EDGE OF HONOR: On The Edge Duet: Book One

by Chance, Jacob

  The smile leaves Belfast’s face and his eyes narrow on mine. “You’re probably right, luv. I’m fairly certain there’s no coming back from most of what I’ve done.” He runs a finger across my cheek, brushing my hair back over my ear. The gesture seems almost tender before he shrugs his shoulders in resignation. “But there’s more left to do, and I can’t stop now.”

  He stands and walks away from the car door. “Do yourself a favor.” He turns back to face me again. “Your boy, Nash, seems okay, but don’t trust the rest of your friends.”

  He’s out of sight within seconds and I hear a car start, then drive away behind me.

  I sit up slowly and start to work the zip ties on my ankles. My body is still reeling from the repeated tasing and my hands aren’t exactly cooperating. Every time I make progress loosening the binds, my fingers spasm and I have to start again.

  By the time I finally get my legs free, I’m out of breath and fall back against the seat.

  “Agent Cohn?” I hear a voice call out from the sidewalk behind me.

  “Here.” I raise my still bound, shaking hands into the air so they can see me. “All clear.”

  “Are you alone?” another voice calls out from the rear left side of the vehicle.

  “I am,” I shout back. “What took you guys so…”

  I don’t recognize the two men who suddenly step into view on opposite sides of the car, but I do know they’re not FBI. These are soldiers, I’d bet my life on it. And these soldiers are still pointing their assault rifles at me.

  “Where is he?” The one on my right moves in closer to check the back seat.

  “He’s gone, fellas.” I look back and forth at each of them. “Now how about you boys point those barrels in another direction?” Neither of them responds, or moves their guns. “Do you mind explaining to me what the fuck is going on here?” These two assholes are starting to piss me off.

  “Shut her up.” The one on the driver's side shoulders his rifle as the one to my right edges closer. “You heard him.”

  “He's gone. It’s just the girl.” The one on my left walks in front of the car talking on a satellite phone. “The FBI agent, yes.”

  “I’m not sure what she knows, but we don’t have much time to find out.” He steps over next to his partner on the sidewalk. “Unless we move her to a secure location.”

  He listens quietly for nearly a minute before responding, “Yes. I understand,” and then hangs up the phone.

  “She didn’t make it.” I hear his whisper to his partner and fear washes over me. My skin erupts in goosebumps as a cold sweat rushes through me. “Officially, he killed her while escaping.”

  “Here?” His partner is now pointing his weapon directly at my face.

  My heart races so fast I’m weak and my ears ring.

  “Here and now.”

  “You sure?”

  “I am.”

  “Hooray for you, little lady.” His partner inches closer and smiles, placing the barrel directly against my temple. “You get to die a hero.”

  This is it.

  There’s no way out.

  I’m not ready to die.

  I close my eyes, and the last face I picture is the next voice I hear.

  “Hey, bud.” The sound of his voice is immediately followed by two gunshots at close range. I pop open my eyes to find both soldiers dead on the ground.

  “I have to say,” Belfast steps into view through the fresh gunsmoke, “I’m fairly disappointed.”

  “Hi.” It slips out. And I hate myself for sounding like the stereotypical damsel in distress.

  “I mean, you just closed your eyes and gave up?” He sounds truly confused as he searches the soldiers, emptying their pockets and collecting their weapons. “You’ll have to do better than that, luv, otherwise we won’t make it through this.”

  “We?” I kick at him as he leans inside the door to check on me.

  “Really?” He backs up and grabs one of the dead men by the hair, jerking his lifeless head up off the ground. “There’s no way these two are operating alone. Think about it. This is the scout team.”

  What he said makes sense.

  “You have to know more are coming.” He waits for a response I don’t give. “Look, I’m still not completely convinced you’re not one of them, Georgie. But it wasn’t me they were just pointing guns at, darling. They didn’t just come here for me.”

  He’s not wrong.

  “I’m obviously not leaving you behind, so just let me know now if I have to tase you again.”

  I don’t respond right away and he begins reaching for the taser.

  “All right, all right.” I stop him. “For now we work together—for now.”

  Belfast raises a dark brow. “I get the feeling I’m going to regret this.” He slips a knife I didn’t see him holding under the zip ties on my hands and cuts them off in one swift slice. “Take this.” He hands me a loaded forty-five. “Follow me.”

  Chapter Ten

  Belfast

  “Jesus Christ,” Georgia curses. “They’re like locusts.” She’s used to being the one in control, the pursuer. She’s clearly not comfortable being chased and her frustration shows. “What are you hearing? What are they saying?”

  “Shh.” I wave off her questions.

  “Are you out of your mind? Who the hell do you think you’re shushing?” She’s too loud.

  “Georgia.” I raise my voice just enough to get her attention. “I can’t hear anything with you chirping in my other ear.” I cup my hand over the earpiece I took from one of the dead soldiers. “They’ve noticed their buddies aren’t answering so it’s only a matter of time before we’ve got company. We need to keep moving and put some more distance between us.”

  “Why don’t you want me to call Nash again?” Georgia inquires.

  “You’re kidding, right?” After what just went down, how can she think that’s a good option?

