Vengeance in Blood (Book 2): Tribulations (28 page)

Seeing a gap in traffic, Kenneth stomped the gas and weaved onto an interstate. “You know where you’re going?” Besseta asked. “I can get the map.”

“Heading three exits up. It’s an old industrial park with busy roads to the north and east,” Kenneth said, weaving around traffic and picking up speed.

“Oh man, Besseta, this is just like a movie. Kenneth kicked those guys’ asses, and to top it off, he shanked them with a screwdriver!” Tiffany hooted.

Kenneth glanced over at Besseta. “Televisions ruined her; she’s grounded from TV for a week.”

“Fine, but you’re enforcing it.” Besseta grinned as Kenneth yanked the wheel, forcing the SUV into a space between two cars that wasn’t there. “Kenneth, those lights dropped us like cheap dates,” Besseta told him.

“You’re grounded from the TV as well,” Kenneth said, looking in the rearview mirror.

Besseta laughed. “That, I want to see you enforce.”

Kenneth charged through the lines of traffic to the far lane. “Yes, those lights were powerful. I got a burn and was only in the beam for a second or so. What does that tell you?”

Besseta thought for a second. “They want us alive.”

“Yep,” he said, taking the exit and barreling around traffic that was stopped for a traffic light at the bottom of the ramp. Pulling on the shoulder of the road, Kenneth hit the gas, blowing by the traffic and forcing his way onto the road, getting a few one-finger salutes and blaring horns.

Kenneth saw a gas station on the other side of the road with the industrial park and turned in front of oncoming traffic, barreling across three lanes into the parking lot. “Damn, gratuitous violence is cool! Let’s find some more bad guys and stomp their asses; this is awesome!” Tiffany shouted from the back.

Kenneth opened his door. “Look in the glove box,” he said. He got out and walked around to the back then opened the hatch. He found two hard gun cases and one soft. Opening the hard cases, Kenneth found M-4s. He closed them and opened the soft case to find a UMP 45 submachine gun.

He zipped it closed, opened the side, and found loaded magazines. Pulling the case to the back, Kenneth zipped the side closed and dug through the rest of the equipment. He saw a few boxes of handgun ammunition and shoved them in the submachine gun case. He found another of the flashlights from hell and field gear but nothing else he could use or was willing to carry.

Grabbing the case with the submachine gun, Kenneth closed the hatch and walked around to the passenger door. He opened it and saw Besseta had a pile of papers and stuff in her lap. “Nothing of real importance,” she said.

Using his finger, Kenneth moved the stuff around and grabbed a state map, shoving it in his back pocket. “Throw it in the floor, and see what’s in the center console.”

Dumping the items in the floorboard, Besseta started pulling stuff from the center console. Kenneth grabbed a sheet of paper off her lap then pulled out another one. “Well damn,” he said, and Besseta turned around, looking at the sheets Kenneth was holding up.

On one were several pictures of him, and the other had several pictures of Besseta. All of Besseta’s photos came from security cameras while Kenneth’s were from the sheriff department from what seemed like two lifetimes ago. Tiffany dove over the seat and snatched them. “I want them,” she sang out. “Hey, I’m in this one with Besseta; why don’t I have a wanted poster?” she complained.

Besseta climbed over the seat and saw the picture Tiffany was pointing at. “Kenneth, this was from Atlanta.”

“Shit, they know we are near Chicago,” he grumbled, digging through the rest of the stuff. He found a report log and took it. “We need to go,” he said, taking the keys.

The girls climbed out the back, shutting the door as Kenneth slung the backpack on then used the shoulder strap on the soft gun case. He walked toward the store then up to two men leaning against the wall drinking from brown-paper-wrapped bottles. “Here’s you a ride,” Kenneth said, tossing them the keys. One of the men caught them.

He looked at the keys then at Kenneth and the SUV parked behind him. “How hot is it?”

“Smoking.” Kenneth smiled. “Pull the OnStar fast, and strip it. It’s a Five-0, so move fast. There’s hot iron in the back.” The two men ran for the SUV and climbed in. As Kenneth led the girls behind the store, the SUV squealed out of the parking lot.

“How long do you think those two have with that truck?” Tiffany asked.

