Savage Beast (Max Savage Book 1)

by Sloane Howell

  People talked about pistols and large caliber weapons. I’d take my Ruger and a good knife over anything else, if it meant survival.

  Rabbits, squirrel, small game—the Ruger could feed you, protect you, and the takedown model could be broken down into two pieces. Easily portable. If you can shoot good enough, you don’t have to worry about a large caliber and stopping power. Give me my Ruger and I could do anything with it. It was all about choosing the right tool for the job.

  Smells from the restaurants filled the air on Brookside, burgers and steaks and bacon. It looked upscale and friendly for a diverse younger crowd. I turned off a side road and veered left two blocks down to Sean’s street.

  His house was nice enough. He’d done well for himself. It was nothing special, but it suited him. I glanced around. No yellow tape. No signs of a crime scene. The house was all brick, one story with a small front porch and steps, painted pastel blue. I walked up the steps and through the front door. Strangely, it was unlocked. Who had been there? Surely, the cops hadn’t left it that way.

  I kept my head on a swivel, a force of habit. What did the rest of the ad mean?

  The place was neat and tidy as I’d expected. No sign of a struggle. I looked at the pictures along the wall. A few of them looked recent. I was in a few from our Army days. Sean smiled in every single one. He had one of those sheepish grins you don’t forget. The kind you couldn’t get mad at. I passed through the small living area and turned into his kitchen. Spotless. Standard. Everything was neatly tucked away, a habit for a soldier. There was a fridge, built-in cabinets, and a counter that wrapped around to a small breakfast bar with one wooden barstool in front.

  I imagined him making coffee and reading the paper there or tapping away at his laptop.

  I stepped on the trash can pedal and the lid sprang open. There was an empty box of green tea, a few wadded-up paper towels, and an empty meat package. I picked it up in my fingertips by the corner. Organic farm-raised chicken breasts.

  His fridge was almost bare, but that was expected given he only had to feed one person. He didn’t have family. No girlfriend I knew of, just a few acquaintances on the internet and co-workers, but there could’ve been more.

  I walked back to his master bedroom. It was just as expected. There was a desk in the corner, but no computer. He had a few posters on the wall, bands and a cat dressed like Albert Einstein. It seemed a little juvenile, but he was a bachelor and a grown man so he could decorate however the hell he wanted. I imagined him finally settling down with some fellow computer geek. She’d have made him ditch the posters and buy window treatments. I smiled at the thought. Then my stomach tied itself in a knot when I realized he’d never get to do any of that. It was what he wanted, whether he said it or not. The right girl just hadn’t come along for him yet.

  The bed was made. The room was tidy and neat, like the rest of the place. It looked like Sean could walk in at any time like nothing had happened and pick up right where he left off. I walked to the closet and looked around. The ceiling was about a foot shorter than it should’ve been, short enough I could easily press my palms to it. I rubbed my hands together.

  Now, we’re talking, buddy.

  I reached up and laid both my hands flat about shoulder-width apart and lifted on my toes. The false ceiling rose and clicked into a position an inch or two higher than it was before. I slid it sideways out of view, into grooves that must’ve been above an adjacent closet or bathroom.

  I flipped the switch just outside the door and it lit up an array of various tactical weapons, along with a silver laptop computer that probably cost more than everything I owned.

  You always loved those Remington 700s.

  Unfortunately, hauling a bolt-action rifle on my shoulder around Tulsa wasn’t ideal. Although, if there was a city where you could do that, it would probably be Tulsa. I snagged the Beretta M9 and a few magazines. The Beretta M9 was standard issue for a large portion of the military, so I was very familiar with that pistol. I shoved one magazine into the weapon and stuffed the remaining one in my pocket. I checked the safety, then tucked the gun in the back of my pants. I reached up and took the laptop. There wasn’t a battery or power cable. I could pick one up somewhere if I couldn’t find his.

  I had enough information at that point to assess, so it was about time to get moving.

