Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (types of ebook readers txt) 📕

I wasn’t wrong.

There was a loud, shuddering noise of wood and rollers, and a translucent oblong of starlight opened up ahead of us. Four black silhouettes stood stenciled against it. We froze, but the glare from two powerful lamps blinded us and bathed us in white light. I shaded my eyes and the glare and the silhouettes seemed to warp and swell as I heard the trudge of boots on the dirt floor.

A nicotine-stained voice rasped, “Denle a la luz!”

A moment later there was a buzzing and flickering overhead and four neon tubes bathed the barn in a dead, humming glow. El Coyote was staring at us. He was flanked by two Angels. One of them I recognized as Scott, the ape I’d decked the night before. He was grinning among his bruises. A fourth guy who looked Mexican was returning from the switch panel by the door.

Coy eyed us with what you could only describe as loathing. “You fockin’ lying shit. I’m gonna gut you like a fish, Gringo. But first we gonna play a bit with your puta.”

Scott looked happy and laughed. Dehan disturbed me by laughing too. “You wanna go first, Coy? I’m gonna bust your balls so hard they’ll knock your eyes out of their sockets, pendejo! And you?” She pointed at Scott. “You’re gonna be singing soprano in the Colorado State Opera.”

El Coyote looked more like an iguana than a wild dog. He was motionless and expressionless, and his voice came out like a quiet hiss in his throat. “You got a big mouth, puta. But we gonna silence it for you.”

I caught Dehan’s eye and nodded once. I pulled my piece and aimed it at Coy’s forehead, right between his eyes. Dehan had her .38 in her hands and was covering the other three by turns.

I said, “This is how it’s going to go down. Coy, you are going to lie on your face. Scott, you are going to tie his hands and his ankles. You two,” I gestured at the other Angel and the Mexican, “You’re going to do the same. Understood? Then, Scott, you’re going to tie up your Mexican pal over there. Nobody gets hurt. OK?”

El Coyote snarled, and managed for a moment to look like a wild dog. “Nobody fockin’ move. These mothers are cops. I can smell it. They on private property and they ain’t gonna shoot nobody.”

“Dehan grinned. “See, pendejo, you’re right, and then again, you’re wrong. Yeah, we are cops, but look around, pal. Where are your credible witnesses? Blink in a way I don’t like and I’ll nail you. And if there’s anybody left to get on a witness stand, who do you think the jury is going to believe?”

It was a brave attempt, but it didn’t work. Coy snarled something obscene in Spanish, then shouted, “Kill them!” and charged me, closely followed by his three gorillas.

I screamed, “Run!” at Dehan and fired. But Coy was already past my gun and had gripped me in a crushing embrace, hurling me to the ground. I landed with a whoosh! And felt blades of pain pierce my winded lungs. Over his shoulder I saw, as though in slow motion, Dehan’s gun kick. The empty shell spiraled into the air and the Mexican looked astonished and sat down, staring at the oozing hole in his chest.

The two Angels were charging her. I screamed again, “Run! Run!” She dodged Scott’s lunge and drove her elbow into his floating ribs. He staggered back and dropped to his knees. I tried to line up the other guy, but they were moving fast, and the risk of hitting Dehan was too great.

Then Coy was straddling me, with his knees on my arms, pulling back his fist to smash me in the face. I pressed the muzzle of my automatic against his thigh and pulled the trigger. There was a muffled phut! and El Coyote was howling like his namesake. I threw him on the ground and scrambled to my feet. The second Angel had Dehan pinned against the wall, trying to hook her legs from under her with his heel. I was about to charge him, but stopped and frowned. I saw her slip her .38 into her waist band and bend her knees. Next thing, her right hand slammed up and gripped his balls. He choked and she called out to me, “This what they call Colorado oysters, Stone?” Then she squeezed hard and twisted. The noise that came out of that man’s mouth was not human.

He fell. She kicked Scott in the head and said, “Now we can run.”

We ran.

Dehan is young and athletic. I am neither, plus I was badly winded from El Coyote’s tackle. As I came through the barn doors, she was already moving in among the trees and disappearing. I stumbled and stopped a moment to get my breath, and that was when I felt the muzzle against my head, and heard the click of a hammer.

“Don’t move.” I froze. “OK, now give me your gun, and put your hands behind your head.”

For the second time that night, I did as I was told. I felt a strong grip on my right wrist and next thing, my arms were wrenched behind my back, a plastic zip-tie bit into my skin, and my hands were bound behind my back.

I said, “I’m a cop. You’re making a bad mistake.”

“I know who you are, pal. Turn around.” I turned and found myself looking into Greg Carson’s smug face. “You may be a cop, Stone, but you’re out of your jurisdiction and breaking the law on my property. I am in my perfect right to shoot you dead, and I may just do that.”

I gave my head a twitch. “Well, Greg, I don’t know what