Chapter 8

As everyone says, conventional wisdom is that only a fool brings a knife to a gun-fight. Well technically in this case, a Foole did bring me and my knife to the gun-fight, but that's a separate issue.

On the other hand, I was black-belt level in several martial arts, where being utterly naked wasn't entirely a critical disadvantage. You'd be rather surprised at:

a) how much damage a knife can do, and

b) how quickly a crazed and very determined knife-wielding assailant can close the distance between themself and you!

I'd been taught in Army MP school that a good rule of thumb is that if the knife wielder is within twenty or so feet of you and your pistol is still in its holster, it's an even-money bet as to whether you can draw and fire before he can get to you. That's the exact distance that police investigative studies have shown that a person holding a knife can close the distance and begin stabbing somebody before the victim can identify the threat, think about how to respond, then draw their weapon and fire.

Interestingly enough, that's the exact reason why taser cartridges were 21 feet long when they first came out and why I was now holding one.

It was an older single-shot model that had been modernized (probably to illegal voltage levels) and was a loaner from the Foole. It was the only weapon that he every carried and he assured me that any target I hit would go (and stay) down with just one short instant squeeze of the trigger. Long enough in theory for me to charge headfirst those twenty feet or less to gut my standing secondary target. Now I just had to wait for the right moment to strike.

My prey arrived upstairs onto the already hot upstairs deck of the club and they took a satisfyingly short but deliberate look around, according to my remote eyes, the Foole waiting on the pier about fifty yards away. As for my ears, I could hear their footsteps climbing the rickety termite ridden stairs and then stop to look around just as they reached the top. Hidden behind the large commercial A/C unit just to the right side of the locked doorway to the inside stairs leading to the closed bar down below, I was crouched down like a panther, well out of sight and waiting to strike, hardly even breathing.

A moment later they took about twenty steps slowly forward, toward the dockside railing and then stopped. I could mentally place them at just about the very center of the upper deck, a good place to drop most of their gear and then crawl on their bellies the rest of the way to the open railing. They would not want to be spotted upstairs by just walking up to the edge and then be visible while setting up for a sniper shot. No, as I figured, I heard the heavy zipper of the canvas rifle bag open up and then further sounds as the sniper rifle was removed and a heavy magazine loaded.

This was my cue to action. I'd paced out this precise distance earlier and knew to within a foot just how much range I'd have for my one and only Taser shot, and silently slipping out from behind my hiding spot like a brown-skinned ghost I took the three steps forward that I thought I needed and then an additional one for good measure and took my shot!

'Face-boy', the team negotiator and spotter for this operating group, was kneeling down over the unzipped rifle bag reaching for something and never saw me at all. My Taser shot hit dead on target right on his left side, just below the ribs and above his hipbone. I had been worried that both of my stalkers might have been wearing ballistic vests, but neither was. The prongs struck flesh and the voltage discharged and my victim snapped over onto his back and jerked savagely like a hooked tarpon.

Normally, I'd have held the trigger tight for at least another 2-3 seconds just to make sure that he'd get the full discharge, but the Foole told me that this normal procedure wouldn't be necessary, that the voltage would continue to discharge automatically until empty, once the trigger had been pulled once. Anyway, I couldn't spare the time otherwise. Face was still going to be out of the game for at least another ten to fifteen seconds, and that was more time than I needed to deal with the sniper.

Always have a plan to politely but efficiently deal with everyone you meet, especially if they want to kill you!

With Face down, that just left my shooter, all alone and now rather confused. He had been down on both knees getting ready to crawl to his shooting perch when he saw me shoot and now charging at him, knife in hand. My bouncing naked tanned tits didn't buy me the momentary hesitation I had been counting on and with rather frightening speed he dropped the rifle in his right hand and with an instant swift motion as he simultaneously grabbed a side-arm from his left side with that empty hand. A really neat trick that he'd obviously practiced a time or two.

