Not a Chance in Heaven: A Chance Colt Literary Mystery

Not a Chance in Heaven

A Chance Colt Literary Mystery

Tom Hawks

Brighton Publishing LLC

435 N. Harris Drive

Mesa, AZ 85203

www.BrightonPublishing.com

Copyright © 2016

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 13: 978-1-62183-453-3

First Edition

eBook

SMASHWORDS

Cover design: Tom Rodriguez

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction and a creation of the author’s imagination. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Dedication

This book is dedicated in loving respect to my mom, Jean D. Hawks, the one person in this world who made me who and what I am today. Without you, I am nothing and cease to exist. You have given me the gift of life. Your heart and soul and blood and quiet inner- strength will forever run through my veins.

Go to heaven for the climate, hell for the company.

~Mark Twain

***

It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.

~Buddha

Chapter One

Angels, Sheriff Chance Colt exclaimed loudly.

He opened his eyes, and the only thing he could see in his entire field of vision were two sets of dark, smoldering, sexy, and sultry brown eyes staring straight back into his own green eyes from above.

Is this heaven? he asked the two brown-eyed, brown-haired, and brown-skinned angels leaning in closely over his prone body lying on the dirty barroom floor.

Uh, sorry to disappoint you, Chance, but this ain’t anywhere close to heaven, one angel responded. "In fact, this is hell, or El Infierno Bar in Nogales, Mexico, to be exact."

Am I dead? Chance inquired of his two beautiful angels.

Nope, you should only be so lucky. Instead, you’re just a stubborn old jackass and dumb as hell. What’s your plan now, Einstein, for getting us out of hell and Mexico alive? asked Detective Alexis Montoya as she leaned in close to talk in a half-whisper into Chance’s left ear, which was now ringing loudly from the recent sound of the close-range gunfire.

Well, my original plan was to just improvise, if I was still alive. I guess I’ll just stick with that plan for now, unless you angels or ladies can think of anything better, Chance answered, after slowly coming to his senses. He now recognized what he initially thought were two angels sent from heaven as his friends Detective Alexis Montoya of the Santa Cruz County Arizona Sheriff’s Department and his newly made friend, barmaid and cocktail waitress, the beautiful Marisela Diaz.

What brings you here, Alexis? asked Chance.

You’re kidding me, right? You’ve been gone for so long, I figured you were either dead or in deep shit over your head. I guess the latter appears to be the case. She smiled sarcastically. Either way, I figured you needed my help.

What do you mean? I’ve got everything under complete control here.

Yeah, it looks like it, answered Alexis, with her trademark smartass grin. After performing a quick assessment of the angry crowd and the situation, she looked down at Chance with her dark and serious eyes. What’s your exit plan, or do you even have one? It appears to me that I have to save your sorry ass for the second time. Now you’re really gonna owe me, Chance Colt.

Hey, don’t worry, I’ve got an exit plan, said Chance. I believe I just need to revise it a touch due to the current circumstances we find ourselves in. But not to fear, Sheriff Chance Colt is here.

Remember the famous heavyweight champion professional boxer, the one and only Mike Tyson? Chance asked the ladies. That guy was something else. He used to always come up with these crazy and funny one-liners, like ‘Everyone has a plan till they get punched in the mouth.’ I thought that phrase was brilliant. Simple-minded yet brilliant at the same time. Chance laughed as he began to assess the damage, if any, to his own body from the gunfight he had just participated in.

I didn’t get punched in the mouth, but I believe I did get the wind knocked out of me from the gunshot round that entered right here, he said, pointing to the middle of his bulletproof vest at the general area of his upper abdomen. Chance, then, sat up and began to lift his poncho, unbutton his flannel shirt, and inspect the damage to his Kevlar vest and his abdomen underneath it. That’s gonna leave a bruise, he said as he looked at the red mark on his skin and laughed at his good fortune and good sense for wearing his bulletproof vest. Always be prepared for anything and everything, right, Alexis?

Right, answered Alexis with a sarcastic smirk, the Boy Scouts’ motto.

No, the US Marine Corps motto, Chance snapped back. What’s everyone’s sudden fascination with the Boy Scouts all about? You know, I got kicked out of the Boy Scouts when I was a kid. Wanna know why? He smiled his crazy smile at Alexis.

I give up. Why? she answered.

For eating a Brownie at summer camp in the privacy of her own tent. Chance laughed and appeared to be the only one in the barroom who understood his joke or found it even remotely funny. Can you imagine that? My scoutmaster broke up our young love. What kind of a jerk does that to a teenager?

Whatever, answered Alexis, as she rolled her smoldering dark eyes and flared her nostrils toward her long-time friend and boss. Brilliant Plan A, Chance, she continued. I hope you have yourself a better Plan B, she added, with a strong tone of sarcasm in her now seriously worried voice. Otherwise, I think we’re all gonna die.

