By the time I reached the top of the two short flights, sweat bathed my face. My breath was short from the toll of clenching my core tight, my body fighting against the pain in my side.
The front of my suit coat was slick with blood, the black material and the shirt under it matted to my skin.
Pausing just long enough to catch my breath, I looked in either direction, able to see only a single flight of stairs before they reached a landing and headed back in the opposite direction. With my shoulder pressed against the wall alongside the door, I ran the sleeve of my jacket over my face, mopping away some of the sweat.
Through the heavy wooden door beside me, I could hear the muted tones of a party in full swing.
Now was the time. The moment to suck it up, to push past the pain, to prove that my sister-in-law’s faith in reaching out was justified.
That I could do for my niece what I had failed to do for my family.
The instant the door opened, a burst of light and sound slammed into me, far greater than anything I could have anticipated. Like standing beside the speakers at a rock concert, it resembled a scene from The Great Gatsby, drunken revelry playing out around me in a manner I would have never thought possible.
A band playing in the corner, blasting out jazz favorites, musical precision cast aside in favor of volume. Servers with loaded platters of appetizers and drinks of every size and color.
Guests filling nearly every possible square inch. Many already well into inebriation, they had reached the point in the evening where ties and jackets were stripped away, sleeves rolled up. Their faces flush with alcohol, they talked and laughed at decibels that couldn’t be healthy for their voices or their hearing.
Not a single person seemed to notice as I slipped in through the side door. Browning pressed tight to my thigh, ready to shoot, I took a step to the left, letting the door swing shut behind.
Keeping my back to the wall, I kept going in that direction, head on a swivel, a checklist in mind of what I needed to watch for.
Asai. Guards. Elyse.
Not necessarily in that order.
The space before me was enormous, close to fifty yards square. In the center of the room was a crystal champagne fountain, three tiers rising almost ten feet into the air. Around the base of it, people were openly sticking their glasses into the flow, oblivious to the liquid sloshing over their wrists, drenching their shirt sleeves or dripping to the carpet below.
Moving to my left, I made it to the corner unabated before making the turn. Right hand still wrapped around the Browning, my left served as a guide, keeping constant contact with the wall, a way of anchoring myself without having to look away from my surroundings.
The first guard showed ninety seconds after I entered the room.
Stepping through the same door I had, he was dressed just as the others had been, a dark suit underscored by a shirt open at the collar. Unlike the others, he seemed to have cast aside the submachine gun, the weapon a bit too conspicuous, regardless how much I might have managed to dull their inhibitions.
A moment later, a second one appeared, this one stepping off the elevator. Dressed much the same, the two men exchanged a quick glance, each shaking their head slightly, before turning their attention out to the crowd.
Through the sea of chaos separating us, I couldn’t see their hands, couldn’t make out what weapons they might be holding, but the looks on their faces were unmistakable.
This wasn’t merely a case of an unruly guest. They weren’t here to escort me out or to politely suggest I head home.
This was going to get ugly, right here in front of all these people.
So be it.
But not until I said so, and not a moment sooner.
Bending slightly at the knee, using the cover of the party around me, I continued moving. Keeping the men in my periphery, I let my gaze move throughout the room, locking onto every woman I saw.
Not knowing what alterations they might have done to Elyse’s appearance, I couldn’t be foolish enough to only look for the blondes, instead having to check each one in order.
At the same time, I also looked over every man that still wore their suit jacket, the solid black attire standing out amidst the crowd.
The third guard arrived ninety seconds after the first two. Directly across the room from me, I had to wonder where he came from, materializing in the space on the far side of the fountain.
That was three. Already I had killed four. How many more there might be, I had no way of knowing, certain only that with each moment I lingered, the numbers would tilt more heavily in their favor.
A renewed sense of urgency swept through me, the adrenaline helping to keep the pain in my side at a bearable level.
Not tolerable. Definitely not manageable, but bearable.
Allowing myself to openly stare, I peered out over the crowd, checking every young woman, my head rotating an inch at a time, registering and dismissing one after another.
A half-minute later, the fourth guard appeared.
Ten seconds after that, I finally found what I’d spent the last two days searching for.
Chapter Eighty-Nine
This was no scene from a movie. No moment where the music dimmed, the crowd seeming to move in slow motion as Elyse happened to look my direction, our gazes meeting, an unspoken message passing between us.
In fact, she didn’t look my way at all. Probably wouldn’t have recognized me even if she did.
Not with this beard and crazy hairstyle. Not after more than six years of being away, likely told by her mother that I had passed too. Not with the detached look on her face, the lingering effects of whatever they had given her plainly visible.
And definitely not with the lecherous Japanese man standing beside her, a martini in one hand, his other around her bicep.
Seeing it, reading her body language, the forced smile overlaying wanton fear and disdain on her features, my first instinct was to raise the Browning and open fire. Not on the guards appearing around the periphery of the room, but the man standing by Elyse’s side.
