Lady Smith Lock and Key Pt. 10

The 2021 Readers Choice awards has been decided. 2 ^nd place ain't bad. Thanks for the support.

Thanks again as always to Lastman for helping with editing.

-Titus Novak-

Saturday - May 8, 2021

Plans had to change. The original plan was to get all the cars into Canada and hand them off to a buyer there. It got too hot too fast and now I must improvise. The first truck got caught just outside of Scobey. Border and Customs were tipped off before they even got close. A few agents had been paid off, but from last I was told they got a pair of silver bracelets too.

Rather than wholesale, now I have to chop up the cars on the second truck and sell the parts. Still a good penny considering the value of the cars, but I'm taking a deep cut in pay for it. Can't complain seeing how this is the money I need to disappear. A few people I know outside of Seattle run a chop shop, and they owe me a few favors.

I can't believe how fast this fell apart. Lady Fucking Smith. Maybe once the temperature cools off in Montana, I can return the favor.

"Yo, T," I hear from behind me. I've been standing at the opening of the garage for hours, blankly looking out at the Seattle skyline in the distance. It's dark and the city is the only light in the sky. Not even stars or the moon. Behind me is Vance, an old member of the Legion who broke off years ago to set up his own franchise. I told him to rebrand and thankfully he listened. He wanted to keep the colors when he left, but I said to do his own thing. If not, he could have been rolled up with the rest of us for known affiliation.

"Otto just ran some numbers after we talked to a few buyers. Looking like four hundred thousand after they're over the fence. I'll cut you three-fifty of it," he offers. Way more than I would have started with.

"There's a lot of heat for these cars right now. Cut even for your troubles."

"I owe you, and you need the money to get out of dodge and lay low. If you still feel we're not square after, we'll figure it out once it blows over and the pigs don't care anymore."

Vance does owe me, but not that much. Loyalty is a form of currency. I know I can't talk him out of it, so gently punch his shoulder in gratitude.

"What the hell happened in Billings? Where's Terry?"

"Dead," I say, and he sighs while shaking his head. "The cops aren't the only ones looking for us. Not sure who, but someone came at us hard when we were getting the cars. I'm talking military grade lethal."

"Any other group down there got hitters like that? Bandidos?" Vance asks.

"I had a truce with the Bandidos going back years. I used to ride with them before forming my own shit. They were cool so long as we kept our dicks out of Missoula."

"I heard some California gangs were pressing on your turf. Maybe looking to seize an opportunity."

"I don't know, I didn't get a good look at the shooter. Barely got out of there as it was. They dropped three of my guys in seconds. I'm probably one of the only ones not dead or in cuffs."

We both jump when an explosion echoes down the street. It could have been a gunshot, so we immediately draw and make our way to the other side of the building where it originated. Vance is whispering for his guys to get weapons and get ready. Other guys start putting sheets up over the cars to hide the evidence in case of a raid. I check that my revolver is fully loaded and snap the cylinder back. Six shots at the ready.

I join him outside as he carefully leans out. The building is isolated and not connected to any local business. Publicly it's an auto repair shop with ten available bays, half of which are pitch black due to not being worked on. In truth it's a laundering front that makes a side hustle chopping cars taken from Seattle. 'Vance and Sons Auto Repair'. Vance doesn't have a kid, but the perception it's a family-owned business makes more people trust it.

Parked in front of a local carpet warehouse across the street is a motorcycle that I don't remember being there. I can see the decal IX even from this distance. I hold off Vance from checking it out.

"Hold the phone," I say, and he turns to me. "That's one of my bikes."

"You didn't ride a bike here," Vance says, and exhales sharply. "What does that mean?"

Another explosion erupts near the motorcycle. I see a puff of smoke from behind a nearby car. Vance loses it and starts firing, and his men follow suit. The car is turned into Swiss cheese. All the windows shatter. The tires go flat. Sparks shine bright from ricochets off the car and anything nearby.

"Stop. Stop!" I scream at him. Vance drops a magazine and loads a fresh one. He orders his guys to check out the car. Three guys maneuver quickly and surround the car from two sides. They jump to the other side, and I can see them all look at the ground to something behind the car. One holds up a brown bag with a confused expression.