“Twenty minutes tops,” Kenneth said, leading the two through a hole he saw in the chain-link fence around the industrial park. “They just called out they stopped the truck we put the cellphones in.”

As Kenneth held the fence open, the two slipped in, and he followed. “How can they have so many here to catch us?” Besseta asked as he led them into the industrial park.

“That I don’t know,” Kenneth admitted as he picked up his pace. They passed the first line of buildings and headed right on a street deeper in the park. Halfway down, Kenneth walked up to a building missing several sheets of metal over the walls.

Walking in where a sheet of metal was missing, they looked around at piles of trash. Kenneth dropped the soft gun case, took off the backpack, and started laying stuff out. “They found the guys I killed,” he announced, taking the ear bud out. He picked up the small notebooks he had taken off the four and handed them over.

“Look through them for radio frequencies,” Kenneth said. The girls grabbed the notebooks. With the gear arranged, Kenneth stood, taking off his trench coat and hanging it on a piece of metal. He took off his jacket and shirt and grabbed the bulletproof vest, strapping it on and tucking it in.

When he had put his shirt back on, Kenneth picked up the shoulder holster and strapped it on. Checking the pistol, he holstered it. “Ooh, a Sig 226,” Tiffany said as Kenneth put the pistol in the holster. Kenneth just arched his eyebrow at her as he put the other pistol back in the small of his back.

“Is this what you are looking for?” Besseta said, holding out the notebook.

Seeing the numbers, Kenneth grinned. “Yes it is,” Kenneth said, picking up the radio and keying in the numbers then the code to unlock them. “Rookie mistake; they put the code under the frequency,” Kenneth said as he changed channels. “Homeland agents are nothing more than thugs that were kicked out of the mafia for rough tactics.”

“You’re being serious,” Besseta said, and he nodded, putting a knife in both front pockets. After putting extra magazines in his back pocket, Kenneth grabbed his jacket and put it on. Picking up three of the four IDs, Kenneth handed over two.

“If asked to show ID, flip it open with your finger over the picture,” he said, demonstrating. “Don’t be obvious about it.”

Giggling, Tiffany practiced and looked at the pile of gear. “I want a gun,” she stated seriously.

“I don’t think now would be the time to experiment with guns,” Kenneth said, checking the stuff in his jacket pockets. Tiffany bent down, picked up a pistol, ejected the magazine, and racked the slide, ejecting a live round.

Catching the round out of the air, Tiffany put it back in the magazine. “Sig Sauer P226 forty caliber. It’s loaded with hydro shock hollow points,” she said, sliding the magazine in and racking the slide.

Kenneth looked up at Besseta for an explanation. “After you go to sleep, we go down and pull out guns and check them out. We’ve shot most of yours.” She shrugged.

Kenneth took a breath. “You—” he started and let the breath out. “Never mind; that was dumb,” he said, going back to work.

“Yes, it would’ve been. We could get hurt but heal really fast, and the basement is solid stone, so we can’t shoot through a wall,” Besseta laughed.

Stopping what he was doing, Kenneth looked up at her. “You could’ve asked. I would’ve been more than happy to show you and take you shooting.”

Besseta frowned. “Sorry, just thought you were too busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you,” he told her and held out a pistol to Besseta.

Smiling, Besseta took it and checked it just like Tiffany had. “I have to say shooting guns is very satisfying,” she said, racking the slide.

“This is great,” Tiffany said, bouncing on her toes. “We’re like rogue agents.” Kenneth turned around with a grin, looking at her. “I want a mini gun,” Tiffany smiled.

“Me too,” Kenneth laughed and finished packing the backpack. He opened the gun case and took out the submachine gun.

Tiffany moved over. “A UMP 45 with a suppressor, tactical light, and laser,” she said.

“I don’t have one of these; how did you know that?” he asked, checking the weapon.

Tiffany moved closer as Kenneth went over the weapon. “We get on the internet when we see a gun we don’t know on your movies.”

Kenneth put a magazine in, racking the bolt. “You watch too much TV,” he said, slinging the submachine gun over his right shoulder. He grabbed his trench coat and put it on. He adjusted the sling until he could pull out the submachine gun without much difficulty. Tucking it back, Kenneth loaded his coat pockets with magazines then put the rest in the backpack.

