by G. K. Parks
“I thought you weren’t a whore,” Chase sounded smug, “but now you want to renegotiate terms.”
“That doesn’t make me a slut. It makes me smart. Was there a coup? Because according to Virgil, Hoyt’s no longer in charge.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Well then, the deal’s off until whoever is in charge wants to make a new offer. Twenty-five percent is a joke. And obviously, you’re having some issues in your house. Wouldn’t it be in everyone’s best interest to do this quickly and quietly?”
“I prefer loud and messy, and I want you on your knees.” His voice dropped an octave. “And that’s nonnegotiable.”
“Fuck you.”
He snickered. “No, that’s what Hoyt did to you. Now it’s my turn, Riley. Thirty-five percent. It’s the best deal you’ll get, but I get what I want.”
“When?”
“Aren’t you impatient? Tomorrow night, my suite at the hotel. Hell, I’ll even let you stay the night, and we’ll make the trade in the morning as planned.” He really thought he was holding all the cards. “Or you can walk away. The clock’s ticking. Yes or no?” I remained silent, fighting back my rage. “You have ten seconds to make a decision.”
“Yes.” And I hung up.
Immediately dialing Heathcliff, I passed along the phone number and gave the briefest update on the situation. He said they just got a judge to sign for the rental car agency’s records, and a few uniforms went to collect the information. I didn’t bother to mention I already had what we needed since I wanted to see where it would lead before turning it over. The PD had enough to do without botching their investigation with a rescue attempt.
Twenty-three
I had driven to three of the ten locations. One was a small business which probably produced fake passports and other forms of identification based on the size of the joint and the equipment I spotted in the back room. The next was a pawn shop, and the third was an abandoned garage.
After thoroughly snooping around the garage, I didn’t see any sign of Ryan or a place to stow hostages. This was probably one of the other chop shops that Barlow did business with. Maybe Chase was collecting funds or paying for additional products. There was no way to know what state Barlow’s former business was in with him behind bars and his team quickly turning on themselves.
Reordering the next few locations on my list, I set out for the most secluded destination. If they were smart, they wouldn’t keep Ryan chained up in a back room or inside a garage where any random passerby could hear him yelling for help. Entering the coordinates into my GPS, I set out for the fourth location.
When I arrived outside a house in a tiny neighborhood, I double-checked the information APS provided with the corresponding numbers I entered. This didn’t look right. There was no cover outside the house, and no cars in sight. Considering all my options, I approached the front door, feeling the reassuring weight of my nine millimeter at my side as I rang the doorbell. I strained to hear, but there were no sounds coming from within.
I rang the bell again, sweeping each of the front windows for signs of light or movement. There was nothing but eerie stillness and silence. Ringing the bell incessantly, if anyone was inside, they’d do something to stop the raucous, but no one came to the door. Maybe no one was home. Hell, this location was pretty far down the list, maybe it was from the last person who rented the car and not from Devereaux. Still, something didn’t feel right. The area was full of dilapidated and condemned houses. There were no signs of life on the street, and it was just downright creepy.
I tried to twist the doorknob, but it was locked. Cautiously, I stepped away from the front door, studying the house. It was a small ranch style dwelling, and I went around the side in search of other entrances. Since I made such a wonderful car thief, there was no reason why I shouldn’t add B&E to my pending rap sheet.
The rear of the house took me by surprise. A greenhouse addition was attached directly to the back porch. The makeshift metal door remained closed by a single latch that broke easily when I threw my shoulder against it. The door swung open, and I managed to regain my footing before tumbling forward. No one was around, and I scanned the contents of the potted plants as I made my way to the back door. There were a few flowers, some herbs, but nothing that I recognized as illegal. Frankly, the greenhouse was a joke, maybe ten feet by twelve with very few plants.
I didn’t spot any surveillance or alarms, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Parker, what the hell are you doing? I was about to break into someone’s home because the coordinates were on the anti-theft system of a car Chase Devereaux was renting. There was no solid proof Devereaux visited this location, but there was an undeniable force urging me on. Either I was insane, or something about this house screamed psychopath.
