by Martha Carr
Shay snorted. “If you don’t want him thinking that, you should help me. From what I hear, these Phoenix assholes put a hit out on him, and I want to know where they came from.”
Johnny took a deep breath and slowly let it out. The music box ground to a halt.
“They’re not new,” the gangster muttered.
“Huh? I haven’t heard of them before.”
He looked up. “They aren’t new. I’m not lying. The Phoenix Gang? They’re guys from different LA gangs that Brownstone wasted in the past, but they’ll take anyone as long as they go through an initiation and swear they’ll help with the death of James Brownstone. The leader used to be in the Harriken. Low-level asshole. He wasn’t in town when the Granite Ghost finished them off. Some are from street gangs, a few Harriken, a couple of friends of bounties. Shit like that.”
Shay blinked. “So this whole gang is just some big-ass Brownstone Hate Club?”
“Yeah.” Johnny shrugged. “Look, those fuckers came to us and wanted us to bring in 25K guns and men to help them with Brownstone. We told them to fuck off, that we wanted shit to do with poking Brownstone. Everyone with half a brain knows what happens to fuckers who mess with Brownstone.”
“Who’s the leader?” Shay demanded.
“This big asshole who goes by the name Tsuchigumo.”
“And where does he hang out?”
Johnny shrugged. “Don’t know. They are very tight-lipped about that shit.”
Shay snorted. The gangster had named himself after spider-like demons from Japanese myth, and given what she’d run into during her time in the country, they probably weren’t myth.
This asshole, though, is just some arrogant fuck, and I’m so going to end him.
“Okay, thanks. Your prize is that nice artifact and the fact I’m letting you walk out of here. I suggest you avoid being around the Phoenix Gang for the next few days. I have a feeling they’re about to suffer some lethal accidents.”
Shay sprinted forward, and the gangsters all scrambled backward with panic on their faces. The tomb raider didn’t attack them but instead ran and jumped, grabbing a low-hanging ladder on the side of the building. She leapt from the ladder to a ledge, then pushed off toward another ledge.
She quickly scaled the building and disappeared into the night. The slack-jawed gangsters stared up in wonder.
18
Shay took a few deep breaths as she loaded spare mags into her tactical harness. A quick call to Peyton had confirmed he was at Warehouse Two, not Warehouse Three, which would make concealing what she was about to do much easier. As far as he knew, Shay was following up on a few minor tasks for Tubal-Cain.
I told James the old Shay was dead, but here I am getting a bunch of weapons to go fuck up an entire gang.
She gritted her teeth. Killing someone in self-defense during a tomb raid was one thing, but she planned to track down men with the express purpose of murdering them.
Shay slammed a magazine into her 9mm and slipped it into a holster. She double-checked her adamantine knives, then several backup knives.
She reached up to check her auburn wig. The wig and contacts, along with a little putty to change her face, would be enough to keep people guessing. The triad members would obviously understand what the hell was going on, but they didn’t even know her name, and they were afraid of her and James already. After she killed the Phoenix Gang, they’d be even more scared.
James could probably handle the Phoenix Gang. After all, he’d destroyed a good chunk of the Harriken even when she wasn’t helping him. But his solution to dealing with an enemy group was to lay waste to everyone in sight, and it had a way of escalating until the situation was a clusterfuck.
Should I tell him? Does he have a right to know? The hit’s on him, not me, and here I am planning to go handle it without even letting James know.
Shay moved to a tray of grenades: sonic, fragmentation, and incendiary. She grabbed several frag grenades. Unlike with the triad, her plan didn’t involve survivors.
The problem with incendiary grenades was that their fires could spread to other buildings. She didn’t need to make trouble for non-gang members.
If the Phoenix Gang weren’t immediately stopped, everything would spiral out of control, just as it had with the Harriken. Sure, James could win against normal gangsters, but what would he do if a magical assassin showed up? The Collector had almost killed them both in Japan.
For that matter, if James didn’t know they were coming, he might not have a chance. His amulet protected him, but it wasn’t like he slept with the thing on. The man had already had his house blown up.
Shay picked up a submachine gun and inspected it before slinging it over her shoulder. Her 9mm pistol might not be enough.
Maybe an RPG if I have to knock on someone’s door the hard way?
The ex-killer-turned-tomb-raider took several deep breaths. Sometimes loving another person meant cleaning up problems they didn’t even know they had.
When she was out of the country and someone had used magic to pretend to be her, James had handled the problem.
I was annoyed when he tried to get Peyton to not tell me about the AET wanting me, but that was half his fault since I was helping him.
Shay sighed. If she handled the problem herself, there was no point in even telling him. There was no reason for James to worry about something in the past.
She picked up an RPG and blew out a breath. “Okay, Tsuchigumo, you’ve gotten the wrong woman’s attention.”
The thug smashed into the bottles behind the bar with a loud crash, several breaking open and spilling their contents all over the man and the floor. The man groaned and climbed to his feet.
Shay sneered. “I’d feel worse, but you’re the owner, and you’re a piece of shit.”
She hopped over the bar and slammed her fist into the man’s face. He flew backward and smacked against the bar, then moaned and slumped to the ground.
