet. A moment later, the gates inched open, accompanied by a mechanical whir.

King drove through.

The Dodge followed, stalking its prey.

King thought he made out a silhouette behind the wheel in the side mirror, but it might have been a figment of his imagination.

The tractor unit crossed the threshold and a couple of seconds later the entire truck entered the compound.

Swallowed whole.

80

The night drenched Slater as he wheeled Beckham across the road.

Everything was still.

Ordinary suburbia.

A world away from the bloodbath he’d caused back there. He felt nothing toward what he’d done. No one had died who hadn’t fully deserved it. Some residents might have been startled by the racket, but that was necessary collateral.

Now, Slater pushed the wheelchair faster and faster toward the dormant Hyundai across the street. It was too dark to see inside. His stomach had knotted long ago, and he wouldn’t dare relax until he knew—

The passenger door flung outward, and Alexis stepped out, Glock in hand.

The knot loosened.

Slater masked a sigh of relief.

‘Girlfriend?’ Beckham said when they were still halfway across the street. He made sure to keep his voice low.

‘Yeah.’

‘You’re a lucky man.’

‘I like to think so.’

He wheeled Beckham right up to the rear passenger door.

Alexis rounded the hood to greet them.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hello,’ Beckham said.

‘I wish we