Gluttony

by Lana Pecherczyk

  Gluttony

  The Deadly Seven, Book 5

  Lana Pecherczyk

  Prism Press, Perth Australia.

  Copyright © 2020 Lana Pecherczyk

  All rights reserved.

  ASIN: B082KCZKZW

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © Lana Pecherczyk 2020

  Cover design © Lana Pecherczyk 2020

  www.lanapecherczyk.com

  Contents

  Map

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  WHAT’S NEXT?

  Characters & Glossary

  Also by Lana Pecherczyk

  About the Author

  CARDINAL CITY MAP

  “A glutton is one who digs his grave with his teeth.”

  Proverb

  Prologue

  In the dank underground corridors of the Syndicate Black Site, a bone-numbing alarm sounded. It echoed through the empty ex-military base.

  A solitary life form slithered and crawled across the sticky red-stained corridor leading toward the elevator. Its barbed vine-like tentacles tumbled and twisted, belying its physical form. The plant moved with purpose, leaving carnage in the shape of its last meal. Bones and blood littered the path behind it. Each meal gave it something different, something beyond leaves and roots. It took four legs from the rat, thought from the humans, and soon it evolved beyond the confines of its original form. But it needed more. It was hungry—thirsty—and it had not been sated.

  It needed more.

  More.

  More.

  It snaked its morphing mass into the cracks surrounding the elevator until it found the cable. Reaching toward the light, it slithered up.

  One

  In a darkened alley, Clyde McGee faced off with a rabid gorilla, a psycho and his female hostage. Rain pelted him, stinging his skin. Hair stuck to his face and his torn shirt clung to his muscled torso. Blood from wounds blended on the white fabric creating an abstract masterpiece. Clyde aimed his gun at the psycho’s head, then his gaze darted to the roaring gorilla as it thumped its chest in warning.

  The psycho pressed his knife to a redhead’s pale throat. Her torn lab coat fluttered with the breeze. Each man narrowed his gaze at the other, watching for telltale body language signaling action.

  A twitch of Clyde’s trigger finger.

  A whitening of scarred knuckles as the psycho tightened his grip.

  The redhead’s frightened whimper.

  The gorilla’s snarl.

  The woman implored Clyde with her wide, mascara stained eyes. Please. Help.

  The psycho, a man with a goatee and a Mohawk, sneered at Clyde.

  “Give it up, Magnus,” Clyde shouted, his voice booming like thunder through the rain. “You’ve nowhere to go. You’re done. Tell your monkey to stand down.”

  Magnus looked behind him. The alley was a dead end. With the whites of his eyes showing, he backed up until he hit the wall and pulled the woman in front of him, using her body as a shield.

  But Clyde had trained all his life for this moment. He was the best bounty hunter the city had seen. He ate perps like this for breakfast.

  “He’s not a monkey, he’s an ape, and we’re connected.” Magnus tapped his head. “He does whatever I do, and if I go down fighting, he does too.”

  Magnus roared, and the ape mimicked him, but Clyde wasn’t afraid. He knew something they didn’t. Magnus and the gorilla were only connected as long as Magnus lived.

  The woman caught Clyde’s eyes, her mouth hardened, and she gave an almost imperceptible nod. She was more than the love of his life. She was his partner, and she trusted him. He fired the gun. Red spray burst from her shoulder and she slumped forward, clutching her wound. The man behind her dropped to the ground. The bullet had gone straight through her to pierce the psycho’s heart.

  The gorilla let out a deep huff. It slumped. The rage left its eyes, and it backed up, confused.

  Clyde ran to his love. He gathered her in his arms and held his palm to her sticky shoulder. “I’m sorry, Trix. There was no other way.”

  She blinked through the rain. Her trembling hand lifted to touch his jaw and curve around his neck. She pulled his lips to hers and kissed him softly, with intent, and then with passion. When they broke, she gave him a weak smile. “You did good, baby. You did good.”

  He frowned. “Not good enough.”

  “We’re alive. And the gorilla is saved. That’s all that matters.”

  They paused, staring into each other’s eyes, waiting.

  One. Two. Three.

  “CUT!” shouted the director behind Tony Lazarus. “Perfect. And, that’s a wrap.”

  A buzz rent the air. The rain stopped. Floodlights came on. Production crew suddenly emerged from the shadows of the studio set, but Tony was still staring into his co-star’s big brown eyes. She winked at him.

  “You wanna get a drink after this, Tones?” she asked, her Boston accent thick. “You know, celebrate the end of an era?”

  Maggie O’s classic good looks, perfect curvy body, and lips that locked you in a trance were the talk of Hollywood. But her dry personality switched from happy to vixen in the shake of a lamb’s tail. Stories of her bedroom exploits had traveled through the staff, as Tony’s had. She probably thought a hookup between them was inevitable, especially since his no-dating-co-stars rule had expired when the director had shouted “It’s a wrap.”

