No Stopping

by Nolon King

  Maggie stared straight ahead at the road, almost catatonic.

  How much hell did Tommy put her through already tonight?

  Mal had been so surprised to see Maggie approaching, she hadn’t studied her face for bruises. And she was wearing a sweater, so Mal couldn’t see her arms.

  “No,” Mal said.

  “We’ve had a hell of a day, haven’t we, honey?”

  Maggie said nothing.

  “First, cops show up at my house asking to search the place. And, of course, I can’t say no ’cause I’m on parole. But of course, you knew that, right? Then they searched the car. But, as you can see by us being together right now, they didn’t find shit. Surprised?”

  Still, Mal said nothing.

  “Buddy of mine works security at the shopping center. He saw someone fucking around my car. My stereo was still there and no cash was missing, so I decided to do a little looking around. Lo and fucking behold, what do I find — imagine my surprise. At first, I thought it might be Christmas, but then I remembered there ain’t no fuckin’ Santa and ain’t nobody ever given me shit for free. So, I realized someone was tryin’ to set me up. And who else but another dirty fucking detective?”

  Fuck. He knows who I am.

  He glanced in the rearview with a smile. “Ah, yes, Mrs. Black, I do indeed know who you are. Surprised I didn’t recognize you when we’d met before, seeing how famous you are. I followed your case. Hell, I even felt bad for what happened to your lil’ girl, but … that was before we met. Now I see what a psycho bitch you are. Maybe it’s a good thing your girl didn’t grow up to be like you.”

  “Fuck you,” Mal said through gritted teeth.

  If Maggie wasn’t in the car, she might’ve put a bullet through his head at the mention of Ashley.

  “No, fuck youuuu!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he pounded the steering wheel.

  Maggie jumped.

  Mal stayed calm.

  “Fuck you for trying to come between me and my family. What the hell is your deal, anyway?”

  “My deal? My deal is I’m tired of seeing shitty guys like you abuse their wives and ruin their children’s lives.”

  “You don’t know the first thing about us!”

  “You hit your wife and you’re an addict. What more do I need to know?”

  Tommy stared at Mal in the mirror, barely able to contain his rage. He might have already tried to hit her if he wasn’t driving.

  She welcomed such an attempt — any excuse to put him down like the rabid dog he was. In truth, she’d have more mercy for a mongrel than she did for him. A rabid dog couldn’t help but turn on its people. An asshole like this had zero excuse. Mal could intimately understand bad breaks and addiction, but she could never — would never — understand a person who intentionally harmed those they claimed to love.

  “Oh, you’re judging me? I’ve got my shit under control. You’re the weak one, in NA meetings because your life is so out of control.”

  “Yeah, you really have your shit together. Hitting your wife, sponging off her instead of getting a job. You’re a model citizen.”

  Tommy met her gaze again. She smiled, really hoping he’d pull over and take a swing. But as good as it would feel to put him down, she wasn’t thinking like a normal person right now. If she blew this bastard away in front of Maggie, it would fuck her up forever. Probably drive her into a worse bout with addiction. And who knew what would happen to their daughter?

  Violence couldn’t solve everything.

  “I started thinking, you know what, I bet the media would love to know about this side of you. I saw all the articles and videos about you on that website. That one run by … what’s his name? Oh, yeah, Cameron Ford. What did you do to piss that guy off? I wondered how much he’d pay for my story. Corrupt Cop Frames Innocent Man. Or maybe Corrupt Dyke Cop Obsessed with Married Man’s Wife Decides to Frame Him. Yeah, I like the sound of that second one better.”

  He had Mal’s attention, but she masked her anxiety.

  He turned to Maggie. “How much you think I could get for a story like that, honey?”

  But Maggie didn’t answer.

  He reached over, grabbing her chin and turning it hard to face him. Mal wanted to break his fucking fingers.

  “I don’t know,” Maggie finally said before he let her go. She faced forward again.