"It's an MRE bag," he shouts. Their attention is suddenly drawn to the car again. They aim down under the car, and I hear a faint sound. A melody you'd hear coming from a music box with a crank. I focus my hearing as one ducks down to find the source.

"Is that...pop goes the weasel?" Vance asks. The melody plays and I automatically sing it in my head. 'Pop! Goes the weasel" BOOM! "Fuck!" Two of his guys are vapor and the third is thrown through the display windows of the business. The car is a torrent of flame with pieces of debris raining down like the embers of fireworks. All the glass in the immediate area is shattered, and several cars have alarms blaring.

Another explosion echoes from behind another car, but it's too quiet. I see the smoke again, but no fire or damage to the area. Distractions. They're trying to bait us to the front. I turn around and watch a woman step over a dead body coming up behind another man and slit his throat. She sees me see her and uses the body as a shield as I fire twice.

She throws the body to the ground and rolls behind a car as I miss one more time.

"Get out here you little fucking ninja!" Vance shouts. He's taken cover on the outside and is aiming in. I duck low to avoid his crossfire for a moment to flank her on the other side. The last of his two guys are coming from the other side of the shop. As I step around, I see her laying on a creeper cart. She kicks off a heavy tool set straight back and flattens herself out to slide under a car lifted on jacks. I fire and miss again. Vance is caught off guard and she hits him while aiming straight over herself. She quickly pivots and nearly hits me before I dive.

"Jesus," I grunt after hitting the ground. I kick the jack out from under the car so she can't do it again. I hear her footsteps scurry away and the impacts from bullets missing her as she vanishes again. "Vance!?"

"I'm hit," he stresses out. "Just the arm though. Who the fuck is this bitch?"

"Don't know, don't care. She's dead," I reply. His guy reaches me and is about to say something before his brains are blown into my face. I turn to aim in the darkness, looking for flashes. "Get some fucking lights on!"

Vance fires into the darkness, hoping to draw her fire, but she doesn't reply. This woman isn't an amateur. Three on one, but she knows she has the advantage. I crawl to the back side of the car and peek around the edge. All I can hear is Vance seething from his wound and his last man going for a switch. The lights burst on and I flinch from the sudden brightness. The last man is taking cover behind a lift with a car directly over him.

"Move!" I shout at him, and he peers over to me. "Move!"

Too late. The woman fires and hits part of the lift. It releases a hiss, and the car begins to slowly lower as the pressure is released. He merely steps out of the way and ducks behind the car. I guess she also thought the car would just fall straight down. I gesture to him to move with me toward the back.

"Vance, cover us," I say, and he confirms he's got it.

We start a slow approach and don't find her in the nearest bay. We keep moving, and I'm looking for any movement. Anything looks off or moves I'm firing at it. He steps around the back of a car and aims quickly to the other side. Nothing. The trunk suddenly shoots open. He turns but she grabs his arm, fires once into his chest, and then his head. I fire but she rolls out and rests against the other side of the car.

Vance had run up on her and is laying down heavy fire. She fires back and hits him, but he got her too. He dies on his feet, but his momentum throws him to the ground, and he slides a few feet on an oil slick. I curse to myself as I wait to see if the girl is dead.

I hear her grunt and crawl across the ground away from me. I look around the car and see a blood trail, but no girl. I follow it out the bay where she's limping away toward the fiery street. My bullet hits her square in the back, and she's propelled face first into the ground.

"Gotcha bitch," I say and exhale deeply as I lower my gun. The street is finally quiet. I look at the carnage she left behind, and slowly turn back to her. She's moving. She has a vest. "You shitting me?" Her hand comes next to her face, and she starts pushing herself up. "Will you just die." I aim and pull the trigger. Click. "Shit."

The woman puts her other hand down and is now off her chest. She pushes off the ground until she's on her knees. I search my pocket for extra bullets. She's on her feet as I find one bullet and start to load. The cylinder is crowded, and I'm trying clear it. I tip the shells out and try to load the round, but not all the brass came out and I try to load over a shell. "Fuck, fuck." I'm panicking while walking backwards. She draws a knife as I finally get the bullet in. I snap the cylinder shut, cock, and aim. She grabs my wrist and pushes it into the sky as I fire. Her knife slips in.

I look down at the guard of her blade and I barely feel it. Right under my chest, tilted slightly up. I suddenly feel deadly dizzy.

