He glowered at her. “Humph.”
“Hey, pack mule,” Smoke said, chiming in. He held a silver object up in his hand. A tuning fork. “Maybe this is the key you were talking about.” He tossed the fork to Sid.
Mason’s eyes became bigger than moons watching the object tumble through the air.
Sid snatched it and rapped it on the stone. The tuning fork wavered with life. She touched it to the glass case. It shattered.
“No!” Mason said, rearing up on his haunches.
In one fluid motion, Sid scooped up the gun, charged the slide, and took aim. “Yes.”
Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Clik!
Mason stood tall as a statue with a grim smile on his face. He dusted the lead from his chest and watched it clatter to the floor. “Nice shooting.”
“You cheated. Those weren’t red-tipped bullets.”
“And you believed me? Humph. Don’t you know evil always lies?”
In a sudden move, Mason snatched Smoke up in his arms and bear hugged him. His mighty arms knotted up and Smoke’s face turned purple. He started to gag. “Now listen, woman. Listen to the sound that makes your friend’s spine snap.”
“You mean you aren’t going to gore him?” she said in a listless tone, trying to buy time.
“No, I’m going to gore you.”
“I thought you were going to dissect me.”
“Fool of a woman,” Mason snorted. “You’ll both be dead soon enough.”
“Sid.” Smoke somehow managed to croak out the word. “Catch!” He spat something from his mouth.
It was a bullet with a red tip on it. She snagged it from the air and loaded it into the weapon.
Mason cocked his horned head. “Eh, what trickery is this?”
Sid rose up and took aim between Mason’s eyes. “Bye bye, Big Horns.” Blam!
The minotaur’s arms flung wide, dropping a gasping Smoke to the floor.
“Impossible!” Mason roared.
Boom!
Shards of bone, horn, and bull brain showered the room. There was nothing left of Mason above the shoulders.
Sid wiped the muck off her face and took a seat. Smoke crawled up alongside her. “Bye bye, Big Horns?”
She leaned against his shoulder. “What would you have said?”
“Actually, I think that’s pretty good. Now we just have to figure out how to get our bounty out of here.”
“Did you regurgitate a bullet?”
He showed a faint smile. “Sometimes I do strange things.”
“Sometimes?”
The sound of metal grinding on metal brought the spinning room to a halt. Dee was standing by the lever, and another dozen men in pea coats had weapons pointed at them.
“For the first time in my life, I’m speechless.” Her eyes locked on Sid’s. “You’re one helluva troop. The both of you.”
“And now?” Sid fired back.
“And now, to my dismay, I’m going to let you go.”
***
Leaning against the elevator wall, Sid allowed herself to breathe. She had never been fond of elevators, but this was the best ride she’d ever taken. It came to a stop, the doors split open, and prompted by Dee, who had a gun on her, Sid walked outside into a barn-like structure. She inhaled the air and rubbed her nose.
“Let’s move along,” Dee said. She poked the gun into Sid’s back. “Quickly, before I change my mind.”
“What about the body?” Smoke said to Dee. “There’s a bounty I want to collect.”
“If someone wants the body, they’re more than welcome to come here and get it.”
“Why, is the Drake going to blow another place up?” Smoke added.
“Well, maybe they’ll just blow you up,” Dee fired back. “I suggest you quit while you’re ahead.”
They made it outside of the barn and found the log cabin waiting under the moonlight. Allison and Megan were on the porch. Allison was kneeling down in front of her daughter, who was shaking her head and crying.
“What’s going on?” Sid said, taking a step forward. A wall of guards shoved her back.
“Give it a moment, Sid,” Dee said in her ear. “Not everyone wants to leave the Drake.”
Allison hugged her daughter, took a quick glance Sidney’s way, and hustled back inside the cabin.
“No! Allison!” Sid started to run for the porch.
Dee punched her in the ribs. “I said behave. Your little niece needs you now. Alive. Not dead. Stay away from the Black Slate, kid. Stay away for both your sakes.”
Epilogue
Two days later, back at FBI headquarters, Chief Howard’s office.
