Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset (17 page)

Willy glanced back to the store and noticed
his friends peering out of the window; wide-eyed and realizing he
was in big trouble.

As the small gang reached the back of the
building, Leshon turned suddenly and landed a wide right hook into
Willy’s left check. He’d seen it at the last possible second and
was able to minimize the hit by turning his head to the right, but
holy hell did it hurt. The blow spun Willy to the right and down to
his knees. He couldn’t help it.

LESHON
:
Come on, you little bitch! Get up and show me what you
got!

Well, there’s no way out
of this now.
Willy thought. He shook his
head once and stood up to his full height. In that second,
something in his demeanor changed. Leshon noticed it and so did the
others. Willy’s look of supreme confidence and cold anger caused a
hush in the small crowd and made Leshon think twice about
charging.

Willy used the pause to make his move. He
bum-rushed Leshon and made pretended to swing a huge right-handed
haymaker. Just as he was about to connect with his attacker’s
blocking arm, however, he used his momentum to hug Leshon into the
path of his forehead. The collision sounded like a cracking
two-by-four as Willy’s forehead connected with Leshon’s exposed
nose. Blood splattered from the flattened nostrils as the two young
men fell to the ground.

Willy knew he had him. One of the things
he’d learned in his early fights was that despite the rage he
mustered to take out an opponent, his mind stayed serenely calm. It
was yet another gift that would serve him well later in life.

He used that talent to quickly weigh his
options. If he incapacitated Leshon now, he’d most likely have to
turn and take on the other five. Not the best opportunity for
getting out of the mess relatively unscathed. Just as he Willy
cocked back to headbutt him again, Leshon screamed in fear.

LESHON
: Get
this motherfucker off me!

The next three minutes were a complete blur
as the remaining crew members jump into the fray. Fists flew and
boots stomped as the gang pounded away at the defenseless Willy. He
tried to ball up in a fetal position to protect himself.

At some point, between blows to the head and
torso, Willy heard his mother’s voice. She was screeching at the
other young men. He looked up through bloody eyes to see his mother
holding his father’s old shotgun. He didn’t even realize his mother
knew how to use the weapon.

MOMMA
TRENT
: I’m giving you boys two seconds
to get the hell out of here or I’m gonna shoot.

She leveled the shotgun at Leshon.

LESHON
:
This ain’t over, bitch!

Leshon quickly fled the scene. His crew
followed close behind, all looking back over their shoulders hoping
Willy’s mother wouldn’t shoot.

She walked over to her son and bent down,
cradling the shotgun.

MOMMA
TRENT
: You OK, son?

Willy raised his bloody face and looked up
at his mother. In the limited light, she reminded him of a guardian
angel. A shotgun-wielding guardian angel, but a guardian angel
nonetheless. He tried to answer, but the words came out as a slur.
It was now obvious that his jaw was broken and he’d sustained other
injuries to his whole body. He felt like his entire high school
football team had literally run him over. Twice.

MOMMA
TRENT
: Come on, son. Let’s get you to
the hospital. Don’t try to talk.

It wasn’t easy for Willy’s mother to help
her son off the ground, but they somehow made it vertical and
around the side of the building to her idling car.

Willy later found out that one of his
friends had called Mrs. Trent as soon as Leshon had provoked the
fight. Luckily, the Trent household was right around the corner and
her commute proved quick after she grabbed the loaded shotgun.

He remembered the look on his mother’s face
as she nursed the beaten and bruised Willy. There was a sadness
there that he couldn’t place. At the same time, he saw a deep
determination in her eyes. He didn’t know what it was until days
later when his mother came in and announced that they were moving
across town to live with his grandmother.

MOMMA TRENT
: I should’ve seen it a while ago, Willy. In this
neighborhood, you’re gonna get nothing but trouble. I’ve already
talked to the private school across town and they say that, with a
partial scholarship for football, they can put us on a payment
plan. I’ve already talked to my cousins over there and they’re
gonna help me get extra work.

WILLY
: I
don’t want you to do that, momma. I can handle things around
here.

MOMMA TRENT
: It’s not in your control, son. If it’s not those boys that
attacked you the other night, it’ll be someone else. We’ve outgrown
this town. We need to start a new life in a better
place.

It was obvious to Willy that there was no
use arguing. Her mind was made up and he’d have to go along with
her decision. Deep down, he knew she was right. He would always be
a target.

The move proved to be surprisingly easy. It
was good to be close to family and Willy quickly excelled at
school. The mostly white high school was amazed at his talent on
the football field. With the help of some very diligent teachers,
Willy soon caught up to, or surpassed his peers in the classroom.
He learned to love his studies and eventually became not only
captain of the football and basketball team but also senior class
president and valedictorian. Not a bad rise for a former
misfit.

+ + +

MSgt Trent thought back to
those days as he strolled the streets of North Nashville. It’d been
a while, but most inner city neighborhoods had a similar smell and
feel. Dressed in dark clothing with a long leather trench coat, he
was glad he’d never have to live in such a place ever again.
Thanks to Momma,
he
thought as he said a silent prayer to his now deceased
mother.

His mission was clear: infiltrate the area
and get intel on the location of Dante West. He and Cal had agreed
that it would be highly unlikely that Trent would stumble on West.
They just needed some better information so they could hopefully
triangulate the guy’s whereabouts.