Glancing down at my gloved hands, I knew I wouldn’t contaminate any evidence or leave proof of my illegal activities. Twisting the doorknob, I was surprised when the door miraculously opened a few inches before the security chain stopped it. Carefully reaching inside, I pushed the door closed against my hand, thankful for slender wrists and fingers as I slid the chain out of the lock and reopened the door.
The door opened into what must have been a breakfast nook at one point. Now it was practically gutted, except for the counter. A thick layer of dust and drywall littered the floors from here to the front door. There was minimal furniture. A few large ceramic flowerpots stood in the center of what must have been the kitchen, and numerous glass instruments and vials were spread across the counter. The entire area from the front door to the back door was empty and gutted. Even the walls were torn down, leaving nothing but a wide open space. What the hell was this place?
My mouth went dry, and my heart raced. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. Logically, I should have gone outside and phoned Heathcliff, but curiosity got the best of me. I unholstered my weapon and edged toward the non-demolished portion of the house.
The only standing walls opened into a narrow hallway. There were two doors on the left side of the hall and three on the right. I crept to the end, turned around so my back was against the wall, and tried to turn the first doorknob I found. It was a bedroom, small and empty, just another abandoned area. Closing the door as silently as possible, I continued to the next doorknob, but it didn’t open. Not wanting to waste too much time, I tried the next knob to discover a bathroom. Sink, tub, toilet, and glass instruments and a few syringes on the counter. Carefully, I picked up the plastic wrapper containing a syringe and checked for a hospital code or purchase information, but it was blank. My mind ran to dark places, and I shuddered, imagining a few of the more gruesome scenes from horror films.
Maybe I was insane and the owners were remodeling the house before putting it up for sale, but my stomach twisted into even tighter knots and I fought to keep the tremor out of my hands. Opening the next door, I found a single straight back chair in the center of the room next to an I.V. pole with bags and tubing hanging. Holy shit. Was this the Camel’s den? And if it was, where was Ryan? Was Chase the Camel? We had gone through this before, but my thinking was mangled by this unsettling discovery. And the reason we ruled him out was eluding me at the present. Shutting the door, I feared what else my search would turn up. I opened the next door to find a staircase. What was down there? What was in the locked room? Make a decision, Parker.
Carefully, I went down the steps. The second one creaked loudly, and I halted my procession, afraid some unforeseen entity might have heard me. When there were no other sounds, I continued downward. It was dark in the basement. The only light came from a few tiny barred windows which were probably at ground level. As my eyes adjusted, I saw various car parts, a few car magazines, and a metal table and bench. Large barrels, the size of oil drums, lined the back wall, and there was nothing on this earth that would bring me to look inside them. With any luck, they were empty, but if they weren’t, I shivered and refused to consider the thought that formulated in my mind. If Rya
n was in there, I didn’t want my last memory of him to be like that. Frantically dialing Heathcliff, I held the phone to my ear, waiting for ringing, but heard nothing. There were no bars and no reception in this hellhole of a basement.
Throwing a final glance around the room, I went upstairs as quickly as I could, avoiding the creaking second step. There was only one place left to check, and that was whatever was behind the locked door. Swallowing, I tried the knob again, but it still wouldn’t budge. I didn’t want to waste time picking the lock, but shooting it was too loud and too damaging. Shoving the metal pins into the lock, I barely managed to pop it open with my shaking hands.
“Ryan,” I exclaimed. He was unconscious, duct taped to a chair. The room was small, and there was nothing inside except the chair in the center. “C’mon, Ryan, wake up.” I knelt in front of him, checking his pulse. It was slow but steady. He had a few bruises that looked like they were in various stages of healing and no other signs of injury. But he wouldn’t open his eyes. “Dammit, Donough,” I growled, shaking him. We didn’t have time for this.