Still, the math was on my side ... barely. He had just enough time to attempt to block my knife stroke with his handgun, but he didn't have quite enough time, focus or momentum to aim the weapon solidly on target. Still, it was an extremely near thing!

His gun went off, rather quietly I noticed, right next to my right ear, as I just barely moved inside his guard and into knife range. I'd have called it almost a tie actually as my knife sunk into his gut blade point up just as the gunshot residue splashed and slightly burned my earlobe. I hadn't worn earrings since I'd been a little girl and this would have been a rather awkward way to get my earlobes pierced. Since my fiancé Terry, my beloved 'Red' had died, I really hadn't had anyone that I'd wanted to ever pretty up for. No dresses, or girly earrings for me, and likely now never will be.

In my rare isolated weird dreams that don't involve homicide, mayhem or revenge, I sometimes have a happy recurring one where I'm naked and on my knees sucking Red's entirely adequately sized cock while wearing huge hoop earrings, just like I was some obedient slave girl eager to submit and please her stern master. The worst part of the dream is waking up to remember that none of it was true – it never happened ... but oh how I wish that it had! I love and hate that dream, and when I'm awake afterwards I usually cry. It's the only emotional release I allow myself, to mourn (sometimes for hours) for the happy future that was taken away from me.

Sometimes I think that I'll never know true happiness again – but I have to admit that violently shoving a Ka-Bar into an enemy's gut and then rather sadistically ripping the blade upwards through the intestines, stomach and finally up into the central chest cavity and heart does come pretty darn close.

There was just something nastily erotic about being naked and holding a bloody knife while rivers of the old sweet crimson was flowing all over my tits and belly. The sheer appalling violence and surge of adrenaline was already making my cunt tingle in a way that even dispatching Wally-Boy and his friends hadn't quite given me. This was personal ... intensely so. If I'd touched my clit at all with my bloody fingers I'd have cum in an instant, and like gangbusters ... but I needed to concentrate now to finish the job.

Biting my tongue hard with my teeth to bring my eyes back into focus, I gave the gutless wonder a rolling side kick to turn him aside and away from me and his guns while he started to bleed out, collapsed with shock. Then I picked up his gun, an apparently standard military Berretta 9mm automatic I guessed from a momentary glance at it, and then used the butt to almost casually but gleefully pistol-whip the slowly reviving Face into a rather more lengthy period of semi-unconsciousness.

In the rifle bag I found a couple of tie-wraps amidst some other interesting toys and used those to quickly secure Face-Boy with his arms fixed behind his back. I then ripped off part of his colorful tourist short sleeved shirt to gag him. For the moment I didn't need to hear anything he had to say. I thought maliciously about un-gagging him long enough to stuff my thong panties into his mouth first, but decided that he didn't deserve the treat of a taste of my cunt.

Besides, now that I'd verified that the gutless shooter was now dead, even more than ever I had an overpowering urge to masturbate ... and I briefly did so. I came nearly immediately and then twice more rapidly in succession, like proverbial rockets going off. More intense than I'd enjoyed in months, hell, probably even years. I had a really hard time achieving orgasm these days, but being covering in blood seemed to be just the right sort of simulation ... but more than slightly disturbing actually.

It didn't take long to repack up their weapons back into the bag and for good measure I tossed in my clean, non-bloody clothes from their hidden corner behind the A/C unit as well. I was dripping with blood and needed a quick dunk into some quiet corner of the marina behind me, near the fishing dock later so I could remove the stains before dressing again.

This just left me with Face to deal with, but it took me awhile to get him responsive again – I'd been a bit overly aggressive with the pistol-whipping. In the mean time I radioed the Foole that everything had gone alright up here and for him to stand by with his car behind JJ's, next to the stairs, but that I'd be a few more minutes gathering intel and needed a quick bath.