  Tommy turned to Mal, smiling his big wolf smile, practically daring her to do something. “So, I started thinking about you and your lil’ girl and how you probably don’t need any more drama. Then I figured maybe you’d pay me not to tell my story.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “Hey, don’t act like you ain’t got the money! I know you won the lotto. Rich, fucking rug muncher.”

  “Well, Tommy, since you’re about as bad at math as you are at life choices, let’s go over this. First off, when you take a lump settlement, you get significantly less. Then the government takes more than half in taxes. Like sixty-something percent. Then you subtract the money I’ve given to charities, or used to help victims of abuse, the cash I’ve lived on while I couldn’t work, and—”

  “You ain’t poor.”

  Mal studied him through the mirror again. Along with the hate and fear in his eyes, she saw something else, sickeningly familiar, but in no way surprising.

  Greed.

  The man was thinking about dollar signs, not justice.

  He didn’t give a damn about how Mal had nearly ended his marriage. Sure, he was pissed she’d tried to set him up, but he was much more desperate for cash.

  Paying a person off was like negotiating with terrorists. Still, it could buy her time to think of something else to extricate Maggie and Emma from this motherfucker’s life.

  “How much do you want?”

  His eyes brightened. He had his fish on the hook and was ready to reel it in. But the wrong measure of greed could cost him everything. The asshole to be careful.

  “Two-hundred grand.”

  “Ha!” Mal laughed. “You think you’re gonna get even a tenth of that for your story? It’s a fucking blog. Cameron Ford doesn’t have the resources to pay you that much.”

  “No, but maybe I can get a book deal from some big Jew York publisher.”

  “And how long you think that’ll take, Tommy? You really want to write a book and open your own life to that kind of scrutiny? No publisher in the world is gonna give you a dime before making sure you’re a credible witness. And guess what? You’re not. The media will eat you alive once they find out who you really are.”

  He was quiet, thinking, probably trying to figure out if he should make a counter offer.

  Mal made one instead. “Tell you what, Tommy. I’ll give you your two-hundred grand, but only under one condition.”

  His eyes flickered with hope then faded to skepticism. “Oh, yeah, and what’s that?”

  “What?”

  “You hard of hearing?” She waited a beat. “Let them go. You can’t possibly think this is gonna work out for you all, do you?”

  “My wife loves me. Tell her, dear.”

  Maggie nodded. Hardly an overwhelming confirmation.

  “She’s terrified of you! She’s dying to leave. You can’t be that dumb. It’s the best thing for her and for Emma. Probably for you, too.”

  He turned to Maggie. “Is that true? I scare you?”

  Maggie was quiet for a long moment, tears soaking her cheeks.

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

  Maggie finally spoke. “Yes, Tommy. You scare me. And you scare Emma. We don’t feel safe.”

  He hit the steering wheel, so fast, so hard, and so abruptly, Maggie shrieked.

  Mal gripped her gun. “See? You scare her. Let Maggie and Emma come with me. Give yourself six months to get your shit together. Use the money to check into a rehab or something. If you’ve changed after six months, maybe you all can try and make things work.”

  Tommy stared ahead, no emotion on
his face. His eyes were dry, not crying like she’d expect from someone truly hurt by what Maggie had said. Maybe he was a sociopath, or so fucked on drugs he saw her only as an impediment to getting more. Maybe this was the push he needed to take the deal without feeling like the bad guy.

  “So, you’ll just give me the money? Then six months from now, you won’t try and stop us from getting back together?”

  “Not if you’ve gotten better. Believe it or not, this isn’t about you, Tommy. I just want to see Maggie and Emma safe.”

  “Where am I supposed to go then?”

  “You keep the house. I’ve got a place for them if they want it.”

  Tommy laughed, sounding disgusted. “Man, you really thought of everything, eh?”

  “I’m only trying to help.”

  He laughed again, then turned to Maggie. “So, is that what you want then?”

  But Maggie said nothing.

