Madi shoved her way between an overweight Latina who never had a chance and a white girl who was stupid amounts of hot.
As the first agent, an older man with a coy smile, came down the row all the girls cheered and jostled each other competing for his attention.
For a second, the whole thing turned her stomach. He walked by without even a look in her direction, instead picking a tall Asian girl a dozen feet closer to the entrance.
She fumed on the inside but kept her smile, lifting her chin and trying to project confidence.
The next one walked by, and then the third, both picking other girls to go in with them. Come on, girl, don’t give up.
The fourth agent looked every bit the part; tall, wearing a sleek dress, and cradling a small dog in her purse as she walked down the line. Her crystal blue eyes scanned the crowd and for a second locked on to Madi’s—then they passed her by, and she pulled the stupid hot girl next to her out of the line and went in. Disappointment flooded through her, but she wouldn’t let this stop her. She was going to be on that red carpet one day. One day she would be the first choice.
Now.
The red carpet stretched out in front of me, bringing back a hundred memories of such carpets and crowds from my time as a model.
The Jaguar wasn’t the largest club in Belize, but it certainly had flair. The red carpet leading to the entrance looked like a Jaguar’s tongue running into the large open maw of the creature. Giant fangs stretched down from the ceiling to form the frame of the doors that the waiting crowd had to walk through.
To one side, behind the ropes, a crowd was waiting, buzzing with anticipation, not only to get into the club but also for who they might see.
The club itself was on the shore of San Pedro, on the thinnest part of the island—barely seven hundred feet from shore to shore and less than half that from the ferry that brought guests here by the truckloads. Half the clubbers were tourists from various countries, hoping to get in on some local action. The other half was a mix of locals and ex-pats.
I strode past those waiting in line; I knew what to wear to get in places like this, and I wasn’t going to waste my time. I wore a sleek, low—cut red dress that went all the way down to my ankles. A slit on the left side opened a vent to my thigh, and my five-inch heels completed the effect. I had worn this to a lot of openings and it always had the desired effect.
As I approached the entrance the bouncer didn’t even hesitate—he smiled and opened the door for me and I placed a twenty in his hand as I passed. That simple gesture was what separated the wheat from the chaff; the chaff were just happy to get in, but the wheat knew what to do and could afford to do it when the time came.
I stopped for a second, shaking my head at how fast that attitude of superiority returned even when it wasn’t something I believed anymore.
“Wow, I didn’t expect that to work. Madi, you just walked right up and he let you in?” Krisan was on the other end of the Bluetooth earpiece I wore. It would take a close inspection to see it, and even if someone did, they would think it just was a hearing aid.
The gold clutch I carried held my phone, along with a small twenty-five caliber pistol. An all but useless weapon against any serious threat, but if I was searched it would be a completely expected loadout; nothing suspicious at all.
House music beat down from the massive speaker setup, drowning out all but the most determined conversation. I didn’t mind the noise, though. It reminded me of a simpler time.
“Are you in the system yet?” I asked my partner. Krisan was in our rented van parked a half block away, using her superpowers to hack the club’s CCTV. The fact that she had powers still blew me away. She could hijack phone signals and travel along them, reading text messages, email, contacts… the list went on. If a phone could contact it, then she could follow it.
“Yeah, it’s slightly different—a little claustrophobic, if that makes any sense. I’ve got eyes on you and everyone else in the club.”
I shook my head. “Nope, it doesn’t.” As far as I knew, there was no way to stop her and no way to detect her. She just went in and out like a ghost.
“Regardless, I’m in,” she said.
Show time. I headed for the back of the club—the section with real jaguar fur seats and booths. It was meant for the really rich and famous; it even had a separate entrance and bouncer. The way his eyes shined in the dark, I was going to assume he had superpowers… or he used reflective eye drops.
“Nyet,” he said holding out a hand to stop me. It took me a second to realize he was Russian.
I looked down at his hand, then up, bringing my sexiest smile. “Are you sure,” I said, pressing in against his hand.
He pushed against his ear, probably receiving orders from on high. “Go in,” in he said with a smile, lowering his hand so I could pass. I ran my fingers across his chest as I walked by.
“I’m in,” I said as I walked back to the largest table. Before I killed Vaas he had told me the name of his boss and where to find him. After two weeks in Belize, I had his schedule down, along with who he traveled with. This was the best time to hit him.
I passed the five empty tables that acted as a buffer on my way to the booth and came face to face with Victor Grey, the controller for North America’s ISO-1 operations. Despite the club atmosphere and the hotties on either side of him, poor Victor didn’t look happy.
I couldn’t imagine why. He didn’t know who I was or what I was doing there… he couldn’t.
“Madi, there’s something going on. CCTV just picked up four trucks rolling into the back of the club like the fire brigade.”
Little alarms went off in my head as I approached the table. I kept my best smile up as I stopped, leaning over to give him a generous look. The idea was to keep him distracted until it was too late.
And it was too late, for one of us. Well, not only him if those trucks were loaded with reinforcements.
I didn’t hear them so much as feel the vibration in my feet as a couple of dozen soldiers rushed into the club behind me.