  I walked out of the room and stared at the bathroom. The door was closed. That’s where he’d been found. I wasn’t ready to go in there, yet. I’d say my goodbyes when we had closure. I decided to do a quick scan of the perimeter of the house, just to be thorough.

  I went out the backdoor. The backyard was a normal backyard; a small Weber charcoal grill on a patio, one chair, minimal yard with a chain-link fence. No trees. He was boxed in by neighbors; suburbia, USA at its finest. It looked as much like the American dream as anything else—raw Americana.

  On my way out, I noticed a Ford Focus sitting a few houses down parked on the side of the road. It was a few years old. Slightly worn bumpers and wheel wells, most likely from highway miles. It’d been there when I went in and there was a man still sitting in the driver’s seat, pretending not to pay attention to me.

  I retraced my steps through Callahan’s house and out the backdoor. Rattled the chain-link fence that divided his neighbor’s yard and his. It looked empty. Maybe they were out to an early dinner. Maybe the kids had soccer practice. No dogs ran out when I shook the fence, and I didn’t see any dog houses. Dogs and I had a love-hate relationship. They loved to hate me.

  I hopped the fence and crouch-sprinted through their backyard, coming out on the other side of their house. It gave me a clear path to sneak up on the guy and have a little fun. I ducked down and crept around the side of the Focus. Once in position, I stood and rapped on the window. Knuckles on glass make a loud sound next to someone’s face. The guy nearly caked his pants he jolted so hard.

  “Jesus!” He panted for a few seconds.

  I leaned down and gave him a view of my face. I wanted to get a look at his too. He hit a button and the window slid down. He had thin silvery hair and brown leather skin, maybe mid-forties. He hadn’t sounded like he was from Tulsa. Sounded more like he was from the northeast—Boston or somewhere in the New England area. His head was round like a potato, with an even rounder nose, two pink cheeks like he was always blushing.

  “How much you looking to spend?” I cocked my eyebrows up at him in a suggestive manner.

  His whole face turned the pink color of his cheeks and he ignored my little ice breaker. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Well stop being a creepy old man in a Ford.” I smacked the top of his car with my palm.

  He shook his head and squinted his eyes. “Can I help you with something?” His acting could use some work, but it wasn’t half bad.

  “You can stop following me.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  I stared.

  “What the hell do you want, buddy?”

  He stayed in character. Good for him.

  “Tell Starsky to piss off.”

  “Who?”

  “Detective Harden. He sure is showing a lot of interest in a closed case.”

  His eyes looked right through me, like the wheels in his brain were spinning and finding nothing. It wasn’t an act this time. He threw the car into drive and sped off up the street. Well that was interesting.

  5

  I HIGH-TAILED IT BACK UP Callahan’s porch, through his front door and into his kitchen. He had a land line in there. I pulled out Detective Shirley’s card and dialed her number, noticing she wrote her cell number on the back too. I stared at my weathered face and blue eyes in the glass window above his sink.

  You still got it, big guy.

  Fact was, I liked women a lot. I’d never settle down with one because I enjoyed freedom and being accountable only to myself. Marriage had turned a lot of guys I knew into shells of their former selves. They ceased being friends after they tied the knot. I
didn’t blame them. It was what people did—got married, had kids, stayed busy. A new phase of life. I was perfectly content being alone in the woods.

  Relationships looked difficult. Part of me, I knew, didn’t want to hand over any control of myself to someone else. Right now, if I didn’t want to do something, I didn’t. You had to make concessions like that in a relationship.

  But, if a good-looking woman wanted to spend time with me, I wouldn’t say no. That was for damn sure, whether it was a roll in the sheets or a night on the town. I liked walking into a room and watching all the heads turn. There was something about Shirley. I’d like to do both of those things with her, maybe more than once, but there was no way I would put that before what I came to Tulsa to do. If it meant passing up a good time with her, so be it.

