“It’s the ball,” Jesse said.
Turning over the Magic 8 ball, the white die settled on ‘OF COURSE.’ She clicked the lighter and the die moved to ‘NOT A CHANCE.’ Clicked the broken lighter again and the die shifted to ‘DOES SHIT STINK?’ Alex laughed.
“A joke? All this worry over the lighter and it was a joke?”
“Who knows what lurks in the minds of the fairy godmother,” Jesse said.
“This was for Helene?” Alex laughed.
“Who else did you play Magic 8 ball with?”
Laughing, Alex clicked through the rest of the sayings. The lighter rotated the die to another saying every time she clicked the spark wheel. She couldn’t tell if they were in a set order or the die flipped at random. She was about to set it down when she noticed Troy’s curvy brunette standing in against the door frame.
“I’ll take the security token,” she said.
Stepping forward, the woman revealed a silenced handgun.
FFFFFF
Wednesday morning
April 2 – 3:48 A.M. MDT
Denver, CO
Feeling Alex’s hands move along his naked body, John shifted out of a deep sleep. He sighed. Her soft fingers moved from his face to his shoulders. Her fingers explored his nipples then dipped into his belly button. He entwined her hands pulling them over her head and rolled on top of her. She glowed in the moonlight. She lifted her head and he crushed his mouth with hers.
His passion and longing welled inside of him. His body burned to join with hers. As if she could read his thoughts, she shifted her hips. Hovering over her, he heard her laughter like the tinkling of bells. He kissed her lips.
“We can’t,” he whispered.
Her body drew him to her and they entwined. He dove in, again and again, relishing each moist embrace. Kissing her neck, he realized the glow was not cast by the moon. She was emanating a blue glow.
This was not Alex.
He reeled back.
“What do you want from me?” he asked.
“She’s in grave danger.”
The blue fairy transformed from her Alex shape to her magnificent blue countenance. With flowing robes and long dark hair, she was a vision of everything good and beautiful in the world. He had to shade his eyes from her blue light.
“Wake up, John Kelly. Now is the time to show what you can do, to be the man you are.”
John awoke in bed.
He jumped from the bed then he scrambled for his jeans. Pulling on a T-shirt, he went to his bag for a small leather satchel. James had given him this satchel a couple nights ago. He knew he would find John someday and John would want it back. John shoved the satchel into his back pocket. Sliding down the banister, he made a quick journey to the first floor.
F
Chapter forty-three
“I thought you looked familiar,” Alex said. “I couldn’t place you. How is your father?”
“Dead, thanks to you,” the woman said. “They killed him when the token didn’t work.”
“When you broker death, at some point you’re going to broker your own. Did you kill Troy?”
“He’s dying,” she said. “Arrogant fool. He deserved a slow, painful death. You’re foolish to keep imbeciles around you.”
“Yes, well, loyal friends,” Alex said. “Would you like some coffee?”
Still pointing the gun at Alex, the woman moved farther into the room.
“I’d like the security token.”
“How did you know it was here?”
The woman nodded to the fake journals in the corner.
“The journals? How?”
“We suspected your little journal held the information we needed. We tried to get it at the imbecile’s father’s award ceremony. How did you know?”
Alex shrugged. The woman raised a single eyebrow, and her handgun. Alex sighed.
“Another loyal friend. That’s how it works,” Alex said.
“Our loyal friend put a marker on your journal. We created these journals to notify us when your journal is near. We knew the moment you brought your journal into this room. We went to a lot of trouble to make sure you had a copy of our… fabrications.”
“You broke into Charlene’s house so I would get your fakes? Can I have Charlie’s journals back then?”
“You won’t need them soon.” The woman indicated her weapon.
“Your loyal friend? You mean Robert Powell.”
“That’s correct.”
“You’ve looked for this information for a long time.” For the first time, Alex looked the woman in the face. “Since before everyone died.”
“You’ve held our property captive for years. That’s correct.”
“And what is your property?”
The woman gave an exaggerated sigh.
“You don’t know.”
“I don’t like twenty questions,” the woman said. “I’d kill you now but I need you to put this thing together. No mistakes this time.”
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Alex asked. “I need to take apart the lighter. These are just plastic.”
Alex popped the two plastic pieces apart.
“Move even an inch from your seat and I will shoot you dead. I know about your tricks,” she said.
Alex took a long a drink of her coffee.
“I know almost nothing about you. What should I call you?”
“Get to work.”
“If the token doesn’t work, Cee Cee will kill you,” Alex said.
The woman’s face flushed at the mention of Cee Cee Joiner’s name. This woman was in love with Cee Cee Joiner. Anxious to prove herself, she was very dangerous.
“Haven’t been doing this long have you?”
“I worked for my father,” she said. “I’ve been on my own since you killed him.”
“Your father was a lot better than you are,” Alex said.
Alex swept the plastic pieces, key, lighter and memory card off the edge of the table with her cast. Bending her head over her right hand, she used her left hand to pick up the plastic pieces from her right hand. One at a time, she held each black plastic piece near her eyes then set it on the table.