  “He could have a team of agents here in minutes.” She raises her voice and people around us take notice.

  “I did just call your boy, Georgie. I’m fairly certain he’s already sent that team of men you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, really, then where are they?”

  “Well, two of them are marinating in the street back there where we left ’em.” I slow down and lower my voice.

  “You can’t possibly think Nash is involved in what just happened. Wait, do you?” She stops walking and looks distressed. She's still trying to wrap her brain around what’s going on.

  “We’ve got to keep moving.” I step back and place my hand just above the small of her back, urging her forward.

  “Don’t touch me,” she shouts, and people take notice, again.

  “Georgia, you’re gonna get us killed. We need to get as far away as possible, as fast as we can.”

  “Fine. But what’s the plan? And why are we walking? You’re a criminal, can’t you steal us a car or something?”

  “How about for now, we draw as little attention to ourselves as possible?”

  “Right.” Georgia quickly regains her focus. “We can grab a ride when we need it. For now we… wait, where are we going?”

  “This way.” I turn away and keep walking. She hesitates for a few seconds before following.

  “I need to know.” She catches up and stops me with an arm on my shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but I can see she’s trying to remain calm. And she’s struggling with it.

  “We are on scene. Advance team is down.” The earpiece comes alive with chatter. “I repeat, the advance team is down.”

  Georgia sees I’m listening in again and stops talking, stepping in close.

  The streets this time of day are crowded, and there’s a significant amount of noise around us, making it difficult to make out everything being said. But through the earpiece, I can clearly hear the confusion of the men back where we left their friends.

  “This was supposed to be a one-off.”

  “Who th
e fuck is this guy?”

  I finally hear the voice of someone who appears to be in charge. “Lock down the immediate area and await further orders. And let’s assume our comms are compromised.”

  The earpiece instantly goes silent.

  “Sounds like they’ll be sitting still for a bit.” I check up and down the street until I find a quiet spot. “Follow me.”

  “Follow you?” Judging by Georgia’s expression, she’s at her wits end, but she falls in step right away.

  We walk for half a block before halting at a small bus stop, currently occupied by an elderly homeless man. He’s stretched out across the bench, snoring, while four people stand outside the hut trying to ignore his presence.

  “Let’s talk.” I offer her a seat.

  “You’re kidding. Here?” Georgia looks disgusted by the old drunkard as well.

  “What’s wrong with the bus hut?”

  “First off, that’s not what it’s called. It’s called a vestibule. And second, it’s currently occupied. I’m thinking we might need a small slice of privacy to talk,” Georgia snipes.

  “Okay, Georgie. First off, I like the way I said it better.”

  “Whatever. There’s still no privacy.”

  “You got me there, darling.” I turn to the people standing along the sidewalk. “Find another vesti…” I turn back to Georgia.

  “Vestibule,” she utters, sounding annoyed.

  I turn back to face the pedestrians again. “Find another one.” They all walk away without protest.

  “And what about him?” Georgia points at the old man, who’s now sitting straight up and mumbling incoherently at no one in particular.

  “Hey, Gampy.” I gently place a heel on his foot to get his attention. “Tell your story walking.” I hold out a twenty dollar bill, which immediately gets his full attention. He stops mumbling, looks straight up into my eyes, and reaches for the money.

  “I will gladly take my business elsewhere.” His speech is suddenly quite intelligible. “If you will just remove your heel.” I take a slow step back and wait while he quickly gathers a few belongings. “Thank you, sir.” He smiles and wipes a filthy sleeve across the length of the bench, as if he’s cleaning it.

  “My lady.” He smiles and bows, then falls back into a mumbling, drunken stagger within a few shuffling steps.

  “What do you need to know?” I sit down on one end of the bench.

  “Wait, what?” Georgia sits down on the opposite end of the bench. We’re like two bookends.

  “Back there you said ‘I need to know.’ What is it that you were referring to?” I speak calmly, hoping it will settle her down.

  “What do I need to know—what do I need to know?” Georgia laughs to herself. “How about every-fucking-thing? And you can start with what happened to Karyn.” She clenches her fists and her voice cracks a little as she speaks Karyn’s name. “I need some answers.” She pauses to clear her throat. “What happened to Karyn?” she repeats the question.

  “I'm certain I don’t have enough to satisfy your ‘need to know,’ but I’ll tell you everything.”

  We sit on opposite sides of the bench, and for the next five minutes, I tell her about Patrick Cahill coming into the dispensary looking for me. I lay out the details for her about the Common and Karyn’s subsequent visit to my shop. I repeat our conversation verbatim, leading her up to and including the explosion.

  “After that, the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital with those two assholes trying to put me down for the big sleep. Might I add that your timing there was impeccable.”

  We sit in relative silence for the next couple of minutes while Georgia processes what she’s just heard. “Who is Mateo Navarro?” she asks as she quickly slides across the bench until we’re right next to each other.

  “Georgie, in another life I was much less than the honorable man you see sitting here before you.”

  “Honor—pfft.” She blows air through her lips as if disgusted. “You wouldn’t recognize honor even if it walked right up here now and slapped you across the face.”

