A few minutes later, a demon dropped his plate on the table. “Enjoy.” The hideous creature grunted under his breath.
“Oh, I’m sure I will, One Eye.”
The demon’s single eye flashed a dark, insidious red, but he didn’t take it any further than that. That’s how it was at Apotheca. Just because some of them hated each other, it didn’t mean they couldn’t all play in the same sandbox, though preferably in separate corners.
Thorne sank his teeth into the juicy burger. The entrance swung open before he’d had a chance to swallow, and in walked Benny Deuces. Benny’s eyes went right to Thorne, and he gave a quick nod before coming forward.
Benny was a tracker and a damn good one at that. All Thorne knew of his history was that he was one of the many children that descended from Odin’s bloodline. His mother was Skadi, the great hunter, and also the woman responsible for placing the serpent that dripped venom onto Loki. A cold hard bitch.
Poor Benny was the runt of the litter, not even six feet tall and a hair under two hundred pounds. The weight was a bone of contention for Benny – and how he got the name. The poor guy tried everything to put on more size. His goal was to be over two hundred pounds, but it wasn’t the will of the Gods.
So Thorne had affectionately called him Benny Deuces. Two hundred-dollar bills didn’t sound quite as clever. The nickname stuck, and he had been calling him that since at least the stock market crash of 1929, long enough that Thorne forgot what his real name was and never bothered to ask.
“It’s about time you got your scrawny ass here,” Thorne said as he stuffed a fry in his mouth. Damn the food really was amazing. A definite perk of being immortal: he could eat all the fast food he wanted and never gain an ounce of fat.
“Yeah, yeah. Some of us have a life.”
Thorne rolled his eyes. Benny was as much of a loner as he was. “Yeah, right. Have a fry. It might be the one to tip the scale.”
If he had to guess, Benny’s ‘life’ meant catching up on the latest episode of Haven, his latest TV addiction. Although, Thorne had to admit even he was slightly addicted to the show. Sometimes he wondered if the creator of the series was an immortal or, hell, even a demon. Wouldn’t that be some shit?
Eyes narrowed, Benny pinned him with a glare and grabbed the fry. He didn’t have quite the same sense of humor as Thorne, but that was okay. They made it work. They were brothers in arms, and that kind of bond could put up with just about anything.
After he ate the fry, Benny made an irritated noise before he pushed his long golden locks behind his ears. Unfortunately for him, the style had gone out with Fabio, but the Gods were cruel and unusual. When Benny was cast down to earth, he was unable to make any changes to his appearance. Anytime he put scissors to his hair, nothing happened. Once Thorne had caught Benny trying to shave it all off, but no such luck. It didn’t seem to affect his luck with the ladies, though, so Benny got over it. Once in a while, he’d make a pissed off remark cursing the Gods. It never did any good.
“I’m about to roll out in a few minutes. Wanna join in on the fun?”
Benny cracked his knuckles, and a crooked grin spread across his face. “Don’t mind if I do.”
It was rare that they actually worked a hit together, but when they could, they helped each other out. They each had invaluable skills that made life much easier. Well, life for them easier. Not so much for the target.
They sat around talking nonsense. Benny had a beer, and soon after, they stood up to leave. Thorne tossed some money on the table for the demon and slapped Benny on the back as they strutted out the door.
4
Once they exited the club, and the cool breeze hit his face, Thorne turned towards Benny. “Whatcha driving?”
“The Tesla.”
Of course. Benny loved all the cutting edge toys. Thorne would take an old school, gas run vehicle any day. “Fully charged?”
Benny gave him an annoyed look.
Thorne shrugged. “You never know with that electric car shit. I call shotgun.”
Rubbing his forehead with his middle finger Benny said, “You’re the only other person going. And it’s a two-seater.”
“Exactly.” Thorne pointed his thumb and index finger at Benny and acted like he was pulling the trigger.
Benny shook his head. “I don’t know how the hell I’ve put up with you all this time.”