“Sid.” Ted stood up behind his desk and waved her over. “Please come in. Sit.”
Cyrus remained seated in his chair and gave her a nod. “Uh, fascinating report.” Sweat glistened on his balding head and upper lip. “Can I get you a drink? Some water perhaps?”
“No.”
“Will you have a seat then?”
Eyes forward, she remained standing with her hands behind her back. “Where’s Smoke?”
“Given the circumstances and in concern for his own safety, he’s been relocated to an undisclosed location.”
Her nails dug into her palms. The FBI had whisked him away within an hour after Sid contacted them.
“What’s the matter?” Cyrus said, toying with his tie. “Didn’t get a good-bye kiss?”
Ted stretched out his hand. “Cyrus, that’s enough. She’s your responsibility, you know.”
The frosty man shrugged.
“Ted,” she said, “when did you become such a putz?”
“Now, let’s not get all insubordinate. I’ve warned you before. This time I’ll write you up.” He loosened his tie. “Will you sit down?” He eyed her. “Fine. Sid, the Black Slate, well, they want to move on. And they want me to talk to you about your next assignment. Given your situation with your niece, I think you’ll like it. A forty-hour week supervising the range and armories and assisting the ballistics teams.” He smacked the top of his desk. “It’ll get your life back to normal.”
She looked up, shook her head, and said, “You’re such a putz.”
Ted’s cheeks reddened.
Cyrus jumped up from his chair. “That’s it. I’m writing you up.”
She glared into Cyrus’s eyes and backed him down into his chair. “Go ahead.” She tossed her badge and gun onto Ted’s desk. “I resign.”
Smoke on the Water: Book 4
CHAPTER 1
Approaching her stand at a public outdoor firing range, Sidney donned her headset. There were signs everywhere: “Hearing Protection Required Beyond This Point.” There were rules. She knew them all by heart. She took a deep breath through her nose. The smell of black powder and roasted brass awakened old military memories.
It was morning, warm and hazy. She wore sporty gym wear, black mixed with neon green. She set a soft leather duffle bag on her stand and unloaded her gear. Ten boxes of 40-caliber ammo, each box fifty rounds. This will be fun.
She pulled out her Glock 22. It wasn’t the one the FBI had issued her. It was her own, a backup. She swung another bag up onto the table, beige and marked with a red Ruger stamp. From inside, she pulled out a small, short-barreled assault rifle with bipod legs built in. It was called a Charger. It had a built-in laser sight and a grey, camo-wood finish. She pulled out a box full of 22-caliber ammunition, a thousand bullets in all. And this will be even more fun.
Four magazines for the Glock 22 were already loaded. A typical Glock 22 held fifteen rounds. She had two that held thirty. The Ruger Charger held thirty as well. She slapped the magazine in and checked the sights. Down range, at forty yards, were barrels loaded with sand. At close range, fifteen yards, were metal silhouettes mounted in the ground.
“That’s some fine weaponry you have there, young lady.”
Sidney glanced back over her shoulder. It was an older man, big boned with a frosty mustache. He wore an N
RA ball cap and a pair of six-shooters on his hips, nickel plated with pearl handles. Bowlegged in his jeans and wearing a Cabela’s sweatshirt, he spoke louder than he needed to.
“Mind if I use this stand?”
Sidney glanced around. The range had more than fifty stands, and fewer than ten people were out there shooting. She shrugged. “Sure.”
“I won’t be crowding you, will I?” the older man said, lifting a brow. His voice was warm and friendly. “I’m just partial to this area on this side of the range. Eh, my name’s Jake. They call me Big Jake.”
“Hi, Big Jake,” she said, extending her hand and shaking his. His calloused hand had an iron grip. “I’m Sidney.”
“A pleasure, Sidney.” He smiled, revealing a gold tooth toward the back. His bottom lip stuck out, and his breath had a minty scent of tobacco. “My, we sure don’t see many gals out here. And you’re a mite prettier than the last one I saw. She was coyote ugly and couldn’t hit a barrel if she stood inside it. Woo! But, judging by her girth, she was a heckuva good cook. Wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t have a stick of butter named after her.”