Retrieving the lighter, her right hand closed over the brass key and the memory card. Under the table, she slipped off her right shoe. While her right hand held the lighter to her eyes, her left hand let the key and memory card fall into her shoe. Slipping on her shoe, Alex felt them against her toes. She set the lighter on the table.
“There’s a computer board and a battery inside the lighter. I need a little screwdriver to take the lighter apart,” Alex said. She shrugged. “I have one in my case. Would you mind if I...?”
“Don’t move.”
Jesse appeared in front of her.
“She stabbed Troy. Assassin cut to the femoral artery. He’s fighting to get to you and to survive. Alex, he’s dying.”
“Save Troy,” Alex said.
“What?” The woman looked around the room. “What are you talking about?”
Unsure of what to do, Jesse hovered for a moment. He knew Alex would refuse help until Troy was safe. He disappeared.
“Talking to myself,” Alex said. “I want to save Troy.”
The woman snorted a laugh.
“The screw driver is in the front pocket. Why don’t you get it for me?”
Keeping the gun trained on Alex, the woman felt around the front pouch of her laptop. She pulled out a long screwdriver.
“Perfect for computers,” Alex said.
Taking the screwdriver from the woman, she opened her Zippo lighter. Tucked under the metal cover was a small electronic computer board. Alex leaned forward to look at the back of the plastic piece on the table. With her face next to the plastic, she tried to determine if the plastic was large enough to hold the computer board. She sat back against the chair.
“What is it?”
“I don’t think these pieces go together.”
There was a sound near the fr
ont of the carriage house. The girl jumped to her feet.
“Get up,” she said. “You’re stalling for time.”
“No,” Alex said. “Your father would tell you that I‘d never lie about something like this. They will kill you either way.”
“Who do you think you’re dealing with? I’m no amateur fool!”
The woman raised her gun.
“Cee Cee loves me. He will never kill me.”
The woman fired two shots into Alex’s heart.
The force of the shots sent Alex flying backward. She slammed into the wall behind her. Gasping for breath, Alex’s hands pressed against her chest. Her brown eyes followed the woman’s movements.
“I killed the Fey!” The woman hooted with joy.
Proud of her accomplishment, the woman sauntered over to Alex. She wrapped her fingers in Alex’s inch long hair and lifted Alex off the ground. To finish the job, she pressed the gun against the top of Alex’s head.
Something flew across the room and hit the woman in the throat. The woman’s throat erupted with blood. She dropped Alex to grab at her throat.
Another object streaked through the air striking the woman in the eye. The woman fell backward. She bounced against the wall and fell forward. She was dead before she hit the floor.
Alex worked to stand.
“Stay there, love,” John said.
Barefoot, he ran into the room. He kneeled down in front of Alex.
“She ruined your favorite fleece,” Alex said. Putting her fingers through the holes, she added, “I’m sorry.”
John sliced through the fabric with the razor sharp knife in his hand. Pulling her T-shirt aside, he saw body armor.
Alex was wearing body armor.
He clutched her to him. Letting her go, his doctor trained hands moved behind the body armor. Her sternum was cracked but not broken. She may have broken a rib or two. She had a concussion. Alex grunted when he touched the forming bruise on her sternum.
“Are you going to kiss me or just fondle my breasts?”
Laughing, he kissed her.
“I’ve always known you could do that,” Alex whispered.
Their eyes held for a moment. Max ran into the room followed by James and Trece. Max dropped to Alex’s side. The twins hugged.
“Call 911,” John said.
“Now there’s my Johnny,” James said. He kneeled to check the woman’s pulse. “Still have the old knack?”
Trece peered at the body.
“Damn Drayson, you did this?” Trece said. “I knew you were good with a scalpel but who knew you could throw them? They teach you this in medical school?”
“Troy… you have to help Troy,” Alex said.
“Don’t worry little miss,” Trece said. “Mattie sent us in here. But Drayson, you need to get out there. Troy’s hurt pretty bad.”
John jumped to his feet. He looked at Alex and she nodded.
“Don’t let her get up,” John commanded as he ran out the door.
“He’s in the kitchen,” Trece yelled after John.
“Police?”
“I’ve got them on the line,” James said. “They are on their way with medics.”
Max plopped down next to Alex. She rested her head against his shoulder.
“It hurts me more than you,” he said.
“You always say that.”
F
CHAPTER FORTY-Four
Wednesday early-morning
April 2 – 3:55 A.M. MDT
Denver, CO
“You stupid fucker Homer.” Troy yelled at himself.
He had his eye on another girl at the bar. Before he could make a move, this buxom brunette was on him. When he smiled at her, she unzipped his pants. She gave him a hand job right there at the bar. He knew something wasn’t right, but his other head, the one tortured by Dahlia a few hours before, didn’t care.
She was more than willing. He’d never met a woman as eager to please. She wanted to do anything he wanted. And they did everything.
And she was easy to please. She came easily, with almost no effort, hard and fast. She made a big moaning show of her orgasms. She acted as if he was the best lover in the entire world. The paranoid soldier in his mind tried to tell him something was wrong.
Did the brilliant Homer Troy Olivas Jasper listen to those voices?
No.
Instead, he worried he didn’t have enough condoms.
