Cos dropped to one knee and squeezed the trigger of the Uzi, sweeping it upward. Bullets left a trail up the carpeted floor as well as the chest of the third guard. His body moved in a sick dance as Cos hit him from crotch to throat. Finally, he let up on the trigger long enough for the man to collapse onto the ground. Just as Cos was looking around to see how his partners were holding up, he heard shots coming from the next room.
The sounds of gunfire coming from inside the gambling spot were faint out in the club area, but Cowboy had been listening for them. When he was sure that his people had the party in full swing, he made his move. Putting on a pair of sunglasses, he drew a small machine gun from inside his jacket and climbed onto the bar. Firing the small submachine gun he aimed at the DJ booth. The turntables exploded bringing the music to an abrupt stop.
“You niggaz know what it is. Hands in the mutha fucking air and give up yo shit!” he ordered.
Hearing a shotgun blast, Cowboy’s attention was temporarily drawn to the room at his rear. In the brief second he took his eyes off the crowd someone decided to play hero. The guy moved so fast that even if Cowboy had been looking in his direction he might not have been able to keep him from reaching his weapon. A small .38 was now pointed directly at Cowboy’s chest. Before the hero could pull the trigger, his shoulder exploded.
A woman wearing a black wig and dark glasses was making military styled side steps across the club floor. In her hand she clutched two 9’s. The guns jumped and expelled shells and she blew off different sections of the hero’s body. The hero dropped to one knee and gurgled something just before she blew his brains onto the bar. The bartender belched and promptly threw up the Chinese food she had eaten before her shift.
“Any more heroes?” she asked, sweeping the crowd with her guns. No one moved.
“That’s my boo, always right on time,” Cowboy winked at her from behind his shades. “For a minute I thought you might’ve decided to sit this one out.”
“Somebody has got to keep your arrogant ass from getting killed,” she said, putting one more bullet into the dead man as she passed him. “How’re the boys holding up?” she asked over her shoulder, careful not to take her eyes off the crowd. A second kick from the shotgun and a chunk of the wall being blown outward caused them both to duck.
“I’d say they’ve got it under control,” Cowboy replied.
Moochie found himself trapped between Thor and Duce. He was returning fire as best he could, but knew that he was outgunned. Figuring a good run was a hell of a lot better than a bad stand, he began inching his way towards the rear door.
Duce was still crouched beside the slot machine gripping his Glock. The animal in him screamed for Moochie’s blood, but he knew better than to make a target of himself out of anger. He had been killing for too long to make such a novice mistake. He needed an edge and an overturned bottle of Jack Daniels laying next him might’ve proven to be just that. Clutching the bottle about the neck, he tossed it in Moochie’s direction. The bottle didn’t come close to hitting Moochie head on, but Duce hadn’t intended it to. When Moochie’s attention was drawn to the flying object, Duce let off two shots. When the bottle exploded, spraying Moochie with liquor and glass, the robbers were temporarily forgotten. This was the opening Duce had been waiting for. The first bullet hit Moochie high, shattering his collar bone and the second literally split his wig. Just as suddenly as it began, the fight was over.
Big Sam scurried along on all fours trying to put as much distance between himself and the blood bath as he could. The bag was clutched tightly against his chest. Covered in blood, he had to crawl through along the way. Just a few more feet, he thought to himself. He had made it all the way to the door, but when he reached up he didn’t feel a door knob, but a belt buckle. Shakily, Big Sam looked up and found himself staring down the barrel of Cos’ Uzi.
Cos backed out of the gambling room, with the shopping bag tucked under his arm and another looped around his wrist. If need be, he could fire the Uzi with one hand, but it wouldn’t be as accurate. Thor and Duce covered his escape in case anyone else felt like they wanted to die. The gamblers they had just robbed were too scared to move let alone try something, but there was no need to take chances.
Duce moved on shaky legs almost slipping in a puddle of blood. His heart pumped so fast that he was lightheaded. Killing Marsha and Tic had been sweet, but not like this. It had been years since he had felt the rush of the kill and the junkie side of him wanted more of it. There was something about playing God with other people’s lives that made his dick hard. Seeing Cowboy standing in the middle of the room giving orders brought a disgusted look to his face. Luckily, the stocking cap kept anyone else from seeing it.
He had expected Cowboy to be alone, but there was a female in the room with him. Something about the shape of her body and the way she moved was familiar to Duce, but he couldn’t place her behind the disguise. She must’ve felt him staring at her because she turned around to face him. For a second, he thought he saw her body tense, but she quickly regained her composure.
“You got an eye problem?” she asked in a gruff voice.
“Nah,” Duce turned away. Seeing her standing there holding two pistols both excited and frightened Duce.
“How was your first day on the job?” Cowboy asked.
Duce looked from the bodies in the gambling spot to the woman making her rounds and said, “Enlightening.”
FOURTEEN
When they left the Doll House, the five robbers split into two cars. Thor left with Cowboy and the familiar woman in the Navigator, while Duce rode in Cos’ Honda with him. They were supposed to meet back at Cowboy’s, but take two different routes to get there. Cowboy and his bunch hopped on the Major Deegan Expressway while Cos and Duce took the Cross Bronx. Cos fumbled with the radio leaving Duce to his thoughts.
“You did good, kid,” Cos finally broke the silence. He coasted the Honda Accord at an even 60 miles per hour.
“Thanks,” Duce said. “Ya man Cowboy knows how to plot.”
Cos chuckled. “That’s his M.O., master schemer. He puts the plans together and we execute with precision.”
“So, I see. I’m just glad I didn’t get my fucking head blown off in there.”
“You handled yourself well in there, Duce. Like a true vet of this game.”
“So, what was with the broad?” Duce asked innocently.
“Frankie? She’s our wild card. That girl knows how to handle herself.”
“Frankie?” Impossible, his brain screamed. Duce felt all the color drain from his face. Of the millions of criminals in the city, why’d it have to be her? He tried to keep the expression on his face neutral, but Cos had already peeped him.
“Fuck is wrong with you, you know her or something?” Cos asked looking at Duce suspiciously.
“Nah, I just didn’t expect another player in the game, especially a female,” he lied.
Cos moved to the far left lane to pass a slow moving car. “Let me tell you something, Duce, I’m bull shit proof. I saw the way you were staring at Frankie and whatever you’re thinking, un-think it.”