“Because we’re like fucking Batman and Robin, Bonnie and Clyde, SpongeBob and Patrick. We’re partners.”
Benny put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking lot. “In each of those scenarios I can guess which person you see yourself as. I’m just the tagalong, huh?”
Thorne rolled his eyes. Benny always took his words so literally. “We’re brothers of destruction. Equals. That’s why you stick around. I’m the only person on this Earth that really knows you and vice versa. We’re stuck together like bubble gum on a tennis shoe.”
Benny laughed, his earlier annoyance fading. “You had me until the bubble gum analogy.”
“You gotta admit - I have a way with words,” Thorne said.
“Yeah, if you say so. Where the hell are we going anyway?”
Thorne pushed the button to recline his seat. “We’re going uptown.”
“Ah, fuck.” Benny eased out of the parking lot and clicked on the blinker before heading towards the interstate. What would normally take thirty minutes was going to take a couple of hours in the rush hour traffic. “What’s the target’s name?”
Thorne rattled off the identity of their target. He could practically feel Benny’s power going to work. His friend was vectoring in on the exact location of the coward fleecing old women. He needed a name, no location. It didn’t matter if there were a hundred Carson Smiths in the area. Somehow Benny just knew. And he was never wrong. It was a power that Thorne envied. With Benny’s magic, he’d never need to use a GPS again. He hated those damn things. The freaking computer always waited till the last minute when he passed the exit. Every. Single. Time.
“What’d he do?” Benny asked. He reached over and changed the XM radio station to the Hair Nation channel. Benny loved the music from the big hair bands of the 80’s. Some of it was all right, but most of it was garbage.
Thorne sighed and glanced over at his friend. “Does it matter?”
“Not really, but I always like to know a little about the person I’m about to put a cap in.”
Thorne never cared who or what the person was or had done. It really was none of his damn business. He didn’t get paid to rationalize deaths. He got paid to pull the trigger. But a lot of the guys had to know. Benny wasn’t usually one of them. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age.
“Real scum. He’s been stealing old ladies’ money. Millions of dollars’ worth. Finally, one of the relatives caught on and hired The Sicarii.”
Benny nodded. “I hate weasels like that. If they have the skills to skim that much money, they have the skills to earn their own. Assholes.”
Thorne reached down and flipped the channel when “Cryin,” by Vixen came on. There was only so much a man could take.
“How’s it going to go down? Suicide, accident, or murder?”
“Break-in gone wrong.”
“Classic.” Benny gave a short laugh. “Don’t you ever get sick of this shit? I mean really, how many ways are there to kill a person?”
Thorne stroked his chin, watching his friend. “You know how many. More than enough. What’s gotten into you, man?”
Benny gripped the wheel tighter. “I don’t know. Maybe I just need a vacation or something.”
Thorne let out a breath. This happened every few decades or so. He had to talk Benny back from the ledge of throwing it all away and going to live on some remote island. “You know The Sicarii does good. And I’d be miserable as hell if you jumped ship. But a short vacation might not be a bad idea. Maybe you could go to Mexico or something for a few weeks.”
“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see.”
‘You probably just need to get laid.”
Benny let out a disgusted breath. “That’s your answer to everything. You have to admit even that loses its thrill after thousands of years.”
Thorne looked aghast. “Brother, if you really think that, then you’re doing it wrong.”
Benny didn’t even crack a smile. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, lost in his own thoughts. The phrase, still waters run deep, crossed Thorne’s mind.
Maybe he should pawn Ginger off on Benny. If nothing else, she was a good stress reliever.
They made the rest of the ride in silence.
Benny turned his car into a parking garage approximately two miles away from the target’s home. The city was wired with so much surveillance, it never hurt to be extra cautious.
Stepping out of the car, their gazes met and held. “You sure you’re up for this?” Thorne asked.
Benny’s features relaxed. “Yeah, but today, I’m Batman.”
