Meet Abby Banks VOLUMES: 1-3

by J. A. Cipriano

  I quaffed the whole thing in a single gulp and set it down on the table. The heat of the alcohol traveled through me, warming me from the inside out and melting a smile onto my face. He filled my glass as I watched him suspiciously. When bubbles began to flow over the rim, he laughed and held it out to me.

  “Thanks,” I said, my voice a little higher pitched than normal.

  He laughed, his abdomen muscles flexing with the effort as he leaned back against the couch, and it was all I could do to keep from staring.

  “So you speak,” he said, the hint of laughter on his voice. It was a little weird to be honest. “I thought maybe you communicated solely through dance.” He waved his hand like he could brush away his comment. “Either way, I’m impressed. I rarely find a dancer of your caliber in my club.” He shifted, moving closer to me and pulling my nearly empty flute from my hand. Where had the alcohol gone? I’d only taken a sip… I swear.

  “Wait… your club?” I blabbered as he refilled my flute a third time. I suddenly felt like an idiot because that meant he was with the gang and here I was drinking champagne with him. I needed to get out of here, now.

  “Yes, my club. I am Raul, the proprietor of the Achilles Bar and Grill,” he replied, handing me the flute. “Though we don’t actually cook things here, so the last part is a misnomer. We added it because it rolls off the tongue better.” He smirked at me before adding the word ‘grill,’ somehow enunciating it so it sounded alluring and provocative.

  I blinked at him and instead of taking the glass from him because for all I knew it was filled with poison. Maybe he was just immune? Maybe he was like that Italian from Princess Bride and had acclimated himself to it? I scrunched myself backward into the pillows, glancing around for a way to escape before deciding to play it cool. “I can’t be here alone with you. My friend is waiting for me outside.”

  He laughed, and it bubbled out of him in an intoxicating flurry. “Do not worry. I am not trying to get you drunk and take advantage of you.” His smile widened, revealing a mouthful of gleaming porcelain. “If that is what you think…”

  “I didn’t think…” I whispered almost to myself as he took a sip of his champagne.

  “I’m gay,” he replied, waving his hand. “Do you think straight men dance as well as I do? I think not.” He shook his head as if perishing the distasteful thought.

  “That’s not, um…” I didn’t even know how to respond to him because his words sloshed around in my suddenly champagne addled brain.

  “Did you think I was hitting on you?” he asked, leaning in close to me.

  “No,” I replied, not meeting his eyes. “I am just worried about my friend. He was supposed to be out there with me, but I seem to have lost him in the excitement.”

  He watched me for a long time, thoughts swimming through his eyes, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if he believed me. I know I wouldn’t have and not just because it sounded like I was trying to cover for myself. Which was sort of what I was doing. Damn it and damn him!

  “You mean Morris?” Raul asked, leaning back against the couch and finishing his champagne. He twirled the empty glass between his long, slender fingers as he watched me.

  “Yeah, he said this was the best club in Greece. I only just got here a few hours ago,” I said before stopping myself because I was revealing too much. If this guy really owned the club, that meant he’d definitely know about the damn goons who came to kill us, and by extension, who I was. Not good. Not good at all. I needed to get out of here and fast.

  “Don’t,” he replied, when he saw me edging away from him. “If you make any sudden movements, the guards outside will come inside. You won’t like that, Abby.”

  “Did you know who I was the whole time?” I asked, feeling even dumber about letting him walk me in here.

  “I had my suspicions,” he replied just before one of his guards flew backward through the curtain in a spray of blood and gore. The man’s immense body slammed down onto the table, knocking the champagne bottle flying.

  10

  I leapt to the side, throwing myself behind the cover of one wall while Raul stood there like an idiot with his mouth hanging open. Bullets exploded through the curtain, slamming into the spot I’d occupied only a moment before, reducing the once plush couch to a riddled corpse. Stuffing exploded through the air as my suit writhed over my skin, covering my body in an instant.

  My machinegun slipped into my hand, and I let off a quick burst of fire. Bullets tore through the wall in a jagged line toward me as I flung myself across the room. I hit Raul square in the side because he was still standing there like some kind of idiot, and we crashed to the ground in a heap as the room erupted in gunfire at about chest height. Thankfully, we were lying on the ground.

  Raul looked up at me, fear filling his eyes as I nodded to him. “Stay down,” I whispered, not believing I was saying the words. “I got this.”

  I crawled forward, trying to ignore the gunfire reducing the room to an unlivable hovel even though every part of me was telling me I should be moving away from the shooting. It was then I realized I couldn’t really hear very well. That wasn’t good at all.

  I emptied my machine gun just as a grenade rolled through the beaded curtain and was rewarded with a grunt of pain from beyond. It brought me a strange satisfaction as I scrambled to my feet and dove toward the grenade. I hit the ground hard on my chest as my fingers smacked into the hard metal ball of death. It went zinging toward the curtain and exploded the moment it crossed the threshold.