Leaving the gun case, Kenneth picked up the backpack, and Besseta moved over, grabbing it. “I’ll carry it; I want you to be ready to shoot.” She smiled. Nodding, he let her take it. “Well, what were you thinking?” she asked, putting on the backpack. “Honestly, I don’t know. Your mind sounds like a waterfall with all the thoughts running through it.”

“They could’ve had us but didn’t come at us. They were herding us somewhere,” he said, walking back out of the building.

Chapter 19

Kenneth led Besseta and Tiffany back to the road and headed north. They moved up behind him, putting their guns inside their jackets. “Man, dresses suck for going strapped,” Tiffany announced.

Stopping, Kenneth laughed. “Strapped?” he said, glancing over at Tiffany.

Worried she had gotten the term wrong, Tiffany looked over at Besseta. “Isn’t that what they say if you’re carrying a gun?”

“Yes, Tiffany,” Kenneth said, wiping his eyes as he started walking. “It just sounded really funny coming from you.” Glad she got it right, Tiffany smiled, following him with a bounce in her step.

“Where do you think they were trying to herd us?” Besseta asked.

Kenneth shrugged. “Don’t know. The way they were blocking us off didn’t make sense. Have you been in something like this?”

“Which time?” Besseta asked, letting out a laugh. “I was chased through Paris by a troop of knights and in London by a mob.”

“That sucked,” Tiffany chimed in.

“During the day?” Kenneth asked, seeing the road ahead full of traffic.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

Kenneth stopped and turned around, looking at them. “What did you do?”

“Hit the sewers,” Besseta told him. “It’s dark, giving us strength and slowing them, and it leads out of the city.”

Tiffany nodded. “If I wouldn’t have been following you, I would already be down there.”

Snapping his fingers, Kenneth said, “That’s where they were driving us. I’ll bet they have nice traps laid out down there, no witnesses and easy to move stuff. It would be perfect.”

They just looked at Kenneth until he spun around and walked toward the road. “You sound awful certain,” Besseta said.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. They were blocking you two, not me,” Kenneth said as he stopped and turned to them. “When we walk out, I want you two to act like call girls, okay?”

Tiffany nodded with a grin. Besseta’s face hardened. “You want
me
to act like a whore?”

“Call girl,” Kenneth corrected.

Besseta crossed her arms. “Whore.”

Sighing, Kenneth said, “Besseta, it’s an act. You know I would never see you that way.” He adjusted the earpiece. “They’re after the SUV.”

“Can you tell me why?” Besseta asked.

He waved his hands around. “We are walking out of a collection of abandoned buildings; what other reason would we have for being here, Besseta, besides drugs, and we aren’t dressed for that.”

She walked past him. “Fine, but I’m expensive.”

Trying not to laugh, Kenneth walked past her. “Follow, not lead. If I run, you need to see where, and I need to know where you are in case I have to shoot.”

“Sorry,” Besseta said, feeling bad about that.

When they reached the street, Kenneth waved down a taxi. Running to it, Kenneth let the girls in then climbed in and shut the door. Pulling out his wallet, he handed a hundred through the slot. “My wife has a private eye on us; just haul ass or I lose everything,” Kenneth said.

The driver took the money and stomped the gas, throwing them back. “Dude, what you takin’ high-end girls there for?”

“Wife had the Sheraton under surveillance,” Kenneth answered, looking around. “Only place I could go, and the Jag got a flat when we saw the private eye, so we took off.”

“Man, you need to dump that woman and hook up with one you have now.” The driver grinned, looking in the rearview mirror.

“I plan on doing just that,” Kenneth said, leaning over and kissing Besseta.

“That’s going to cost more.” Besseta smiled.

The driver busted out laughing. “Damn, fine and smart. Where you heading?”

Kenneth thought for a second. “North end of Oak Street. Just drop us off, and I’ll sneak home.”

“Will do,” the driver said, weaving through traffic.

Kenneth passed two more bills through the gap. “I’m sure the private eye has the radio monitored. How about we keep this fare off the books?”

The driver reached over, taking the money. “What fare? My seat’s empty,” he said, turning off the meter.

