by Adair Rymer
That's fine, I was a trained by actual ninjas. I would have his head shoved up his own ass in a few heartbeats, and there wasn't a damn thing that murdering fuck could do about it. In darkness this thick, I was no longer a shadow. I was the night itself.
Suddenly my precious darkness disappeared, and Micky lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Gut this, you prick.” The officer spat. She might have had to throw her gun away, but she still had her Taser. Micky danced to the jig of twenty-thousand volts. She zapped him well past necessity, until it turned into punishment. Only then did the officer allow him to drop.
I was beginning to like this woman.
In an instant she had the unconscious Irishman on his stomach and in cuffs.
“I don't know who you are, but you better come out if you don't want to be Tased too!” The officer took out and turned on her flashlight. She searched for me as the sirens grew louder in the background.
I thoroughly checked the mobster's face in the ambient light from her flashlight, matching it against the faces that were burned into my memory from that fateful night. He wasn't the one I was looking for. I'd rather see the whole gang dead, but a life sentence for attempted murder of a police officer was fine too. “You can have this one.”
“Have this one?” The officer balked, then swung her reloaded Taser at the sound of my voice. “I'm the goddamn police. I get everyone!”
“I'm not your enemy, Officer Kurtzm—” I read her name tag aloud until the word got lodged in my throat.
Kurtzman... Natasha Kurtzman. Why did I know that name?
“I don't care who you are, Mr. Boogeyman. Vigilantism is illegal. You're under arrest too!” I shifted slightly as the two Taser prongs flew harmlessly past. I could register and react to information so fast now they were never a threat. Hell, I could've plucked them out of the air with ease if I wanted to. I doubt the electric shock would have even slowed me down.
God, it was so hard to remember her! It was like recounting the beginning of a long dream days after you woke. My memories of her were in there somewhere and powerful, but also buried deep. The serum was fighting me every step of the way on this.
The serum always only pushed on the emotion for revenge.
I stripped the flashlight from her hands, turning it off, then dropping it. In the same otherworldly blur of motion, I pulled a road flare from her belt, lit it and dropped it next to the flashlight. It bathed us both in a hellish red light, but not even that could rob the officer of her natural fair skin beauty.
Several cruisers arrived in the parking lot on the other side of the building. I didn't have much time left.
“Stay back!” Natasha threw a hand up to keep me at bay, but I caught it easily. Her pulse quickened through my fingertips. She said the words but she didn't struggle. Her convictions were melting away, when she saw that I wasn't going to hurt her. “I'm warning you.”
I gently touched her face, I had to. She didn't pull away. The softness of her skin sent a flood of memories and emotions through me. It was horrible and wonderful. I was beginning to remember the time before my transformation...
Natasha's oval face and light skin screwed up in confusion as she felt the gentleness in my grasp. Her eyes were green, the color of sea foam at dawn and there was hardness in them. Behind that, there was so much pain.
Why was she wounded?
Suddenly I had an overwhelming urge to take her pain away. I wanted to find who hurt her almost as badly as I wanted to finish my own mission. But that was impossible. A new emotion stirred in my heart that not even the serum could dull. Something old, something dangerous.
I cared for this girl. No, it was more than that.
You loved her, said a voice deep within me that I hadn't heard in years.
I wore a half mask that covered everything on my face except my eyes and forehead. Until my mission was complete I needed the option of anonymity. Now I was glad I had it on for another reason.
Logan Drake was dead.
The woman he loved had already grieved and moved on. If I tore my mask off right now, it would only break her heart all over again. Despite what I looked like and the memories that flooded me, the Logan she remembered was never coming back.
The bobbing yellow beams of flashlights held by running police officers poked out from further up the path. They were calling for Natasha and her partner and were rapidly closing in on our location. I had to leave. Now.
“They're over here!” One officer called as her light flashed us. There were nearly a dozen cops running up on us now. They'd be here in seconds.
I quickly memorized Nat's face, so I could see the woman I loved every time I closed my eyes. I might no longer be the man she wanted, but she would always be the only one for me.
“Some things in life are worth the risk,” I whispered, looking as deeply into her eyes as I could. The words slipped out of my lips like they had a mind of their own.
“What did you say?” Nat gasped.
When the flashlights switched from us to Nat's partner, I stomped out the flare, then faded into the shadows and disappeared.
Chapter 3
Natasha
Some things in life are worth the risk.
I kept replaying the words over and over in my head. It couldn't be him. It just couldn't. There had to be a more plausible explanation. Superpowers and ghosts? Come on now...
“You look like hell, Natasha. You alright?” John Ellis' mumbled from his hospital bed, snapping me out of my daze. I stood up and stretched out the kink in my side from half sleeping in an uncomfortable plastic chair all night. The sun poked out over the west wing of the building.
Dawn already?
I was exhausted and disgusting. I hadn't showered or even changed out of my uniform since we arrested Micky Flattery last night.
Sue, John's wife, and the kids were out of town visiting his mother-in-law. They were catching the next fight home, but wouldn't make it back till later today. I could've gone back to my apartment last night, but it felt wrong to leave my partner here all alone. Especially because I was the reason he was in here in the first place.