  The blast flung me backward, and I was pretty sure I’d have been dead if I wasn’t wearing the suit. Even still, I slammed backward into the wall hard enough to indent myself in the drywall. I collapsed forward onto the plush red carpet with the taste of blood in my mouth. I glanced around for Raul and found him taking cover behind the overturned couch and was at once relieved he was still alive and somewhat annoyed I hadn’t thought to, you know, hide. Here I was playing kickball with hand grenades, and he was hiding. Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?

  Four soldiers clad in gear that reminded me of the Special Forces agents I’d sometimes trained with burst into the room, moving slowly and methodically as their guns looked for sources of gunfire. Why hadn’t they seen me? It was then I realized my suit had somehow camouflaged me. Even still, it wouldn’t take long for them to find me.

  I gritted my teeth, sucking in a quick breath before leaping to my feet like a Kung Fu ninja warrior. My fist slammed into the facemask of the first soldier, knocking him backward into one of his partners as I dropped in time to avoid a bullet to the face. It zinged by overhead as I crouched. With a burst of strength, I threw myself into the shooter, catching him in the stomach. He stumbled backward, but even as he did so, he drove his elbow into my back.

  The blow rocked me, but I was pretty sure the worst of it was held off by my suit. I dropped, throwing my bodyweight onto my elbows as I came crashing down onto the soldier’s toes. He screamed in pain, and I was pretty sure all the bones inside his boot were broken.

  Someone grabbed me from behind, arms snaking up under mine to lock me in a full nelson. I struggled, trying to move as I was slammed face first into the floor. Heavy weight settled on top of me, pinning me there even as I struggled. I wracked my brain, desperately trying to figure out what to do when a single gunshot rang out in the room.

  The hold on me loosened as warm fluid spattered across my back. I shoved myself out from under my attacker as he slumped sideways to the ground, the back of his head blown out. Raul was standing behind us with a smoking gun in his hand. I wasn’t quite sure what kind it was, but it was huge and silver. Had he just saved me? Why?

  Instead of saying anything, he turned his weapon on the other three soldiers, emptying his weapon into them. His face was strangely blank. It was scary. Usually people are angry or scared or something. In his eyes there was nothing at all. A chill ran down my spine as I stared up at him, unable to move.

  W
hen his weapon was spent, he dropped it to the ground and picked up one of the fallen machineguns. He held out one hand to me, and it was then I realized I was still crouching next to him. I took his hand, and he helped me to my feet, but no sooner had he done so, when he emptied the machinegun at close range into the fallen soldiers, thereby guaranteeing them closed casket funerals.

  “Let’s go,” he said, voice cold enough to make me shiver.

  “What’s going on?” I asked as he stepped brazenly out of the room, evidently not worried about being shot. It was strange because even Chuck didn’t enter rooms that could contain enemies so brazenly. Was there something going on I didn’t understand, and if so, what?

  “Those are Israeli Special Forces. I don’t know why they’re here, but no one shoots up my club,” he replied as the beads swung back behind him, blocking him from view, which was more than a little annoying because it seemed like he’d done it on purpose. But why would he block my view on purpose after I’d saved him?

  I stepped outside, and the sound of blaring music filled my ears, making me wonder how I’d heard him, and why the room we’d been in had been so quiet. It also made me realize no one had heard our little gunfight. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

  The room was a bloodbath. Bodies littered the floor, a combination of Raul’s guards and others that looked like the Israelis. There must have been a dozen bodies. The smell of death was nearly overwhelming, and I had to fight the urge to be sick. I turned away to catch my breath, staring at the spot where the floor and walls had been blasted apart. It looked like a grenade had gone off. Oops.

  Raul walked over to me, gesturing with a machine gun he must have taken from one of his fallen guards. It wasn’t as nice looking as what the Israelis had, reminding me more of an AK47 that had seen way better days than anything else.

  “You know, a second ago you were cowering behind the couch. Now you’re Big Billy Badass. What gives?” I asked, focusing on looking at his slightly crooked nose so I wouldn’t have to look into his flat, emotionless eyes.

  “I compartmentalize,” he said and his words were barely audible over the blare of music. “When my brother and I were small, our dad used to take us on nature hikes. In reality though, they were more like forced death marches. It was like he was trying to prepare us for something though we never really found out what he was preparing for since he was killed by a drunk driver when I was only ten.”

  “Okay…” I said as he turned away. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of his story, and for all I knew, it wasn’t even true. Still, something about it had the slightest ring of truth to it. Then again, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. The agency had loads of people who could go from cracking jokes and being the life of the party to snapping necks and gutting kittens in a heartbeat. Why should the brother of a mercenary who also ran his own drug cartel be different?

  “Besides,” he added, moving toward the hallway and motioning for me to follow him. It was a little crazy though. Was he really going to walk out there toting a gun? Seriously? “I was partially playing stupid to see how you’d react. From the look of things, my brother will have a tough time.” He shrugged. “And before you ask why I haven’t just shot you in the head, it’s because you acted to save my life even knowing I’d likely kill you. That’s worth a lot to me. Good job, you found my weakness. I’m just a big old softy.” He flashed me a smile that almost reached his eyes but fell short beneath the coldness of his stare.

  I wasn’t buying it, but I wasn’t sure what good arguing with him about it now would be. I’d wait until we weren’t in the middle of a battle. Then, when I had him all to myself, I’d make him tell me the truth.

