Money!Chapter 10 free porn video

I woke up to someone pounding on my door. I made sure the two guns and the ammo was stored under clothes and went to see who was at my door.

A guy who looked like a beggar was standing there, telling me that he left stuff in the trailer when he was kicked out and wanted to come in to get it. I told the guy that he needed to see the landlady for anything he left as the place was totally empty when I rented it.

The man was getting pushy and was trying to push me aside so he could get in. He said, "I'm going to kick your ass, Sonny, and then take everything you have for fucking with me." I let him get his throat into my hands when he lunged, and then I twisted, but stopped before breaking his neck. I turned him around, put my foot into his butt, and pushed as hard as I could. The guy went sprawling out on the grass and gravel twenty feet from the door.

There was a lot of clapping going on as the landlady and a couple of other women were standing there watching what went down. The landlady hollered, "I already called the cops, so you don't have to kill him. He tries to rob every new person who moves in. I keep waiting for someone to shoot him."

The guy got up and pulled a buck knife from his back pocket, and flicked it open with one of the tab things that will snap the blade out. He looked at me, and said, "I'm going to gut you like chicken now." He had just begun walking toward me when a Sheriff's car came sliding to a stop. A Deputy was out of the car and hollering at the guy to put the knife down. The guy didn't even look at the Deputy, and hollered, "As soon as I make a believer out of this asshole."

I stepped out of the trailer and was on the ground with him and the man became hesitant because he wasn't used to being challenged. I stood waiting to see what he would do, but the Deputy ran up behind him and whacked him behind the knees with his baton. The guy went to his knees and continued to wave the knife around. He tried to spin around and knife the Deputy but missed. The Deputy pulled his service pistol that looked like a Glock and told the guy, "Put the knife down and lay forward on the ground."

The man stood up instead of doing as instructed by the Deputy, and said, "I told you I was going to gut this son of a bitch first, then you can do anything you want."

The man turned and lunged at me in one fluid motion. I did a classic forearm block, and moved my other hand to grab his throat to try to rip it out of him. My hand that was blocking the knife grabbed his wrist, which broke with a snap as the knife fell to the ground. The guy's eyes were bulging, and I realized I didn't have the strength back to tear his neck from his body yet. I let go, did a leg sweep, and held him down. The cop holstered his pistol and cuffed the guy while the idiot was cussing me for breaking his wrist and promising to sue me.

The Deputy asked me, "Can you stand on him a minute while I call for some backup. Don't let him close to that knife."

The Deputy ran to his car, made the radio call, and came back. He was going to take the cuff off the wrist that was hanging at an odd angle, but I put a hand on his shoulder, and said, "I'm sure your orders are to keep a prisoner cuffed regardless of the injury until you have sufficient forces to handle them."

The guy said, "I think this guy has done this to people several times when they first move in out here and in the trailer park next door. You must be the first guy whoever showed any resistance. Have you been a policeman?"

I just looked at him and said, "Marine, recently medically retired, but still a Marine."

"Yeah, but you had some good moves there. I can't wait to see the video of that. You took him down and broke his wrist so fast that the man didn't know what hit him. What were you doing with his throat?"

"I was trying to kill him. It's a simple move, but I'm still recovering my strength and am not strong enough to rip his throat out. That's what they teach a Marine combat scout."

Two more Sheriff's cars pulled up, with one carrying two people. They left the guy on the ground whimpering while they bagged the knife as evidence. One of the Deputies decided to move the man's hands in front of him instead of behind, since he did have a disabling injury. I saw the look on the guy's face and began moving away from the four officers and bad guy. I pushed the landlady and the lady gawker to the other side of the trailer while we witnessed the crazy man grab one of the officer's Glocks and raise it on the original Deputy on the scene. The man shot that Deputy point blank, sending him back from the impact of the round on the vest. The man then aimed right at the Deputy's head and pulled the trigger. He was moving the gun toward the other officers when two of them shot the guy, emptying their Glocks into him.

