Two Tamales, One Tokarev, and a Lifetime of Broken Promises

By Stacy Woodson

A minister, a taco truck, and a gun, what could possibly go wrong?

Vivian, an ex-con turned prison minister, discovers her brother, Tommy, is in debt to the Chicago Outfit. And they’re calling the note—20 grand plus the juice. If Tommy doesn’t come up with the money in 72 hours, he will be a permanent resident of Lake Michigan.

As kids, she and her brother grew up on the streets and lived by a set of rules: #1 no drugs, #2 no turning tricks, #3 no tangling with the mob. And they’d have each other’s back—always.

Vivian can’t abandon her brother, despite the risk to her church and the new life she’s built for herself.

So, she comes up with a plan—a way to turn the tables on the Outfit and save her brother. An Eastside bookie, a taco truck, and a Russian-made pistol are key. But even she knows the plan is a long shot. There was a reason why she made rule #3. When it comes to the mob, someone always pays a price.

“Buckle up for a gritty trip through Chicago’s seedy underbelly! Come along as Viv, an ex-con minister, struggles to provide salvation for her brother with the help of the Good Book—and a Tokarev. Stacy Woodson’s snappy voice sparkles in this tense tale of family loyalty. A winner!” —Alan Orloff, ITW Thriller- and Derringer-award winning writer

• Language: English
• Publisher: Down & Out Books
• Release date: Aug 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005399948

Book preview

TWO TAMALES, ONE TOKAREV,

AND A LIFETIME OF BROKEN PROMISES

Guns + Tacos Season Three Episode 2

Stacy Woodson

Series Created and Edited by

Michael Bracken and Trey R. Barker

PRAISE FOR TWO TAMALES, ONE TOKAREV,

AND A LIFETIME OF BROKEN PROMISES

Buckle up for a gritty trip through Chicago’s seedy underbelly! Come along as Viv, an ex-con minister, struggles to provide salvation for her brother with the help of the Good Book—and a Tokarev. Stacy Woodson’s snappy voice sparkles in this tense tale of family loyalty. A winner! —Alan Orloff, ITW Thriller- and Derringer-award winning writer

Copyright © 2021 by Stacy Woodson

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.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Two Tamales, One Tokarev, and a Lifetime of Broken Promises

About the Author

Preview from the fifteenth episode of Guns + Tacos

Chimichangas and a Couple of Glocks by David H. Hendrickson

A minister, a taco truck, and a gun. The setup sounds like the opening of a late-night comedy schtick—at least when Leno was still on the air. Back when a two-cent joke could get you a laugh. But the shit I’m dealing with isn’t remotely funny.

It’s the kind of thing that gets you a nickel in federal prison.

The wind blows, and it smells like I’m standing in front of some Taco Tuesday toilet bank waiting to take a leak, not standing in front of a food truck waiting to buy a burner.

You may be wondering why I’d risk my reputation, my life, to do this. Here’s the thing, I wasn’t always a clergywoman. And my brother Tommy—I’m the only hope he’s got left.

I hang back while a couple of glassy-eyed, twenty-somethings, laughing too loud, stare at the menu. I look past them across the street at the tall high-rises—condos probably filled with young yuppies who like artisanal cheeses and gourmet coffee and organic cotton sheets.

I wonder if East Side Edna sent me to the right place, if this truck is really legit.

At least there isn’t a chance I’ll be recognized in this high-end neighborhood. And would it really matter anyway?

If I am stopped, I’ll flash my collar. A minister walking the streets of Chicago isn’t something new. There are plenty of night ministers tending to the homeless and disaffected youth.

The couple still screw around at the window.

I continue to wait. My anxiety continues to build.

And I curse Tommy for putting me in this position again.

I plunge my hands into the front pocket of the hoodie, the one I borrowed from the church’s lost and found, and watch a police cruiser drive by—lights on, no sirens, tires hissing against the wet pavement.

And my minister story suddenly doesn’t feel so plausible anymore.

I imagine what it would be like to get pinched. To go back to prison. No fresh air. No open windows. The view of my world through a bean slot in a steel door.

I can nearly feel the silver bracelets on my wrists, the metal digging into my skin, smell the remnants of sweat and puke left by some drunk in the back seat of the police cruiser.

And I almost want to puke myself.

I fight the urge to sit, put my head between my legs. I’ll be damned if I look like that puking pastor at the Lombardo Brothers Funeral Home. So, I yank down the zipper on the hoodie instead and hope the cool air will be enough.

The couple finally orders. They take their paper bags already pooled with grease and stumble across the street toward the condos.

It’s finally my turn at the truck. I remember Edna’s instructions.

Ask for Jessie, then the special.

I walk up, but no one is at the