  He pulled over on the side of the road and turned to Mal. “Can we have a moment to discuss this?”

  She nodded then got out of the car.

  They were on a quiet street. Mal could easily walk up to the car and put a bullet through Tommy’s skull and nobody, except Maggie, would witness it.

  She stared at the back windshield, seeing Tommy put his hand on the back of Maggie’s neck. Was he was trying to scare her or was he actually being tender? Was a part of him still capable of being kind, or was this merely manipulation, a narcissist feigning the right emotions to grease their desires?

  Maggie got out of the car. She walked up to Mal, still crying.

  “He said okay. But he wants the money tonight.”

  Mal was going to press back, argue she didn’t have that kind of money laying around. But the safe in her hotel told a different story, and right now, it was the one Maggie needed to hear most.

  “Okay,” she said. “Deal.”

  Chapter 33 - Jasper Parish

  Jasper watched through binoculars as someone from one of the other teams shot at a guard on the roof. The gunmen were all supposed to go down at once, but someone missed their shit.

  Seconds later, the other guards on the roof started firing into the darkness.

  The element of surprise had netted them only three of the guards. Now, stealth was out the window and the assault was on.

  “Bring down the gate!” Larry commanded as one of his men drove a cargo truck through the front. He turned to Jasper. “Let’s do this.”

  Jasper adjusted his ear protection and comms then followed Larry to the west side under the cover of rain and darkness, amid the misdirection of a bulk of their forces approaching from the east.

  Two guards were looking that way when Jasper and Larry caught them by surprise.

  The guard closest to Jasper heard him and turned, aiming his shotgun.

  Jasper had his AR-15’s barrel up faster and fired.

  The man fell back, firing the shotgun blast into the stucco wall.

  Jasper finished the man off as Larry felled the other guard. Then they breached a window on the side of the house.

  Larry fired inside. A second later, he said, “Clear,” then broke the rest of the window.

  After he climbed through, Jasper followed him into the house then to a small library. The exit was closed. Larry motioned that he was going to clear the hallway, then left. The side of his head exploded in bone and blood as he caught a shotgun blast from a guard.

  Fuck!

  Jasper had barely known the guy, but he liked what he saw. Still, no time for grief. He aimed at the door just as Larry’s killer stepped into view. Squeezed off several shots and ended the man before his AR-15 jammed.

  No time to clear it. While Jasper couldn’t hear footsteps above the echoing chaos of gunshots and screams, others were coming, and someone was shouting something in German.

  Jasper dropped the rifle and reached for the pistol in his side holster.

  Someone burst through the doorway, firing a shotgun.

  They missed, just barely, wood and books taking damage to his left.

  Jasper stumbled backward, raising his pistol in time to fire back. He found his target’s chest and head, sending him to the ground.

  Jasper fell to his knees, looked up to see if anyone else was coming, then grabbed the concussion grenade hanging from his belt. He tossed it into the hall.

  After it detonated, Jasper stepped into a long corridor with only a few doors on either side and one at the very back with a matching set of stunned BlackBriar men.

  Jasper fired two more shots, both direct hits to the head, then he darted back into the library and reloaded.

  Ducked back out and checked the hall.

  No threats.

  He headed toward the rear of the house, approaching the door he hoped would lead him to Spider. But he didn’t open doors and clear each room like he normally would. He didn’t know how much time he or Spider had. If someone was in there with her, every moment of delay might bring her closer to death.

  Jasper raised his pistol as he approached.

  A door burst open behind him. He spun around, ready to fire. But before he could squeeze off a shot and kill the giant Russian, the man violently twisted the gun from Jasper’s hand.

  His weapon hit the ground.

  Jasper spotted the man’s knife, too late. Still, he somehow managed to dodge the arcing blade. He had to take it from the Russian. He wouldn’t get a second chance.

  He brought his hand down on the man’s wrist, keeping him from stabbing him. The Russian grunted and headbutted Jasper.

  Pain splintered his skull, but he refused to bend.

