26 - Blood Money

The idea that gunshots were loud had always been something Owen knew, but had never experienced. Gunshots were loud. Gunshots were loud enough that a small cafe full of panicked and screaming women was only sometimes louder in a given moment. He pressed his cast against the weeping bloody hole in his previously uninjured arm.

He had dropped to his knees, out of shock, and to keep from twisting over and falling onto his back. Blood dripped down the blue of his shirt sleeve, overtaking it rather than mixing into a purple. He pressed harder. Everyone was running everywhere. Davy took the guns from Carlos who knelt down over Brett who gaped on the floor.

Thanks Brett, one silver well spent on that body. Owen thought and he thought it again and even one more time. If he had a few hours of repetition, perhaps he could believe it was a good thing.

Chaos. Opportunity. He was glad he had wedged two unused pieces of silver into the plaster of his cast. He could bend his fingers to his palm and hold them, but they really didn’t move around much. It was a simple plan. Give Maxim the silver, skin to skin. Not that it had mattered before, gloved hands had worked fine, but it wasn’t something he wanted to half-ass. Every slavegirl and her enemy ... Slavegirl and Brett, rather, had taken the coin up in their hand. That had been the plan. Make the sale, shake on it, take Maxim’s fortunes.

Just like Grandpa Isaac had.

Plans had gone to shit. Even if there had been a plan B, guns had not factored into any of his prep work. He could yell for his girls to pin Maxim down. Even if Maxim could easily throw off his strongest slavegirl, could he do it to the whole army? Then what? Force it into Maxim’s hand? Would that work? What if it didn’t? Owen worried and suspected that dropping it into Maxim’s pocket would be enough.

Truth was, he also wanted to use the other secreted coin on Natasha. She was beautiful! Perhaps not as hippy as Darlene, busty as Tamara, or leggy as Elizabeth, but Natasha had a tall slender model beauty Owen liked, and didn’t currently possess. Natasha was most like Zera with six inches of height rather than two cup sizes. No, Natasha’s face was still more defined and sharper. The details hardly mattered; Owen liked what he saw. Her body would be an excellent trophy, and there would be no arguments about controlling Maxim’s fortune if he owned the father and the daughter.

Plans had fallen through. He was getting ahead of himself. He had to make a move.

“Don’t move!” Tamara said to him as she squatted down to check his wound.

“No one leaves,” Owen said. He tracked Natasha and Hafnan who were trying to snake their way to the front doors. He pointed, which was difficult with his casted hand but his other arm wasn’t moving right. “If anyone stops you, say the police are on their way and they have to stay for questions. Nobody leaves.”

There was a clock. The police. He had minutes if Wendy got her call off in time. She must’ve. How long did it take to press four times on a phone? The cops would be here in minutes, at worst. The police station was on the other side of Citadel Hill. With sirens, it was a thirty five second drive. He forced himself to smile and stand up without using his hands.

He pressed in harder. The one thing Owen wouldn’t do was waste a look at the hole in his arm. It was either something he could handle or it wasn’t. He wasn’t a doctor. It hurt worse than getting his hand caught in a slamming door did though.

He ground his teeth together as he surveyed the room from a standing position. Wendy watched nervously. Her hands shook while holding her phone. She was stunned and confused. Owen couldn’t cross the room to figure it out. Tamara had grabbed Janice and the twins zigzagged through the room to stop Hafnan and Natasha.

There was another option, Owen saw. Maybe just let Natasha go? She had the box, the last coin was in there--

He felt a piece of silver under the toe of his shoe. Or it wasn’t? Tamara had better stop the girl.

“Hold pressure down, I can’t do any more,” Carlos said, as Elizabeth took over staunching Brett’s blood flow. He stood up and looked Owen in the eye. “Let me see that. It’s bleeding very fast, but,” he looked around the back of Owen’s arm, “even though it doesn’t have an exit wound, there’re fewer lungs in your shoulder. You’re a safer fool than he is.”

