Hells Angel

by Kim Faulks

  Something hard pressed into her stomach and she looked down as the rich amber liquid splashed against the sides of the bottle. "Drink up, girly. You look like you could do with it."

  She looked up at Gerry, the sparkle in his eyes was all knowing, and she took what he offered, realizing just before the scotch hit her stomach that it was the good stuff. A voice behind them broke the moment and she swallowed, turning to watch a young man walk in carrying in a tool box. "Anyone call for a locksmith?"

  Hunter murmured something to the men, and she saw them nod and step back as he pointed to the safe. "Think you can open that?"

  "Sure, may take me a little while. What someone hiding a body in there?" He said, and laughed nervously.

  Hunter stared at him as the question went unanswered.

  "Right," said the locksmith, running his hand through his dirty black hair. "I'll get started."

  Gerry walked back in, his gait a little more even and his complexion somewhat brighter. He no longer looked like he belonged in a morgue now that he had a few whiskeys under his belt. He caught her gaze and mouthed the words, sorry love. There was nothing else to say. It looked like Hunter had won and she was about to go down ... Again.

  "Almost done," the locksmith said over his shoulder, and Hunter and the other officers moved closer, ready for the kill.

  Hunter's mobile rang just as the click of the lock sounded and the locksmith swung open the safe door, looking hesitantly into the vacant shelves. She watched as relief washed over him as he inhaled sharply, and then moved out of the way.

  There lay the contract. Its dark reddish-brown etchings sat facing up towards the peering eyes of Hunter and the other officers as they moved closer. She could hear Hunter speak, answering the call with little attention as he reached out grabbing the paper and pulling it towards him.

  His hand stopped in mid-air, and she knew that his eyes were scanning the document. "I don't understand. Why? Sorry ... Sir."

  She watched his anger quickly return, and even though he held himself in check, she could tell it took a lot of effort on his behalf.

  "Since when? There is nothing like that in his file."

  The sound of his rage was as cold and hard as stone, and Hunter ended the call. He looked at the paper he held in his hand, the writing illegible to his human eyes, and slowly placed it back inside the safe before turning to Gerry.

  "You knew that you were a police informant when I entered with this warrant and you didn't say anything. Why is that?"

  Gerry just shrugged and walked over to the safe, swinging the door closed with a thud. Hunter turned slowly to Kellah, his breath controlled even though his hand trembled beside his body. He didn't seem to notice and she thought that it might be bad form, given the circumstances, if she told him.

  Theirs was a silent conversation, filled with the weight of knowing that he was no ordinary Detective and she was no ordinary human. Shit, she wasn't human at all. "What are you?" He asked again, this time softer so that the others couldn't hear. She let her smile answer his question, because inside she was rattled.

  It had only been seconds that they stood there paralyzed by each other's gaze, but to her it felt like an hour before he twirled his finger in the air, clearing his voice and saying, "Pack it up, guys. Let's get out of here."

  The flurry of activity that followed was nothing short of a miracle and before long only Hunter remained. "Detective," Gerry called as Hunter took one last look at her and walked from the room.

  He stopped and turned, not bothering to answer. "Who shall I send the bill to for all of this?" He asked, and she watched the old man shudder with laughter.

  She could not help but burst out as well, the old man's humor being infectious, and by the time Hunter hit the front door they were in full blown hysterics.

  "Fuck, that was close girly," Gerry said as he attempted to control himself.

  She couldn't agree more, but even though they seemed to be home free, her stomach clenched with fear.

  "Now X is really pissed. I know, I know," he said, lifting his hand to stop her objection. "You know nothing about the stolen jewels and about the safe that was literally ripped from the floor, surrounds and all."

  "You are right, old man. I have no idea what you are talking about."

  "Well, I'm just saying that if you did happen to know anything about it, that I'd get rid of the round cut diamond as it is being tracked by Hanson's Insurance Agency, and we both know how determined those fuckers are."

  The diamond in questions was a one carat diamond with flawless clarity, which was going to earn her twenty grand if she could find a buyer, but now that looked out of the question.

  "Thanks old man," Kellah said as she walked from the office. "Mind if I take a bottle?"

  "Help yourself, if you can find one that ain't fuckin’ broken. I'm just gonna bump up the insurance claim, anyway."

  Atta' boy, Gerry, she thought as she picked up two bottles of whatever from the counter and headed home, walking and drinking as she tried to calm the jitters in her stomach still fluttering around like a wounded bird inside of her.

  She drained the two bottles without feeling so much as a tilt in her vision, and worked on the problem before her; how to get the human behind this flaking yellow door to the shelter without dragging herself into the mix in the process.

  She held the note in her hand and looked down, hoping that this would be enough but not scare her into going straight to the police. In a shelter at the southern end of Bridge Park there are animals that are starving to death. If you don't help them, they will be put down. Can you live with that?

  Almost done, she thought, smiling, her confidence soaring as she stuck the note to the door and slipped from the apartment building. It was a shameless ploy, but one that she was more than willing to put into motion. She was doing nothing that wasn't done to every living human in this forsaken place, anyway. These humans were all the same, it was all about emotion and how to use it to get what you want. And what she wanted was to get out of here and away from Hunter.

