Chapter 17

Canyon backed into the room, holding the wrist of Lolly, a sudden viciousness in his eyes. Chief of Police Wilson moved into the room, closing the door with his heel. Then he looked at the still body on the rug. Vince Montreal lay on the floor, his knees drawn up and his fists clenched. His dead eyes seemed to be watching the two people who had caused his death. Wilson shook his head and turned his face to Canyon and Lolly.

"Where do you think you rats are going?" he said. The .45 centered on Canyon's chest. "You killed Vince, right? I heard the shot when I was coming up the stairs. If you don't know, that's murder, sonny. You slammed a murder rap on yourselves. You and your whore are going to the gas chambers."

Lolly catches a breath in a horrified gasp. Canyon was unperturbed.

"Like hell!" Canyon snarled. "We're going nowhere." he was thinking of the gun in his hip pockets, and he could feel his heart pounding wildly against his chest and sweats rolling off him. Just a chance! He thought. Just give me a chance, and I'll fix you, fat slob.

"You look sweaty!" Wilson commented. "What are you thinking? How you're going to fix me? It's so stupid of you to think of killing a lawman. Now, leave that Blondie and back against the wall! Now!"

Canyon muttered a curse, but he made no sign of moving. He took a quick look at Lolly. Her face was white and taut, and he could see she was trembling.

Wilson followed his glance.

"Thinking of your whore, right? Thinking of having a little tumble in the hay before you guys hit the gas chambers? You should have thought of that before killing a man," he smiled bitterly and reached behind him. He brought out a shiny handcuff and tossed it at the feet of Canyon.

"The cuffs are for you, Canyon. Fixed those cuffs on your wrists and back against the wall."

"Don't get excited, chief!" Canyon said with deceptive mildness. "C'mon humor me a little. How the hell did you fit into all this? How could you have known the action is taking place here?"

"I ain't saying shit!" Wilson said. "I don't have to. My boys are waiting downstairs. About five of them. So don't try to be a hero."

Canyon narrowed his eyes at him.

"Your boys are downstairs, and you're here sweating it out? I don't want to call your bluff, Chief, but this seems absurd. Something must be in it for you. You can't be doing this without a catch to it. So what is it?"

Wilson wanted to blast him but seeing an opportunity to run his mouth, he decided to talk.

"I'm in charge of the Prima Casino now."

Canyon and Lolly's eyes almost popped out of their heads as they stared at Wilson in shock.

"You must be kidding!" Lolly shrilled; her eyes had sharpened to a greedy glint.

"Say whatever you like!" Wilson retorted. "Don't worry, you both will hear how I run the Prima before you're barbecued on the electric chair."

"How do you expect us to believe what you've just said?" Canyon said, bewildered.

Wilson regarded the duo, weighing in his mind whether he could trust them with what he wanted to say or not; finally deciding, he shrugged.

"Alright! I'll let you in on some things," he said. "This night, Vince came to the Prima, jittery as hell. He was so jumpy like a flea on a hot plate. Immediately I saw him; I knew something was up. We got down to talking, and he told me he was clearing out with Blondie here." he nods at Lolly, then went on, "He needed someone to take care of the Prima. Then I suggested to him if you need someone, why pick me? As a shrewd businessman, he didn't at first buy the idea; then he suddenly changed his mind. He told me if I can declare you and Brett Forest wanted dead or alive, the Prima would be mine. I told him I got nothing to lose. We sealed the deal this night. Before coming here, I did a little digging about Forest and found him a wanted man on five-count charges of first-degree murder. So, it was even easier for me to go ahead with the plan. I made sure you and Forest have declared wanted dead or alive. There's a manhunt for you and Forest as I speak. A reward of five thousand bucks has been placed on your heads. Forest will probably be fixed either today or tomorrow. Vince gave us the location of where we can find him. I heard he's the charger that charges Mrs. Montreal right between the legs. Well, I only came here to finalize things with Vince. He was going to give me the Prima documents this night. That's why I'm here. I can't let the boys hear what I've come to discuss with Vince. That's why I told them to wait for me downstairs. I never knew you'd be here."

"This story is for the birds." Lolly said menacingly. "You hear me; tell it to the birds. Vince sold the Prima Casino night. He told me that. He didn't say about you, fat man."

