Snake Slayer

By Rob Pierce

Three criminals on the run, not just from the law but from other criminals. Two of them are lovers, the third her former lover. Where does love lie, except in the grave?

Deria is the psychotic woman who prefers to work with a guy who’s good in bed. Vern is her violent ex, who let her go because he thought she lived too dangerously. Russ is the new guy, new to Deria, new to whatever hell he’s gotten himself into.

Can they keep the money from the psychotics who want it?

Are they more psychotic?

Or will they break down from the acts they must commit?

If you liked Pierce’s Vern in the Heat, you’re going to love Snake Slayer. And if you didn’t read that one, strap in for the ride. It’s fast, it’s bloody, and it goes well beyond that, into the minds of those who commit the horrible crimes.

Praise for Snake Slayer:

“Pierce’s writing doesn’t so much take you for a ride as it throws you in the trunk and takes off at top speed. Kinetic, blistering, and hard-boiled to the bone, Snake Slayer is a read to be experienced more than once.” —Angel Luis Colon, author of Hell Chose Me

“Imagine if Raymond Carver’s slick poetic prose and unhappy alcoholics found themselves with a gun and a thirst for crime—you’d get Rob Pierce’s bleak but darkly funny Snake Slayer.” —Shawna Yang Ryan, author of Green Island

“Rob Pierce puts the pedal to the medal from the word go in his latest novella, Snake Slayer. Pierce is a master of tight writing and great action sequences cut lean and hard...a hard-rock symphony of violence.” —Bobby Mathews, author of Living the Gimmick

“Rob Pierce explores the humanity of otherwise ordinary people who kill first and ask questions later. There is violence or sex on every page—for a reason. The dialogue is masterful and the action is flawlessly executed!” —Kris Calvin, author of Under a Broken Sky

“Tough guys and tougher women, zip-tied together...Pierce’s sharp, minimalistic style lays the story like brutal poetry while offering glimpses of the horror and humanity behind his characters.” —Marietta Miles, author of May and After the Rain

“Crime is a dish well-delivered: lean, unsentimental, and pitiless. That’s what Rob Pierce brings to the table, and Snake Slayer is a choice cut of prime unadulterated Pierce.” —Scott Adlerberg, author of Graveyard Love and Jack Waters

“Deria...every woman’s fantasy of killing without compunction. Mesmerizing in its staccato delivery, Snake Slayer is also riveting with its psycho story, complete with happy ending. Well, sort of. A must-read noir gem.” —Kate Thornton, author of Buzz Kill

“Rob Pierce has crafted an action packed tale of a woman on the grind determined to do whatever it takes in a blood drenched hell to make her own personal heaven.” —Tia Ja’nae, author of Ghosts on the Block Never Sleep

“This is real crime fiction, reminiscent of Edward Bunker. Dialogue sharp enough to shave with and prose that repeatedly jabs before landing several knockout blows. With Snake Slayer, Pierce stakes his claim as one of the best in the business.” —Bill Baber

“Lean, mean, and spitting venom, Snake Slayer coils around your throat and won’t let go. Rob Pierce delivers a hard-boiled narrative that’s all the more brutal for its fleeting moments of tenderness.” —Scott Von Doviak, author of Charlesgate Confidential

“Deria, a woman who won’t hesitate to put a hole in someone, smile about it, and go along with her day.” —Kevin Lear

“The high priest of Oakland low-lives is back with another nihilistic neo-noir nightmare ... this merciless book will shoot you in the back and finish its drink while you bleed out in the gutter.” —Tom Leins, author of Repetition Kills You and Sharp Knives & Loud Guns

• Language: English
• Publisher: Down & Out Books
• Release date: Aug 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005258252

Book preview

SNAKE SLAYER

Rob Pierce

PRAISE FOR SNAKE SLAYER

"Pierce’s writing doesn’t so much take you for a ride as it throws you in the trunk and takes off at top speed. Kinetic, blistering, and hard-boiled to the bone, Snake Slayer is a read to be experienced more than once." —Angel Luis Colon, author of Hell Chose Me

"Imagine if Raymond Carver’s slick poetic prose and unhappy alcoholics found themselves with a gun and a thirst for crime—you’d get Rob Pierce’s bleak but darkly funny Snake Slayer." —Shawna Yang Ryan, author of Green Island

"Rob Pierce puts the pedal to the medal from the word go in his latest novella, Snake Slayer. Pierce is a master of tight writing and great action sequences cut lean and hard…a hard-rock symphony of violence." —Bobby Mathews, author of Living the Gimmick