The man tried to go for a gun, but Shay smacked it out of his hand and had her 9mm pointed at his head a second later.
The temporarily-reborn killer narrowed her eyes. “I’m in a really shitty mood. You’re the fourth guy I’ve had to talk to today, and people keep trying to do what you did, which is feed me bullshit when I’ve got a really fucking simple question. Where the fuck does the Phoenix Gang hang out?”
The thug shook his head and spit blood at her feet. “I don’t even know who the fuck you are. Why should I help you out?”
Shay laughed. “Of course, you don’t know who the fuck I am. I’m new in town, but I’ve got business with the crew of washed-up losers.” She pointed her gun at his crotch. “Or I can leave you half a man.”
He winced and raised his hands. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you. They’ve got this place in Florence. It’s a massage parlor that’s a front for whoring. The Happy Ending.”
Shay rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
The thug shrugged. “I don’t work for them. They’ve just come by here a few times. They throw around money. Good tippers, you know?”
She kept her gun up as she advanced on the downed man. “Just remember I was here. The only reason I smacked you around was because you made it hard for me to get the information I want. The Phoenix Gang is done today. If I track them down, and I find out that they knew I was coming, then I’ll know you told them, and I’ll be forced to come back here and finish what I started.”
The man threw his hands in front of him. “Woah. Woah. Shit, calm down, chick. I ain’t telling them nothing. I don’t know how they done you wrong, but I figure if someone brings on that kind of heat, they’ve got that shit coming.
“If I were those fuckers, I would have left town anyway. They’re all stupid shits who were lucky to survive Brownstone. And forming that gang? That’s like surviving a hurricane and then building your house even farther out on the beach.”
Shay lifted her gun and hopped the bar. “If Brownstone’s a hurricane, then I’m a torn
ado. I hope their fucking insurance is paid up.”
Shay parked her van in an alley a couple of blocks down from the massage parlor. Given the location, she couldn’t open up with an RPG or another heavy explosive without attracting too much police attention, not to mention the risk of killing women who were just trying to make their way in the world.
No. She was there to kill the members of the Phoenix Gang; no more, no less. Part of being an expert killer was not being sloppy.
She took a deep breath. To her surprise, her heart rate hadn’t increased. There was something almost comforting and familiar about what she was about to do, in a way it hadn’t been when she and James had gone after the cartel.
Killing someone when it’s not self-defense just feels like a job.
Shay slipped on dark sunglasses. Between her wig, contacts, the glasses, and the putty, none of the witnesses stood a chance of identifying her in a line-up. The only thing she needed to do was make sure there were no electronic recordings that could be harvested for facial recognition algorithms.
She hopped out of the van and tapped the silver bracelet on her wrist. The clock was ticking now that she had a broad-spectrum jammer activated. Her long dark unseasonable coat concealed her tactical harness and belt and still had a stylish flair, unlike the awful gray monstrosities James liked to wear.
The killer made her way toward the massage parlor and pulled a short-range EMP device out of her pocket as she approached the back door. It emitted a loud buzz when she pressed the button, and a quick glance to the side confirmed that nearby traffic lights and street lights were dead. Yet another thing starting a timer.
It didn’t matter. Shay would finish and escape long before any cops showed up. It wasn’t like their response times in this part of town were all that fast. She continued up the street. A few people glanced her way but didn’t pay her much notice. They probably thought she was a prostitute.
She walked into an alley behind the massage parlor. A huge gorilla in an ill-fitting suit and four layers of gold chains around his neck looked at her.
“Who the fuck are you?” the man barked. He took a drag off his cigarette.
Shay sighed. “I was looking for the Phoenix Gang.”
“And why the fuck are you doing that?”
“I heard there were looking for girls. You know, working girls.”
A grin split the man’s face and he dropped his cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with his toe. “Oh, that shit’s different.” He looked her up and down with a frown. “I can’t see nothing with your glasses and that coat. Come over here and show me what you’ve got. Don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”
“You with the Phoenix Gang?”
The gorilla nodded. “Yeah.”
“I heard the Phoenix Gang are made up of people who used to be in other gangs.”
He chuckled. “Why do you care, bitch?” He marched over to her. “I wasn’t in a gang. I worked security for this sweet-ass arms dealer. That shit was the easiest money ever, but then that fucker with the messed-up face, Brownstone, ruined it all. Put me in the hospital and sent my boss to prison.”
Shay stuck out her lip and reached inside her jacket. “Sounds tough.”
“Yeah. It was, but now I got a new crew.” He licked his lips. “And it comes with fringe benefits.”
Shay’s knife was in his throat in a flash. He tried to speak, but only a gurgle and blood came out. She yanked her knife back and kicked him to the ground, the dark alley hiding his body.
She wiped the knife on his suit and sheathed it before pulling out her 9mm and throwing open the back door.
Red emergency lighting provided eerie illumination inside the building. A backup generator, probably. It saved her the trouble of using a wrist light or the light atop her SMG.
“Yo, Phil,” someone called from a nearby hallway. “Where the fuck are you? You were supposed to be done smoking fifteen minutes ago, you lazy fuck.”