Help me up, will you, ladies? Chance asked Alexis and Marisela. Is Iron Horse dead?

Dead as a donkey who stepped off a steep cliff, answered Alexis. I think you hit him center mass, right in the heart, killing him pretty much instantly.

Huh, go figure? After all these years, the old scout sniper’s skills are still right on the money, Chance said with a smile to his two new guardian angels. OK, my slightly revised Plan B just popped into my head, he said now looking over and inspecting the two dead bodies of ex-deputy Jim Graves and his Mexican narco sidekick, Iron Horse, whom he’d just shot and killed. Since I’m not the most fluent of the three of us in the nuances of the Spanish language, I’ll let you and Marisela talk to this angry crowd and explain our way out of here. You two pretty ladies can calm everyone down, and then we’ll make a run for the border, all three of us, just like goin’ to Taco Bell after a party at 0200 hours in the morning ’cause we’ve got the munchies.

That’s the best you’ve got? asked an angry Alexis, drilling her burning dark gaze deep into the heart and soul of Sheriff Chance Colt.

You got a better idea? Chance asked, with an angry glare of his own.

I can see this is starting to become a trend with us. Am I now always gonna have to save your sorry ass from the messes you keep getting yourself into, huh? asked Alexis.

It’s about time you started earning your keep and taking care of your elders. I’ve been mentoring you and carrying your load for years now. It’s time for you to step up and take charge once in a while. It’s time for the little chickie to leave the nest. I just hope you can pull this one off. Otherwise, you’re right, we’re all gonna die here today in ‘the Hell Hole.’

I don’t have time to argue that ‘chickie’ comment with you right now, Chance. But at least you can trust that I won’t fly away from the coop and leave your stupid ass here to die. I mean, we are quickly running out of time and options, Sheriff, so do you trust me or not? asked an impatient Detective Alexis Montoya.

"Well, like my grandfather always used to say, ‘Don’t ever trust anyone who don’t have the same last name as you.’ But considering the dire circumstances and predicament we find ourselves in at this very moment, I’ll have to go out on a limb with my little chickadee and trust you to get the three of us out of here pronto. Chance grinned sarcastically. Of course, Alexis, you know I trust you without a doubt, mi amiga."

That really warms my heart to hear, Chance. Now, can we quit joking around here, you old crazy bastard? We are in some serious shit right now—and what do you mean ‘the three of us?’ asked Alexis.

Well, we can’t just leave my new friend Marisela Diaz. If we leave her here, they’ll kill her for helping me. So we’ll have to take her with us, Chance said, now with a deadly serious look on his face. Now use your well-practiced ice princess charm on this unruly crowd, Alexis, so we can get out of here by the skin of our teeth while we still have them. Let them know in no uncertain terms that we’re leaving, and if any one of them tries to stop us, they’re going to die too.

A worried-looking Marisela now looked pleadingly back and forth between Chance and Alexis, as if her life depended on the decision, because it did.

Detective Montoya, with her eyes now burning with pure hell fire, turned away from Chance and Marisela and faced the raucous crowd. She drew her Glock .40 pistol out from behind her back, pointed it at the entire crowd one by one, and released a loud, long, serious machine-gun-like tirade of words in Spanish that left the entire barroom full of people still, stunned, and looking scared shitless. Chance couldn’t decipher a damn word she’d said, but whatever she’d told the once unruly crowd, shut them up immediately and left a deer in the headlights look on everyone’s face. There was not a single person who said a word in return or moved an inch.

Alexis yelled out some additional orders in Spanish, and everyone hit the floor; they all laid flat on their bellies with their hands clasped behind their heads, their mouths shut, and a look of complete and absolute terror in their eyes.

Alexis then turned back to Chance and Marisela and yelled at the top of her lungs, "Vamanos pronto! She then turned and fired several 40 caliber gunshots of cover fire around the barroom that shattered wood, glass, and every ounce of bravery that may have been left in the hearts and minds of any so-called macho men in the room. The last thing she said in English right before exiting the barroom door directly behind Marisela and Chance was, Payback is a bitch named Alexis Montoya. If you want some, have the cojones to come outside and get it."

It was like déjà vu all over again, Chance thought to himself as the three amigos turned and ran for the United States border and the little hole in the steel fence that separated them from life and death, heaven and hell.

The two women and one man ran quickly through the dark and dirty trash-strewn streets of old Nogales, Mexico, like three old western renegade bandits running desperately from the law. Only they were the law, just not on this side of the fence.

How ironic? thought Chance. Sometimes you’re the good guy, and sometimes you’re the bad guy. It’s all just a matter of perspective and location. The paradox of life always amazed him.

