My Kind of Southern Hospitality Pt 1
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Mitch's ears were ringing. The cavern had just been rocked by the explosion from Tony's first grenade. "You better be taking care of this, Tony," he muttered under his breath. He switched the Streamlight on for just a second to get his bearings. The entrance to the underground parking area was glowing just ahead. The emergency lighting had started to kick in, and in just a few minutes, he would be safely encased in his armored Mercedes.
The thought of leaving the empire he had worked so hard to build made him sick to his stomach. But perhaps, if he pulled enough strings and blackmailed enough people, he would eventually be able to return. For now though, self preservation came first. He could fix it all later. Car keys in hand, he turned the corner...
... and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Where do you think you're going, mister?" Marcy Driscol stood in the doorway, blocking his path to the Mercedes. In the glow of the emergency lights, he could see the determined look on her face and the single barreled shotgun, which was aimed squarely at his chest.
"Hello, Marcy. So good of you to make it." Mitch reached for the holstered 1911.
"Don't even think about it," she warned.
"We both know that peashooter ain't loaded. But before you die." He paused. "Again. I am curious, how in God's name did you get away?"
"Jack always taught me to keep two spare handcuff keys at all times. Your boys aren't all that interested in thoroughly frisking an old lady. Shame, they might have found these while they were at it." Grannie held up a fistful of thin, red shotgun shell.
Mitch's jaw dropped. His hand instinctively went for the 1911. The weapon barely cleared the holster before the buckshot from the .410 slammed into his chest. Mitch was knocked backward to the floor, gasping for breath. The 1911 lay on the ground, just out of reach.
"Now then, we have some unfinished business don't we?" Grannie kicked the 1911 far away from him. "I know you're wearing a bulletproof vest under that fancy shirt. You'll just have a big bruise, but you can still stand trial." She popped open the single shot, ejecting the spent shell and dropping in a new one. "Next time, I'm aiming for your face, and I'm really hoping you give me a good reason to kill you. Now, we're gonna get in that fancy SUV of yours and drive right up to the police station in Boulder. You understand me?"
Defeated, Mitch sullenly nodded his head. The 1911 lay on the ground, well out of reach, and Grannie Driscol looked mad. She was ready to shoot him for any reason, and he didn't want to test her. He said a silent prayer. God couldn't forsake him now.
Mitch's prayer was answered seconds later when the explosion from Tony's suicide blast rocked the cavern. The emergency lights flickered and died. The roar of the shotgun filled the darkened chamber.
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