Another suited thug stepped into the hallway. Shay put a bullet in his head before he could even register what he was thinking. The gun’s report echoed in the hallway.
She’d thought about bringing the magical silencer she’d acquired recently and going room to room, but had decided against it. She wanted the Phoenix Gang to be spooked and know someone was here to kill them.
Several other doors opened, and a few scantily dressed women peeked out.
“If you’re a woman, get the fuck out,” Shay yelled.
The women darted the other way, some screaming.
Shay kept her gun up, waiting for men to emerge from the rooms. A confused-looking older man emerged from one of the rooms with his pants around his ankles.
“Is she coming back? I already paid!”
Shay narrowed her eyes and waved her guns. “Get the fuck out, asshole.”
He hiked up his pants and hurried after the women.
A few other men emerged and rushed the opposite way once they saw Shay’s guns. All of them looked like disgruntled or frightened customers.
Two suited goons wearing chains rounded the corner. Shay’s gun spat death, and both men went down. She kicked in each door to ensure they were empty. She could barely make out the blood splatter at the end of the hall in the low red emergency lighting.
Shay stopped where the hallway turned and listened. Her experience in England reminded her of the importance of relying on her other senses.
“The bitches said it’s some chick,” someone whispered.
“A chick? Fuck, you think it’s the mother of that one bitch? She said she’d come for us.”
“Nah, them bitches probably just got spooked. It’s probably those triad assholes or the Demon Generals. We’ll show them. We just wait here until they turn the corner, and we’ll fucking fill them with lead.”
Shay grabbed a grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it.
“What the fuck? Grenade!”
The men managed to scream just before the grenade exploded. Shay turned the corner and frowned. One of them was still alive. She pulled a knife and slit his throat before continuing through the blasted and blood-splattered abattoir that had once been a hallway with three men in it.
Shay holstered her 9mm and reached under her jacket to pull out the submachine gun. She readied the weapon and continued down the hallway, her heart rate steady. No fear. No concern. Just cold-blooded delivery of death.
The hallway led to another hallway with office doors on each side.
Everyone innocent is long gone. This should make shit easy.
Another thug barreled out of one of the doors and squeezed off a round. The bullet zipped by Shay’s head. She put a burst into his chest, and he fell with a yell.
You almost had me there, asshole, but you have to hit me on the first try.
She readied another grenade and tossed it at an angle into the open room. Two men dashed out a second later, only to fall to the hail of bullets from her SMG.
At the next room, Shay didn’t even bother to open the door. She held the trigger down and sprayed bullets from her gun until it clicked empty. A quick mag ejection and reload later, she kicked open the door to find two dead gangsters.
You don’t win battles of attrition by hiding, assholes.
She snorted. They were a gang made up of survivors of defeated gangs. Maybe these were all the men who knew when to run and hide. If that were true, they should have run from LA and hidden as far away as possible.
The hallway ended in a wide lounge, complete with a full bar. The long shadows and red light gave the room a sinister atmosphere. Several tables had been overturned.
Shay didn’t enter. Instead, she stood a few feet back in the hallway and listened. There was heavy breathing and hurried murmurs inside.
She ducked and threw a grenade behind a patch of overturned tables. Men leapt and ran away, shouting. Others popped up from behind the bar, the muzzle flashes of their pistols and shotguns cutting through the crimson darkness.
Sha
y rushed to the side, spitting bullets out as her grenades exploded. Glass shards, drywall, and wood exploded around her. A bullet slammed into her leg, and she dropped with a hiss.
Gotta finish me, assholes.
She leapt for a table, continuing to hold the trigger down and nailing several of the gang members. Bullets perforated the top and middle of the table, and she took a moment to send her last grenade over it.
Should have brought a flash-bang or two. That’s the problem with not purposely killing people all the time. You get rusty.
Shay ripped a healing potion from her pouch and downed it. She had one more, but so far the Phoenix Gang had mostly proven they were good at dying. No wonder they’d placed a hit on James instead of going after him themselves.
A second later when the grenade exploded, she took advantage of the chaos and rolled behind another table. Her leg had already started to heal.
Shay repaid the shouts of a charging man with a shot between the eyes. She nailed another man through the table, then ducked behind the bar.
Several soft moans, but no more hurried whispering. Shay counted, then popped up, aiming down at the bar. The two surprised gangsters trying to hide there didn’t even get their guns up before she finished them.
The front doors exploded in a shower of glass as four men with assault rifles opened fire. Shay rushed to the side of the room in a zig-zag motion, returning fire. Blood blossomed from the chests of the men as they fell to the ground.
A Japanese man in a finely-tailored suit stepped around the corner, the glass of the shattered door crunching underneath his polished shoes. Unlike almost every other gangster she’d run into he sported no chains, and he wore a scabbard with a wakizashi. The man was obviously ex-Harriken.
The man pulled up a sleeve to reveal a glowing spider tattoo.
“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Shay asked.
“Do you know who I am?” The man rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. It almost made Shay wish she’d brought the tachi. There would have been some poetry in killing a former Harriken with the enchanted Japanese sword.