Once one peeled everything back, looked beyond the crazy machinations of all that had taken place, he was the reason she was the here. He was the reason I was here.
His infantile fantasies, his pedophilic ways, were what had caused all this.
At the same time, I needed to be prudent. This wasn’t a suicide mission, the most important thing being that I get Elyse out of here, not just get the people responsible for it.
Reaching into the small of my back, I slid out the Wilson Tactical Carry, tapping the barrel of either gun against my thighs. Once more I did an inventory of the room, two more guards having appeared by the front entrance.
That now made six, these likely the last two, brought in from the outer grounds. Adding the four that were already dead, ten sounded right. Any more than that would be too conspicuous for such a gathering.
Ten, plus Asai still roaming somewhere nearby.
The instant I stepped away from the wall, they would have me. Right now, I was still tucked away, hidden by the jumble of people.
But I wasn’t doing Elyse a damn bit of good clinging to the wall.
Hands twitching slightly, aching to be raised and begin firing, I pushed into the mass of humanity. Threading my way through the crowd, I cut a path straight toward the middle of the room, using the enormity of the champagne fountain to shield me from the view of the first two guards.
Walking upright, I made no attempt to hide. Used no sudden movements that might draw attention, making it almost to my destination before the first guard spotted me.
Positioned on the opposite side of the room, I saw his body language shift, a visible charge roiling through him. Digging into his jacket pocket, he extracted his phone, lifting it to his face.
The alarm had officially been sounded.
Acting as if I hadn’t noticed, I increased my stride. Each step caused my side to ache, sweat bathing my face as I slid up alo
ngside Elyse, a smile on my face.
“Hello there,” I said, the sound of my voice causing her and the man she was with to both look my way. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
In unison, confusion came to their features.
“Do I know you?” the man asked.
“No,” I replied, “but I was actually talking to her.”
Elyse’s mouth parted slightly, no words sounding, not a bit of recognition registering on her features.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’re mistaken,” the man said. I saw his fingernails flash white, his grip tightening on her arm. “This girl is with me.”
It took everything I had not to reach out and smash the butt of both guns into the man’s skull. To not drive them into his forehead, splitting the skin, ensuring he never tried something like this with anyone else again.
Somehow, I managed to keep the smile in place, my eyes darting to either side. Behind him, the guard that had first spotted me began to work his way through the crowd. At my ten o’clock, the fourth guard I’d noticed came closer.
At the door, both remained stationary, seemingly to block any hope I had for escape.
That was good. Their advantage was in numbers. If they were to surge at me all at once, there was no way I could match their volume. But in waves, I had a chance.
“No, she’s not,” I said, my focus shifting back to the man before me. The smile fell from my face, my features hardening as I stared at him.
His mouth opened to respond, indignation flushing his features.
I cut off him off before a single word could be said.
Lifting the guns to waist height before me, I let him see them. The blood on my coat. The non-negotiable look on my face.
“Now, in about three seconds, I’m going to raise these guns and start firing. If you don’t want the first shots aimed right between your eyes, I suggest you take your damn hands off my niece and step back.”
The man’s jaw sagged. The blood that had filled his features just a moment before faded, his face becoming pale and ashy.
His hand opened wide, leaving a pale band around her arm. He looked between each of us, taking a step back.
“Good call.”
Lifting the weapon, I shifted the barrel just past him and pulled the trigger.
The report of the Browning was dampened by the enormous noise inside the room. So much so it was barely noticed, the man before me dropping to his knees and covering his head the sole initial reaction, a couple of nearby guests turning to look, curiosity on their faces.
Not until the Wilson barked a split second later did the reality of the situation strike, the explosive sound sending a ripple through the crowd.
Opening up in a crowded room was not ideal, but at such short range, there was no chance I would miss, both rounds striking home, dropping the guards on contact.
By the time their bodies hit the ground, the first screams echoed through the hall, the initial tinges of hysteria beginning to set in.
I decided to help things along, rounds three and four going into the base of the fountain, an eruption of crystal and alcohol sweeping out through the room.
Chapter Ninety
The last few days had been crazy for Elyse Denman. A head-on collision with Hell itself, every possible thing that could terrify a young girl had come to pass.
Seeing her brother shot. Getting her parents car stolen. Being kidnapped, beaten, transported, drugged, presented to a pedophile.
In total, it was too much to comprehend, with too many diverging parts to truly make sense of. Not now, in an altered state, and maybe not ever.
But that didn’t mean that the man’s words weren’t just as startling.
He had called her his niece.
Her father was an only child. Her mother had a sister that was murdered six years before, taking with her the only cousin she’d ever had.
In the wake of it, her mother had told them that their uncle had killed himself. Too ashamed, too depressed, by what had happened, he’d taken his own life, severing any extended family they had remaining.
Yet here was a man that vaguely resembled him, there by her side, claiming to be her uncle.