Wilson laughed bitterly.

"Then you must be stupid for believing him. The state that he was when he came into the Prima, he couldn't have been able to haggle about the casino's price. He wasn't in his right mind. He was scared shit of something, but I don't know what it was. He told you he sold the casino. Did he tell you the amount that he sold it? Did he tell you the name of the person he sold it to for security reasons? I thought not. Since you're a greedy idiot, he probably would have lied to you."

"You're are a deadly crooked cop," Canyon snarled. "You're not fit to protect people's lives."

"I know!" Wilson said in a bored, flat tone. "Sorry, but I can't help it. What the force pays me is a lousy change for suckers. I'm nobody's sucker. The casino will bring me big money. I'll take the sun from the sky with the casino money, but before that, you, Canyon Fox, and Brett Forest will be going into the police net. I can't let you two take away my glory. Now! Fix that cuffs to your wrists and back against the wall."

"No!" Canyon said, watching the black gun intently in the hand of Wilson.

A thin, sneering smile came to Wilson's ugly face.

"Don't be brave. It's not worth it. Six men against two, think again. You're a smart, Canyon. You know this is the time to give up, don't you?"

"No!" Canyon said again, thinking of how he could quickly get out his gun. He could feel the hard, cold gun pressed against the behind of his back. If only he could reach for it and ease it out without the Chief seeing him. If only!

"Then I'll I've to fix you both!" Wilson said in a tight voice. "I'll fix you both, and nothing will be done about it. You and Brett Forest are considered enemies of the state, and to the State of Miami, you both are expendables, all right."

Canyon was sweating. If only there were a way he could distract the chief. He knew he was faster than the Chief when it comes to shooting, but the Chief would've shot him dead before he could get his gun out.

Lolly must have sensed what Canyon thought because, her face which had relaxed a bit, suddenly hardened, and she jumped up from the chair and pointed an accusing finger at Canyon.

"You bastard! I hate your guts! You dragged me into this. Why don't you play ball with the Chief? Let's make a deal with him and stopped being a fool-headed monkey."

At first, Canyon was bemused, then he saw her face, and he knew she was putting up an act, and quickly he caught on.

"Sit down! Sit down, damn you. I don't need your nagging right now." Canyon screamed at her.

Lolly, putting on more show, moved towards Canyon and raised her hand to slap him, but he grabbed it, and the two began to fight, like two wild animals.

Wilson looked at the couples bawling at each other's throat, and a smile tugged the corners of his lips. He seemed amused by the actions of the couples. This woman is dynamite! He thought! No wonder Vince was crazy enough to tangle with her. Enjoying the show they were putting on, he threw caution to the winds and lowered the gun.

Canyon, who was still shouting at Lolly, watched Wilson out of the corner of his eye and was waiting for the right moment to strike. When he saw the Wilson lower his gun, he made a silly mistake. Instead of him to go for his gun, he sprang at Wilson, his right hand grabbing at his gun arm, his left at the fat throat.

The gun went off with a sound that rattled the windows. Wilson staggered back, then went down with Canyon on top of him. Canyon fastened to the gun hand of Wilson and smashed it hard on the floor. The gun went off again; this time, the bullet ricocheted around the room. He smashed a tight fist to the chief's jaw, and the gun fell from his hand.

Quickly, Canyon snatched up the gun up. Without thinking, he held it by the barrel and struck at Wilson's head. The sharp, crack sound of a skull rolled around the room. Blood poured out on the face of Wilson and into his eyes. He saw the butt of the gun descending again, but he was too weak to protect his head.

Canyon, blind by a sudden rage, continued to strike at the forehead with the butt of the gun. Finally, the hazy film cleared from his eyes, and he looked down at his blood-stained hands. It was as if he had dipped his hand into a pail of red paint. Heaving heavily, like a lightweight fighter who had just defeated a heavyweight champion, he rose to his feet and moved away from the fat body. Then he heard movements behind him.

He swung around in shock.

Lolly was walking towards him; her face was white and taut. There was a patch of red stain on the front of her chest.

"I'm hit, Canny," She said hoarsely. "I'm hit. Save me, my darling! I don't wanna die."