  I snapped out of my daydream. There was only one thing I came to town to do—get the truth. That was all that mattered.

  I’m going to nail these bastards, Sean. That’s a promise. I stared at a picture of us on the wall. I missed him. I should’ve come sooner. I’m sorry.

  I’d grab the laptop and be on my way as soon as I found out who that guy was in the Focus.

  The phone purred and Shirley picked up after two rings. “Detective Shirley.”

  “Why you having me tailed?”

  “Savage?”

  She knew it was me, which meant she got no response.

  “It’s not us.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I’ll find out.”

  “We don’t have surveillance on you.”

  “Suicide my ass.”

  Who the hell followed me? I stared back at Callahan’s picture of us and mumbled to myself, “What’d you get caught up in that got you killed?”

  “What?”

  I didn’t respond to her question.

  She sighed into the receiver. “We need to meet up. You should come back in. Or I’ll come.”

  You might, if you’re lucky.

  “I’ll find you when I’m ready.” I hung up before she could say anything else.

  I needed to get out of there. If it wasn’t the cops, it meant someone else was watching. Someone that was more of a threat than the police. I snagged the laptop. I was anxious to see Shirley again and ask more questions about the case but that could wait.

  I opened the front door right as four guys walked up the sidewalk. They stopped in their tracks and glared at me. These were not small men. All four of them folded their arms across their chests. The guy from the Focus sat across the street and grinned from the driver’s seat.

  6

  I NODDED. “GOOD. YOU SHOWED yourselves. I don’t like surprises.”

  The ringleader stepped forward. They always do. He had on chocolate-brown Carhartt coveralls and had a big wad of chewing tobacco tucked in his lip. They all looked late-twenties, beards—country boys, all taller than six feet, all more than two hundred pounds. They were mostly muscle with a thin layer of country fat, from bacon and eggs every morning and a twelve pack of Budweiser every night. It catches up to you eventually. Years of strong-arming people was about to catch up to them. They were about to pick on the wrong person.

  There was nothing worse than a country boy, though. They were usually about ten times stronger than they looked and could take a punch. Fortunately, for me, not many people posed a threat in that department. I had the Beretta tucked in the back of my jeans just in case.

  “You should get out of town.” The ringleader set his sights on me.

  “Soon. When I’m done.”

  He took another large step in front of his buddies. “See that doesn’t work for our boss. You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, boy.” He spit a stream of brown liquid onto the grass.

  Nasty.

  “Who’s your boss?”

  “Someone you don’t wanna mess with.”

  “That so?”

  “Ask your friend.” He nodded at the house, and all four of them snickered.

  I set the laptop on the ground and walked down the steps until I was about four feet away from him. The ringleader was about six-four, so he had a couple inches on me. I stared back at his buddies then back at him.

  I smirked. “How about you say hi to him in a minute.”

  He looked back over his shoulder with a grin on his face then glanced back to me. “Think so?”

  “If you get in my way.”

  He took another step and closed the distance between us, so that we were about a foot apart. He looked down at me and his smile mashed into a thin line. A few wrinkles popped up on his forehead. His square jaw tightened.

  “Stroke his ass, Wyatt!”

  Wyatt and the others, including me, all turned to the guy who’d said it.

  “I don’t mean—I, umm, mean—”

  “Shut the hell up!” Wyatt glared at him and turned back to me. He said “hell” like “hail.”

  My face trembled a little, suppressing a smile, and I shrugged. “Explains a lot.”

  He poked my chest with a finger.

  I stared down at his hand and then back up at him.

  He grinned.

  I grinned back. “So, should I pull my pants down first, or should you get on your knees—”

  He took a swing at me. I saw it coming from a mile away. He was too ambitious. A quick jab would’ve worked better. To throw a big punch he had to pull his arm back first. As soon as he did I hit him with a quick jab to the ribs. He doubled over and went into a coughing fit. I dropped an elbow down between his shoulder blades. His chest smashed into the sidewalk.