Using my knife to cut through the tape and free his arms and legs, I noticed injection marks on his arm. They must have hooked him to whatever shit was hanging in the other room. I had to get him out of here before whoever was keeping him came back, but he was too heavy for me to carry. Maybe I could drag him out of the house.
“Ryan.” I shook him again, but he was still unresponsive, sliding down in the chair now that he wasn’t being held by the tape. Unsure of how to proceed, I slapped him, and he jerked his chin up, but his eyelids remained too heavy to open. He didn’t even make a sound.
Grabbing my phone, I saw two bars and dialed Heathcliff. I needed help. But before my phone connected, the front door opened.
“Shit,” I cursed, knowing there was no place to hide. Whoever was here must have seen my car out front. It was already too late. They knew they had company. Slipping my cell into Ryan’s shirt pocket, I knew that no matter what happened they’d at least be able to track it and find him. He would be okay. It was the only comforting thought I could muster as I hid behind the door. Pressing my back against the wall, I waited for his abductor to find us.
Footsteps moved through the house. I heard them in the hallway, opening doors and checking each room. Straining to listen, I wanted to determine if it was one person or a group of people. It sounded like one. One made decent odds, depending on how well armed he was. The doorknob turned, and I braced myself. Wait a second, Parker. Just half a second longer. The intruder took half a step forward, and I slammed into the door with all the force I possessed, knocking him back and hearing something tink against the floor.
Throwing the door open, I was poised to fire, but the bastard rammed his shoulder into my chest, knocking me backward into the room. Heavy footsteps ran down the hallway. Emerging more cautiously, I didn’t see him. Where the hell did he go? There weren’t many places to disappear inside the gutted house. Keeping my back against the wall, I crept forward toward the open kitchen and living room area. Something sounded close by, and I lunged to the other side of the hallway, afraid he was inside one of the rooms and about to reappear.
This was a deadly game of cat and mouse we were playing. It was a fucked up form of hide and seek. When I found him, one of us would be fighting to survive. I made it to the end of the hallway, still searching. Jumping out from his position against the side wall, he grabbed the barrel of my gun, pulled it down, and punched me in the face. The suddenness and force of his actions caused my eyes to tear, and I fought my natural reaction to panic and flail. He grabbed the collar of my jacket and spun me, shoving me face first into the wall.
He yanked my arms behind my back. My grip slipped, and my gun clattered to the floor. I kicked off the wall, propelling myself backward and sending the two of us careening across the open expanse. His balance was off, and I landed on top of him, my back to his chest. Bucking hard, I got free from his hold and lunged for the gun. He grabbed my forearm and used my own momentum to throw me into the edge of one of the ceramic flowerpots.
My back made contact, and something crunched and broke. The cracked ceramic hit the floor, and hopefully, my spine was still in one piece. The impact knocked the wind out of my lungs and left me dazed. Gasping, I didn’t have time to react before he was on top of me. Pushing me harder against the pot, bending me backward over it.
“Mallick,” I hissed. Until now, I didn’t get a good look at him. An evil grin erupted across his face, and he laughed, pushing me further into an inverted U over the top of the damn flowerpot. He was determined to snap me in half, and I didn’t doubt he’d succeed. Instinctively, I tried to push him off of me, but he was too strong and too heavy. Fighting that inclination, I brought my hands to the ground behind my head. Using it as leverage, I managed to pull my legs up and kick him in the stomach, sending him sprawling across the room and flipping myself backward over the ceramic planter.
“Riley,” he snarled, getting off the ground, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”
“I was looking for Ryan.” Standing up, I winced. “What the hell did you do to him, you sick son of a bitch?”
He smiled, circling closer. I teetered slightly, moving backward, hoping to grab one of the glass implements from the counter to use as a weapon. He lunged, and I barely got out of the way in time.