We had just witnessed a crazy man murder a Deputy Sheriff and then be shot multiple times to make sure the man wouldn't shoot anyone else. The landlady was holding onto me and fainted. I laid her on what there was of the grass, and went to my trailer to get a washcloth with some water on it. I also brought a bottle of water out.

I kept trying to think of how I was going to identify myself since I knew they were going to want witness statements. The three other men were waiting for the Sheriff, the CSI unit, and the coroner to get there.

I went to the older guy with a bunch of stripes, and asked, "I need to go to work, or at least check in. I promise to be right back. I can't afford to lose this job."

The guy said, "Just be right back, or call the Sheriff's Department to give your statement. You probably won't need to go to court."

I put a T-shirt and my boots on, locked the trailer, got in my car, and left. I was crossing my fingers when I pulled into Butch's place. I was walking to the office when Butch hollered, "Hey, come look at what I got you." This was another bright blue car, but it was an almost new Ford Edge. Butch was gushing, "This is such a good deal that I almost decided to keep this for the wife, but she doesn't want to give up her Mustang. This is a twenty fifteen and has just about every option known to man. It was a stolen car from up north and recovered down here. I know the adjuster, and he brought me the car because he said he owed me so many favors. This thing only has eighteen thousand miles and not a scratch on it. The inside is immaculate, and the thief didn't smoke in it."

I asked, "The car already has a rear license plate, does that mean my package is in?"

"You're a new man, my man. Ha, ha, ha. Let's go look at the stuff while you decide what you want to do with the Impala."

Butch got a huge envelope from the small safe under his desk, and told me to go through it. I had a new name, Broderick Harrison, with a nick name of 'Buddy'. I was born a day before my real birthday. I had been a Marine, then a policeman in Alaska, and had never married. I became missing somewhere along the line, and most people thought I died in a cabin fire during a blizzard a couple of years ago. Some thought that I had found the money from a recent bank robbery and decided to relocate. No laws broken there, other than someone could want the money back.

I spread the cards in the folder out, and found a Florida driver's license, a Florida concealed carry permit, a U.S. passport, a Deputy U.S. Marshal's ID for call up actions, and something I would have to think about, a pilot's license. I had a bank account with a debit card, a couple of credit cards with instructions on how to see what the limits were and if I owed anything.

I looked up at Butch, and said, "Shit, I like what this guy has better than Chuck Miller. Just call me 'Buddy'."

I pulled all my personal cards out, and put all of Buddy's in my wallet. I told Butch, "Let me get all the shit from the Impala, and then you can use the car for a loaner. I might want to use it from time to time, but I'll leave the Edge when I do. I found a trailer that's a fair deal and exactly what I needed south of here a ways. I may be up to be your errand boy soon. I have to get back to the trailer because there was a problem and a Deputy was killed. I was a witness. It's perfect that you have my new identity."

I had the four guns and a lot of ammo. I still needed to find out whether or not the guns were legal. There was also a bundle of hundred dollar bills, in addition to a partial stack of bills that I had not dipped into yet. I swapped all that, and put it into the Edge's rear area 'secret' compartment. I couldn't believe that Butch got this car for the fifteen grand I gave him. I gave Butch the keys to the Impala, and told him that I would rent a storage garage if he didn't want to use the car."

Driving this car was like driving the Mercedes, but I think I liked the feel of the Edge more than the Mercedes. People may frown at a Ford, but this vehicle was proving to me the U.S.A. built the greatest cars ever once again.

I could still see that car parked where it had been when I drove by the diner. That area had to really smell bad by now. I tried to analyze my feelings about the man who I killed, and figured that he was going to kill me, so this was a better ending for me.

The Deputy with all the stripes came up to me when I pulled into the trailer's parking space, and asked, "Didn't you leave with an Impala?"

"I did. It was a loaner from the repair shop that did the service on this. You know why I go to Butch's repair and build if you know the place."

The old Sergeant Deputy agreed with me, and asked, "I need your statement as to what you saw and did. Talk into this microphone and begin with your name, address, today's date, and location, as well as the time. Try to be accurate as to the times of the incidents.

