"It seems all you’ve found is trouble," Pedro said. "You can have the van, but the money is mine. It belongs to me.”
"I don't care about the van, homey," Rico said. "That money is mine. I stole it fair and square.”
The air was thick with tension.
"Do you know who I am?" Pedro asked.
"Do I give a fuck?”
"I'm Pedro Sandoval."
"Good for you. Now put your guns down, and nobody gets hurt. I'll take my van, and my money, and you can go about your business, Pedro Sandoval," he mocked.
Thugs on both sides stood barrel to barrel.
Rage clenched Pedro's jaw. The last time he was on the street, people feared his name. The Sandoval reputation preceded itself. Today, no one cared. There was no respect.
"Put your toys away before you hurt yourself," Pedro said.
Rico's jaw clenched tight. He wasn’t going to let anyone talk down to him.
Mickey and I both shifted out of the line of fire.
Twitchy fingers wrapped tight around triggers.
“This ain’t no toy, motherfucker.”
Muzzle flash flickered, and bullets crisscrossed the night air. Molten copper spewed. The deafening cacophony of gunfire clattered, echoing off the neighboring buildings.
Mickey and I dove for cover. We scrambled away, trying to get out of the fray.
Bullets smacked into flesh and peppered the van.
Groans of agony filled the night.
Weapons clattered to the ground, along with bodies.
Adrenaline spiked, and my heart thudded my chest.
The intense fury lasted only a few seconds, though it seemed longer.
All of them fell to the ground, bleeding out. Pools of crimson swelled around bodies. Moans and groans filled the air. Lungs gurgled, filling with blood. Last breaths rattled.
Pedro was the last to hit the ground, still barely alive. His cigarette fell away, and he clutched at the holes in his chest, trying to stop the unstoppable.
Rico reached for his rifle that lay on the ground beside him. He managed to snag the grip with a bloody hand. The two thugs took aim and managed to get a last shot at each other before departing to the afterlife.
My ears rang from the gunfire.
I looked myself over and patted myself down, feeling for warm blood.
I was okay.
I shouted for Mickey. "You okay?”
54
Mickey had made his way around to the other side of the van. "I'm good."