When she moved on top of him for the sixth or seventh time he lay back to receive. She rubbed with her hands, sucked with her mouth, until she stroked him with her lips.
In one second, she flicked the blade through his skin and into his right leg. If he hadn’t knocked her off the bed with his left knee, she would have cut his genitals off. He felt the pain but could not comprehend the severity of the knick in his leg. When he jumped after her, his femoral artery ripped. Slipping on his own blood, he fell to the floor among the discarded pillows and clothing.
She laughed at his efforts.
Watching her laugh, his mind finally clicked in.
This was an assassin’s cut.
The more he moved, the worse his artery would tear.
Grabbing a pillow, he slid under the bed and moved to the middle of the bed. Pulling the pillow from the case, he tied the pillowcase around his leg as a tourniquet. He pressed the pillow against the wound. He remembered something about packing the wound. Clamping the pillow in his mouth, he pounded the pillow case fabric into his wound.
She talked the entire time she dressed. She was going to kill the Fey. It would be her. After all this time and all this effort, she would be the one who put a bullet in the Fey’s brain. The woman laughed. She was happy, almost excited and very proud.
When she moved to the door, he played dead. Bending down to look at him under the bed, she laughed.
“You were fun.” She blew him a kiss.
He moved the moment the door closed. Pulling with his arms, he slid from under the bed. Out of habit, he tried to stand with his injured right leg. The pillow case fabric dropped and blood spurt from the wound. He fell forward to the floor.
“God damn it! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Rolling onto his stomach, he dragged himself to his duffle bag. He always carried a med kit. His hand patted around his duffle bag until he found his kit. His fingers closed on the packet of Celox. Rolling over, he poured the powder coagulant onto his wound.
The Celox worked!
The powder and blood formed a clot!
Troy laughed. Grabbing his jeans, he pulled his Leatherman Mini Tool from his pocket. Cutting into the pillow, he took the cotton batting and pressed it into his wound. He tied more batting over the wound with his T-shirt then tightened the tourniquet.
Jesse appeared in front of him.
“Get to Alex, Jesse. The bitch is going to kill her.”
Jesse nodded and disappeared.
Troy rolled over to his stomach and pressed to all fours. Crawling, sliding in his own blood, he made it to the door.
“One, two, three.”
He pushed himself to his knees. His hands, wet with blood, slipped on the doorknob. Wiping his right hand on his naked behind, he turned the knob. One crawl back. A second crawl backward. He pulled the door open. Falling to his hands, he worked to catch his breath.
Moving his hand forward, he slipped on his own blood and fell face first to the floor. His nose broke with a painful pop. The wound began to seep. Panting, he worked to gain his energy.
Pressing to all fours again, he managed to crawl to the bottom of the basement stairs. One step. Two steps. Moving up the steps didn’t stretch the artery. He said a silent prayer of gratitude at the basement door. His lover had left the door ajar.
He continued his slow crawl to the kitchen. His right knee caught on a cabinet and the wound opened. Blood spurt from his artery. Slipping on his own blood, he lay face down on the kitchen floor. Little Maggie barked and threw herself against her crate door.
Unable
to get on his knees, he pulled himself to the back door with his arms.
“Oh me God,” Eoin yelled in Irish Gaelic. “Stay right there. HELP!! We need HELP!!”
“English,” Troy mumbled.
“What?” Eoin said.
“Speak English.” Troy passed out.
“Oh right.” In English this time, Eoin screamed, “HELP! We need HELP!”
“Jesse woke us. What’s going on…?” Matthew said to Eoin. “Erin, get John and Emily. NOW!”
Erin ran toward the basement. She met Max coming through the dining room from his side of the rooming house.
“Jesse says she’s in the carriage house,” Erin said. “Where’s John?”
“With Alex,” Max said.
James ran up from the basement.
“We have to move him,” Max said. “We can’t get out the door.”
Trece appeared from the basement. He rolled Troy over creating enough space for Max and James to squeeze out the back door.
“Don’t move him!” Emily came running through the kitchen in her pajamas.
“Trece, protect Alex,” Matthew ordered. “GO!”
Trece slipped out the door. Emily dropped to look at Troy’s wound. Her small hands picked at his makeshift bandage.
“I can’t even begin to fix this kind of deep penetrating wound. And we can’t move him like this,” Emily said. “Only a specialist… a vascular surgeon… like John… can fix something like this. I can only stop the superficial bleeding. But any movement, any at all, and his artery will tear… more. This swelling and bruising is from the artery bleeding under the skin.”
Troy awoke with a gasp. He threw Emily off him and moved toward the back door.
“White Boy!” Matthew screamed.
Naked, White Boy flew from the basement. All mass and muscle, he ran through the kitchen. He held Troy in the kitchen then cradled Troy’s head in his lap.
Troy was hysterical. Crying and cursing, he told them he killed Alex. He jerked his leg. He would rather die than live knowing he killed Alex.
“Well then,” John said. He grabbed Troy’s wounded leg. Pulling off Troy’s makeshift bandage, John pressed the swelling around Troy’s wound. “I guess you’re going to have to work at living. Is this Celox?”
Learning to Stand Page 37