I went through everything as I remembered, leaving nothing out. I used my new IDs to confirm who I was, and was asked about weapons. I told the man that I had a gun in a new purchase box, but no older ones yet. I told him that I was thinking of being a little more proactive and to have a gun within easy reach. The man said, "We went through your past while we interviewed you, and I need to ask if you might be interested in a position as a Deputy."

"Not really. I think the last time I was confronted with a kill or be killed situation got me into some problems. I'm glad to be far away from that."

The older Deputy said, "Well, try to stay out of trouble, and watch out for the blowhards who come around."

I was outside cooking some meat on my new small propane grill when neighbors began coming up to me and thanking me for getting rid of someone who had been a terror to this and other trailer parks. I wondered why one of them didn't just shoot the guy. I'm sure all these good ole' boys and girls had guns. The guy had been a menace and should have been dealt with. But then, most people are bunch of church mice that hide from reality.

I used the trailer park's Wi-Fi and got on the internet to see if I could track Broderick Harrison down. The man was supposed to have died in a cabin fire during a blizzard, but there was no way to confirm who died because there was so little remaining of the person killed.

Broderick had been working on a bank robbery that had netted about six grand, but the robber had shot up the bank and killed a bank employee. Broderick had gone out to track the man when the blizzard came up. The last transmission from Broderick was that he was returning to Anchorage and leaving the area as the weather was too hostile for him. It was assumed that Broderick bought it there, or else the bank robber died and Broderick made it to warmer climates when the cabin was discovered burnt to the ground.

That was about as clean as you can get. I would have to think that it was Broderick who had died in that cabin fire considering that no one claimed his bank account, and I caught him up on his credit card.

I tracked the guy from high school, through the Marines, and through some years in Alaska. He was engaged to be married twice, but the relationship fell through both times because the women concerned found someone else. Buddy wasn't a lucky person. There was a high school yearbook picture and another that was taken when he became a peace officer, and I did resemble the guy. It's amazing how you can find details about almost anyone on the internet.

I slept well that night and woke up with a list of things to do. First was to take the guns I had and have them checked for past ownership. I needed to relocate my bank account to a local branch, then find a place to work out and to eat myself into another ten to fifteen pounds.

Driving past the diner made me happy to see a bunch of Sheriff's units around the car that had the body in it. I can only imagine how bad it smelled there now. We had come into villages that had been wiped out and bodies left to rot by the Taliban. It was a horrible stench.

I made it back up to Miami and went to the pawn shop I had been at that had nearly everything I needed. It was early and there were no customers. I brought my sports bag in, and asked the dealer if he could do me a favor. I had some handguns that I was made a very unusual offer for, and I wanted to find out if they were legal or had they been stolen.

The guy was all smiles, and said, "I'll be glad to do it for a hundred a piece if it's legal. I'll keep the gun and turn it in if it isn't. Are you agreeable?"

I gave him the two Glocks and then unscrewed the silencer from the .22 auto. I asked if he could check a rifle for me, and he said, "Same deal. I get a C-note if it's clean; I turn it in if it's dirty."

I went outside for the .308 and brought it in while he was checking the serial numbers. It took him an hour to confirm all four guns were legally owned and purchased at gun shows over the past couple of years. He had four hundred bucks and I had four legal weapons. The pawn broker did tell me that I needed to get rid of the silencer that went on the .22 auto.

I made an offer, "What could I trade you out of for the .22. That's some kind of killer's gun and I'm not one of those. Do you have anything I might be interested in?"

"How about a shotgun? I have all kinds of Mossberg 500s and a lot of people don't think they are a good weapon. How about this pistol grip model with an eighteen and an eighth inch barrel? Now this gun would have been a stagecoach guard's best friend."

I laughed and told the man, "You sure aren't going to be doing any rabbit hunting with that thing."