“I think it might be a trap,” Krisan said in my ear. “You should get out of there.”
I dropped the facade of the sexy-clubber and unleashed my Wraith persona; I knew how it looked. My eyes glowed slightly as the blue light shined inside them. An air of coldness wrapped around me, almost as if the shadows themselves were my ally. Of course, they were.
“Surrender, and at least we’ll let you die with some dignity. Not a lot mind you, but some,” he said with a smirk.
“Funny,” I said, “I was about to say the same thing.”
“Dumas, you’re outnumbered and outgunned, and we know who you are. What do you hope to accomplish? You’ve had a good run, you’ve gotten lucky, but your luck has run out. It’s time to end this.”
Inwardly, I swore. How did they find out who I was? I supposed it was just a matter of time, but I would have liked it if it had taken more.
A short, harsh laugh emerged from me as my Wraith voice took over. “You think I’m lucky?” Worry flashed across his face. The men behind me closed in as if they knew something was about to happen.
“Let me tell you, Vic... luck is not a plan.”
Krisan triggered the flashbangs we’d hidden throughout the club a few days earlier. One-hundred and seventy-decibel grenades detonated in sequence one after another over six seconds. The club exploded in a whiteout of magnesium and the blast of sound. All they would hear from that point forward was a dull roar followed by a loud ringing.
Of course, I planned for the moment, shutting my eyes just as things exploded. I relied on my Wraith powers to fix my hearing.
I reached down and pulled off my shoe then leaped onto the table, rushing across it to slide the last foot and slam into Victor with my shin pressed up against his neck. He also had superpowers, but I was ready for them.
Joseph always said, “Know your enemy as you know yourself.” Well, Sun Tzu said it first, but Joseph liked to q
uote The Art of War. I had never even heard of it until he made me memorize it.
The heel on my shoe came off easy enough, and in the blink of an eye, I had a loop of piano wire around his throat.
A wall of force slammed into me like a Mack truck. Victor’s telekinetic power topped an F4 level—he could lift ten-thousand pounds with it, more if he exerted himself.
I flew back and smashed into the crowd of soldiers behind me with a grunt, but held onto my shoe and its six feet of wire.
The force of the blow yanked Victor over the table. He managed to slip one hand under the wire, trying to lodge more fingers under it and desperately attempting to keep it from cutting him further. He got lucky; that was the only reason it hadn’t decapitated him instantly.
He looked up at me, blood trickling out of his nose as he gasped for a breath that would never come. I gave him a long second as I stared coldly into his eyes.
“You people should know when you’re beaten.” I yanked on the cord with all my super powered strength. The piano wire finished the job, lopping off his head in an instant.
I heard someone vomit. Another person screamed, and the music came to a scratching halt. I kicked off the other shoe, ripped my dress off at the thigh so I could move, and turned to the two-dozen men and woman behind me, some of whom undoubtedly had superpowers.
However, there’s a reason opening a fight with shock and awe gives an advantage. They were stunned…
I wasn’t.
I didn’t wait for them to recover. I launched into a flurry of blows on the first one, driving him back before I spun into a kick that sent him flying into the club’s speakers.
There was no rush of power from the two deaths; I had weeks of deficit to make up. I don’t know how exactly it works and Spice was tight-lipped about the whole thing. Essentially though, she will let me use the powers almost always, but if I don’t kill, the powers grow weaker and weaker.
A blow caught me in the back and I stumbled forward and turned it into a full-on run at the wall where I leaped up, scrambling into a backflip, teleporting as I did so. I stepped out of the shadows, landing in a crouch, and kicked the back of the legs of the man who punched me, grabbing his neck and accelerating his fall to cave his head in.
Pain lanced through my side. I looked down and pulled a large throwing knife out of my ribs. I didn’t have time to see where it came from.
A screech filled the air and I leaped straight up. Red beams of death shot below me, vaporizing the poor man I had just killed and blowing a hole through the speaker-wall.
I landed, rolled, and spun, trying to find the source of the laser beams.
“Two o’clock, two o’clock,” Krisan yelled through our commlink. With her access to the CCTV, I had to trust she knew where I should look.
There she was, a petite girl with a white shirt and suit jacket. She held a pair of sunglasses in one hand as she searched for me.
I ran at her, punching the knife thrower in the gut as he prepared another blade. He folded and I used him as a fulcrum, spinning and letting him fly like a shot put right at the girl with the laser eyes.
Shiny Eyes the bouncer stepped in front of me, but now his whole body sparkled. I ducked a blow from him and let loose with a full power uppercut.
That was stupid.
My hand shattered hitting his jaw. I grunted from the pain, stepping back and holding my wrecked hand. Breaking bones hurt like hell, and it was never easy. Especially when I was unprepared for it.
I spared a second to look at him more closely. At first, I thought it was invulnerability, but the sparkling extended ever so slightly around his body.
Forcefield.
He swung at me and my pause cost me. When the blow clipped my jaw it was more than a forcefield but not quite super strength—more like I was repelled. The field flung me through the air to crash into the wall fifteen feet above the reserved seating.