Rob Pierce explores the humanity of otherwise ordinary people who kill first and ask questions later. There is violence or sex on every page—for a reason. The dialogue is masterful and the action is flawlessly executed! —Kris Calvin, author of Under a Broken Sky

Tough guys and tougher women, zip-tied together...Pierce’s sharp, minimalistic style lays the story like brutal poetry while offering glimpses of the horror and humanity behind his characters. —Marietta Miles, author of May and After the Rain

"Crime is a dish well-delivered: lean, unsentimental, and pitiless. That’s what Rob Pierce brings to the table, and Snake Slayer is a choice cut of prime unadulterated Pierce." —Scott Adlerberg, author of Graveyard Love and Jack Waters

"Deria…every woman’s fantasy of killing without compunction. Mesmerizing in its staccato delivery, Snake Slayer is also riveting with its psycho story, complete with happy ending. Well, sort of. A must-read noir gem." —Kate Thornton, author of Buzz Kill

Rob Pierce has crafted an action packed tale of a woman on the grind determined to do whatever it takes in a blood drenched hell to make her own personal heaven. —Tia Ja’nae, author of Ghosts on the Block Never Sleep

"This is real crime fiction, reminiscent of Edward Bunker. Dialogue sharp enough to shave with and prose that repeatedly jabs before landing several knockout blows. With Snake Slayer, Pierce stakes his claim as one of the best in the business." —Bill Baber

"Lean, mean, and spitting venom, Snake Slayer coils around your throat and won’t let go. Rob Pierce delivers a hard-boiled narrative that’s all the more brutal for its fleeting moments of tenderness." —Scott Von Doviak, author of Charlesgate Confidential

Deria, a woman who won’t hesitate to put a hole in someone, smile about it, and go along with her day. —Kevin Lear

The high priest of Oakland low-lives is back with another nihilistic neo-noir nightmare ... this merciless book will shoot you in the back and finish its drink while you bleed out in the gutter. —Tom Leins, author of Repetition Kills You and Sharp Knives & Loud Guns

Copyright © 2022 by Rob Pierce

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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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Snake Slayer

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Books by the Author

Preview from Breaking Character by Mark T. Conard

Preview from The Damned Lovely by Adam Frost

Preview from Scar Tissue by Jeffery Hess

For all the women who thought they loved me,

until I proved them wrong.

BOOK 1

Chapter 1

I told the girl. Only the girl.

Not what Russ wanted to hear.

Idiot. He slapped Kyle hard across the cheek. Where is she?

Her place?

Russ got up from his chair, put on his light jacket, made sure a pistol was in it. He had Kyle’s as well. Let’s go.

Go?

I go to her or she comes to me. She ain’t here and she ain’t comin’.

They drove. Her place was an apartment, second floor.

Can you get in?

Kyle nodded. Reluctant bastard.

Let’s go.

They walked into the building, got to her apartment. Kyle knocked, no answer. They entered.

Kyle started to say something stupid, must have realized it, shut up. If he’d done that from the start, they wouldn’t be doing this.

What’s her name?

Deria.

Like a dairy?

Yeah.

Russ figured she was hot, stupid as Kyle had been to tell her. It was a goddamn robbery, for Chrissake. Who talks about that shit?

It was a small living room. Russ stood over a nice-looking chair, told Kyle to sit and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

She could be hours, Kyle said. I could get thirsty too.

You’re the reason we’re here. You don’t get a drink out of that.

Kyle didn’t answer. At least, Russ thought, his stupidity had its limits.

Russ drank slow, Kyle sat tight. Real tight, nerves on edge. Like Russ would kill him and her both.

The thought had crossed his mind.

Russ’s second beer was near empty when he heard the doorknob jiggle. He was up and across the room by the time she stepped inside. He shut it behind her, locked and latched it.

Deria. He saw the motive for Kyle talking. She was a brown-eyed brunette, early thirties, medium height, light skin, trim but nicely rounded.

She backed away. She looked across the room at Kyle, took another step back. There was no way him being here made it safer for her. He’d said something last night, it had to do with a robbery, and there’s no way he should have said it. Russ saw it clicking in her eyes that he also had something to do with the robbery.

Come on. Have a seat at the table with me and Kyle.

She walked into the living room, sat across from her idiot boyfriend.

Russ stood over the couple, leaned on the table, looked at her. It was nice to have an excuse. You know why I’m here?

Because of what he said.

Hear that, Kyle? She gets it. What the hell’d you brag for? I don’t need to know. Only, you gotta think. You put my life at risk. That puts your life at risk. Hers too.

Her? She didn’t say nothin’.

She knows. We’re still pullin’ the job tomorrow. But we ain’t leavin’ here tonight. I gotta see the bedroom, Deria.

