Two More Tacos, a Beretta .32, and a Pink Butterfly

By Dave Zeltserman

When a brutal mob hit occurs inside the victim’s bedroom, and the killer isn’t careful enough to look under the bed to make sure there aren’t any witnesses, there are consequences—namely, a naked blonde witness who is able to escape the apartment. This blonde is only seen from behind. Aside from being petite, she has one distinguishing feature: a pink butterfly tattoo on her right ass cheek.

Lance, the guy in Chicago you hire when you have this type of problem, is given the near impossible task of tracking down this mysterious blonde with the pink butterfly tattoo, and follows next are a series of double-crosses and betrayals leading to a shocking finale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Down & Out Books
• Release date: Jul 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005945114

Book preview

TWO MORE TACOS, A BERETTA .32,

AND A PINK BUTTERFLY

Guns + Tacos Season Three Episode 1

Dave Zeltserman

Series Created and Edited by

Michael Bracken and Trey R. Barker

Copyright © 2021 by Dave Zeltserman

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cover design by Zach McCain

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Two More Tacos, a Beretta .32, and a Pink Butterfly

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Books by the Author

Preview from the fourteenth episode of Guns + Tacos

Two Tamales, One Tokarev, and a Lifetime of Broken Promises by Stacy Woodson

To Chicago writer, Michael Black, who knows the dark side of the street.

Part One: Danny Meadows

Danny Meadows plodded down the five stone steps leading to the basement-level Kinzie Street bar. The day had been brighter than normal for September, and after stepping inside the aptly named Broken Drum, Meadows stood for a moment to give his eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness of the place. It had been two months since his last visit, and it still had the same tin ceiling and dark wood paneling. Although the owner poured sixty thousand dollars into remodeling the place and upgrading the kitchen, it still looked like a dive. Wasted money, Meadows thought, not that he cared. The fact that the bar was nearly empty proved his point.

The bartender was new. At least he hadn’t seen her before. Early thirties, maybe. A redhead. A little too pale and ten pounds too skinny. Still, he liked seeing the tightness that showed around her mouth when she forced a smile in his direction. He also enjoyed seeing the fear glistening in her very large eyes as she watched him approach the shiny, new brass bar that she stood behind; one of a number of useless improvements the owner had made. Meadows couldn’t blame her for the way she reacted to him. He was a large, hulking man with a scary toughness about him, but there was more to it than that. Once someone got a good enough look at his eyes and mouth, they quickly understood his true nature. Cruelty. He had business that afternoon, but if he had time later he would have fun with her. He took a seat on a new red leather barstool and smiled inwardly as he caught the hitch alongside her mouth that momentarily wrecked her smile.

Meadows peered past her so he could study the bottles lining the back shelf. The owner had upgraded his booze, not that it had done any good in making the place profitable. He shifted his gaze back to the bartender and told her which bourbon he wanted, and told her to bring over the bottle and a glass with a couple of ice cubes.

I can’t do that, she said.

Sure you can, darling. He showed her an open-mouthed smile that would’ve looked right at home on a rattlesnake. Joe’s in his office, right? Give him a call and tell him Danny Meadows is here. He’ll tell you it’s okay.

The way his eyes deadened convinced her to leave him the bottle and a glass. He poured himself a double and took his time sipping it. The bartender moved to the end of the bar and fidgeted as she cut up a plate of limes, but she couldn’t get out from under his gaze. Soon she was wilting under it.

Yeah, he was going to have fun with her later.

Be seeing you, darling, Meadows said. He pushed himself off the barstool, grabbed the bottle and glass, and headed to an office in the back where he found the owner, Joe Harney, scowling at a stack of bills. Meadows wore crepe-soled shoes and could be quiet when he wanted to be, and Harney didn’t notice as he pulled up a chair. It wasn’t until Meadows put