Blood ran out of her mouth and dripped onto the white, Persian rug in the room. She sagged forward, her arms hanging close to his face.

Canyon caught hold of the hand, and because his legs were trembling, her weight dragged him with her to the floor. His lips quivering with unspoken words, his eyes bright with unshed tears, he pillowed her head against his chest, seeing the water of death in her eyes. How? He wondered. How? Then he remembered. The gun had gone off twice. One of the bullets must have hit her then.

"I'll feeling cold, Canny," She rasped. "I'm feeling…" Then she suddenly stiffened. A dry rasping sound came from her throat.

Whimpering, Canyon looked down at her white, pale face into the fixed, sightless eyes, and he screamed out, the wild scream of a wounded animal.

There was the sound of running feet, five policemen, guns in hand, crowed in.

Canyon was not even aware of them. His back was turned to the police officers as he clutched the dead Lolly in his arms.

The officer's sweaty faces took in the whole situation. Chief of Police Wilson lay on the rug like a stranded whale, his eyes sightless, his arms flung wide. Sergeant Davies Runt was among the officers. Immediately seeing the dead chief, he took out his gun from his hip pocket and aimed it at the unprotected back of Canyon, who was still clutching Lolly. He fired three quick shots, and red stains splattered the end of Canyon's white shirt.

The five officers watched the great body crashed to the ground, with a sound that rocked the room.

"You shot him," one of the officers said to Runt, a horrifying fear in his eyes. "He should have been brought in. He's a wanted man."

Runt did not even blink. He eyed the unmoving bodies spread around the room, shrugged indifferently, and turned his eyes to the questioning officer.

"Canyon Fox is a man wanted dead or alive. He's got a five thousand bucks reward on his head." Runt said. "We were already warned that he's armed and very dangerous. Anyone that finds him gets five thousand bucks. I found him while he was fixing the Chief of Police. Then he fired at me, and in self-defense, I had no choice but to fix him. Now tell me, which judge in his proper mind will prosecute me if I say to that kind of story?"

The other officers stared at him, flustered beyond words. Runt holstered his gun and swaggered out of the room.

********************

The time was twenty minutes past nine. Brett regarded Eva's face as he fixed a highball cocktail. It jolted him to see how much she had changed. This night, she wore an immaculate lemon-colored blouse and bottle green slacks that clung to her body and set off her figure.

But Brett was looking pasts that. Eva had lost weight. Her face was drawn, cold, and granite hard. There were dark smudges under her eyes, and she looked ten years older. If he just knew her, he would have said she was ugly.

Something was bothering her; he told himself as he left the cocktail cabinet with the drinks in his hand.

He moved towards the sofa where she was sitting and handed her the drink. She collected it, and he felt her hand dry and cold as it brushed against his. Then he sat, facing her, crossed his legs, sipped his drink, and studied her face.

She sipped her drink, then she looked up at his face, saw his probing eyes staring hard at her, smiled faintly at him, and turned her face away.

Something must be wrong with this bitch, He thought. Ever since that day, he had revealed his intentions to Vince; she had changed towards him.

At first, he had thought that it was his mind playing tricks on him, and this was merely a coincidence, but as the days went by, he found out that her sudden change of behavior was for real. After slanging Vince on the phone, he remembered vividly that when he had come back to the bedroom, he had seen her on the bed, at least, that was to show that she had not woken up when he was making the call. But her sleeping position had changed, which also point to the fact that she might have woken up sometime when he was making the call, and she had heard everything he was saying to Vince.

He had mulled it over in his mind for days, poking holes into this little discovery, but no matter how much he poked, he always comes up with the same answer to this sudden change in her; she had listened to his conversation with Vince.

To be rest assured that his instincts were right, he had tried to engage her in a conversation to see if she would open up to him, but when he saw that her answers were short and vague and he had soon lost interests. She was becoming a bore now, and the only thing he was patiently waiting for was for her to blow her top, then he would react.

"Eva!" he said slowly and carefully. "Do you mind telling me what is wrong?" He knew this would be the last time he would ask her that kind of question.

She sat still, her legs crossed, her elbow resting on the sofa, and she looked at him with a cold, set expression.