The good news was my hand didn’t hurt anymore. The bad news was I thought he broke my collar bone. I groaned as I hit the Jaguar fur seating.
Wow, it really is soft. Poor Jaguars.
Laser Eyes screamed, which tipped me off that she was about to use her powers. I climbed to my feet just as the beams hit the wall next to me and headed my way, burning a line through the paint. I took off running, pretending to stumble so she would follow with her lasers.
Which she totally did, right through a group of her fellow soldiers.
“Those don’t count,” Spice said, appearing next to me as I ran for Shiny Eyes.
More people screamed as Laser Eyes cut them in half until I slid under her beams as they raced by and they impacted Shiny Eyes instead. I figured they would bounce off him, or at the very least, knock him down, instead, they reflected right back at her.
Then the lasers were gone—along with the upper half of Laser Eyes torso.
Shiny Eyes charged me, his force field sparkling in the semi-darkness. “I have an idea,” I told Spice as I turned and broke into a run for the bar. I hopped up, slid across the cherry wood top on my bare thigh, then fell to the other side. A quick glance showed me where the rum was. I grabbed a bottle of Stroh 160 in each hand and popped back up. Shiny Eyes slammed both fists down on the top of the bar, shattering the top all the way down to the floor, opening a path for himself.
I threw both bottles at his feet then grabbed the lighter from the corner—almost all high-end bars have one for the flaming drinks. He looked at me, confused for a second, then fear filled his eyes as they went wide.
“Order up,” I said, kneeling down and lighting the pool of high-proof alcohol on fire.
There is almost always a way around superpowers. Sure, his forcefield protected him from physical harm—it might even protect him from the heat—but he still had to breathe. Once the fire was raging, I grabbed another bottle and hit his upraised arm. The bottle shattered, splashing the rum all over him and the flames from the floor leaped up, traveling across his force field in an instant. He started screaming, waving his arms around and running in a circle trying to put out the flames.
“They used to teach stop, drop, and roll, in school,” Krisan said in my ear.
“I think everyone’s forgotten the basics,” I replied.
It was time to go. I’d taken out everyone with powers, plus over half the soldiers; there was no need to push it. Victor Grey was a lifeless corpse, and that was what I wanted.
Chapter 2
Hector Alvarez wasn’t used to sweating. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of threats. As the second in command and the public face of ISO-1, he was all but untouchable. Untouchable to everyone but the true person in charge of the world’s largest criminal organization: Mr. Axiom.
He scared him more than anyone in his whole life. And now the line on his desk phone was blinking, the line that only blinked when he called.
“Alvarez,” he said, pressing the speakerphone button.
Silence wafted through the phone like a palpable weight. Hector waited, resisting the urge to ask who it was.
“Who was it?” His boss’s voice rolled through the phone like a rock slide, pressing against him, forcing honesty from him.
“A black American woman named Madisun Dumas, sir,” he said.
“I’ve never heard of her...”
“Uh, well, sir, she just appeared on our radar. Our contacts in the American justice department clued us in to who she was. We managed to link her to our failures in Detroit and then New Orleans. I guess our man there gave up our location and now she’s here to finish her crusade against us for allegedly killing her family.”
More silence. Sweat trickled down his neck while he waited. Mr. Axiom had power Alvarez could only dream of. When he showed up a few years before and offered to share that power with him, of course, he jumped at the chance... but now... now he wished to God he’d never agreed to let the man in.
“Why have you let this threat grow? She could endanger our entire operation here. I like Cent
ral America, Alvarez, I don’t want to move again. Deal with her.”
“Yes sir, we are. I’m mobilizing several of our assets...”
The grumble from the other end of the line interrupted him. “I’m looking at your underlings’ actions right now. She killed the Regulators? Killed Grey right here in Belize? And your strategy is to throw more people at her to kill?”
Alvarez coughed, the pressure on his head was immense. His sweat now dripped down his face and neck, pooling uncomfortably under the collar of his expensive suit.
“Do you... you have a suggestion sir?” he managed to ask through clenched teeth.
“Yes. Let someone else deal with it. Use our resources in the American media. Point at her for the deaths of anyone and everyone we can. And put a bounty on her head. Five million should do. Between law enforcement and the bounty hunters, she’ll either be too busy to meddle with us or she’ll be dead. Either way, you can refocus on your real job. Understood?”
“Yes sir,” Alvarez said. At that moment he would have done or said anything to get off the call. The line clicked dead and he collapsed into his chair. He hadn’t even realized he was standing. The release of pressure was almost euphoric.
After a moment he slapped the call button on his phone. A young woman sauntered in, no more than twenty-three but dressed like a professional. “Si, sir?”
“Call the Maestro. Tell him I need to speak with him right away. Comprendí?”
“Si!” She turned without another word, exiting as fast as she entered. Alvarez leaned back, allowing himself to relax for a moment. It was going to take some work, but he probably could redirect their political assets in DC to go after Dumas. And having her here in Belize actually made the bounty hunter aspect easier. With all the ex-pats here running from someone, there were always predators waiting to pounce. He smiled for the first time in days.
Si, this would work out nicely. Maybe then I can get back to working on a way out from under Mr. Axiom.
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