  The eyes of the other three darted to me, and their eyebrows rose. Their buddy was laid out flat on his stomach in less than two seconds.

  I propped a foot up on Wyatt’s back and pinned him to the sidewalk. We all stared each other down for a few seconds. I was daring them to do something about it.

  They were all in shock. Wyatt the badass writhed on the ground under my boot. I glanced down at him while he wheezed, then took the toe of my shoe and mashed it against his cheek. It forced the wad of tobacco down his throat.

  Wyatt spewed all over the sidewalk.

  I shook my head at him. “Filthy habit, Wyatt. I’m doing you a favor.”

  I turned to the other three. “Anybody else?”

  Wyatt tried to push up against my shoe, and I jammed my heel into his back. Dug it in and twisted. I knew exactly where every nerve ending ran. I bore down harder, shifting all my weight to his right scapula. He cried out and beat his fist on the concrete. “Okay! Stop!” He grimaced.

  I eased up on him and gripped a hand full of his ratty-ass hair, then leaned down in his face. “Done running your mouth?”

  He nodded furiously.

  “Stay out of my way then.” I smashed his face back down into the concrete and walked up the steps and snatched the laptop.

  I stared at the driver from earlier then turned back to the others. “Tell your boss I’m coming for him. Soon.” I walked inside and watched them from the window.

  The guy in the Focus wiped the sweat from his brow while his buddies collected Wyatt from the pavement.

  7

  I KNEW THEY’D SEND MORE people back at some point, so I had limited time. I’d been in worse situations. They’d finally pulled away after they’d loaded Wyatt into the back of the car. I opened the laptop. If I could get the information I wanted I could be on my way. Inside Callahan’s house I was a sitting duck.

  I fired up the computer. It had security built in—biometric with a password option as well.

  Talk to me, Callahan.

  Knowing him, it could’ve been anything. I still didn’t know who to trust at the police department outside of Shirley. In my old line of work, we would’ve sent the computer to someone like Callahan to break into it. I didn’t have that luxury. It looked like I was going to be hauling the laptop off somewhere.

  I’d wanted to put a bullet in each of their heads when they’d showed up. Especially after Wyatt had ran his mouth off about Sean. But it was
too early to start piling up bodies. If I showed too much of a hand they’d clam up. I couldn’t give them any information to take to their boss. He needed to worry.

  Who the hell were they anyway? That’s what I needed to find out. Who was the boss I’d threatened?

  I figured I had two options. I could stay there and wait for them to come back and beat the information out of them. They would wait until the middle of the night when I was asleep if they were smart. I liked my sleep.

  The other option was gather what I needed and get out of there. Make my way to a hotel and try to get inside Callahan’s computer. I wanted to take the first option, simply because I’d get to beat the hell out of the other guys too, and I’d get the information quicker that way. But the logical part of my brain said the second was the smarter choice. It was always better to face someone prepared.

  I picked up the laptop, grabbed an apple off the counter, and headed for the door. A few moments later, I found myself at a park at the end of the block. Sitting behind a few bushes, I waited around until the sun started to set. The dark would help me stay concealed on my way to a hotel in case they tried to drive up on me. I didn’t know the lay of the land well enough yet. I added study a map of Tulsa to my mental to-do list.

  Once the sun dipped down over the horizon, the shadows of the houses crawled toward the east in the orange and pink sunset. I figured by the time I got around the block it’d be dark enough. I set off back north toward downtown. Might as well try to stay between the two places. That plan went to hell after the first mile. There were no hotels around. The country goons, whoever was after me, had to figure I’d work my way back to downtown. Caution was always better than recklessness.

  When I got to 21st Street, I progressed east toward a place called Veteran’s Park. I didn’t like taking the same route multiple times. The park came up on my left, a few blocks down. On the right side of the road was a huge razed parking lot with a small rock barrier wall around the perimeter.