Page 39 of Prisoner of War
The man—it had to be Jonesy—had his hand around his genitals and the other under Carmen’s chin, holding her face steady.
Carmen looked straight at Minnie and her eyes were bright and sparkling.
Tears, Minnie realized. She hadn’t let them fall.
Jonesy was still turning. So slow...
Minnie brought the skillet around in a sweeping tennis shot, aiming for the back of Jonesy’s head. She didn’t pull the shot at all. Serena Williams would have been thrilled with the power in it.
There was no satisfying bounce of the ball against the strings. The impact was jarringly solid and the muffled, wet sound made Minnie feel sick. Abruptly, time movedup to normal speed. Jonesy crumpled like a house of cards, sliding to the floor.
“Fuck!” the man on the bench said, sitting up with a jerk.
Minnie lifted the flare gun and pointed it at him. “Let her go.”
His eyes were huge, the whites showing all the way around. He lifted his hands up in the air. “All right, all right,” he said.
Minnie waved the gun toward the kid on the steps. “Come here.”
He lowered the beer bottle and scurried over to the bench. “No problems,” he said, his voice high and nervous.
With them both together and facing the gun, Minnie knew she could afford to glance away for a second. She glanced at Carmen, to check on her.
Carmen was tying her dress up behind the back of her neck, her face pale. But she was steady enough. “Take the pan,” Minnie said, holding itout to her. “Whack anything that moves.”
“I can do that.” She took the pan, got to her feet and pushed at Jonesy on the floor with her foot. “Did you kill him?”
“I don’t care too much,” Minnie said shortly. She looked at the other two scrunched up on the bench together. “You two pick up your friend and get the hell out of here.”
“What if you did kill him?” the young one said, his voice risingeven higher. “That’s murder!”
“Fine. Sit here then. I’m happy to call the cops. They can look at Carmen’s scratched breasts and her ripped dress and figure it out for themselves. In fact, why don’t you call them? I’ll even give you thecentavosto make the call.”
The two of them glanced at each other.
“I have an even better idea,” Minnie said, reaching for the business card tucked into herdress that had been scratching at her skin and reminding her of its presence. She threw it onto the little table next to them, face up. “Why don’t you call Miguel and ask him to come down. How good’s your Spanish, boys? Know what theSecretaria de Gobernacionmeans?”
The older of the pair leaned forward to read the card and said under his breath to the younger, “Immigration.”
“There’s a reasonI was carrying that in my cleavage, guys. Miguel won’t like the fact that you’ve messed up my friend. He will fill your young American lives with misery.”
“Hey, lady—” the younger began.
“We’ll go,” said the older, overriding him. “Let us just get our friend. We’ll get out of here.”
“You’d better move it. You’ve got sixty seconds.”
They moved it. Between them they picked up Jonesy’s limp bodyand dragged him up the stairs onto the deck. Minnie followed them out of the cabin, the flare gun on them. She stood halfway up the steps, watching them struggle to get Jonesy up onto the dock. She stayed where she was until they reached dry land and had faded away into the night shadows.
Then she took a deep, trembling breath and climbed back down into the cabin.
Carmen was rinsing her mouthwith water at the sink.
“I think you’ll need sterilizer for that,” Minnie said, sitting at the table. Her legs were wobbly.
“There’s so much scotch in me no bug will live,” Carmen husked. She sat at the table opposite Minnie and shoved her hands together. Minnie watched her take a breath every bit as unsteady as her own and the sparkling in her eyes grew. Then she growled under her breath, wipedswiftly at her eyes with the back of her hand and straightened her spine. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m glad.”
“So am I,” Minnie said softly.