He skidded to a stop near the wall. Letting out a chortle, he picked up my gun, moving like a cobra, slinking back and forth, forcing me further backward into the far corner of the room. He fired, and I dove out of the way. The large room was devoid of furniture, and he fired again. I rolled, barely avoiding the gunfire. He fired again and again. Each time getting closer to hitting me. The only cover position was behind the row of flowerpots, and I slid behind one as a bullet ripped past. That was too close. He fired four shots into my ceramic cover, each time breaking chunks away.
I tried to keep count of the bullets, knowing how many were in my clip and how many should be left, but when he hit particularly close, I jerked as a large portion of the pot turned to rubble, showering me from behind. I wasn’t going out cowering in fear. He fired again, and I leapt from my spot and dove for him. My unexpected move caused him to react defensively, and he batted me away before I made contact. I was a ragdoll to him, and even that slight shove sent me across the room.
I landed against the counter, grabbing a large glass thermometer. Launching myself at him, intent on stabbing him in the chest, he deflected, breaking the end and leaving me with a smaller, jagged piece of glass. I kneed him, and when he doubled over, I hit him with an uppercut to the jaw, knocking him backward a few feet. The force should have put him out cold, but it didn’t.
He didn’t react to pain the way normal people did, and despite the hits, he recovered quickly and kept coming. He grabbed my shoulders, and I stabbed him in the thigh with the glass, hoping to hit an artery. Unaffected, he slammed into me with such force that I was momentarily airborne before crashing into the wall. My vision blurred, and I struggled to fight the pain and dizziness, clawing for purchase against the tile floor. As I overcame the jarring pain in my back and got to my knees, Mallick hit the ground.
“It’s about bloody time,” Ryan whispered, sinking to the floor. I grabbed my gun and pointed it at Mallick, noticing the hypodermic needle shoved in his neck.
“Don’t you dare go back to sleep, Donough,” I ordered, struggling to stand and grabbing Ryan’s arm and trying to drag him to his feet. “I can’t carry you, and we obviously need to get the hell out of here.” Mallick was out cold, but I didn’t know for how long. If my moral compass became any more skewed, I might put two in the back of his head just on principle, but instead, I focused on Ryan. “What’d you give him?”
“Fuck if I know. I just found it.” He was barely coherent, fighting to remain conscious. I knew how hard it was to resist the drug-induced haze. As he collapsed on the floor, I tried to brace him, but it was no use.
&nbs
p; Twenty-four
My eyes never left Mallick’s unconscious form, even as I tried to drag Ryan across the room to the front door. Grabbing his wrists, I tugged, but I only pulled him a few centimeters before crippling pain shot through my back, forcing me to stop. “Okay, this isn’t going to work.” The only thing I could do was call for help. I went to Ryan’s pocket and retrieved my cell phone. It showed it was connected, and I pressed it to my ear. What was I going to do if Devereaux showed up before I freed Ryan?
“Heathcliff?” I asked uncertainly.
“Shit,” he cursed, “it’s her.” He was talking to someone in the background. “Are you okay? We’re already on our way. I scrambled a unit after you placed the call. Thank god, your phone has GPS.”
“I found Ryan. He’s okay, I think. I don’t know. He’s unconscious again, still drugged, and I can’t carry him.”
“Okay, but I heard gunfire on the open line. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I guess. I need to get Donough out of here before anyone else shows up. It was Mallick. Virgil Mallick. He’s here. This entire house is fucking creepy, like something out of a horror film. It would be perfect for disposal. Maybe it’s the Camel’s. I’m not sure. There are syringes and drugs, oil drums downstairs for god knows what purpose. I couldn’t look,” I rambled.
“Alexis, take a breath.” Never before had I heard such a calm, authoritarian tone from Heathcliff. “Are you okay? What’s the situation?”
My breathing was labored, and I was panting. No wonder he was freaking out. “Yeah, I’m okay. Mallick showed up while I was freeing Ryan, and we scuffled. But Ryan intervened. I’m not even sure how that happened. He was so far gone. Hell, he still is.”