  Instead, he butted him back. The Russian’s nose crunched on impact.

  Hot blood sprayed all over Jasper’s face. The Russian twisted his body, getting enough momentum to turn him around then slam him into the wall.

  Jasper raised a knee. Missed the man’s balls but found his gut.

  The Russian wrenched his knife hand free. Came swinging again.

  Jasper dodged, swiftly diving for the floor. He seized the pistol but had no time to turn. He could feel the Russian coming, blade arcing down toward Jasper’s back or side as he dove.

  The Russian landed on him, straddled him. Jasper rolled as best he could beneath his attacker. The knife barely missed, hitting the ground.

  He raised the gun. The Russian grabbed his wrist as he fired. The shot went wide, pelting the wall.

  Each man worked to wrest control from the other. Both sweated to stay alive.

  Their gazes locked.

  The Russian was taller and stronger than Jasper, but nowhere near as desperate. He had no higher purpose and was only trying to save himself.

  But Jasper was on a mission. Adrenaline flooded through his system like a surge of electricity. He bucked, trying to knock the man off of him, but the guy weighed a thousand pounds.

  Jasper struggled to turn the pistol, but the Russian moved his hand from Jasper’s wrist to the barrel.

  This was his only chance. Jasper let go of the gun, a dangerous move handing the gun over to his would-be killer.

  The Russian’s momentum caused the weapon to slip from his hand.

  Jasper struck fast, his right hand finally free. He thrust two fingers at his enemy’s eyes, twisted, then popped one right out of its socket.

  The Russian screamed, forgetting his pistol, both hands now reaching toward the eye dangling from the hollow by its optical nerve.

  Jasper grabbed the blade, raised it, then stabbed the man repeatedly in his gut, like one prisoner shivving another.

  He shoved the incapacitated and dying man backward before standing, grabbing his pistol, then putting a bullet through the Russian’s skull.

  Jasper turned his attention to the door at the end of the hall.

  Chatter in his comms told him soldiers were communicating with one another. Some of them spoke like members of a well-trained unit while others were more colloquial.

  “Yeah! Take that, motherfucker!”r />
  Jasper aimed the gun at the door as he approached. He kicked it open then backed away, tossing his other concussion grenade inside before ducking out and hoping he hadn’t hurt Spider too badly.

  Her wheelchair was there, but the girl was gone.

  Where had she — a bookcase had been moved aside to reveal a hidden room.

  He cleared the adjoining bathroom before checking it out. It was empty, but there was an open hatch in the floor. “Damn it!”

  Jasper raced over and looked down into a tunnel running under the house. “Anyone got eyes on the target?”

  Several responses of no and negative bleated into his comm.

  “I think they escaped,” he said.

  Kim and Logic appeared with his cousin, Tracy, and a few others moments later.

  He didn’t ask how many soldiers Logic had lost, nor did Logic update him on the obvious.

  “I’m going down there,” Jasper said. Then he did.

  And everyone followed.

  Chapter 34 - Mallory Black

  Mal pulled up to the house, hoping Maggie hadn’t had another change of heart.

  She hated paying off Tommy, but what good was money if she couldn’t use it to help someone out of a situation? Besides, the money had apparently been a gift to her from Jasper. For a while after he told her, she thought about getting rid of it. A part of her felt like it was blood money from a serial killer, vigilante, or whatever the hell he was. Another part felt like the money was forever tied to Ashley, Jasper’s attempt to make up for the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop Dodd.

  But then she considered the flip side. Mal had done a lot of good with the money. Helped people who really needed it. She could buy freedom for a woman like Maggie — someone who wanted to do good and needed another chance at life.

  Victims like Maggie often felt trapped. They wanted to leave their toxic situations but doing so would be financial suicide. They might lose a spouse’s healthcare or their kid would suffer. It was amazing how many miserable leashes a person could accumulate in their life, chains anchoring them to shitty situations, preventing them from living the life they wanted.