That was fine with the Foole. He said he had one little card of his own to play and invited me to take a peek over the railing to watch the fun. It was extremely educational ... and monumentally bizarre.

Wandering nonchalantly past the dark tinted glass of the SUV in his native fishing attire, the Foole just seemed to casually run his hand over the dark front hood of the car and with a loud squeal of tires, the SUV then wildly accelerated down the wooden length of dock as the two remaining morning fishermen had to quickly dive over the wooden railing to avoid being stuck. At near full speed, the car crashed through the length of wooden fence near the very end of the dock and went sailing through the air until it splashed into the darker blue waters beyond and sunk without a trace after only a few moments of bobbing in the water. Neither of the passengers ever appeared and it seemed that the pair of shooters inside had not been able to get their doors unlocked or any of the windows open to escape while underwater and as the insides filled up with water they both quickly drowned, trapped like rats.

The Foole wouldn't say how he managed it, but the sudden and seemingly miraculous accident seemed to amuse him greatly. Clearly the 'accident' was no accident at all, but for the life of me I don't know how he'd pulled it off!

As for Face, I had no use for a prisoner whatsoever and he knew it. I tried to make him talk as I used my bloody Ka-Bar as an encourager, but it was obvious I wasn't going to get much out of him. There were a few sets of file folders inside of the weapons bag but I didn't have time to really cover all of the fine print here and now. Still, I had just enough of a notion now of what the Blackwell bully-boys were up to.

Yes, the reward from Watters for my head was really, really impressive. No wonder Norman wanted in on the game, ten million dollars was a lot of potential relocation money!

"He's going to come for you." Face stated, "He's even coming himself, to personally handle a few of Watters other side jobs. You're dead, bitch ... sooner if not later. He's going to make it personal, so fuck off and get ready to die!"

"You first, asshole." I made it fast and clean, a smooth in-out right under the jaw and upwards into the center of his brain cavity, giving it a sharp cruel twist. There was some blood, but not nearly as much as when I gutted his partner, still when I pulled the knife out, the first gushes of the flowing crimson flood nailed my still erect clit as I knelt over him to dispatching him, my cunt just inches from his face. Damn it! That made me cum again just about instantly!

I remembered the bastard's name now that I'd had a good look at his face after the orgasmic spasms tapered off, but didn't quite go away. He was called Ray something, and he'd been one of the dozens who had banged me back in those days when I was a half-crazy alcoholic psycho-bitch. I thought I'd give him a view of something vaguely familiar when I cashed out his chips. Yeah, just like when I was overseas and then back at Norman's HQ in Georgia I was pretty much the company mattress and had been ridden at least as often as the town bike.

No excuses, but I was pretty much a fall-down drunk in those days and eager to do anything that would empty my mind and erase my memories for even a few minutes. Mea culpa!

Pencil-dick Ray here was also exactly the sort of guy that would just shove it in and out and then repeat it an extra time or two if necessary. It usually wasn't. He liked doing my ass too, if my drink fuzzy recollections were right, so I didn't feel the least bit shameful about mashing my swollen clit frantically against his dead face until I'd rubbed myself off another half dozen times. The blood covering my cunt was like the hottest and wildest lubricant I'd ever felt and I must have been positively howling with orgasmic delight when I felt the Foole by my side tapping my shoulder with some impatience.

"If you're quite done making your final farewells, it's time for a rather different sort of ride ... and one quite out of town! Now get yourself presentable and wait for me in the car. I'll need to make one or two last preparations here to clean up behind us!" He wasn't joking. In each hand he had a large and very full plastic gasoline storage container and as I rather unsteadily made my way to the stairs he was already dousing down everything upstairs with gas. I was leaving bloody footprints everywhere ... sloppy, but the fire was going to take care of that, and hopefully the bodies.