"Slow is smooth, smooth is fast," she says in a hushed voice. I can't reply, and gasp. My body wants to fall, but she's keeping me upright. I start to tip forward, and she brings me to my knees, slowly kneeling with me. "My father used to say that. Didn't know what he meant until now."

"Who are you?" I say, choking on blood. She pulls out her knife and pushes me back. I land on my shoulders, but my legs stay where they are. I'm folded over like a book bent over the binding.

"Tell them Alice sent you."

My body rolls over and I watch her limp away. The gun is still gripped in my hand, and against all logic, I cock the hammer, and fire. Cock, and fire. Cock, and fire.

Click. Click. Click.........

--

Monday - May 10, 2021

~Lady Smith~

I'm clear to be discharged from the hospital after several days. While I was waiting Vanya visited and played cards with me. We gambled my hospital food to keep it interesting. On Monday I leave with my leg wrapped up. All muscle, didn't hit bone or anything serious. The opposite ankle is swollen from being popped back into place. My ribs surprisingly hurt the most. I'm advised to move in the wheelchair for two weeks before beginning physical therapy. I'm given the contact information for a clinic in Billings on my way out. Ironically, Kings Chariot's employee insurance plan is covering my bills.

The nurse wheels me out to the front. I don't have anyone picking me up, but I ask to go outside so I can finally smoke. She gets me to the door, and I wheel myself over to the corner of the sidewalk, so no one yells at me for smoking too close to the doors. I fish a pack Detective Kirkpatrick dropped off for me from my hospital goody bag and light up.

"Those things will kill you," I hear before I inhale the first puff. Matt is sitting in a car that just rolled up to the curb. How? "Detective Kirkpatrick said you were getting released today."

"Am I late on my taxes?" I ask, and finally inhale.

"You overpaid. I'm here to help you get a refund," he jests back with a dopey smile. He thought that was funnier than I did, and I'm laughing more at how proud he is at his dad puns. "Want a ride?"

Matt carries me into the passenger's seat, puts my new wheels in the trunk and takes the driver's seat again. I change his radio until I hear bluegrass, but he slaps my hand to bring it back to elevator jazz. I swear, this man was designed in a lab by the lamest scientists in human history. I swat his hand back and turn it again. He relents and starts driving.

"Do I want to know what happened?"

"No."

"Okay."

And he leaves it at that.

"I'm heading home tomorrow," he says, and I turn to him. "Back to New Mexico. Consulting job here is done."

Matt is leaving. He's already left once, but this time it hurts more. The last time I thought it was the last time I'd ever see him. When he pulled up a few minutes ago, I felt like had we a second chance. It didn't take long for him to crush that hope. I know he didn't mean to do that. He looks at me and sees my heart hurts worse than the rest of me.

"Say hi to Rose for me," I say with a weak smile.

"I will."

The drive is short. Over an hour but it feels much shorter when you don't want it to end. We talked around what we really wanted to talk about the entire time. Who the hell talks about the economy after you pick someone up from the hospital after a botched robbery, getting shot, and a car crash. Why did I bring up the economy first? Oddly enough I landed on one of his favorite topics and he talks almost the entire time. Crypto is going to burst. Fascinating.

I wanted to say 'don't go'. I said, "It's pretty cold today." Great, I'm talking about the weather now.

"Here we are," he says. I look up from my lap and see my building. When did we get here? "I didn't think about the stairs until I got here."

I laugh until it hurts my ribs. They give me a wheelchair, and I live in an apartment on the second floor in a building with no elevator. This is my life now. What the fuck do I do?

"My hotel has an elevator," he says.

"Same hotel?" I ask, and he nods. The same hotel he called me from to hire an escort for an evening. Then he chickened out and only talked to me for an hour. The bed was comfy. "Okay."

Matt pulls away from my building and back to the road.

"What time are you leaving tomorrow?" I ask.

"Flight's at noon. So, around eight."

"Eight?" I ask, and he nods. "It's Billings, not LAX. You don't need three hours to get through security."

"I'm cautious like that."

I want more time with him. I want to be there when he leaves as much as I want to wake up and he's already gone, just so I don't have to watch it happen. I'm not sure which one is worse.

"What do you want to do?" he asks.

"I don't know," I reply. Yes, I do. Just say it. Just fucking say it you pussy.