Thorne laughed in spite of himself. “Lead the way.”
Using his third eye, Thorne mentally went through with the hit. He always did that. Somehow already having the outcome in his mind allowed things to move smoothly. Most of the time. This hit would be quick. In and out.
As they approached the house, or maybe mansion would be a more appropriate term, Thorne began to manipulate the energy flowing throughout the garish residence. He quickly dismantled the alarm system, cut the lights and popped open the gated entry.
“I really need to bring you on all my hits.” Benny shook his head. “I waste so much time disabling alarms.”
“And I waste so much time finding locations. We really are the perfect team.”
His gift came in handy with anything electronic, but the human element still had to be handled. As part of their code, they tried to leave as little collateral damage as possible. The Sicarii didn’t want any unwanted attention drawn to the secret society.
The security detail would be running in circles right now trying to figure out what the hell was going on with the power outage. Of course, they were equipped with a back-up generator large enough to supply electricity to the whole neighborhood. That was conveniently on the fritz, too, thanks to Thorne.
They strolled down the street, taking their time. Nothing drew attention like someone in a hurry. Perception was reality. If someone appeared innocent, people believed he was.
As expected, the gate was ajar. They strode through like they owned the damn place and were immediately met with two guards who had their guns drawn and pointed in their direction. Not the normal rent a cops, either. These guys looked legit. Probably ex-Special Forces. Too bad. Thorne was going to have to bruise their egos.
In a blur of movements, the guards were subdued in a matter of seconds.
Using a pressure point on the side of the neck, the guard in Thorne’s hands was laid out limply. A quick glance showed Benny’s guy was out cold. From the swelling on the guy’s face, Benny went for an old school knock out. Obviously, he took the embracing of his inner Batman pretty seriously.
They tossed the guys into the security gate room. It was tiny and didn’t even have a coffee pot. Where the hell did they take a piss? The cheap bastard should have splurged more on his employees. Asshole.
Dropping to his knee, Benny removed zip ties and tape from his black bag.
With haste, they tied up the guards with their backs together and placed duct tape over their mouths. They were going to be pissed when they came to. Thorne looked down at the slumped bodies. “Sorry, boys. Just doing our job. Apparently, better than you.”
They exited the small building. Sticking to the greenery and hiding in the shadows, they hurried up the long cobblestone path toward the mansion. It was easily over twenty thousand square feet, a little too flamboyant in Thorne’s opinion. The landscaping was outrageous: tress shaped into animals and large ceramic fountains scattered throughout. The asshole was just asking to have his throat slit.
If you’re going to steal money, at least keep it somewhat on the down low. Idiot. Thorne thought. And don’t target little old ladies.
5
Following Benny’s lead, they worked their way to the main house.
The inside of the house was even gaudier. They were greeted by statues that looked like they belonged in a museum, while priceless paintings hung on the walls. A grand piano sat in the corner of the main room. Thorne wondered if anyone in the house even knew how to play it. Probably not. This guy was all about the props and the eye candy to impress everyone.
Either their timing was good or the target was skimping on his security manpower, because they didn’t encounter any more guards along the way. Climbing the spiral staircase, they passed way too many rooms for a single man. Thankfully, he had Benny or he’d have to clear each room, a laborious task in a house this size.
Finally, they stopped in front of a closed, double door. The door was huge and had a Middle Eastern flair to it with intricate woodwork and iron handles.
With a tilt of his head, Benny indicated that the target was in the room behind the closed door.
Oh yeah, Thorne thought and grinned. Without bothering to check if the door was locked or not, he stepped back and then drove his full two hundred and thirty pounds into the kick, his foot landing close to the door handle. The doors blew in with the force of an explosive charge. Thorne followed the kick into the room, moving toward the middle in order to dominate the area. Now it was his turn to be center of attention.