The guy laughed with me and said, "Yeah, I know. No one wants to buy the thing. How about that same gun with a rifled slug barrel? The gun will hold a bunch of rounds and you could probably hunt with it if you practiced. I'll trade you even and throw in four boxes of double 00 buckshot and two five packs of slugs.

I told the guy, "You're getting screwed, but I'll take the deal. That is one ugly gun."

The pawn dealer said, "I don't think this little .22 has ever been fired. If you were to lose that silencer, I wouldn't mind having it."

I laughed at the guy as we both knew he shouldn't have it either. I didn't need anything else, so we shook hands and I took all my toys out to the car. A police car was checking my car, so I put my stuff in the back of the Edge and asked if I could help. The Miami policeman said, "A blue Edge was stolen last night and I'm checking the VIN on this one. I told the man, I have all the docs in the glove box if you want them."

The Officer used my documents and his computer to confirm everything. He moved his car so that I could leave, and I smiled at having new identification that let good ole Buddy Harrison be the good guy he was.

I went back to the trailer park and managed to get most of my toys into the house. I kept the large Glock and the rifle in the car. I figured I might need one of them if I had the opportunity.

The rest of the day was spent tracking Carlo down and where he might be. This man was a plague and needed to be taken care of. I was sure he'd found out about his hireling who turned up dead north of Homestead. I was also sure that there were half dozen men out there trying to track me down.

I needed an underworld contact to let me know where to find out about how to be a part of the hunting group that was looking for good ole' Chuck Miller. I figured that I might be able to find Carlo if I could find them.

Knowing Sandra was probably being watched and monitored, and the watchers would be Carlo's personal employees, I thought that I could possibly tail them back to where he might be. Carlo could become careless and try for an attack if I began tracking and maybe even eliminating them one at a time.

That's when I realized that I should have kept the one of the .22s with the silencers. Oh well, they can't be that hard to get. I figured the automatic would be the quietest but would have to make sure I picked up those tiny casings. I also wanted to find a noise suppressor for the .308. That was a really great weapon for a sniper and Special Forces had silencers for that rifle. I wonder how much a barrel with a silencer would cost.

I went to Sandra's condo, parked among a bunch of cars, and used my binoculars to look at every car within two hundred yards. I knew someone had to be there, and I had to be patient and keep checking until I finally saw movement in a car that was about fifty yards from Sandra's front door.

The guy would hold something up to his ear every once in a while, and then put it back down. I wondered what he was doing, and I realized he had some kind of device to listen to her calls. I could call her but I wanted to get some more phones before I did that. Phones would have to be destroyed every time I used one.

I wondered if they had my house watched like this too. I was going to find out and maybe hurt someone on the way by. I was going to make it difficult for Carlo if he wanted to play.

I drove down to Butch's place and told him that I would swap him cars for a couple of hours. He said, "Naw, get that thing out of here. We've noticed a couple of people snooping around and constantly coming back to the car. Someone knows something about the car and thinks it will lead them somewhere."

"Damn, I wanted to use it at least one more time, but it may be too hot to do that. Tell you what; the title is in the glove box. Either sell it or crush it. Keep whatever you get. I'm going to give you some money and I want you to buy a bunch of cars and pickups for me to use once and dump. Keep them as legal as possible, but untraceable. How about a hundred Gs to start? Get older cars, but they have to run good and be ready to really go on demand."

"No sweat, Chuck, or Buddy as it is. I can keep cars turning over daily for a few months. I'll ask if I need extra money. Give me ten Gs for my really good mechanic, and he'll have your vehicles race worthy."

I moved closer to Butch and asked, "I need something special in a gun. Do you know of someone who might make modifications to guns?"

You might have thought I just told him the funniest joke he's ever heard as Butch was almost really rolling on the floor. He took me by the arm and led me to the back of one his motor rooms. He opened the door and I was looking at an amazing machine shop. Guys were working on just about every kind of rifle and pistol known to man.

"Check this out, Bro. I have eight of the most gifted gunsmiths in the USA. These guys can and have built just about anything. What are you looking for?"