“I should be asking you that.” I rubbed my eyes, trying to push those damn words out of my mind. “How're you feeling?”
“Like I got shot a few times.” John groaned, then shifted painfully into more of a sitting position. “But hey, now I got street cred for when I release that album I’ve been talking about.”
“You play jazz in your silly trilby hat. I don't think saxophonists need street cred.” John wasn't a technical savant, but he had this organic, dirty sound that only great underground musicians had. Needless to say, whenever Bad J. Ellis performed it was standing room only. He'd been getting around to that album for as long as I'd known him.
“You're probably right,” John said, lightly patting his wound as if he needed convincing that last night wasn't just a bad dream. “But don't bad-mouth the hat. The trilby was respectable long before hipsters got their latte-swilling hands on them.”
A nurse came in to make sure the IVs and the bandages hadn't gotten tussled while he slept. She talked to us for a few minutes about his condition and when he'd be able to go home.
For being shot twice, John had been incredibly lucky. The force was giving him two months medical leave, then two months of light duty. I knew he'd be back to work in a week, even if it was just to sit behind a desk. John was the kind of man that couldn't be idle, I admired that.
The nurse told him that food would be in soon, then left to check on her other patients.
“Hey, so. I—” I stumbled with the words I'd been practicing all night. I put my elbows on my knees and leaned toward John. I felt terrible about this whole thing. My partner wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed if I had just listened to him. “I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I—”
John put up a hand to stop me. “Before you go all good catholic girl on me and blame yourself for everything, let me ask you a question. Did you arrest any of them?
”
“One, yeah.” I rang my hands slowly, guilt still weighed heavily on me. I only got the chance because that vigilante saved my life. Both of our lives. I knew what I was doing was dangerous. I just didn't care. How could I have been so stupid?
“Know that following those guys was the right call. You should've done it more carefully, but you were right. If the cops start avoiding the problems we don't want to deal with, guys like the Shadow step in and turn everything into the damn Wild West.”
“The Shadow...” I repeated softly.
People say he's a hero for dealing with the Irish mob in a way the police never could. I wasn't fully convinced he even existed until last night. I thought it was the Dragons, a rival gang that was pissed about the Irish moving in on their turf.
Obviously, I was wrong.
Who was this Shadow? Was he really a hero? No. Heroes don't play judge, jury and executioner. But he wasn't a villain either. He had every chance to kill me if he wanted to. I was conflicted. I became a cop because I believed in doing things the right way. I wanted to save people like the Drakes, like Logan...
Some things in life are worth the risk.
Those damn words haunted me. Was that a common saying? Weird that I'd never heard it again from anyone. Why did the Shadow say that? I could've sworn he also had had Logan's eyes. Brown eyes were common though.
No! They were his eyes. And then he touched me... It was almost loving, the caress he gave me. I hated that there was a connection between us. Had he known the Shadow known Logan?
I was just tired. When was the last time I slept? The Irish had been stirring up so much trouble in the area that I'd been pulling double and triple shifts all week. I needed real sleep.
But I had too many fucking questions rattling around my skull.
Get it together, Nat. I wiped a hand over my face.
“Are we doing enough?” I asked one of those questions out loud.
“Says the girl who's almost too exhausted to stand.” John chuckled, shaking his head. “Us personally, or cops in general? Because I don't think there's much more I can do from this bed.”
“I heard Micky was probably going to walk. His lawyers are saying Sean O'Grady forced Micky to act against his will. Can you believe that?”
“Gotta love New York.” John exhaled like the unsurprised veteran he was. He'd been on the force long enough not to be fazed by anything anymore. He told me it was a trait I'd grow into. I didn't doubt him.
“You said maybe our failings made the Shadow.” There was a distance to my voice that I found unsettling. “New York has changed. It's like a damn war zone out there some days. Does this city need a man like him?”
I was so accustomed to putting on a tough front that I rarely ever stopped to question what I was doing. For every thug and banger we put away, two more popped up and took his place. Some days it felt like I was just bashing my head up against a wall, trying to see the other side.
Did I become a cop to enforce the laws or to make a difference? I'd always thought they were the same thing. I wasn't so sure anymore.
“Hell if I know?” John shrugged. “Maybe it's just a matter of time until this hero cracks and knocks off a few innocents, or they get caught in the crossfire. Either way, that's not our call to make.”
I frowned. It was clearly apparent I didn't like that answer.
“Listen. I don't know this clown, but I do know you, Natasha. You've worked harder than anyone for that badge. You're a true believer. Civilians trust you with their safety more than some guy who hides behind a mask. We don't punish the bad guys, the courts and the prisons do. We protect and serve the good people of this city.”
John let that sink in before finishing his thought, “That's who you are and that's why you signed up.”
“Thanks, John.” I patted his knee. I needed a voice of clarity, because mine was a little muddy at the moment. A dietary aide came in with a tray of food. “Eat. I have to head out anyway. Give Sue, Johnny and Ben a hug for me, alright? And call me if you need anything.”