Twenty minutes later, the taxi left, leaving them on a sidewalk in a nice neighborhood. Kenneth weaved his hand through each girl’s arm with one on each side. “We are now snotty people looking at the neighborhood,” he said, leading them in a walk.

“Man, we are so spies,” Tiffany grinned. “What form were you using when you beat those shits down?”

“Krav maga.” Tiffany nodded as Kenneth listened to the radio. “They haven’t caught the SUV yet but are getting close.”

Besseta didn’t have the heart to tell Kenneth that they could hear the radio in his ear as she looked around. “What are we really doing here? Shouldn’t we be getting out of the city and not deeper in?”

“Yes, but we need a ride, and if we steal one from a business, the person will report it when they get off in an hour. Steal one here, and it’s not reported until they get home,” Kenneth explained, stopping beside a car. “Tiffany, will you?” he asked.

The car started, and the doors thunked as the locks popped. Kenneth opened the driver’s door and climbed in. “A black Dodge Charger; now this is what you steal,” Tiffany said, climbing in the back. As Besseta shut the door, Tiffany griped, “Besseta, scoot the seat up. I don’t have any room, and you don’t need much.”

“You aren’t that much taller than me,” Besseta shot back.

“You’re not even five feet tall, and I’m six inches taller than you,” Tiffany moaned.

Reaching down, Besseta slid the seat up as Kenneth sped out of the neighborhood, feeling like a parent. “You two get down; they’re looking for three people,” he said as both laid down.

When he hit the interstate, he announced, “They caught the SUV.” Keeping his speed at the speed limit, Kenneth kept looking around. All of a sudden, he started pounding the steering wheel. “There’s no fucking way!”

Stomping the gas, he flew down the interstate, weaving in and out of traffic. Besseta and Tiffany sat up, alarmed. “What is it?” Besseta asked and cringed as Kenneth drove between two cars.

“They just put out we were seen in a black Dodge Charger heading west on the interstate!” he shouted. “There’s no fucking way!”

Suddenly, Kenneth leaned down and looked up into the sky through the windshield then his window. “I don’t see any helicopters,” Besseta said, wanting him to keep his eyes on the road.

“Okay, shit,” he said to himself. “It has to be something in the air; that’s how they are following us.”

He continued to blow through traffic. “Ah ha,” he snapped, yanking the steering wheel and shooting across five lanes of traffic to an exit ramp.

“Kenneth, there’s a black SUV like we stole coming up behind us,” Tiffany told him. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw the giant vehicle approaching then heard it call over the radio.

Whipping around the traffic, Kenneth darted into the flow of it and stomped the gas. When he saw the SUV behind him hit a car and shove it out of the way, Kenneth knew this was bad. Down shifting, he darted over into the oncoming lane, making Besseta grab the dashboard.

Playing a running game of chicken with oncoming traffic, Kenneth glanced up and saw the SUV was following him. Looking up, Kenneth darted out of the way of a semi, and to Besseta’s credit, she never shouted at Kenneth to turn. Seeing a side street ahead, Kenneth locked the tires, spun the steering wheel, then stomped the gas to power out of the turn. Behind him, Tiffany was clapping with excitement as she bounced in the seat.

In a residential area, Kenneth blew down the road and took another turn looking in the rearview mirror to see how much of a lead he had. Hearing the radio in his ear, Kenneth hit the steering wheel. “This is bullshit,” he said, pulling out his pistol. Yanking the wheel right just as the SUV turned on the street, Kenneth turned onto a side street with tires squealing. With the engine roaring, Kenneth turned back in the direction of the SUV. Taking another right and rolling down his window, Kenneth circled the block and came back to the road he had pulled off of and the SUV was on.

Roaring out into the street, Kenneth locked up the brakes, aiming his gun out the window to see the SUV barreling down on him. Aiming at the driver, Kenneth started squeezing the trigger, seeing the window of the SUV spider web out. Then bullets punched through, leaving holes until a red splash hit the windows, and the SUV veered left, slamming into a parked car and flipping over on top of another.

Stomping the gas, Kenneth sped out of the neighborhood as he changed magazines. “You want to tell us what that was about?” Besseta asked.

