Стюарт Вудс - Barely Legal

Mookie raised his voice. “Back away from the door.”

Mookie took his gun out, unlocked the door with his left hand, twisted the knob, and pushed the door open.

Melanie was standing by the door, close enough to have kicked him if he hadn’t been wary. When she saw the gun in his hand she took a step back.

“That’s a good girl,” Mookie said.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like to win the lottery,” Mookie said. He slammed the door and went downstairs to get a beer.

Dino swerved around a taxi with his cell phone plastered to his ear. He straightened the car, barked at Stone, “Where is he now?”

Stone was thrown sideways as Fred overtook a semi, skidded into the outer lane. “L.I.E., heading east toward City Field.”

“Where are you?”

“About ten minutes behind.”

“I’m catching up.”

“Bullshit,” Stone said. “Your only advantage is you don’t have to worry about getting pulled over.”

“You’re sweating a speeding ticket?”

“I don’t want to miss the action.” Fred nosed the Bentley through a gap the size of a pinhole and floored the gas.

Herbie was crushed between Carlo and Ollie the Ox. With the town car this crowded, Mario Payday was sitting up front with the driver, leaving the others to the backseat. Herbie didn’t mind being squished, he was just afraid they’d notice his gun, or the damn thing would go off and he’d shoot himself in the leg. The gamble was desperate enough. He didn’t need the attempt to be over before it began. The thug squishing his gun had so much fat and muscle he didn’t seem to notice the hard metal jamming into his leg.

The town car took an exit. The turn jammed the gun even harder into the side of the thug.

Herbie tried to control his breathing, and prayed that Ollie the Ox lived up to his nickname.

The cab almost missed the exit. David had to scream at the driver, who nearly totaled the cab, causing a ten-car pileup that would have shut down the L.I.E. He cut across two lanes of traffic and fishtailed onto the exit ramp as a chorus of car horns applauded the move.

The cab was much too close to the car for comfort.

“Slow!” David warned. “In case the light’s red.”

It wasn’t. The town car breezed right off the exit just as the light was changing.

“Make it! Make it! Make it!” David screamed.

The cabbie missed the last flash of yellow and flew through on the red, prompting another blare of horns.

A block ahead, the town car appeared to take no notice. It slowed and took a right. The cabbie graced David with his ritual grumble, and followed.

Mario’s town car pulled up in front of the house, and the four men got out and walked up to the door. Carlo banged on it. After a moment, he banged on it again.

Gus opened the door and peered out. His attitude was not welcoming. “Whaddya want?”

“Ninety thousand dollars,” Carlo said.

Gus blinked. “What?”

“We’re here for the money.”

Gus laughed. “Get lost.” He started to shut the door.

Carlo’s eyes blazed. He moved his bulk forward into the doorway and started to draw his gun, but Mario Payday grabbed his arm. “Carlo. There is no need for unpleasantness. Let Mr. Fisher handle this.” Mario pushed Herbie forward. “Mr. Fisher, if you please.”

Herbie smiled at the two goons. “Could I speak to Uncle Henry, please?”

The man’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“He’s expecting me. I know you’re here to guard the money, but not from me . I’m the one the money is for .”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yes, it is,” Mario Payday said. He bulled his way in the door with his usual sense of entitlement, pushing Herbie along with him. Mario’s goons crowded in behind him.

Cousin Lou, roused from his lethargy, got up from the couch. “Hey. This is my house.”

“Are you Uncle Henry?” Mario said.

“I’m Cousin Lou.”

Mookie came out of the kitchen with a beer. “Hey, what’s going on here?” His eyes widened. “Mario Payday! What the hell are you doing here?” He spotted Herbie. “And the lawyer. What are you doing with him ? I thought you killed his girlfriend.”

Herbie blinked. His head came up. Mario Payday killed Yvette? Not Tommy Taperelli?

In a flash, he realized it was true.

There was no time for that now. The stairs were across the room. He had to get there. And here he was, trapped between two gangs of goons.

“He’s got a gun!” Herbie warned.

No one had, but suddenly everyone did. No one fired, but everyone drew at once. The thugs faced each other down.

Herbie’s gun was still in his hip holster. He surreptitiously eased it out and let it hang down the side of his leg.

He squeezed the trigger and fired a shot into the floor.

And everyone began shooting.

David stopped the cab two houses down from Cousin Lou’s. He watched as Herbie and the men went up to the front door. As soon as they went inside, he began creeping up on the house. He’d just reached the front lawn when there was a single shot, followed by a hail of gunfire.

David jerked his cell phone out of his pocket and called 911.

Herbie dived for the floor, rolled over, and came up by the stairs. He crawled up them on his hands and knees as gunfire exploded all around him. He reached the top, stood up, and glanced around. Down the hall was a closed door with the key in the lock. He raced to it, twisted the key, and opened the door.

Melanie was quivering in fear as she heard a cacophony of gunfire from downstairs, but she wouldn’t let herself succumb to panic. She had to defend herself, now more than ever.

In the midst of the shooting, she heard a heavy tread in the hallway approaching her room. She positioned herself in a loose crouch, hands up in fighting position, her whole body coiled and ready for action.

The key turned in the lock.

The door opened.

She reacted with as much speed as she could muster, kicking the man in the balls. He doubled over in agony. She recognized him just in time to stop from decking him with a haymaker.

“My God, Herbie! What are you doing here? What’s happening?” Melanie said.

Herbie tried to answer but couldn’t. He held up his hand, gulped for air. He managed to croak out, “We’ve got to get out of here.”

David snuck up on the house, carefully, as shots were still ringing out. There was a window on the side where he could risk a look. He crept up to the house and raised himself on tiptoes.

The window exploded in a hail of glass as a body hurtled through it and landed in a heap on the lawn. It was a thug. He had a gun in his hand. He struggled to his feet and took off without a backward glance.

Mookie ran down the street full-tilt with his gun in his hand. He was lucky to be alive. He knew his men probably were not. He’d seen Gus go down. And Cousin Lou was right out in the open, too dumb to duck. But Mario Payday, a fucking loan shark, what the hell was a loan shark doing there anyway? And with the goddamned lawyer who was supposed to have given up and taken a dive. Jesus Christ, how did this all go south so quickly? Even if he got out of it, Tommy Taperelli would kill him.

A police car hurtled down the street, straight at him. Mookie raised the gun. Before he could fire, a second police car roared up. And a third. And a fourth. All stopped with their lights on him.

Policemen poured out of the cars. And a bullhorn, a fucking bullhorn, blared, “You’re surrounded. Drop the gun.”

Mookie’s mouth fell open. My God, did cops really say that?