I affixed my thick, cluttered belt and put my hair back up in a tight bun. At a distance I might still pass as fresh-looking, at least until I could get home, take a shower and burn these clothes.
“You won't have to worry about the Shadow much longer.” John's words stopped me in my tracks. “A little birdy told me a task force has been assembled. Apparently our super-friend has pissed off all the right people.”
“Task force? That's the feds.” The FBI had been content to let us handle the gangs so far. What could've changed? “Why were they brought in?”
“Not sure, but I have a few friends in the Bureau. They're calling it Operation Searchlight.” John took a jaunty tone when he said the name. He peeled the steaming plastic film off his rubbery scrambled eggs, then thought better of it and covered them again. “I'll make some calls, providing I survive eating whatever this shit is.”
“Let me know what you hear.” My mind was spinning with possibilities. I'd do some digging on my own, see if I could uncover anything. Anything to keep me from thinking about Logan or the Shadow.
“Only if you get some damn rest!” John called out to me as I left his room.
“Yes, Dad.” I lied. Sorry, but rest wasn't a priority.
I had work to do.
Chapter 4
Natasha
I dreamt of a series of loud knocks. I was back in my childhood apartment when the knocks came. Three loud raps on my front door, then two, then only one.
Logan wanted to be let in.
It was officer West who found me asleep in one of the squad cars after my shift was over. I told him it was just a nap, but a few hours later I was visited by our captain. He'd pulled my hours for review and found out I had been on the clock three times longer than anyone else. He gave me the rest of the week off. There was no arguing, it was mandatory.
I was pissed, until I realized this might be a blessing in disguise. I wasn't a detective, I couldn't just work a case until it was finished. Most of my time on the clock was spent responding to nine-one-one calls.
Vacation freed me up to focus on the Irish mafia.
There was some information you couldn't get while in a police uniform. So I wore a different uniform tonight, one I had to go shopping for.
My curly red hair was teased up big. I had on a gaudy, pink halter top with a black miniskirt and fishnet leggings, jewelry that bordered on costume and way too much makeup. I was a beautiful, trying too hard mess. It was perfect.
I pushed open the door to The Four Leaf, getting stares as I entered, but that was the point. All my weaknesses as a cop were my armor when I went undercover. No one thought anything of the cute, dumb, redhead walking into the bar. It was strangely liberating.
I'd been hitting Irish pubs every night, the seedier the better, and gathering more information than most of the detectives. Drunk wannabe-gangsters will say anything if they think it'll help them get their dick wet.
There was nothing trendy about The Four Leaf. There was no beer list posted, no specials, no music, no food offered and every hour was unhappy hour. One TV that played the soccer game hung above the bar. That was it. It was a bar where regulars could drink and talk privately and no one asked too many questions.
The Four Leaf straddled the fine line of being unsavory and unwelcoming, while being just north of legal. I knew right away that this was the right place.
I sat at the bar near a small group of men and tried to eavesdrop inconspicuously. I'd read dossiers on each of the four men. They all had rap sheets as long as my arm. It didn't take long for some young enforcer type, probably the nephew of a real player, to sit next to me and buy me a drink. That actually made it easier. As long as I flirted a little, I could stay in this spot and listen in on the conversation behind me.
I had used this same tactic a few times and the results were always fantastic. The hard part was leaving alone at the end of the night, because I sure as hell wasn't g
oing to fuck any of them. A few guys inevitably thought that because they'd been feeding me drinks all night, I owed them sex. I showed them my gratitude by giving them a face full of pepper spray and a kick in the balls.
People came in and out over the course of the evening. Some I even recognized from other bars I'd visited. A blond girl made the rounds like I did, but she was just a gangster groupie. There was one guy in a black jacket who I swore I'd seen before. He had long hair and a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes. I couldn't get a good look at him without being obvious.
A beer bottle was handed to me, forcing my concentration away from the familiar stranger. I graciously accepted it, making a mental note to be more aware of my surroundings, then turned back to the task at hand.
The enforcer who was buying me drinks prattled on about his car, how great he was with the ladies and how he'd got all these connections in the business. It was all bullshit, but I gave him the appropriate “Uh huh”s, giggles and finger-in-hair twirlings to keep him going for half the night.
Meanwhile the real mob guys were discussing their dealings with the Dragons. It was two nights ago at a bar like this when I'd heard that they'd taken over the smaller Dragon gang. I didn't put too much stock in it then, but I kept it in mind. Every lead had to be followed up on. It turned out that criminals, even when they were talking to other criminals, weren't all that trustworthy.
Shocker.
The name Victor kept coming up in conversation, as someone who might need to be dealt with. Who was Victor?
My head was getting sluggish. How much had I drank? That was the problem with spreading my attentions so thin, it was easy to lose track of things. I tried to play it safe by eating a big meal beforehand and drinking slowly over the course of the night, but I'd always come home at least a little buzzed.
The night was still early and I hadn’t had that many drinks. How strong was the bartender making them? I asked the enforcer to order me a water. I told him, “I wanted to remember whatever the night had in store for us.”