  She had gotten under his skin and, as much as she hated to admit it, he seemed to have wriggled his way under hers just as much. There was a change in him, something harder and determined, something dangerous. Whatever was going on with him was playing with his head. To smash up an entire bar over a broken window was not only erratic, but it was suicidal, for his career anyway. There had to be something else going on that she was on the cusp of understanding.

  How could Hunter still have a badge after what she witnessed earlier at the park? Someone must be helping him, someone obviously high up enough to pull the strings to secure his job, and the only one she knew with that kind of pull was Superintendent Harris. Had Harris sent Hunter to Paradise? Had he finally grown some fucking balls and decided to use Hunter for an all-out war?

  That must be it. There was no other logical explanation for what was happening, and in the blazing mid-day sun she shivered as her veins filled with icy anger. Stupid fucking humans, what else did she have to do to get the fuck out of this place? Could she forget it and just leave anyway? Forget that retribution was the very food her soulless existence craved?

  The answer was fuck no, and it was time to burn this shit to the ground. She was getting out of this place, even if it meant she had to destroy every fucking human in it.

  She pulled out her phone and the creased business card she had kept for a day just like this, and made a phone call. Superintendent Harris would be getting a visit from his favorite whore, and this time he would be having a lot more than just her as a captivated audience.

  Chapter 20

  He was losing it, big time. And he could see his own demise clearly as it played out like a movie in front of him. But strangely, he didn't really care.

  Going down in flames was never something he’d thought of. But there was a change inside of him, something that was darker, eating him alive from the inside until he didn't even know himself anymore. He was a st
ranger, a remnant of the human he had once been. All that was left was a hunger, a cold hunger, that bayed for Kellah Slater's blood and would stop at nothing to get it.

  Could he kill her? Take another's life and still live with himself? No, he didn't think he could, and for some strange reason he felt calm about that.

  He'd never been overly religious and he had taken the Lord's name in vain more than once in his life, but if there was one thing that he felt sure of, it was that there was a place for people to spend the rest of their existence safe, happy and together forever.

  And if there was a place filled with everything good and right in existence, then there was a place that was the exact opposite. The thought of never seeing his wife and daughter again filled him with despair. It was a hurt that he felt to his very core, but he was willing to endure that ache and more to be the man that he needed to be, to stand up and exact his retribution for their pain, for their death. For that he would gladly endure whatever Hell had in store. The decision had been made, and he was prepared to give up his soul for the few seconds of peace Kellah's death would give him right before he blew out his brains.

  The other voice inside of him was panicking now, and if he turned his attention to it he could follow the never ending trail of reasons why he shouldn't do this. But that was the beauty of denial and the pure waves of rage that flowed through him at this very moment. Instincts can be wrong...

  The raid he’d organized at Paradise had worked perfectly. He knew there was nothing to be found. Hell, he knew walking in to the shit-hole that a rush was made to make Gerry Brom a Police Informant thanks to a text from Fischer. But the purpose of smashing the night club apart wasn't to gain information. No, it was to rattle Kellah Slater. Now all he had to do was sit back and wait, and when the time came for him to do what needed to be done, he would exact his final revenge. Run, run you fucking murderer.

  Darrion walked into the Detective's unit and headed towards his desk. Not many were occupied, even though the afternoon was soon drawing to a close. It would fill up soon, and normally he didn't want to be here when it did, but today was different. Today he was going to find out who was behind all of this. He wanted to know who signed Gerry Brom as an informant and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. He had the search warrant signed by the Magistrate for the search and retrieval of the jewels. It hadn't been hard to get seeing as though the owner happened to be best friends with the Magistrate. So what if he knew it was a slim chance that they were hidden away in the seedy club and he’d embellished this to get the warrant signed? No one would ever know.

  He had bigger things to worry about anyway, like taking that Slater bitch down. That was all that was important, that was all he had left. He at least wanted to put a face to the circling scavengers that waited to stab him in the back, so he tapped the keyboard, bringing the screen to life while he punched in Gerry Brom. He waited for the pages to load, not because the piece of shit Government computer was slow, but because the crafty old bastard had a file a mile fucking long.

  Darrion scanned past the oldest records, taking note than in his prime Gerry Brom was one bad fucker. Suspected murder, bashings, armed hold-ups and extortion for one of the biggest mafia gangs in the day. A shake down man, plain and simple, but with one of the worst wrap sheets he had ever seen. He scrolled past the pages and pages of information, but words like gunshot residue detected, and bodies never recovered, screamed from amongst the reports as though the passages were highlighted. He found what he needed, the most recent entry dated today, this morning in fact, and around the time he had the Magistrate sign his warrant.

  What was going on here? Either the Magistrate alerted someone to the request for the search warrant, or someone was keeping tabs on him. That thought sent shivers rippling along his skin, growing with intensity until he was sure ants bit at his flesh. He swiveled around, searching the half empty offices and bowed heads partially hidden behind screens and mountains of files. No one looked up and stared at him, but he felt as though a piece of the puzzle was sliding into place.