"We can just relax, order some take out..." he starts.

"...carry me to the bed and make love to me," I interrupt. He chuckles a little and tilts his head toward me.

"You sure you're good for that?"

I'm not sure if I am, but I don't care. He parks the car at the hotel and carries me inside. We board the elevator and I start kissing him while I'm in his arms. The doors open and a woman laughs a little at the sight of us as we step off. I hold onto to him so he can dig out his room keycard. He lays me on the bed and starts.

Slowly stripping, he kisses my body as new skin is revealed. He pauses at my bruises and cuts but resumes like they're not even there. My leg is the worst. Harsh yellow and purple bruises, but he kisses down my thigh like it's pristine flesh. I'm embarrassed that my legs are fuzzy because I haven't been able to shave. Guys just want to get it in the hole, they don't care if they need to go through the rough. My pubic hair is starting to curl, but he goes in and wears it like a mustache all the same. He doesn't stop until I come.

I've never had sex with someone I thought I loved. Clients and the occasional cock after bad dates we both know won't have a sequel are different. The way he moves into me. My breath on his face and neck. How I ride him. The orgasm feels like it comes from a different place. It's not my body reacting to stimuli. It's elevated. It radiates in my stomach and warms my heart like a tea kettle about to whistle.

Matt pulls out and starts jerking himself over me. I grab him and push him back down.

"Keep it in."

He replaces himself inside and finishes. I'm on birth control, but I wasn't taking chances before. I'm still not, I'll take care of it later, but for now, I want to feel all of him.

"Just like this," I say, watching him catch his breath. "Until the moment you leave, just like this." He kisses me until he regains his firmness, and we do it again.

--

~Trixie Kirkpatrick~

Ronda just got the word that she had been selected for Captain. She walked into the office to a round of thunderous applause for all she had achieved in the last week. More like all the credit she took from Miles and me. Only a few months ago she was reluctant to even push a case against the Legion. Just like a good Lieutenant to take all the glory and throw us the scraps. At least the tip off I gave Leanne Spotted Bear nabbed a truck, got two corrupt agents arrested, and likely got her a promotion. I'll have to check in with her soon.

As much as Ronda didn't like it, she had to admit she lost the paperwork for my suspension and resignation. When she enters the office for her round of applause, she sees me giving a light golf clap in silent protest. Get your new office and get the fuck out of my face.

Miles's funeral is today, and he's getting full honors. Because of course he is. IA dropped that case like herpes after he was killed. Some of the other officers have made a few remarks to me, saying I shouldn't go. I turned him into IA after all. I don't care. I was his partner for six years, so they can get fucked.

Ronda makes a statement about the operation and reminds everyone about the service. Everyone is already in their blues for the ceremony, me included. I hate this uniform. It's so stiff, and aligning my awards straight while having tits is a nightmare.

Most of us clear out at noon and drive over to the cemetery. Ronda says some bullshit, he's lowered down, the guns go off, we salute, and everyone leaves. I'm the last one here, standing next to his picture resting on the stand over a wreath of flowers. They used his picture from the academy. He didn't have the stash until the later nineties, so I get to see his face shaved for the first time. Miles was a good-looking guy back when he wasn't covering up murders.

"Why did you do it you piece of shit," I ask his younger self.

I hear steps from behind and I look over my shoulder. A brunette woman, about my age, walks up to the site and looks at the picture with me. My eyes go back to Miles, and I take a second look at her. I double take because I thought it was Lady for second.

"Jodie Potter?" I ask. The woman stands stoic, and nods after several seconds. "Your daughter is out of the hospital, in case you care."

"I'm probably the last person she wants to see," Jodie says with a sigh. I can relate to that. The last person my kid wants to hang out with is me. "You work with him?"

"He was my partner."

"Sorry for your loss."

Jodie pulls out a packet of cigarettes and offers me one. I decline. She puts the pack to her lips, clamps down on the filter and pulls away. I notice the brand is Marlboro.

"Marlboro girl," I say, and she nods then cups her hands to light it. "I've heard you get a free thirty-eight to conceal carry with that."

Jodie Potter looks at me and opens her purse a little. The gun is right there. No regrets. She knows I know. Miles probably told her something before he got stabbed. He nearly ended his life protecting her. He did lose his life protecting her daughter.