So far he’d questioned a couple of winos and
hookers. They’d all said the same thing; Dante hadn’t shown his
face in a while. He changed tactics and started pushing the fact
that West owed him some big money and he was going get paid tonight
or heads would roll. It was time to light a fire and see what came
running out of the woods.

He finally hit pay dirt around two in the
morning. One of the hookers, obviously high on something, had led
him to one of Dante’s supposed drug houses. Trent snuck around the
side of the dilapidated duplex trying to get a better feel for what
he was up against. He pulled his Beretta out of his coat pocket
just in case.

Making his way to the back of the house, he
heard a television through the open window. Obviously, the
inhabitant wasn’t trying too hard to keep the space secure. He
glanced in through the corner of the window and saw two black men
sitting on a dirty couch watching television and enjoying some
weed. Brown paper bags filled will some type of malt beverage sate
pinned between them. Both men had pistols within arm’s reach on the
couch. Clearly, they weren’t completely stupid.

Keeping a low profile, Trent shifted his
gaze around the room and saw two women sprawled naked on the floor
on top of soiled blankets. Both women were passed out and probably
high by the looks of their slack jaws. He didn’t see any other
visitors and wondered what was upstairs.

He squatted down next to
the house and reached into his other coat pocket. He pulled out the
small box Neil had given him. Opening the box, he extracted the
pair of sunglasses and then gently handled the tiny flying spy
camera.
Better safe than
sorry
.

Just as Cal had done, he put on the
sunglasses and pressed the side arm. The small vehicle went
airborne and the left lens mirrored the camera’s point of view. He
directed the camera to fly up to the second story window. The
slight buzzing was completely muffled by the sound of the
television and nighttime noises. As it came up to the second level,
the drone slowed and hovered. Trent peered into the darkened room
and looked through night vision eyes at the empty floor.

The device moved into the
room and rotated to give Trent a full view of the contents. Lots of
trashed furniture but no people. He completed the scan of the
upstairs by directing the drone into the bathroom and a second
bedroom. Empty.
Good
.

Next, he directed the spy camera down the
stairs and into the kitchen. Other than a sink and table full of
used to-go cartons, the place was empty. That left the two pushers
and their girlfriends in the living room.

He brought the drone back outside and stowed
it and the glasses in his pocket. After a second to think, he knew
the easiest way to find out what he needed was to just knock down
the back door. He was pretty sure he could take care of the two
men.

Trent prepped by stashing his pistol back in
its holster. He withdrew two more of Neil’s presents. They were
specially modified tazers. They were a lot smaller than the
commercial version used by police and private citizens, but just as
powerful. In Trent’s hands, they each looked like matching Pez
dispensers and were roughly the same size as their candy
counterparts.

Out of habit, he checked to make sure the
laser sights worked. Before leaving, Neil had suggested taking two
just in case. Trent would have to remember to thank the techie for
the forethought. If he was lucky, he could incapacitate both men
without much noise. The last thing he wanted to do was burst into
the house with guns blazing.

He stayed in a crouch as he moved around to
the back of the little house. The keys to what he was about to do
was overwhelming force and surprise. Having the two idiots shooting
at him wouldn’t do any good. MSgt Trent was hoping he’d catch the
men with drug and alcohol slowed reflexes. He took two more
settling breaths, squared himself to the back door and pictured the
two men ten feet from the rear entrance. Holding the Pez tazers
loosely in each hand, he took one big step back then exploded
through the door with his size fourteen boot leading the way.

The door shattered the locking mechanism and
Trent followed the door into the entryway. He looked down at the
surprised expressions of the two drug dealers and didn’t hesitate
to aim each tazer at their chests and depress the triggers.

Before the guys could reach for their guns
the tazer wires reached out. The probes penetrated their thin
shirts and instantly started pouring voltage into their nervous
system. Trent held down the switches for five seconds then released
and watched the shocked duo slump back down on the couch.

Not waiting for questions, the former Master
Sergeant started the interrogation.

MSGT
TRENT
: Where’s Dante?

PUSHER #1
:
What?!

MSGT
TRENT
: I said, where’s Dante? You
don’t start answering my questions and I’m gonna keep
shocking.

PUSHER #1
:
No please…

Trent switched on the electricity and
watched as the men writhed in agony. Turning the juice off, he
started again.

MSGT
TRENT
: Like I told you, answer my
questions. Now, one more time: Where’s Dante?

PUSHER #1
:
I don’t know, man!

The next shock threw the man’s head back,
hitting the wooden frame of the couch with a sharp crack. Turning
off the power again Trent explained again.

MSGT
TRENT
: I’m gonna tell you this one
last time. Dante owes me some money and I mean to get it tonight.
The only thing I want you boys to tell me is how I can find that
fucker.

PUSHER #2
:
OK, OK!”

Despite the screams and grunts, neither of
the passed-out women on the floor had yet to stir. Good.

MSGT
TRENT
: You ready to tell me where he
is?

PUSHER #2
(gasping): We don’t know exactly where he is. He’s been moving
around a lot.

MSGT
TRENT
: You mean since he killed that
girl?

PUSHER #2
:
I don’t know anything about that, man. All I know is that the cops
are after him and we haven’t seen him for a while.

MSGT
TRENT
: So how do you know he’s still
around?

PUSHER #2
:
He calls us a couple of times a day. Dante wants to make sure we’re
still making money for him.

MSGT
TRENT
: Does he call you on your cell
phone?