  He turned back to the screen, scanning through the typed in fields until he found what he was after. The officer assigned to the informant status was Senior Constable Liam Russell, a plain clothes officer assigned to the taskforce who was investigating Stephanie's death. He hadn't had much to do with Russell before, and thinking it, he wasn't even sure if he knew him at all.

  He scrolled his fingers across his phone, hitting the number for Fischer.

  "Oh, fuck no," was the answer he received from the other end. "You cut a deal and dumped me in the shit, Hunter. Is that why you still have your badge? At least tell me straight up if that's what's about to go down, eh?"

  It wasn't as though he didn't expect it, but he was in no mood to be dancing around the how's and why's of it all.

  "Shut the fuck up, Fischer. That's not what happened at all."

  "So, how do you explain keeping your badge and gun, then? Nothing short of a miracle is what you needed to keep them."

  He debated how much to tell him, and how quickly afterward he would lose the only friend he had. "I called in a favor, and you could say he has some pull in the department."

  "Well, fuck. I know it wasn't the Super, he's been wanting you gone for ages. So, who was it?"

  He took a long swallow and closed his eyes. "My brother is the Assistant Commissioner. We haven't spoken for a while and well ... I wasn't ready to let this shit go, Fischer."

  The moment of silence passed while he wondered how long he should he wait before he ended the call. He expected Fischer to beat him to it. "I always wondered what it would take for you to call him, and I guess now I know. I must say it's about time, my friend. You're a good guy and all, but you are one head-strong motherfucker."

  Fischer's reaction was not the one that he had been expecting, but it was one that he had hoped for, and under his breath he said a silent thank you to whoever allowed him to keep at least two people in his corner. First, it was his brother, and now the only friend he had left.

  "This heart-to-heart is very empowering and all, but it's not why I called. Liam Russell, what do you know of him?"

  "Who?"

  Exactly. That's what he thought.

  "I had my warrant pulled this morning by the Super, and when I came back here to investigate, I found Liam Russell involved. I can't for the life of me remember this guy and I thought you might have seen him around."

  "Nah, can't say that I have. How come the Super pulled your warrant? I mean, why the fuck would he even care?"

  Yes, exactly, why the fuck would he care? He looked back to the screen, feeling the biting ants return. He rubbed his arms and reached up to rub the back of his neck as he cast his eyes over the office floor once more.

  "Something stinks to high heaven here, Fischer. Something going on and I have a big feeling that I'm in some serious deep shit, and it is running downhill all the way from the top."

  "Oh man. You think your brother is behind this?"

  Could it come from that high up? Yes, it probably could. But the image of Michael standing over him as a child with a look of concern plastered all over his face and his haunting words only hours ago told him otherwise ... how long are you going to shut me out?

  "Whoever this is, it isn't Michael. That I know for sure."

  "Well, then we know who it is, don't we?"

  Superintendent Harris had been his biggest hurdle, barring his application to transfer here after the murders until the media spotlight became so bright and hot he was forced to approve the transfer. Since that moment, he had known he was being watched and forced to take meaningless arrests, and he did. He swallowed his pride and took what was given to him without a word, but now it wasn't just his job that was being messed with. He was being backed into a corner, Kellah Slater on one side and Superintendent Harris on the other. Well, he had been pushed far enough, and now it was time to come out swinging. It was time to see how deep this pile of shit he had j
ust stepped in went.

  "I want to help, Hunter. Tell me what you need me to do, man."

  If this even went as far as Harris he would be finished in the force. Even after that the repercussions would be felt for a long, long time. He had already made arrangements for the rest of his existence, nestled deep in the furnace of Hell, and he was not about to leave his friend with that future when he was gone.

  "No way, Fischer. You'd shit me to tears within five minutes of working together. You stink to start with, and you have the manners of a hog."

  Fischer laughed, combined with a loud snort. "Yeah, ain't that the fucking truth."

  "Besides, I work better alone. I can't have you slowing me down in your old age."

  He smiled as he heard the guffaws from the other end. But his smile was false, and he was sure that if he licked the side of his face the smile would peel right off, leaving him exposed and raw. He was on his own with this. There was no other way it could be.

  "Yeah, well, you call if you need anything, Hunter. You hear me? Anything at all, man."

  He laughed, but it went hand-in-hand with the smile which sounded the sound hollow and false to his ears. "See you, Fischer. Take it easy." He said as he hung up the call.

  He didn't need to be a Detective to see that Riccardi had taken Liam Russell under his wing and was using his new recruit to do his dirty work. This made Riccardi more than someone he wanted to take a swing at. This made Riccardi fucking dangerous, and someone he needed to take out.

  Chapter 21

  Kellah watched the blonde walk away with her bag tucked neatly under her arm and snapped her pocket knife closed. A few minor alterations, a hundred bucks, the promise of a good paying job and the deal was all but done.

  See, she wasn't that hard to deal with - if you were on her side. The blonde, Renee, turned back one last time, as though the fairytale of a real job where she wasn't flat on her back was gone the minute she was out of sight. Kellah stood and nodded when she made eye contact, adding fucking wet-nurse to her list of growing attributes.