"I want a .22 automatic that will shoot shorts with a silencer. I had an automatic, but that thing would throw a casing and I don't want that. It is now with a pawnbroker in Miami. I might need more than one of these for obvious reasons. I have a really nice .308 that needs a suppressor too. It would probably be best to use additional barrels with the silencers on them."

Butch said, "We can do all that, but it isn't cheap. Bring me the .308 and we'll begin working on it. Also bring me a bunch of cash and I'll have a couple of those terrible little .22s for you in a day or two. The guys have a way to catch the ejected casings."

"I need a gofer, Butch. I need someone to drive a car and to wait for me sometimes; nothing risky, but someone dependable. I'll feed and clothe him if needed, but being closed-mouthed and able to drive almost anything is most important."

Butch led me out of the gun shop and we walked toward his office. "I have just the person, Buddy. This person can drive just about anything built and drives on the short tracks when a ride is available. It's a she, Chuck, and a good-looking she too. She's one of the females the girls want to fix you up with. I know she'll keep her mouth shut since she's been doing jobs for me for a long while. When do you need her?"

"I have some things I need to quickly accomplish if she's available now. I'm going to give you fifty grand for cars, pickups, and for beginning on the guns for starters. I'll bring another fifty as soon as I can get it. That will be in a day or two. You know that I'm good for it, so start getting everything set. I'll get my .308 for you to work on."

Butch picked up his phone to make a call while I went out to the Edge to get the rifle. I brought it in through the front door that no one uses, and handed it to Butch.

He said, "Your apprentice is on her way here. She's homeless right now, so you'll have to help her out with a couch. This little girl has some warm britches according to Jean and the girls, but is fairly particular and will be all over you if you're not clean. Jean will tell you that this girl is going to be something special one of these days."

Things were now moving as fast as I needed them to. I was going to quickly clean this mess up with all the help from Sis, her friends, Butch, and his contacts.

I needed to do something for shock value, so I went to the car and loaded the pistol grip Mossberg with buckshot. I didn't figure on needing more than one round, but it was going to really make a mess. I filled the magazines of the Glock and then thought that I should get the small gun and bring it too. I'll do that tomorrow.

A darling little girl with short, dark brown hair and blazingly bright brown eyes came up to the Edge and asked, "Are you Buddy? Butch says you have a lot of names, but Buddy was the easiest. I'm Peanuts, or Sharon actually, but people know me by 'Peanuts'. How much are you gonna pay me, and how dangerous is it going to be? Do I need to take care of your personal needs as part of the job?"

"That's a lot of questions, Peanuts. I'll pay you a grand a week and give you a place to sleep if you're worth it. We'll get some clothes if you need them. I'll try to keep you out of the dangerous stuff, but it could happen, and you don't have to take care of my personal needs. Let's have a fun time together first, and then we'll see about any personal needs."

Peanuts grinned and said, "I have some personal needs I would like to be taken care of by the right guy."

I told her, "Let's go tell Butch you have arrived, and then we'll take off."

"No need, I told him I was coming and he knows I'm probably already here. What do you want me to do first?"

I told the girl, "You're going to drive either this Edge or the Impala up to Miami, where you'll wait for me to take care of something. We'll leave the Impala up there and drive back in the Edge. You may drive something different tomorrow and then every day after that until I've completed this job. You, however, will have a good paying job when we finish. You're going to like my sister and friends."

Peanuts said, "I'll drive the Impala and follow you. Don't drive like an old lady so that we get stopped for holding up traffic. Let's get."

I took off leading the way, and had a heavy foot all the way to Pinecrest's outer area. I drove to the storage location and had Peanut wait outside the gate while I checked the two units. I was only going to take three bundles of hundreds, but decided to stuff four into my sports bag and put it in the 'secret' compartment. I walked up and had Peanut drive the Impala back to park next to the Edge.

"Okay, this is where you do exactly what I say. I'm going to take the Impala and be gone for a few minutes. Take off if I'm not back in two hours. You can park the Edge in the empty unit, and you pull out and I'll back the Impala in when I come back. I'm planning on leaving it here for the time being."