“There’ll be paramedics here in a moment, I just need to--”

“You need to sit down and shut up. You bring me a chair,” he demanded of Katelyn. She rushed over and Carlos grabbed Owen by the neck and sat him down hard. “You’re as bad as any patient I ever had.”

“Cool, take care of Brett,” Owen said. “I’ll just--”

“Stop squirming! Idiot! I’m trying to help you and--”

Maxim whispered something to Giselle. Owen could see it. Yes, Giselle was his, but the room was chaos. He wasn’t even sure his voice would carry if he shouted over at them. Carlos growled at him again. Owen slammed back down an inch into a seat.

“Unbutton his shirt, I’ll--”

“I don’t have time for this,” Owen said. Grabbing for Carlos’s hand, he slapped his cast hard into the Phillipino man’s hand. The coin stayed stuck in his fingers.

“I can just let you bleed out,” Carlos said.

“It’s that bad?” Katelyn asked, worrying and hopeful at once.

“Fuck!” Owen swore, he managed to twist his fingers and dump a coin out onto Carlos’s hand. He scrambled and hooked his fingers back, catching the second. “Get out of my way. If you have to help: Brett’s not dead yet.”

Owen clambered to his feet. He pressed his cast back into his arm. Nothing had hurt as bad in his life but he really didn’t have time. Maxim and Giselle had looped the cash counter. Owen grabbed Janice.

“Is there a back door?”

“Obviously, just go through the employees only door, but you really shouldn’t run. You didn’t fuck up and that looks bad,” Janice said. “Hey, why aren’t you helping my cousin?”

“Fuck!” Davy swore, but Owen didn’t listen. “Prick!”

There were screams. Tamara held Natasha around the waist and they both tumbled loudly into the floor. Owen charged through the employees only door.

“Stop!” Owen yelled. Giselle did. She was holding the back door. Maxim rushed away. Owen jogged up but he slumped at the door. He couldn’t chase the man down as he bled out. “What did you do?”

“I did what I was supposed to do,” Giselle said. “He’s my boss!”

“Put the gun down!” Carlos’s voice was a crack through the chaos of the girls.

“What?” Owen said. He didn’t want to go back. He just knew he had to. He grit his teeth and inched back to the customer side of the cafe. Kirk had both guns in hand and their barrels forced his aggressors back. Owen pulled his head back from the doorway. Kirk was seeing red. It wouldn’t do to antagonize him. Owen dropped to the floor and crawled behind the counter. He had that Jacob guy. Brandy’s husband? Or the other twin’s? It didn’t matter. Kirk was crazed. If Brett wasn’t enough, Owen could Zapp Brannigan wave after wave of his women at the pawn shop owner until the fight was done. He had to get somewhere he could direct the fight.

He scrambled forward. To the edge of the counter. He looked around the corner and nearly put his nose into Hafnan’s ass. Natasha’s servant girl was covering her head with folded hands and squatting on her heels. She was hyperventilating with fear.

“Hey! It’s going to be over soon,” Owen said, quietly. Natasha was still dog-piled by Tamara, Zera, and another one of his girls. He didn’t think Hafnan heard him. He rubbed her hip. “Stay low, stay quiet... Les police est en route...” Damn, his French was garbage.

“Non! Non! Non!“ Hafnan blubbered. “Pourquoi m’a-t-elle amené ici? Je ne veux pas être ici.“

Ici means here. Pourquoi: why. Owen was also certain he didn’t hear ‘Mattel’, the toy brand, that meant he must’ve heard something with an elle. A she. He felt certain there was only one she Hafnan would be whining about.

This was the plan anyway? Who else but your boss was your enemy? Owen grabbed Hafnan’s hand. She looked down at the cast, at the blood. She screamed, yanking her hand back in a rainbow of blood. But Owen had managed to slide the coin into her palm. He was smiling. Hafnan had called attention to his corner of the room.

