Page 57 of Stilettos & Whiskey
“Pull your shirt up and turn around. I want to see the back of your jeans,” Jim Bob instructed.
There was an edge to Jim Bob’s voice I didn’t like. The man was close to losing it. “Yes, sir.” I very carefully pulled my shirt up just enough so he wouldn’t notice the knife strapped to my upper back.
“Four hostiles have been eliminated,” Lucas’s voice advised in my earpiece.
The color suddenly drained from Jim Bob’s face, and he gagged. “What’s that awful smell?”
“Dunno.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Could be a dead rabbit or something. Sure is drawing in the flies.” I brushed them off my face.
The big, mountain of a man suddenly puked all over the back of Jim Bob’s immaculate white suit.
“What the fuck, George?” Jim Bob yanked his jacket off. “Have you lost your mind? This is a ten-thousand-dollar suit.”
George threw up on his fancy alligator boots. “Like I care.”
Jim Bob pulled a gun and shot him.
Shit! I backed away. Hadn’t seen that one coming.
Making a funny gurgling noise, Jim Bob began vomiting violently.
“What have you done?” Papa Garza demanded.
Shit! He wasn’t showing any reaction to the smell. “You’ve been infected with the Armageddon virus. Let my dad go and I’ll give you the antidote.”
Papa Garza laughed. “I have three months left to live and before I die, I will have my vengeance. He squeezed the flamethrowers handle and a six-foot stream of fire shot out.
I watched in horror as the barn door burst into flames. “No! Stop!”
“Can you save him in time?” Papa Garza gloated as the fire raced across the dry wood.
Dad struggled to free himself.
“Or will he die like your parents, screaming in agony and begging for help?” Papa Garza directed a spray of fire at me.
I somersaulted out of the way and a mesquite tree became a raging inferno. “Why did you kill my parents? I have the right to know.”
“I needed fifty thousand dollars and my selfish son refused to sell his precious house to help me.” Papa Garza’s harsh voice was filled with a savage rage. “But he paid. He paid and now you owe me.”
“I owe you nothing,” I spat.
“You sent me to hell and now I’m gonna send you there too.” He pointed the flame thrower at me.
Jim Bob jumped in his Cadillac and tore off.
“Come back here, you fucking coward,” Papa Garza screamed, firing the flamethrower at the car.
Another tree caught fire.
Thecrackof a sniper rifle sounded. Ten seconds later, Papa Garza crumpled to the ground with a bullet hole between his eyes.
“Hold your position, Julie,” Grandpa barked. “We’re two minutes out.”
“Dad doesn’t have two minutes. This time Raul Garza isn’t winning.” Taking a deep breath, I ran into the burning barn. The fire seemed to roar its hunger. Flames spewed like dragon’s breath from the walls. The heat was unbearable. The acrid smoke stung my nostrils and made breathing difficult.
“Leave me,” Dad rasped.
“Like hell.” Everything seemed to go into slow motion as I unsheathed my knife and cut the ropes binding him. I felt no fear, only a fierce determination to beat the monstrous flames. It wasn’t taking any more of my family from me.