"Nothing is wrong!" she said. "I'm just tired, and I'm in no mood to talk right now."

"But you've got this don't-come-near- me-thing wrote all over you. I've been watching you for days now, is there something I should know. Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, feeling his temper rising and his hand itching to beat some sense into her. She was a spoilt brat, and she had had it good for years, he thought. She needed somebody to let her know that there can never be a bright side to everything in life.

Eva looked at his face now, seeing the way his face had changed suddenly from a warm, compassionate expression to a hateful, cold set one. Though he managed to conceal it, it was all there for her to see. He was talking to her now.

"Since you don't want to talk," he said. "I guess I will have to find a way to amuse myself." and he stood up from the sofa and went into the room. A few minutes later, he returned to the living room, dressed in navy-blue sweaters, white slacks, and brown loafers.

"I'm going out!" He said to her. "There's a club opening in Little Havana, wanna come?"

She shook her head.

"I'm tired, Brett. I can't come."

"Then suit yourself!" he snapped at her, and he picked up the car keys and strolled out of the room.

He immediately left the room, Eva's face, which had been pale and white, suddenly brightened and restored all its colors.

She sprang up from the sofa as if she had been poked with a hot iron and half ran to the window side. Eva watched the car drive out of the garage through the gateway and onto the lane from behind the curtains.

She watched Brett get out of the car and shut the gate, then return to the car. She remained motionless until the sound of the car engine had died away, then she turned swiftly and crossed the room to the bedroom. She went towards the closet and flung the door open. Cold sweats were beading on her forehead now, and her mind was buzzing with fear and alarm.

Out in the darkness, an owl hooted, and Eva heard a whir of wings as it flew through the trees.

She stiffened at the strange sound; then, she pulled herself together. She regarded the opened closet for a moment until her eyes rested on what she had been thinking about from the day she had left Darius's penthouse.

It was an expensive, looking duffel bag.

For some days now, she had felt that Brett kept things away from her and knew the duffel bag she had tried to conceal from her held those secrets. She regarded the duffel, drew in a slow, long breath, and picked it up. She then moved towards the bed, placed the bag on it, and unzipped it. She saw unused credits cards, new passports, a wad of dollar bills, but when her eyes picked out an odd-looking object, her mouth turned dry.

The room suddenly felt so hot, and she could feel the sweats running off her. She braced herself, dipped her hand inside the duffel, and picked up the object. It was a gun. Under the harsh electric light, it looked dangerous and lethal. She regarded the gun, and she moistened her lips with her tongue. The gun felt heavy in her hand. Instinctively, she decided it must be loaded.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing with my stuff?"

Eva raised her head sharply, and she felt her face turned white, and the room spun before her eyes when she saw Brett, standing at the doorway, a hard, mask look on his face.

"I ask you, what the hell are you doing with that?" he bawled, and his voice was like a clap of thunder in her ears.

"I….I…So you're a killer after all?" She said in a shaky voice

Brett moved into the room and walked towards her. The sight of him coming towards her and the cold, deadly look on his face made her trembled violently, and the gun fell from her hand. He reached her and took hold of her wrists. Thinking that he was going to do harm her, she yelled at him.

"Let me go!" she beat frantically at his hand. "Let go of me, bastard."

Something exploded inside her head. She didn't even see the slap coming. She found herself flat on her back across the bed, dazed, with blinding lights flashing before her eyes, then she realized Brett had not hit her but just slapped her. Hot fury galvanized through her body. She wanted to hit him back. She struggled off the bed and again found herself flat across the bed. The raging pain in her head turned her sick.

"Lay it off!" he hissed. "You had that coming for some time now. If you make any sounds, I'll hit you harder."

Eva shook her head, trying to get rid of the dancing lights.

"Y-you slapped me…" She whimpered weakly. "How could you?"

Brett moved away from the bed and folded his thick arms across his chest.

"Next time, when you want to go through some stuff that does not belong to you, think twice. I told you that there was a new club opening in Little Havana that was just pure lies. I only wanted to confirm my suspicions about you. Now I know. Ever since that night, you heard me talking with Vince, I knew you've been suspecting me. That's why you've been waiting patiently for me to leave the house, so you could rifle through my stuff and get to know me better. You don't trust me anymore. But that's fine with me. I don't trust you too, and I'm tired of playing softly."