Peanut asked, "What are the odds that you won't be back?"

I had to think about that for a second, and then said, "Probably five to ten percent. This is a quick 'fire for effect' sort of thing."

I put the Glock in my waist, and then the pistol grip shotgun on the front seat with me. Peanut watched all this and didn't flinch. She was a tough little cookie.

Going into Pinecrest can be difficult, but there are seven entrances and exits. The only people who would know all of them would have had to grow up there. I knew the fearsome foursome knew them all since we were always having to escape the cops for driving crazily. Dusk was beginning, so I needed to get this done right away. I drove by my street and saw a car parked across the street from the house, but back far enough that it didn't look like the car was watching our house, and it looked like there was only one person in it. I made sure there was a round in the chamber, and went around a few blocks so that I came up on the guy with me close to his car. It wasn't hot, so he would probably have his window open, or I hoped so at least. I rested the barrel of the shotgun on the window edge and stopped next to the car. I asked, "What are you doing parking here? Don't you know Miller is going to get pissed and come out blasting?"

The guy laughed and asked, "What are you trying to do. Scare me off so that you get the prize?"

Another head began rising up at that instant, and that one had something in his hand. I pulled the trigger, cycled another round into the chamber, and fired again. There was nothing left of the two heads that had been there.

I was moving as soon as I fired the second round and made it to one of the nearby exits without driving fast. I needed to look like any other person going to Publix for milk and bread. I made sort of a circuitous route to the storage location to make sure I wasn't being followed. I went through the security gates and pulled up in front of the unit. I waved for Peanut to pull the Edge out and then backed the Impala in."

I picked up the empty shotgun shells and took them and the gun to the Edge and put it all into the other 'secret' compartment. I locked up the storage unit and wished I could get at the tapes of the storage yard's activity.

Peanut was still behind the wheel, and asked, "Want me to drive?"

She sounded like she was begging, so I told her to head back the way we came. We had to wait while two police cars and a rescue truck raced toward Pinecrest when we came to the first major intersection.

Peanut asked, "Did you cause that?"

"Don't know, but I'm sure I pissed someone off."

We were almost out of the city when Peanut asked, "Are you going to feed me? I was hungry when I started work for you, and part of the deal is you are to feed me. Can I turn into the next fast food place?"

"Sure, but let's just get something to hold us until we get to that diner that's supposed to have the good steaks. We'll pig out there and get some more to take home. We're going to have to plan on how we handle tomorrow."

I could see Peanut smiling because she knew that she wouldn't be sleeping under a bridge tonight. The young lady was beginning to get ripe, so I figured she had been without a proper sleeping area for a while.

The diner served us some huge sirloins that were as tender as the best steakhouse could serve. We pigged out on the big salad as well as the twice-baked potato. We had two more meals made up in foam cartons for us to take home. I wanted some of that steak with eggs in the morning.

I drove home from the diner and pulled up next to my trailer at almost nine. I took Peanut inside and showed her the bedroom, bathroom, and where the towels were. I told her, "If you need some clothes washed, I'll run them to the laundromat to get the bugs out of them for you. We'll go shopping if you have something for the morning and get you what you need. We'll do Salvation Army for jeans and shirts, but we'll go to Sears or Penney's for undies, sleepwear, socks, and shoes."

Peanut smiled at me and said, "I'll be very happy if you'll pop for Walmart. Keep me around and I can be an asset."

I listened as the young lady used the bathroom to scrub and wash her short hair. She had on one of my long T-shirts that proclaimed the Daytona 500 was the greatest race of all time when she came out into the living room and kitchen area.

I watched the local Miami news and saw that a couple of underworld hit men had been killed in the Pinecrest area. The police suspected the killer or killers were defending their territory. It had long been thought Pinecrest harbored many underworld characters. They weren't even close.

It was my turn, and I quickly cleaned up and shaved. I didn't plan on any hanky panky, but you never know. She was a little cutie.