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Fed up, Dennis walked a few steps back to his car, reached in, and pulled out a 9mm automatic Smith & Wesson. “Look, I can’t ask my brother-in-law for another favor. I get in that deep with the Russian mob and I might as well sign my death warrant.”
Tazzie cackled with laughter. “Please. Cry me a river. You’re married to the Russian princess.”
“We’re talking about hardcore mob here, Taz. Trust me. Melissa’s stock will double if I’m dead. She’s not the sentimental type. You know it’s true. You guys have no idea what it’s like when the mob starts to call all the shots, morning to night. Marshall Companies isn’t even my business anymore. I’m living in a nightmare. You start looking over your shoulder every time a car backfires.”
Richie shifted his feet. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before backing the casino takeover.”
Dennis stepped forward and used his free hand to grab Richie’s shirt. With the other hand, he held the gun under Richie’s chin. “And how much money did you make off that deal? Six figures, as I recall. That’s a helluva lot more than you had before. It’s a nice fat addition to your retirement, especially since you said you wanted to get out of Pelican Pointe. Do I get thanks for that? No, I get the two of you giving me a hard time. We’re all in this together. Or have you forgotten? And I’m telling you we need to get rid of Sam Brownlee. Today. Immediately. Get the picture? We can’t let him off the hook for the twenty grand. Kuznetsov will never let me do that. That means we can’t allow him to get anywhere near Brent Cody. The only way out of this is to take him down.”
“Okay, okay,” Richie repeated, shoving the gun away from his neck. “Calm down. Tell us what you want us to do.”
Dennis let go of the shirt and took a step back. He ran a jittery hand through his hair. “When we leave here today, you two go after Brownlee. It’s the only way.”
“And do what?” Tazzie shouted. “This is your mess. You should be the one to clean it up.”
Dennis narrowed his eyes into slits. “How long have you two benefited from my stock tips? You think you get a free pass? Think again. Now it’s time to pay the piper and do your part. Get rid of Brownlee. Today. I don’t care if you have to kill him and his wife.”
Richie exchanged looks with Tazzie. “We’ll figure something out.”
When Tazzie started to protest, Richie held up his hand. “Dennis is right. We need to pull our weight. We can take care of one accountant.”
Tazzie glared at Dennis, sending out daggers with her eyes. “This is the last time I want anything to do with you. Is that clear? I want you out of my life forever. Don’t call. Don’t write. After Richie and I do this, that’s it. We’re gone. No more favors. Got that?”
“I knew you’d see it my way. Do you need a weapon?”
“I need one that isn’t traceable back to any of us.”
“I have one in the trunk,” Dennis offered.
“What about the Smith & Wesson?”
Dennis shook his head as he walked back toward the rear of the Lexus. “This one could put us all on death row. I have a better one.” He hit the button on his key fob to open the trunk. Reaching in, he took out a black handgun, hefted the weight. “Russian PM, courtesy of my brother-in-law. Fully loaded and untraceable.”
Richie stared at the older model pistol. “You’d think family would provide you with a better gun.”
“Why? The Makarov is a classic still used today by the Russian police and military.”
Richie wasn’t impressed. Neither was Tazzie.
“That gun looks ancient,” Tazzie complained, noting the scratch marks. “It’s all beat up.”
“You guys are idiots. The markings are gone for a reason. Trust me. This gun has an impeccable trigger mechanism that makes it easy to fire. Even you could do it.”
“We’re not idiots,” Tazzie protested. “We just don’t want to use a gun that looks seventy years old. You want us to kill this guy, give us a better weapon.”
“There’s nothing wrong with this gun,” Dennis insisted, pointing it toward the surrounding shrubbery and squeezing the trigger. Multiple shots echoed out into the canyon. “See? You try it,” he challenged, handing it off to Tazzie.
But somehow, Tazzie managed to bungle the exchange. She tried to catch the weapon before it hit the ground. Instead of a clean swap, she ended up wrapping her fingers around the trigger and kept squeezing, firing multiple rounds into the ground and the weeds.
Dennis and Richie ducked for cover, getting out of the line of fire by dropping to the dirt. Everyone else hiding in the bushes crouched further into the terrain. When Tazzie got control of the weapon, though, she aimed into the sagebrush, firing at will. “You’re right. This is fun.”
“Put the gun down,” Brent yelled, poking his head up from the other side of the canyon. “Drop the gun,” he repeated. “You’re under arrest.”
Weapons drawn, Colt and Eastlyn appeared together at the edge of the clearing. Colt sized up the men. “Stay on the ground, both of you.” He moved forward, slapping handcuffs on their wrists.
Eastlyn zeroed in on Tazzie.
With a wild look in her eyes, Tazzie bellowed, “Don’t you come near me. I’ll shoot you. I will. I’m not going to jail for this asshole.”