She got up and walked into the room, Kyle right behind her, Russ trailing. A bed, a closet, a bathroom. No window in the bathroom, just the one in the bedroom. No balcony but not a long drop to the ground. That had to be figured. There was a couch in the living room Russ could sleep on. Lie down, anyway. Her bedroom door propped open, no way they’d get past him. He searched the apartment for guns, didn’t find any.

The window then. It pulled up and opened.

Got a hammer and nails? he said to Deria.

Yeah.

And a saw?

No.

He expected that. Who needs a saw in an apartment? He was lucky she had any tools at all.

Kyle, get the hammer and nails.

Kyle opened a closet door, pulled out a small toolbox. What size nails?

Bring me the toolbox. Take the hammer to the dresser and pry off the long drawers.

The whole drawer?

Russ threw back his head, sighed. Just the front, stupid.

There were three long drawers. He held the hammer upside down and hooked behind the first.

Careful not to break them. One breaks, you die.

He was careful, which made him slow, but Russ could just hear one of those drawers cracking and becoming useless. It would probably take all three to board up the window. If it took only two, that was luck. Anyway, Kyle would do the work. He was young, compared to Russ at least. Plus, Russ had a pistol to take care of.

Kyle finally got all three loose. By the time he did, Russ had chosen the nails. Didn’t know why Deria owned so many, but there weren’t any midsized and the small ones were too small. More work for Kyle, hammering in the long nails. Stamina should be one of his strengths. And he could sleep through the night, once he was boarded in. Russ had to sleep restlessly, in case Kyle and Deria tried to escape.

Kyle set to hammering. The boards warped a little as he did, jutted out by the window casing. That didn’t matter. Hammer in all three, one above the other, and it would be loud as hell to remove them. That’s all Russ cared about.

Deria, to her credit, hadn’t bitched one bit about her dresser being pulled apart. Probably figured it was better the dresser than her.

Kyle got the window boarded up. While he worked on it, Russ emptied the dresser and slid it over to hold the door open. It blocked the bulk of the bathroom doorway, but that was their problem. He sat on the couch and thought about the job tomorrow. It was him and Kyle. Once Kyle had his pistol again, Russ couldn’t turn his back. Strictly a short-term partnership.

Keeping Kyle in front of him during the job wouldn’t change the plan. It was after the job he’d have to watch his step. Russ lay down. Eventually he’d sleep, his coat on and pistol inside it. Something stronger to drink might help but he’d looked, it wasn’t here.

Russ slept a little during the night. His neck didn’t tighten too much. He felt the sunlight hit him, checked the clock. Past seven, and he couldn’t sleep. Kyle! Get up.

Russ was sure Kyle didn’t like it; however badly he slept he still wanted to snuggle more. Fuck that. Russ stepped into their doorway. You awake?

It’s early, what’s the rush?

I don’t like it here. Put on some coffee, I gotta talk to your girlfriend.

Talk? What about?

She can’t go to work today. Get dressed and get in the kitchen. Oh, before you go, help me move this dresser back. He noticed the drawers were in place. Not the front pieces though, they still covered the window. Pull those fucking drawers.

Kyle took them out again so they could move the thing easier.

What are you doing? she said, sitting up.

Go to the kitchen, Russ said to Kyle.

Kyle went.

Russ shut the door and answered. We put this back so the door can shut. She didn’t need to know more than that, not yet.

Why?

There was a lock on the doorknob. He turned it.

I don’t rape, he said. You ain’t gotta worry about that. He opened her closet, grabbed a skirt.

What are you doing?

Shut up.

She did and he approached the bed. She got up, stood on the floor. She wore, he didn’t know what you called it, basically an underwear robe. It showed her off nice. He stood in front of her, tore a strip off the skirt. She started to scream and he shoved it in her mouth. Now you’ll shut up for sure.

What’s going on in there? Kyle stopped outside the door and jiggled the knob.

Go make my coffee.

But Deria.

"She’s fine. She stays that way if you make my coffee."

He grumbled something, walked away.

Your boyfriend needs to learn trust. He tore another strip from the skirt. She tried to scream but the strip in her mouth was too big. Careful, you’ll choke. Now, turn around.

She tried to hit him but he grabbed her wrist, punched her in the gut, and spun her so her back was to him. He’d dropped the cloth onto the bed. He slammed her into the wall, picked up the cloth, and tied both wrists together while her body heaved for breath. He laid her on her back and tied her legs together with another strip of cloth.

She was still conscious. She’d live, thank God. He’d momentarily worried about blowing his chances with her, worried he’d killed her, worried about all the evidence he’d left in this apartment. He stepped to the door, unlocked it, opened it a crack. "Call in sick if you got