He kept going.
Sidney kept laughing. Before she knew it, half an hour had passed, and she knew everything there was to know about who came and went at the range. For some odd reason, she enjoyed every bit of it. The last three months had been rough. Taking care of Megan was a delight, but still a chore. She needed some time to be around adults. Finally, she’d left Megan with her parents for a long weekend. Sally and Keith were about to leave on vacation, and it would do them all good to spend some time together first. It was the first time she’d been separated from her niece since they’d left Allison at the ranch.
“Sorry for talking your ear off, Sid,” Jake said, plucking his six-shooter out of his holster. He opened up the cylinder and loaded in the bullets super quick and slapped the cylinder shut. “I don’t get to talk to the ladies much since my wife died.”
“Aw, I’m sure you get plenty of talking done when the opportunity presents itself.”
He let out a Santa-like chuckle. “I sure hope you come around here more often.” He loaded up his other pistol, holstered it, and squared up on his target. He turned his ball cap around and checked his earplugs. “Sid, this is where I like to show off a little. Watch this.”
“Oh, you’ve got my attention.” She leaned back against her stand and checked her headset. “Go for it.”
Standing like a big ape, stooped over with his thick wrists hanging to his knees, Jake twitched his fingers and narrowed his eyes. His target was twenty yards away. It was a row of six small metal bull’s eyes the size of fists. With uncanny speed, Jake eased one of his six-shot revolvers out of the holster. Two handed, he blasted away.
Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!
Lead smacked into metal, making sharp plinking sounds. The bull’s eyes spun around and around and steadied again.
“Woo hoo!” Jake twirled the gun on his finger before stuffing it into the holster. “Didn’t miss a one!”
Smiling, Sidney clapped her hands. “That was awesome, Jake.”
He pulled out the other loaded revolver and held it toward her butt first. “Care to give it a try?”
“Sure,” she said with a shrug, “why not?” She took it from his grasp.
“It’s heavy compared to that polymer thing you carry, so keep a firm grip on it. That forty-five will kick.” He pressed his hands into her back and lined her up in front of the targets. A father helping a daughter. “Now listen. It’s got a hair trigger. Put that in myself. It’ll get away on you if you ain’t careful.” He gave her a little pat on the hip and eased away. “Show me what you got, girl.”
Sidney pointed the heavy weapon toward the ground, closed her eyes, eased her breathing, and visualized herself shooting the targets. She loved the range. The smell. The muffled sounds of shots being fired. The wispy scent of gun barrel smoke. Show this old fart what you got.
Simultaneously, she opened her eyes, raised the gun, took aim, and squeezed the trigger.
Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!
There was no triumphant sound of lead hitting metal, only six fresh holes in the dirt.
“Morning glory,” she said, lowering the weapon with a frown.
Jake chuckled. “I told you. A big gun like that takes some getting used to.” He took the gun. “Next time, take your time between your shots. You would have hit the other five if you’d taken enough time to think about it.”
Shame on me!
CHAPTER 2
Sidney spent the rest of the day sharpening her aim. Hot and sweaty, she’d stripped down to a grey cotton T-shirt with a dragon logo on it. Taking command of the Ruger Charger, she emptied another magazine on the metal diadem 100 yards down the range.
“That’s better,” she muttered under her breath. Mopping the sweat from her brow, she reached over and upturned the box of .22 long rifle rounds. It was empty. She checked her duffle bag, fishing around inside. No ammo was left. With a sigh, she got out her cleaning kit and started breaking down her weapons. At least I got my shot back. I hope.
She ran a cleaning square into the barrel. Feeling disgraced by the lack of control she’d had with Big Jake’s weapon, she hadn’t stopped shooting until she’d gotten her edge back. It had taken a few magazines with her own weapon before she was back on the mark again. It ate her up. She’d been a crack shot since the first time she fired a weapon. She’d never before lost her touch once. She’d only lain off a few months, and she shouldn’t have been off that much.
