Bekka and Suelma hung around the porch of Jeannie's apartment, waiting for someone to open the door. They were there to school Jeannie Jones on staying away from their men.
They didn't wait long. Ms. Cox came from around the corner with her rolling shopping bag filled with groceries. Suelma approached the senior woman with an offer to help.
The plan was to distract Jeannie's neighbor while Bekka stood ready. While Suelma got Ms. Cox to look the other way, she'd insert a piece of cardboard in the door so they could enter, pick Jeannie's lock, and then pounce on the unsuspecting girl inside her apartment.
Bekka and Suelma had no qualms about breaking and entering to perform a beatdown. They had done it to many a girl before.
"Thank you, dear," Ms. Cox said, smiling at the helpful Suelma.
"No problemo," Suelma slurred. Still tipsy from her partying that had ended at dawn, she swayed unsteadily on her feet.
Ms. Cox's puckered her lips at the smell of alcohol on the young girl's breath. She waved her hand under her nose to try to dispel the scent. "Um, were you waiting for someone, dear?"
"Yep." When Suelma popped the "p," spit flew from her mouth. Some landed on Ms. Cox's chin. The elderly woman took a tissue out of her bag and wiped it away with a disgusted look. Suelma continued, unaware of her faux pas. "My sis and I are waiting for that low-down Jeannie Jones who—"
Suelma broke off as Bekka cleared her throat like an old man in the morning. The look that shifted between the sisters caused Suelma to snap her big mouth closed.
Ms. Cox eyed both girls, marking them in case there was trouble later. "I think you girls had better le—Ahhhh. Ohhh."
A man had burst through the front door, knocking Bekka down to her knees. The man ran for his life, headed straight towards Ms. Cox.
Fifi snapped at his heels while Carmen screamed curses in Spanish. Her long hair streamed behind her as she flew down the steps in hot pursuit.
Bekka rose shakily to her feet, her gaze zeroing in on her new foe as Jeannie Jones was forgotten. No man knocked her down unless she wanted him to. Bekka sprang into action by calling out a battle cry to her inebriated sister. "Suelma! Get him."
"Hmm?" The younger girl smacked her dry lips as her eyes slipped in and out of focus. "What, sis?"
Suelma, wearing last night's clothes full of cigarette smoke, was already too far-gone to be of much help. The man sent to kill Carmen ran past her, knocking hard into her shoulder. She let out a squawk of surprise and tripped over own feet. The inebriated girl ended up sprawled in the grass with her arms and legs akimbo.
Ms. Cox, however, was on her game. As the man attempted to dodge her, she jumped to the side and pushed her shopping bag so it entangled with his knees.
He went down hard with an air-expelling grunt and a tangle of limbs.
Fifi was the first to reach the intruder. She bit down on the meaty part of a calf, breaking through the dark ninja-like costume the man wore. Carmen pounced on his back a moment later, fists flying at his head. Bekka joined in the fray, kicking the man repeatedly in the ribs.
Judge Cox shuffled down the steps, hurrying towards the melee. "I think he's had enough, girls." His calm, no-nonsense voice, filtered through their rage. Carmen and Bekka got in one last lick then left the prone man to the fast-approaching police sirens.
The judge calmly took a gun from the waistband of his pants. He flipped off the safety and aimed the six-shooter directly at the intruder's head.
Svetlana took a butter knife from the tray and dropped the rest. It was her only weapon against the attackers. Before she could fling it, Quentin shot her once between the eyes, dropping her like a stone into a murky pond.
Anatoly, witnessing the demise of his longtime colleague, ran back into the kitchens shooting over his shoulder. His aim, haphazard though it was, hit two of his attackers. One in the arm, and the other in the chest. The chest wound was minimal as the bulletproof vest saved The Source agent from certain death.
Quentin ran full tilt after the hulking man's retreating figure. He skittered in the broken china and sauce to fall butt first on the ground. While Dalton helped him up, Thorne moved past them to take the lead.
Thorne halted the others with a fist in the air. He went in first to scout out the kitchen. It was empty except for the furniture. The beef stroganoff piped hot on the stove. As Thorne moved in further, the delicious scent of wafted to him.
Jeannie will know how to cook that, he thought.
A loud bang sounded at the rear of the kitchen. It came from a cracked door with light spilling from it. Quentin came rushing up to Thorne's side, breathing hard. Brown sauce and a few noodles hung from the seat of his pants. Dalton, trying not to laugh at the sight of Quentin's stained backside, crowded around Thorne.
"Step back," Thorne whispered. "I'm going in."
Thorne crept forward, one foot in front of the other, skirting the front to move to the side of the door. He motioned for the others to line up behind him. When everyone was in place, he flung the door open.