“They were converging on us. Two more units came in from the west and were working toward us,” he said, putting the pistol in his lap. “They are coming at us too fast. I think they have a drone over us.”

Sticking her head between the front seats, Tiffany asked with a grin, “You mean a small spy plane?”

“Yeah, it’s the only thing that makes sense,” he said.

“What are you doing then?” Besseta asked.

Yanking the wheel, Kenneth pulled back on the main road, squealing the tires. “Heading to the airport. Air traffic can’t cross into it no matter how high they fly,” he said, weaving around a line of cars. “Boston PD has been ordered off. Homeland announced we are terrorists they want to apprehend.”

Approaching a red light nearing triple digits, Besseta closed her eyes, and Kenneth stomped the pedal. “Come on, be lucky!” he shouted, stiffening his arms as they blew through a gap of the crossing traffic. “Yeah, baby, we are bad!” he shouted, and Tiffany started bouncing again in the backseat.

“This is fucking great!” she screamed, punching the roof of the car and howling with joy.

Seeing a sign to the airport, Kenneth locked the tires, turned right, and followed the sign. Pulling onto the road, he looked in his mirror. “Well, they are persistent if nothing else,” Kenneth said.

Turning around, Besseta saw an SUV weaving through traffic coming up behind them. Glancing over at Kenneth, she saw him pick up his pistol. “When that truck is beside us, everyone shoot at it. Just don’t hit me,” he told them.

As the SUV got closer, it pulled into the next lane to pass as Kenneth stomped the brake, and the SUV passed. Then Kenneth stomped the gas, pulling up beside it. Holding his gun in his right hand, Kenneth squeezed the trigger and watched holes appear in the passenger door. Besseta leaned over and aimed beside Kenneth.

Behind them, Tiffany aimed through the sidewall of the roof behind the driver and started squeezing off rounds. The SUV swerved under the hail of lead with everyone in it wounded or dead. When the rain of lead stopped, Kenneth yanked the wheel toward the SUV, crashing against the front tire.

The SUV shot over the median into oncoming traffic and was hit by several cars, sending the SUV rolling sideways down the road. Dropping his empty pistol, Kenneth hit the gas and saw a traffic light ahead.

Aiming between the stopped row of cars, Kenneth was certain they could get through. Besseta dropped her pistol and grabbed onto the car as the light changed, and the line of cars in front of them started to move into the intersection.

Moving over a hundred miles an hour, the Dodge blew between the rows of cars, sending out screeches of metal and sparks. Free of the narrow gauntlet, they hit the intersection and felt a dip as the road rose up, and the car went airborne.

“Whoo hoo, we are fucking flying!” Tiffany cheered in the back.

Gripping the wheel tight, Kenneth braced for impact as the Charger slammed back to earth, sending sparks everywhere and making the Charger swerve back and forth down the road until Kenneth had control. Behind him, Tiffany was laughing her ass off, and Besseta had cracked the dash, leaving holes where her fingers were.

Speeding down the road, Kenneth saw a plane landing ahead. Noticing he was coming to a parking garage, he slowed and pulled in, stopping at the ticket machine. When he pulled the stub out, the gate swung up. He pulled into the first spot and got out.

Trying to calm her nerves, Besseta felt around the floorboard until she found her pistol. Getting out, she found Kenneth beside an H2 Hummer. He held his pistol beside his leg. “Tiffany,” he said as she came over. Again, the vehicle started, and the doors unlocked.

They all climbed in as Kenneth backed out. Looking at the Charger, steam hissed from the hood, and several fluids were pouring out under it. “Well, it held together,” Besseta nodded.

Kenneth pulled up to the booth, handing his ticket and a hundred to the clerk. “Keep the change.” Kenneth smiled, and the gate swung up. Easing back on the road in the new ride, he looked over as he pulled out his pistol and changed magazines. “You two did awesome.”

Seeing that, Besseta dug in the backpack and pulled out two magazines, passing one back to Tiffany. “Is it my imagination, or are they trying to keep us in the city?” she asked.

Putting his pistol in the holster, Kenneth smiled. “Look who is the detective now.”

“Well, I had the best teacher ever,” she smirked. “Also the sexiest.”

Tiffany poked her head between the seats. “Sorry to interrupt, but this is the best day EVER!”