Kirk turned his head and pulled the trigger. Carlos and Davy crashed into him trying to pin Kirk to the ground.

“Owen!” Janice screamed for a very short second.

Owen hurt and hurt and hurt. The shock of the gunshot and the agony left him screaming and bellowing madly. He writhed left and right on the floor. Blood wept from his arm.

“You do not look any worse,” Hafnan said. She touched his face and her voice quaked. “You didn’t get more hurt. But, you need to stop. Too many people are hurt and you’re still badly hurt too. Stop! Please, or you’re only going to be hurt even more.”

“I can’t stop,” Owen said, his breath came out like each press of his lungs worked by donkey kicks. Tamara was standing over Hafnan. Owen sat up. He frowned. He stood up.

“Carlos get over here!” Darlene shouted through tears. “No, don’t give me what I asked for you dumb cunt! No!”

“Where are the guns?” Owen asked, shaking. He had to blink a few times and bite the inside of his mouth to focus. It wasn’t working perfectly.

“They’re right there!” Wendy pointed. Her eyes were red, she had cried, in her fear.

“Then pick them up and keep them away from anyone who isn’t mine,” Owen said. Wendy picked up the revolver and Brandy picked up her husband’s handgun.

“What do you mean isn’t yours?” Paul asked.

“It means exactly what it means,” Kirk said into the floor. Carlos tagged out for Jacob. “Those fucking stupid coins...”

“Shit,” Owen said. He crossed the room and stood over Tamara. She pinned Natasha to the floor with help from Zera and Jewel. “Let her up. Natasha stand up.”

“Owen!” Frieda yanked the unlocked front door open and ran in. She kneed Tamara in the shoulder and would’ve faceplanted over her and into the brown tile floor if Owen hadn’t caught her. Catching the girl was a stupid decision. All he did was stagger back and scream in pain. If Paul hadn’t grabbed his shoulders he’d have been on the floor with Frieda. Kirk’s daughter got smeared in blood.

“Fuck!” Owen breathed.

“Daddy!” Frieda squealed as she saw her father pushed to the floor. “What are you doing to my dad!”

“Honey! Go!” Kirk said. “Run!”

“Oh my god! You’re bleeding! Oh my god! That’s so much blood!” Frieda sputtered. Owen reached across himself and winced as he grabbed Frieda’s winter jacket. She turned back to face him.

“Frieda, don’t let go of my hand,” Owen said. Frieda grabbed Owen’s limp uncasted fingers. Roxxi handed Frieda a quarter of her fistful of napkins.

“Get over here!” Carlos growled. “It’s a mess.”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” Elizabeth was panicking. Owen kept looking forward, terrified to look at Brett finally bleed out. Owen felt cold, weak. In that state he didn’t want to maintain his pretense that he was OK with Brett dying for him. “Keep the pressure on!”

“Is this OK! Oh my god! Is it supposed to gulch like that?”

Keep it behind you! Owen told himself and shrugged forward. He felt like the room was getting even colder. Yet the cold wasn’t doing what it should. The pain wasn’t bothering to numb. That wasn’t fair. He gritted his teeth and looked at Natasha.

“What?” she asked. She scowled at Zera. Zera had taken the coin box. Natasha looked back at Owen. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”

“If I own you, kiss me,” Owen said.

She narrowed her eyes and scowled. Natasha stepped forward and grabbed Owen’s face. He smirked. His play with Hafnan worked ... Natasha kissed him hard. He had to push her off.

“Zera, I need the untouched coin from the box,” Owen said.

Zera opened the box. “It’s not in here!”

Fuck! It was one of the ones on the floor. He needed that. It was his ploy to get Maxim. He heard the sirens. The red and blue flickers were filling the storefront windows. Owen turned around to find the coins on the floor quickly. He staggered, white-faced and collapsed onto his knee.