“Wrapping it up, I see,” Big Jake said as he walked by. He’d been working the range all day, speaking with plenty of older hands. He seemed to make a point of knowing everyone. “I’m guessing you have things under control again?”
“I’m pretty sure.” She ran the cleaning rod out of the barrel and checked the grimy square. “Thanks for the advice.”
Drumming his fingers on the pommels of his guns he said, “Care to try it again?”
“No, I’m good, Jake. Certain of it.”
“I know you are,” he said. “Say, where’d you learn to shoot like that, anyway?”
“My father. The military. The fact that I love it.”
Jake sauntered over and took a seat by her stand. He took his hat off and ran the back of his arm over his bushy brows. “Always feels hotter on the range than it is.” He looked her dead in the eye. “You’ve seen some real shit, haven’t you.”
“What do you mean?” she said, wiping down the small rifle.
“I can see it in your eyes, Sid. They’re pretty, but hard as iron.” He huffed a little laugh. “When you missed those targets with my pistol, I thought your head was going to explode. That look. It was dismay. And then suddenly, a light went on behind those pretty eyes, bright as a furnace. You set that little jaw and started getting it on.”
“These bullets don’t shoot themselves.”
“Heh!” He slapped his knee. “I suppose not!” His face reddened, and he started coughing. He tapped his chest with his fist. “Pardon me. Felt like I swallowed a butterfly. Anyway, what is it you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I used to be a cop.”
“And what are you now?”
“Just between jobs.”
Big Jake narrowed one of his eyes on her. “You aren’t one of those mercenaries, are you?”
“What? No, why?”
“Eh, well—”
A very loud gunshot rang out. Pow!
Sid’s head jerked up. “Geez! Was that a fifty cal?”
“Yep,” Jake said, turning his head over his shoulder.
Two men on the far left end of the range were hunkered down over their .50 caliber rifles. They wore black ball caps and black T-shirts stretched over their muscles.
Pow! Two hundred yards down range, a canister of yellow paint exploded.
“Those two punks have been coming down here for weeks, blowing the crap out of everythin
g. They’re weird. Almost spooky.” Jake spit juice on the ground. “They rub everyone the wrong way. Pushy types. You know. They talk, but it’s like they see right through you.”
Sid squinted her eyes. The pair of dusky-skinned men with slicked-back hair reloaded the monster bullets into their guns, speaking little. They were big men, like professional wrestlers. The one who wore mirrored sunglasses that looked small on his head glanced her way. He rolled a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other and smiled. They had tattoos and triangle-shaped earrings in their ears. The other twisted his long neck around, revealing his cold, dead eyes. He sneered and turned away.
“Weird and ugly, ain’t they,” Jake said.
“Nothing surprises me these days,” she said, wiping down her weapon and placing it in her satchel. She kept her eyes fixed on the men. They were different. The way they moved. Sat. Stretched. Talked. It raised the hair on her arms. “I think I might go say hello.”
“What? Why?”
Sidney didn’t say. She wanted a closer look. She needed to look for the mark. A black sun rising. The sign of the Drake. It ate at her. Every time she went out, she’d notice a little something she hadn’t before the Black Slate. She had a new awareness. The way people spoke and dressed made all the difference. The weird signs on doors and even the slogans she read. Somehow, some way, there seemed to be subliminal messages that were tied to the Drake, or maybe to an even darker evil. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hold on now, Sidney. Uh,” Jake looked over his shoulder. “I’m about as tough as they come, but those guys make even me a bit nervous. I did two tours in Vietnam, you know. Got a Purple Heart to show for it.”
“I’ll be fine.” She glanced at the guns on his hips and gave him a wink. “Just keep those peacemakers ready in case things get a little hairy.”
“Fine, just stay out of my line of sight.”
Sid slung her jacket over her shoulder and headed down the range. Both men caught her coming their way. Both of them twisted around in their seats and faced her.
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files Collector's Set: Books 1-10: Urban Fantasy Shifter Series Page 42