"What night are you talking about?" she asked, looking at him with hatred in her eyes.

"Don't play dumb with me," he said. "That night that you went to that idiot house after you came back and I tucked you in, you must have heard my conversation with Vince on the phone and everything I had planned to do to you. You heard everything that night, but you pretended you were asleep. I remembered I was yelling on the phone, and there was no way you could have slept through that kind of noise."

Eva got up slowly from the bed and dragged her finger through her hair.

"I never believed you could be so pathetic like this," She said, watching the color of his face changing. "I never heard anything. Not a damn thing! Your stupid, suspicious mind had been fiddling with your head for days. I heard from Darius that night was enough for me to sleep through any noise before coming back home. My heart was so heavy that night, and all I had wanted was for you lure me to sleep and make me forget my worries. Everything I heard made me want to hate you. It was enough for me to give your rotten dossiers to the cops and let them on you. You'll be like a bone amid a pack of dogs. I could've nailed you, Brett, but because I loved you, I did not call the cops."

"What are you talking about when you said dossiers?" he asked her, his heart beating wildly against his chest.

She giggled to herself, and the sound was like the sting of a whip to his body.

"I know all about you now, lover. You're wanted for first-degree murder. You must be pretty brave to be wanted for such a crime. All have got to do is to make one single call to the cops. Just one! and you're fixed."

He came across space between them so fast Eva hadn't even a chance. She only felt something move, and before she could blink, he had slammed her back against the wall, and his hard, calloused hand closed over her windpipe, and she could scarcely breathe. She stared up at him, bewildered, and then her eyes filled with sudden, terrifying comprehension. She fought to tore away the iron hands clamped around her throat, but it was useless. Her face was turning blue now, and her eyes were already starting from her head.

Abruptly, he stopped. He stepped away from her as if she had suddenly become red hot, and she slide limply to the floor, drained and gasping. She opened her mouth to drag down lungsful of air into her air-starved lungs.

Brett stood over her, a menacing look on his face as he watched her sweaty face and the heavy rise and fall of her breasts.

"Who has my file?" he asked in a low voice.

Eva tried to raise her head to spit in his face, but when she saw the wicked glint in his eyes, she thought better of what she had wanted to do.

"I don't know," she said weakly.

"Who?" he yelled, clenching his hands into tight fists.

"Darius Kane!" she rasped. "Darius has it"

"Good!" he said as he straightened. "It's time I fix that bastard! I'll find him this night, then I fix him," and he moved away from her towards the door. As his hand was about to reach the handle, Eva's voice froze him.

"Hey! You're fixing no one!"

Startled, he stopped short and turned to face her.

She had a gun in her hand, which she pointed at him, and there was an expression in her eyes that sent a chill up his spine.

"You're going nowhere," she said softly.

For a long moment, Brett stared at her and the gun. The snub nose of the gun in her hand was pointing rock steady at his chest. He had forgotten all about the gun.

"Take it easy, baby," he asked, moving towards her, his hand outstretched in a false friendly gesture. "You wouldn't want to hurt me now, or would you darling?"

"I still love you, Brett, but if you move an inch, you will become a cripple man. Those sturdy legs of yours won't be able to carry your damn body. Now! Back away from the door!"

Brett regarded her for a moment and drew in a long, slow breath. He moved away from the door and came back to the room.

"You'd better put that down," he said huskily. "It might go off."

"Sit down on the bed!" She snarled. "Sit!"

He nodded and sat on the bed. Then he moistened his lips with his tongue, and his thin lips came off his teeth in a snarl of viciousness.

"You're hot now, right? You better stay that way," he said. "Don't drop that gun a second time, baby, don't!"

"Don't worry about the gun," she retorted. "Worry about me putting a bullet in your guts."

"You can't, babe," he said, smiling at her. "You still love me, babe. You wouldn't shoot me. I still love you; you know that, right."

"Don't talk about love here," she said in a shaking voice. "Please don't! I married a man and found out he was a woman beater. I found another man, whom I love so much and found out he's a contract killer. It's just the way love crumbles."

Brett shrugged Indifferently, but he did not say anything.