I did remember to take the gun bag with me, as woozy as I was, now more tired than ever as the adrenaline and the erotic lust began to wear off. I'd need the weapons and at least as importantly the intel files that Watters had sent to Blackwell Security Services concerning some 'cleanup' of unnecessary witnesses. Yeah, just like I'd suspected, Captain Roderick Baker and a few of his other task force lads were now extremely expendable ... and apparently he was worth a cool million all by himself. Norman would certainly be trying to cash him in extremely soon, so that wouldn't give us much time.

A short but efficient bath in the lagoon revived me a little and cleaned off the copious blood-splatter and probably more importantly chilled down my clit enough so that I could have a semi-coherent conversation in the car a few minutes later. Once dressed and enjoying the sight of the former JJ's Bar and Grill (along with a few dead trespassers) going up in flames behind us, we were entirely certain that neither of us had been seen or noticed. Sure the ashes and some bones might be identifiable... eventually, but DNA testing takes a lot longer in real life than it does on TV cop shows like CSI. The fire would create at least a limited amount of immediate uncertainty ... and several days of much needed time so we could enact the next part of our plan.

Utterly worn out, I fell asleep nearly immediately in the passenger seat on the drive to Miami and for the next few hours the Foole kept to his own council and let me catch a little bit of rest ... but not nearly enough.

We had dinner with DeeDee later that evening but not at the usual café. The word was already out on the street, he informed us that I was a 'dead-bitch walking', and was wanted ... very badly and very dead only please, for the sum of ten million (cash) to the first taker. Instead he picked a dive for us to meet at that was nearly out of the northwestern city limits where nobody knew him except for an ex-wife that preferred him alive to keep paying alimony. No one had associated him with us yet, but that was probably only a matter of time now. Every two bit gunsel and wanna-be thug in South Florida was now looking for me with orders to shoot on sight, and damn any innocent bystanders!

"Damn-it, you owe me Foole! After all of the crazy burglaries we pulled back in the old days I'm half tempted to turn in the crazy lady myself! Just for my own self- preservation! She's certain to get us all killed ... not that I had much of a life left in my dotage anyway. Between the two of you, you're going to put an end to business as usual around here and that's going to make some of my friends and virtually all of my acquaintances hot on your trail. Both of you! Every two bit thug and street shit has her picture and knows where to take her head in a to-go box to cash it in! Ree, you said you needed guns, and I've found a guy or two, but now I wouldn't trust any of them to do a square deal. You're just too hot ... and not just in the pretty low-cut tank top and short-shorts sort of way either!"

"She is!" The Foole remarked, laughing, "Did you know that she doesn't have a single sun-tan line? Anywhere! And isn't particular shy about showing it either!"

"Some folks, especially certain rat-fingered sneaky skulking bastards, get to have all of the fun!" DeeDee growled, sneaking a peek at my shorts and extremely tanned legs. "I don't suppose you could talk her into just leaving town? Very quickly and permanently?"

"Not a chance!" I giggled. "I'm having much too much fun. We might be ok on the weapons side of things now, I've found one or two useful toys but there is this rather new looking Berretta M92 I just picked up that seems to have feed issues, and I don't have the time and inclination to do the gunsmithing to fix it. Plus, I'm without most of my usual tools now."

"Actually, you really are!" The Foole chortled, raising an eyebrow as he checked his cell phone which had just vibrated a message to him a minute ago. "Your house in Key Largo has guests as of right now, rather of the expected and uninvited sort. According to the hidden cameras there are at least four intruders now inside the house, dressed in black with faces hidden under baklavas and heavily armed just like a SWAT team, but I think they're your former Blackwell associates."

The Foole passed over his cell phone which was broadcasting now a live feed from the cameras he'd placed inside. Yeah, they were company guys, shooters every one. I even think recognized one or two old acquaintances from the bad old days. Christ, was there anyone that I hadn't spread my legs for back when I was drinking like a fish?

"If you've got an unpleasant surprise waiting for them, this would probably be the right time to spring it. I think one of their team has just found your package that you left under my desk downstairs."