The target was sitting behind a large mahogany desk, the glow of a laptop computer illuminating his terrified face. Obviously on battery power and must have been turned off earlier, thought Thorne. Otherwise it would have been disabled when he hit the alarm and backup generators with his power.
Smiling, Thorne said, “Hello, shithead. It’s time to pay the motherfucking piper!”
“Who the hell are you? How did you get past my security?” The target stood up like he could somehow take back control of the situation. He was barely five foot eight, skinny as a twig with a receding hairline that bordered on criminal. It was almost comical to think he could do something to stop Thorne. But money did that to a person. Made them think they held all the power.
“Who we are isn’t important. Neither is the status of your security. What you should be worried about is whether or not you’re gonna die quickly or slowly. Given that you’ve stolen millions,” Thorne paused and looked around the room, “and have questionable taste in how you spent it, I’m gonna say slowly and not too pleasantly either. What do you think, Benny?”
Benny nodded in agreement. “Works for me.”
Thorne grabbed the man by his arm. With his supernatural strength, he nearly pulled the target’s arm out of the socket as he flung him across the room, crashing him into the wall and knocking down furniture along the way.
“You see, this is a burglary gone wrong,” Thorne said, while he leisurely walked toward the crumpled man. “I’m gonna beat the crap out of you because you’re too stupid to just give me the code to your safe. You do have a safe in here, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes! I have a safe! I’ll give you the combination. Just please don’t hurt me anymore! Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it. Triple it!” the target pleaded. Gone was his early bravado.
Oh how quickly the weak fold, Thorn observed.
“Well, I’m waiting.” He stood over the cowering fool.
Stuttering, the target told Thorne the safe combination.
Benny didn’t have to ask where the safe was located. He walked over to one of the paintings hanging on the wall and tore it off. He tossed it aside before typing the code into the keypad. Thorne heard the safe pop open.
“Nice!” said Benny. “Looks to be at least a hundred grand, some bearer bonds and an assortment of jewels. You’re quite the high roller, aren’t you?”
“Please, take it. I have more. Just name your price!” their target begged. It was funny how easily
he gave away money that wasn’t his.
“Really? You think you can buy my integrity?” said Thorne. “First off, my net worth is significantly larger than yours. Second, once I take a job I always complete it. There is no renegotiating of the contract. And third, I don’t like you or people like you. Fucking leeches who steal from others, because they’re too lazy, greedy or just plain bad and don’t want to earn it themselves.”
Thorne grabbed the man, dragged him back to the desk and pushed him down into the large leather chair behind it. Keeping a grip on his shirt, Thorne reached into the back of his pants and pulled out the Ruger. Letting go of the sorry excusee of a human, Throne took his time as he attached the silencer. “I told you that you were too stupid to give me the code.” He placed the barrel right on the left kneecap and fired a round into the coward’s leg.
A look of horror and shock crossed the man’s face. Before he was able to utter a sound, Thorne moved the pistol to the right kneecap and shot it, too, then stepped back, watching the man. Tears were running down his face. The target was crying so hard, he couldn’t get a word out. It was embarrassing to watch.
There was no turning back at this point. Thorne leveled the weapon right between his eyes and pulled the trigger. A small hole appeared right in the center of his forehead while the back of his skull mushroomed out and sprayed the wall behind the chair. It took a few seconds for the body to slump to the side.
“How was that?” Thorne looked at Benny. “Not too overly dramatic, was it? You know how I love good theatrics. But it’s gotta be the right mix.”
Benny shook his head, “Yea, you’re a regular Shakespeare alright.”
“What’s up with you? Still in a pissy mood?”
Benny shook his head in disgust.
Thorne laughed as he tossed one of the books off the shelf at him. “My gig. My hit. You can be Batman on your own fucking time.”
Benny’s hand shot out, and he caught it before it could make impact. He flung the book across the room and hit the wall with a thud. “I hate fucking weasels like that prick. You should have dragged it out longer.”
Hired Gun (Serial Novel Book 1) Page 2