"I know what to do!" she said, looking into his eyes. "I'm calling the cops this night."

She trained the gun on him as she moved towards the door. He started up from the bed, but the scraped, bleak look on her face and the glittering of her eyes warned him if he approached her, she would shoot him.

"One more move and I'll blow your brains out," she said as she got to the door.

"Think about this, Eva!" he said, his face harshened. "Just think about this. I can't go to jail."

"I'm thought!" she yelled at him. "I know you don't want to go there, but you must go there!" She removed the key from the keyhole, opened the door, and quickly shut the door. Then she locked the door with a key.

She heard him scream her name through the door panels from the bedroom, and he began to hammer hard on the door. She looked at the closed door, and the feelings she had for him washed over her, but she knew if she still wanted to stay alive, she had to do the right thing.

Quickly, she ran into the living room and began to look for her cell phone. She darted to the sofas, her eyes scanning frantically, half ran to the mantlepiece, then back to the sofas again, but it was not there. Only her purse was lying on the couch. With shaking hands, she picked it up, her heart beating wildly against her chest, and she felt sick.

Then she remembered the telephone.

Relief flooded through her body as she ran across the room to where the telephone was. She picked up the receiver and noticed something odd.

The telephone cable had been cut. A cold shock ran through her as she stared at the dangling wire, and It suddenly occurred to her that Brett must have taken her cell phone and had cut off the telephone cable before coming to the bedroom. He was not taken any chances. While she was thinking of what to do, she heard a loud sound as if a hard object had contacted another hard object. She listened to the sound again, and a realization hits her. He was trying to force the door open. Unless she leaves the house, if he finds her, he was surely going to fix her.

Following her instincts, the purse and the gun in her hand, she darted out of the house and ran down the drive, through the gate, and into the street. Her heart was pounding, and sweat was running down her face as she bolted down the street, searching for a telephone booth. She looked back to see the shadowy figure of a powerfully built man pounding after her. Just then, her feet hit something hard, and she stumbled, but she did not fall. Only the gun fell from her hand. She did not bother to pick it up.

She doubled up speed again, her chest heaving like a horse in a polo race. Then she saw a phone booth. It was in the corner of the street, illuminated by the street light's hard white light. She darted inside and grimaced. The phone booth was hot and stuffy. Her hand was shaking so badly she could scarcely open her purse. She brought out a coin and dropped it into the box. Then with a trembling hand, she dialed Darius' number. Cradling the receiver between her ear and her shoulder, she looked down the street and breathed easily when she saw no one.

Darius' voice said over the line, "Hello?"

"Darius! Listen! Brett is coming for you. He's coming for his dossiers! I told him about it, and now he wants it."

"Christ! Why did you tell him about it? Why? Damn it! I'm calling the cops. This is crazy."

"Just get out of the house!" she rambled. "Don't waste time."

"Look! Where are you right now? Can you give me the address of the house?"

She gave him the address.

"Good! I'm calling the cops. The cops will be there soon. Just stay put in the house."

"I can't go back there!" she said, alarmed with fear. "Don't you understand! I'm calling from a phone booth. Brett as gone berserk! I had to leave the house. If he sees me, I don't know what he might do to me."

"My God! Eva listens to me. Stay right where you are. I'm coming over."

"Are you done talking with your lover?" Brett asked.

Eva screamed out in fright. She whirled around, her face turning crimson, to find Brett lolling against the telephone-booth, watching her with suspicious, calculating eyes. The telephone receiver slipped from her fingers, and through the mouthpiece, Darius' voice came out alive.

"Hello! Hello! Eva! are you there? Hello?"

Brett stretched his hand and grabbed the receiver; then he put it to his ear.

"After I fix her," he said. "I'm coming to fix you too."

There was a long pause; then he heard Darius' voice.

"Who's this?"

"Don't ask!" Brett continued. "Just prepare yourself a coffin. You will surely need one night."

"You bastard!" Darius screamed. "If you hurt her. If you so much lay…"

"Stop shouting," Brett hissed. "I intend to keep my eardrum intact," and he took the receiver from his ear and banged it hard against the phone booth. He turned to Eva, who was whimpering, her face white with fear.

"Let's go, sugar," and he grabbed her neck and dragged her out.