  “Oh, I’ve been in the presence of honor plenty, darling. I’ve just lived long enough to realize that honor is like the Croaghaun Mountain sea cliffs back home in Ireland. The massive cliffs on the northern side of the isle are a glorious sight to behold, towering above the jagged rocks and whirling seas below. And people come from all over this world to stand at the edge and take in all the beauty.”

  “Sounds amazing.”

  “Oh, it is, Georgie. But while it may seem like a good idea to climb up and stand face-to-face with Mother Nature in all her glory, sometimes, if you get too close, the winds can pull you right over the edge.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “So are words like honor. Things done in the name of honor can be just as dangerous.”

  “Esscusse me.” The old drunkard has returned with what looks like a half empty gallon of cheap vodka. “I just need to knooowww… how long you gunnna be sittinnnn on my front porrchhh.”

  He sways from side to side, stepping forward and back in a constant attempt to keep from falling down. “Now if you haaad anuvrrr twenny dollars, I might be able to spare a couple mo—”

  His head explodes three feet away from us, covering the plexiglass of the bus stop in blood, bone, and brain matter.

  “Hard right,” Georgia calls out as she begins firing directly over my shoulder. “I count six.”

  I crouch low, checking our left without exposing myself outside the metal frame of the bus hut.

  “Four more coming on the left, one thousand yards and closing.” They’re boxing us in.

  The plexiglass shatters all around us and two more civilians are hit in the onslaught.

  “Save your rounds,” I shout to Georgia, who is still returning fire.

  The moment she stops, bullets begin raining down on our location once again. I look to see they've stopped advancing, but we’re now pinned against the concrete, laying flat and hoping for a break to save our lives.

  “We need a way out.” Georgia’s eyes are wild with panic. We’re in a desperate situation and the hopelessness is showing on her face.

  A Boston Police cruiser screeches to a halt in the middle of the street. Two patrolmen hop out of either side of the car, shouting orders with weapons in hand.

  “Take cover.” They quickly realize the men approaching do not care who they are. They just keep coming and shooting.

  The officers look shocked but immediately return fire when fired upon. They’ve just driven directly into the center of the firefight and hopefully have given us a chance.

  “Follow me.” I roll out from under the bus hut and across the sidewalk toward the street.

  The patrolman on the passenger side of the cruiser is pinned tight against the front quarter panel, just behind the tire. He looks up at me wide eyed and breathless.

  “It’s you.” He tilts his head and starts to raise his gun in my direction.

  “It’s them.” Georgia throws an arm over my shoulder, holding her badge out for the officer to see. She returns fire in the opposite direction with the other hand while lying flat on her stomach on the sidewalk and in the middle of a gunfight.

  “That just might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” I raise my head, smile, and wink.

  “Fuck off and get us out of here,” Georgia shouts as she drops an empty clip from her gun and reloads, springing to her feet and taking cover behind the cruiser.

  I think I’m in love.

  Chapter Eleven

  Georgia

  The cruiser is being pinged with bullets from both directions. They’re still a good distance off but closing fast. I’m surprised I’ve made it this far.

  “Agent Cohn, Boston FBI.” I introduce myself to the officer crouched two feet to my left.

  “Who the fuck are these guys?” he shouts back.

  “No idea.”

  “What do they want?” he persists.

&n
bsp; “Him.” I nod back toward the sidewalk.

  Belfast is still pinned flat and patiently waiting for a break in the current volley of gunfire. He looks annoyingly calm and I can’t be sure, but I think he just blew a kiss at me.

  “Now,” I shout as there’s a pause in the firing out in front. They must be reloading.

  Belfast pops up and makes for the cruiser, but he’s not quick enough. The sidewalk explodes around him as the gunfire erupts again.

  “C’mon,” I yell to him as I jump up and return fire from behind the cruiser’s side mirror. I empty the full magazine, providing cover fire and turn back just in time to see Belfast isn’t coming.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he shouts, turning and running toward the men shooting at us.

  “What the fuck is he doing?”

  “Is he crazy?” The BPD officers can’t believe what they’re seeing. Neither can I.

  Belfast runs full speed up the side of the street, directly at the closest shooter. There’s a row of cars between them providing cover for Belfast, but he’s firing on full auto and tracing rounds across the entire length of cars.

  I’m sure he’s just as shocked as we are by what he’s seeing, so his line of fire is a little behind Belfast as he approaches. But he’s catching up.

  Before he can, Belfast gets within the firing range of his pistol and darts out from behind the parked cars. He keeps running full speed and doesn’t stop pulling the trigger until he literally runs right over the man's dead body.

  “Cover him,” I call out, and begin firing to the front of the cruiser.

  Belfast keeps advancing and is on top of the next shooter before the guy even realizes he’s at their end of the street.

  Within a couple of seconds, he leaves the second shooter flat on his back in the middle of the road. What looks like a large knife handle is sticking straight out of his throat. The blade is buried inside.

  “Who the fuck is this guy?” The patrolman next to me can’t help repeating himself.

  Belfast immediately grabs the dying man’s weapon and starts up the street toward the next shooter. The gun must be empty because he discards it within a couple steps and has to take cover behind a garbage truck a few hundred yards up the road.