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I didn’t wait for her argument. I pushed my door open, climbed out. I didn’t look back as I closed the door and strode down the sidewalk. I was too angry to tell her to stay put, but I figured she wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave the car.
I moved down the sidewalk, hugging close to the houses. The shadows were deep in this part of the city, and it was well past midnight. The college kids would be stumbling around drunk right now, but not out here, not in this neighborhood.
Up ahead I saw two figures get out of a car, and another figure coming down from the block further away. I recognized them, even in the darkened gloom. I picked up my pace, angling for the house with the white door, my mind falling into an easy rhythm and a strange sense of calm. I kept my heart from beating too fast as I reached the door first.
Steven came up next, wearing a black vest, black jeans. He had his Glock out already and he gave me a tight nod. Alex and Santo were with him, both solid and dependable guys. I motioned up at the single light on in the house upstairs, and Steven gave me a nod. I gestured at Alex, pointed upward, and he grinned back. He was a skinny guy with crooked teeth and bright green eyes. Santo was broad and chubby, but he made up for his baby fat cheeks with a wicked angry streak.
I turned back to the door. The plan was simple. We didn’t know how many guys were inside, but we were going to hit it fast and hard, kill everyone in sight, take anything that looked useful, and get out.
I pressed my Glock against the knob and fired two shots in quick succession. I raised it up, shot out where the bolt should be, and kicked the door as hard as I could. It popped open, but got stopped by a chair. I cursed, fired two more rounds, kicked again, and the door broke free in a shower of splinters.
I stormed forward into a dingy living room. Alex turned left, toward the stairs, and ran up. Steven stuck with me, moving close, gun out and ready.
The living room was empty. A TV sat on top of a wooden carte to the right. A futon was set up across from it, but was covered by empty pizza boxes. The coffee table looked like it used to be a spindle for some kind of industrial wire, but I didn’t stop and inspect it as I stormed ahead.
I heard cursing in the kitchen beyond and I came in hard. There was one guy near the refrigerator, his hands up, his eyes wide. He had light brown skin and shaggy hair, looked like he might be twenty-five at most. His baggy jeans were sagging off his hips and he held a slice of cake balanced on a plate in front of him. He was shaking so much, the fork rattled against the plate.
I held my gun out, but I didn’t pull the trigger.
Steven shoved me aside, shot the kid in the face. He dropped, blood splattered on the wall. I hurried forward and kicked the plate and the fork away from him. I knelt down and found a gun tucked into his jeans.
“What the fuck was that?” Steven said. “You hesitated.”
“No, I didn’t,” I said. “I just… I didn’t hesitate.”
I stood up and heard another noise, like a chair getting knocked over, and cursing. I ran to the back door and threw it open, gun out and ready.
There were two guys, one still sitting at the table, a lit cigarette in his mouth. The other was running for the back fence. I shot him in the back, knocked him down, turned to the other guy. He threw his hands up, eyes wide, and I shut him in the skull. I kicked him over, put another bullet in his chest, walked to the guy near the fence, but a bullet in his skull, just to be sure.
Then stood there, catching my breath. I felt like I’d just run a fucking marathon.
“You good?” Steven asked, rifling through the pockets of the guy still at the table.
“I’m good,” I said.
Steven shoved some cash in his pocket and tossed a gun onto the table. “Fucking Jalisco weren’t ready for this,” he said.
I heard gunshots from upstairs, some yelling, more shots. I gave Steven a look then rushed back inside. I barely noticed the blood on the floor, the dirty dishes in the sink, the alphabet magnets lined up in Spanish curse words on the refrigerator door. I hurried through the dirty living room and up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I found Alex leaning against a wall, bleeding from his shoulder, and two Jalisco guys dead in a back bedroom. Santo kicked at one hard, cursed at him, then began searching the room.