The older, and at times, at least, he had hoped, the wiser Chance found himself quickly lagging behind the younger Alexis Montoya and Marisela Diaz, as Alexis lead the three of them directly and quickly to the small hole in the international border fence that separated the two quite dissimilar countries.

I’m gettin’ too old for this shit, Chance thought to himself. However, he found it both thrilling and downright fun as he ran through the streets of this Mexican hellhole with a goofy smile on his face. It reminded him of the old days in Somalia, East Africa, Kuwait, and Iraq, and he found himself almost giddy, immensely enjoying the old adrenaline rush and the trip down memory lane. That is, until he heard the random gunshots being fired in his general direction and hitting the sand around his feet from the pissed-off Mexican drug lords from El Infierno slowly gaining on him in speed and in confidence from directly behind. He managed to pick up his pace, as the little hole in the border fence came into his line of sight. He clearly saw Alexis bolt through the steel hole like greased lightning, with Marisela only a step or two behind her. Chance reached the hole, ran at full speed through it, and smiled widely at his two angels from heaven as he stepped back into the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, the great United States of America, once more. He felt like kissing the sacred ground underneath his own two feet.

Once back on American soil, the three desperadoes quickly tried to regain their breath and their composure while discussing their next move.

As sporadic gunfire hit the steel fence on the Mexican side, Chance yelled to Alexis, You run for your car and take Marisela home with you tonight. I’ll run for my truck and head for home as well. Keep Marisela hidden inside your house, and you and I will meet up at the sheriff’s station first thing in the morning at 0900 hours and figure out what to do next from there. Call me if you have any trouble.

Got it, said Alexis as she grabbed the wide-eyed and frightened Marisela by her right hand and started to make a mad dash toward her Dodge Charger, which was parked just down the street from their current location.

Chance briefly smiled, waved his right hand in the air, and yelled to Marisela, "Welcome to the United States of America and freedom, seniorita. Alexis and I will protect you and keep you safe. I promise you, my friend."

Marisela quickly flashed a nervous smile back at Chance and waved back at him in a hasty good-bye.

Chance then turned back briefly to the hole in the black steel border fence and emptied the magazine of his Colt .45 semiautomatic pistol into the surrounding area in an attempt to persuade the enemy drug kingpins from attempting to follow them through the hole and into the United States. Chance was back on his own turf now, and he would defend it to the death if he had to. He quickly ran to his Ford Bronco, started her up, and headed for the safety of his home and the Sanctuary Ranch.

Score one for the good guys, he said aloud, as he burned some expensive rubber off his oversized, rear, off-road tires and headed toward Sonoita, Arizona, and his home. Mission accomplished, he said with a grin as he briefly looked at his reflection in his truck’s rearview mirror.

Chapter Two

So what the hell am I supposed to do with Marisela Diaz? Detective Montoya shouted at Sheriff Colt, who was sitting behind his desk in his office the next morning when she walked in at 0900 hours.

"Lower your voice, Alexis, and let me at least shut my door. Jesus Christ, we don’t want the whole world to know we smuggled an illegal alien across the border into the United States yesterday, do we? We’re law enforcement officers, for Christ’s sake. Please, sit down, and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee, and we can talk about it quietly.

I hate to burden you with this, Alexis, but can she stay with you just long enough until she gets on her own two feet? Chance asked. I mean you two look similar enough that you could be sisters or cousins, so that’s what I thought we could tell everyone.

Who’s we, Tonto? Alexis shot back.

"Believe me, I get what you’re saying, Alexis. But we both brought Marisela across. If we get caught by anyone, I’ll take the heat and responsibility for her. After all, it was my decision. However, we had to hurriedly make a tough choice: bring an illegal Mexican citizen across the border with us to save her from certain death, or let her stay on the other side and be possibly tortured, beaten, injured, or killed by a Mexican drug cartel. I, for one, didn’t want that on my conscience, so it was an easy decision that I’d defend any day of the week, even if it gets my ass in a sling with the county board. Marisela is a human being, and I could never leave behind or abandon any innocent human being to be injured, tortured, or killed—Mexican or American.

So you want me to harbor an illegal alien for you? asked Alexis, in a serious and direct tone. I’m an American citizen and an Arizona law enforcement officer, she added for emphasis. And you want me to participate in this illegal activity?

"Well, Alexis, unfortunately, in the real world, things are not always strictly black and white. Sometimes, there are shades of gray that need to be taken into consideration, and this is one of those times. Understand?

It may be technically legally wrong for us to harbor an illegal Mexican citizen here in the United States, but, morally, it’s the right thing to do, Chance continued. "If we bring her back to Mexico, they’ll surely kill her for befriending me. I can’t, and won’t, in good conscience let that