  “No can do, Maggie. I’m dry, remember?”

  Her voice thickened and her eyes smoldered. “You look pretty wet to me.”

  He smirked but disengaged and helped her upright. “Sorry. Not today.”

  “I’m up for a drink!” Desmond, a.k.a. The Psycho, jumped up from his death position on the floor behind Maggie.

  The gorilla which was actually a man in a CGI costume, also stuck up his hand. “I’m keen.”

  Maggie pouted at the intrusion before she turned back to Tony. “But the movie’s over. Surely you can enjoy a drink now.”

  Jeez, woman. Have a little respect. His recent exploits weren’t exactly a secret. He shouldn’t have to remind her. “After holding up production for two months so I could go to rehab, they’ve written abstinence into my contract. I’m clean until the premiere.”

  She gaped. “Abstinence from everything?”

  He winked. Let her think whatever she wanted from that.

  “A coffee then?”

  Desmond scooted forward and raised his hand. Again. “Where are we going?”

  Maggie folded her arms and blocked him. Poor guy.

  Or was Tony the poor guy? This wo
man wouldn’t let up. Probably wanted them to be the town’s next power couple and rustle up a bit of publicity for the film release.

  The bustle of a closing set swarmed around them and Tony turned to the set assistant arriving with a robe in each hand. She was a tall, willowy woman about thirty. A Bluetooth headset covered her ears and the clipboard under her arm looked like it was about to drop.

  “Thanks, Peta,” Tony said and received his robe but didn’t put it on. He didn’t mind the wet clothes and fake blood. Been in worse. “You need help with that clipboard?”

  Despite having worked with Tony for the past few months, Peta’s smile was still shy. “No problems, I got it. Great scene, by the way.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Tony wasn’t so sure. That last interaction had felt stilted on his side. The chemistry between Maggie and he wasn’t so translatable. He’d done better before.

  “Also,” Peta added, “you might want to know that Donatello is on his way.”

  “Shit.” Tony scrubbed his face. Not good. The demanding producer was the last person he wanted to see. Maybe if he hurried, he’d get to his trailer before Donatello. He could crank some music, lock the door, and feign deafness to any knock.

  Peta’s smile dropped as she turned to Maggie and thrust out the remaining robe. After Maggie received it, Peta turned without a word and left.

  Desmond shouted after Peta. “Where’s my robe?”

  Tony gave him his.

  Maggie’s lip curled. “Honestly. What do I have to do around here to get a little appreciation like you? That girl has had it in for me since day one.”

  Saying Please and Thank you would be a good start.

  He lifted his brows. “The director doesn’t appreciate me. I told him that final shot was unbelievable. Civilians don’t carry the kind of bullets that pierce through two bodies—it’s irresponsible to do so—but do you think he listened to the feedback? Let’s not even talk about the unbelievable plot.”

  Tony knew if the film failed at the box office, they’d blame him for messing up production, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He just hoped his acting had been up to scratch.

  Hugging her robe tight, Maggie responded. “I don’t know why you care. We’re only here to look good and play the part, not to think. Besides”—she slapped him playfully—“what’s wrong with that, right? It pays the bills.”

  “I care because I don’t want the movie to be a flop.”

  She was only half listening. Her eager look told Tony she was about to ask him on a date again. While on a normal day, he might say yes, this wasn’t normal. He hadn’t felt normal for the past few months, not since before rehab. Since he’d caught the sharp end of a soft tongue belonging to a woman with honeycomb eyes and a body cut from sin.

  Bailey Haze was toned, athletic, but full of plenty. Plenty up top, plenty down behind, plenty of personality. His mind had been stuck in the gutter, dreaming of indulging. He’d wanted to every night. But he hadn’t seen her since she’d looked at him with scorn.

  I don’t expect you to know anything.

  The memory of her biting words invaded his mind, and he shut it down quickly.

  Maggie opened her mouth, but Tony only saw Bailey’s lips.

  “Later,” he said quickly and strode away.

  Maggie shouted for all to hear, “See you at the wrap party.”

  He waved nonchalantly over his shoulder and kept walking, because a wrap party was exactly what he didn’t need. To be surrounded by a bunch of actors and assholes gulping down booze, snorting up powder, or vaping the latest craze, meant his internal gluttony radar would go haywire. Being within a foot of anyone ingesting in excess was enough to make him sick. This sense was supposed to be useful in tracking down deadly sinners. The closer he was to someone with deadly levels of gluttony, the more his gut twinged. Unless, of course, he’d dulled that sensation with the very thing he was meant to be fighting. Alcohol and drugs had been his saving grace. How ironic.