A man that was clearly pissed about the situation she was in.
A man that gave her no more than a moment to make sense of things before raising the pair of guns in his hands and opening fire.
Standing in such close proximity, the shots were louder than anything she had ever heard. Her eardrums throbbed from the sound, a dull ringing settling in. Mixing with the numb feeling she still had from the injection earlier, the delayed reaction time she was operating under, it was like she was in a sensory deprivation chamber.
A moment later two more shots came, with them the cool feeling of liquid splashing against the backs of her calves, bubbles tickling at her bare skin.
Around her, people screamed. They looked around in horror, beginning to push toward the exit. They dropped whatever they were holding, faces contorted into every possible expression.
But still she stood, rooted in place, attached to those God-awful shoes, her body barely able to compute the commands her mind was trying to issue.
A hand went to her back. Heavier than usual, it pressed her toward the ground, the man that had claimed to be her uncle using his body to lower her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his face just inches from hers.
Six years had passed since she’d last seen her Uncle Hawk. Just ten years old at the time, she could barely remember him, her warped mind trying in vain to conjure some image, to make something in her current world make sense.
But there was nothing.
The man she remembered was sharp and squared away. He had military hair and a clean jaw, was always playing with his daughter, a smile in place.
This man was rough. A beard encased his face. Long hair had been gelled back, some of it now falling across his forehead. Crow’s feet gathered at the corners of his eyes.
A vague semblance maybe, but no more.
“Are you okay?” he repeated. Crouched beside her, he stared into her face before lifting his gaze. Whereas most of the people were rushing for the door, moving in one large jumble, his focus was in the opposite direction.
Elyse managed a nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Peering into her face, the faintest hint of a smile crossed his face.
“Good. Now cover your ears.”
Chapter Ninety-One
The guards at the back of the room messed up. They saw the panic sweeping through the crowd, felt the surge of people pushing toward the door, and they immediately fell in line with it. Acting like human sheepdogs, they positioned themselves at the rear, pushing everyone forward, thinking they would funnel us directly into their counterparts waiting at the door.
We did nothing of the sort.
Relying on the swell of people, on the collective paranoia that a couple of gunshots would create, was always the plan. The moment the sound registered with people, managed to resonate through whatever drunken haze they were fighting, they began to push.
The key wasn’t for us to push back, but to sit and wait. To be a rock in the stream, allowing people to flow past us.
Crouched along the ground, one arm over Elyse’s back, the guards never noticed us. They never thought to lower their gaze below the top of the room, trying to pick my height and unique look from above the crowd.
Neither one even realized I was there, crouched and waiting, until I shoved the barrels of my weapons into their stomach and fired.
Pressed tight against them, I shot at an upward trajectory, the bullet entering through their stomach, cleaving a trench up through their chest cavities. If the damage from the rounds themselves weren’t enough, the close proximity forced all of the trapped gas, the excess gunpowder, in as well, a pressure bubble shoved into their core, turning their digestive systems into jelly.
Like the first two, they were gone before they hit the ground, bodies fl
opping into the mess of shattered crystal and champagne that saturated the carpet, their blood running out, mixing with the liquid already pooling around them.
The Browning and the Wilson both extended before me, I kept my hands up. Remaining on a knee, I swiveled in either direction, the crowd thinning where we were, everybody bunched up right next to the door, the sounds of their cries reverberating through the room.
Seeing neither of the remaining guards, no sign of Asai, I rotated back to Elyse. Balancing the guns on my knee a moment - not wanting to put them down on the alcohol-soaked floor - I slid the suit coat from my shoulders.
The cheap material clung to the wound on my side, tugging at my skin, a renewed pang driving through me as I stripped away the garment. Draping it over Elyse’s shoulders – as much to hide the bright sparkly dress she was wearing as to keep her warm – I snatched the weapons back up, again looking around the room.
“Can you walk?”
Crouched into a tight ball, Elyse was still balanced on the tallest pair of heels I’d ever seen. Squatted straight down, she hugged her legs tight to her chest, her body trembling, so much concentrated fear and adrenaline coursing through her system it had forced her into overload.
Unsure how to respond, if her body even could if asked, she rotated her head toward me, her chin shaking. A veneer rested over her eyes, an inability to focus, no matter how hard she tried.
The aftereffects of whatever they had shot into her.
“Can you walk?” I asked.
“I...” she managed, her voice trailing away. Frustration seemed to sit just beneath the surface, her mind fighting to reach the surface, pushing against an invisible wall.
Tucking the Wilson back into the rear of my pants, I shifted the Browning into my left hand. The right I slid around her back, drawing her to full height, her thin frame pressed against mine.
Glancing back toward the door, I could see the crowd still fighting to escape. At the head of it was the pair of guards, doing their best to slow the exit, checking every face that passed.
Home Fire: A Suspense Thriller (A Hawk Tate Novel Book 5) Page 31