  But after the night Bailey Haze had come around, wanting information about Max’s disappearance, and all Tony could give her was a few drunken words, he’d had enough. He was tired of this monkey dance.

  Arriving at his trailer, he wrapped his fingers around the door handle and pulled. The metal door tugged open just as two people arrived on his six. Damn. He turned around.

  One was a tall, potbellied, balding man with sweat stains under his pits. His thousand-dollar suit oozed sleaze. The other person was Peta, hugging her clipboard to her chest. She bit her lip and averted her gaze.

  “Donatello,” Tony greeted.

  “You’re expected tonight at the wrap party.” The man’s voice was grime down a wall.

  “I thought these things were optional.”

  “You’re the star of the film. It’s non-negotiable.”

  “It’s just for the staff and fan club. No biggie.”

  Donatello ground his teeth. “Do I have to remind you of the setback you caused with your little vacation to Darling Greens?”

  Tony wanted to roll his eyes. As if he’d ever live that down. “No. I get it. I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Because it’s in your contr—what the fuck is that?”

  Tony looked up and caught the disgusted look on Donatello’s face. Peta behind him also featured an expression he could only place as intrigued. Twisting his neck, he followed their gazes into his trailer and blinked. His fingers cramped on the door handle. What the hell? A Barbie and Ken doll hung from his ceiling, twine around their necks like a hangman’s noose. Each was dressed like the characters from the movie—his with the torn white shirt, Maggie’s with red hair and the same dress she wore in the final scene. He leaned forward and spied two more dolls, a gorilla and the psycho, both with red paint splashed on them. The heads were at odd angles. But the doll representing him was pristine… apart from the noose. There was a note pinned to his doll’s shirt. He plucked it off and read it.

  I know.

  He inwardly groaned, thinking immediately of his younger sister Sloan. Jesus Christ. This was exactly the kind of nineties teen horror bullshit she’d come up with to mess with him. She still hadn’t paid Tony back for the elevator prank he’d pulled months ago. She had been royally pissed at one point. It was not unlike his sister to pretend she was cool with it, hold a grudge, wait months for the right moment, and then pounce to get the ultimate payback, just to prove she could.

  He scowled. His prank had been in good faith. Forcing her and Max into a locked elevator to talk their shit out had been a good call. They were soulmates—a balancing influence for each other. There was no escaping it, and they were being stubborn at the time. His plan had worked, too. They got together in the end, and now they were very happy. So, fuck the bullshit.

  “Godammit, Tony. You have a goddamned stalker,” Donatello snapped.

  “What? That’s nothing. Just a prank.” The words came out, but an unsettled feeling niggled in Tony’s gut. Sloan had been deliriously happy planning her wedding these past few weeks. If she’d had time to prank, he’d be surprised.

  The producer was already turning to Peta. “Get set security up here, also get the head on the phone. We need to hire pretty boy a bodyguard.”

  Malice simmered in Tony’s blood. Pretty boy?

  Peta also glared at Donatello.

  Then something he’d said clicked. “I don’t need a bodyguard.” That was the last thing he needed. His family was more lethal than the entire security team put together. He could not, would not, allow someone to follow him around all day, every day. Under the cover of darkness, he slipped out in a masked battle uniform to fight crime. Granted, it had been months since he’d joined the rest of the team on a patrol of the city, but he planned to. Soon. Once the film was done.

  The only reason he was in the movie industry was to make use of his martial arts skills, do his own stunts, and because no one in their right mind would think a film star was Gluttony, the city’s hooded vigilante. He di
dn’t bring dates home. He didn’t date, period. He had flings and affairs out and about. Never at his place. He certainly wouldn’t allow someone to shadow him.

  “Like I said, I don’t need a bodyguard, Donatello.” Tony folded his arms.

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You’ve got dead dolls hanging from your trailer ceiling. After your selfish behavior almost shut down production permanently and lost us millions of dollars, we’ve finally finished shooting. I’ll not let anything get in the way of this film coming out. I want no more bad press. We keep this quiet. We shut it down. We stick a guard on you until opening weekend, capeesh?”

  Donatello turned to Peta and opened his mouth to speak, but Tony cut him off.

  “My family has a security company on retainer. At least let me hire one of them.”

  “No. The studio will handle it.”

  Fuck. “Don, I’ve cost the studio enough money. Let me do this.”

  Donatello chewed his cheek and stared at Tony. He checked his Rolex, then huffed. “Fine. Make the call.”

  Two

  Bailey Haze was a simple woman, or so she thought. She dressed in the same black pantsuit and tailored white shirt every day for work. She ate the same breakfast of blueberry oats. She drank Green Tea every morning at six over a crossword. And she did what was asked of her in her job, no matter what, because the alternative was going back to the CIA at Langley, to mind-numbing loneliness.