  When I didn’t respond, he turned back around and pushed open the large painted yellow metal door to his left. “Now then, let’s go find us some Israelis to murder.” Even though I didn’t know why the Israelis were after me, somehow it wasn’t that surprising with everything else that had happened. Israeli soldiers? Sure, why not.

  I nodded and took a step forward. My foot had barely touched the floor when the wall to my right exploded, sending rock and fire in every direction and tossing me across the room like a ragdoll. I struck the corner of a granite countertop and pain lanced through me as I toppled over the thing and crashed onto my shoulders.

  As something within the room detonated, covering the ceiling in a wash of flames, I lay there too stunned to even move. The music died abruptly, and the sudden silence of it was unnerving for the split second it took for people to start screaming.

  Careful not to expose myself, I crawled to my hands and knees. I wasn’t sure what good the private bar I was hiding behind was going to do to stop people with explosives, but it made me feel better anyway. My heart hammered in my chest as I slowly raised myself up, peering up over the top toward the direction of the explosions like a particularly scared meerkat.

  Unfortunately, the only thing I saw was flame and rubble. Even with my suit, I couldn’t make out anything beyond the darkness of the hole because the fire was playing havoc with my night vision.

  I tossed a look toward where Raul had been but saw nothing beyond the scorched metal door. There were spots along the wall where the sheetrock had been blown away to reveal thick concrete beneath. Judging from the look of things, it had to have been a couple feet thick. So Raul was probably safe if he’d gotten through the door. Somehow the thought didn’t exactly make me feel better.

  Not sure where I was going to head exactly but knowing I needed a better hiding place, I took a deep breath and leapt over the bar. The moment I was in the open, a couple grenades came flying through the hole along with a hail of gunfire. I dropped onto my tummy as the bullets impacted the wall and bar behind me. I stared at the grenade only three inches from my face and knew I was screwed.

  So what did I do?

  I jumped to my feet, ignoring the bullets pelting me even though every shot I took radiated agony like someone had struck me with a hammer. I threw myself through the hole in the wall. I was still in midair when the grenades detonated. The resulting explosion flung me head over heels. I wound up crashing upside down into the windshield of a black as pitch van.

  My body slumped, toppling to the ground as what seemed like a dozen Israeli Special Forces soldiers closed in on me. Though maybe it was only half that because I wouldn’t be surprised to have been seeing double.

  “Abigail de la Mancha,” one of them said in a voice modulated into an untraceable robotic drawl. “You’re coming with us. Don’t fight. If you do, well, let’s just say we have orders you won’t like.” He gestured behind him toward what looked like a tank with its big front gun pointed right at me.

  “Okay,” I wheezed, not sure if I wanted to try taking out a tank with my bare hands. I mean even if I avoided it blowing me into smithereens, I wasn’t quite sure the people being herded into a group off to the left would be so lucky.

  “Good,” the man said, reaching out to jab me in the neck with something. Time seemed to stop as I watched his hand coming closer. Then I felt something. Rage. I was done letting people capture me, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let this guy drug me.

  I grabbed the guy by his stupid armored chest plate with one hand and jerked him forward into my other fist. I smashed his mask into a cloud of shards as he toppled backward. Before he’d even slumped onto his knees, I was on my feet. I dove over the other guards, tucking my body into a roll that brought me too close to the tank for it to use its big gun as the members of the team that had been surrounding me turned around.

  They fired at me as I scrambled on top of the tank. Bullets pinged off the tank’s armor, ricocheting all around me, and while I was sure I had totally been hit, I didn’t feel it. I hit the ground on the other side of the tank and drew my knife as the big gun on top of the tank started to swivel toward me.

  “Yeah, that’s right!” I cried, standing there with an angry snarl on my face. “I did bring a knife to a tank fight!”

>   My last grenade slipped into my other hand just as the tank completed its turn, and I flung it straight down the tube before turning and sprinting away down the street. The sound of helicopters above me filled the night sky, but strangely, I didn’t hear any sirens though I wasn’t sure how the local authorities hadn’t heard the gunfire and explosions

  I turned down an alley just as gunfire erupted from the closest helicopter, tearing up the asphalt beneath my feet and perforating the buildings on either side of me. I threw myself sideways through the first window I saw, crashing to the marble floor inside in a rain of glass and debris. I got to my feet as an explosion rocked the ground beneath my feet. Men surged through the front door, spraying bullets like they were going out of style. Well, if they wanted a fight, I was going to give it to them. I was done getting shot at by unnamed assailants, especially when I had a bulletproof spy suit.

  So what did I do? I ran at them screaming incoherently, my knife flashing through the space between us as I crashed into the first soldier.

  11

  The building shook with the force of another explosion. I stumbled, crashing into the first soldier as he lost his balance and collapsed beneath me. I rolled, trying to get to my feet as a flaming helicopter burst through the front door, slamming into the marble floor and tumbling toward me like an angry metal meteor.

  I dove out of the way, barely dodging its tumbling form and was thankful my suit somehow kept me from being turned into toast. It slammed into the wall behind me, cracking the marble in several places and flinging debris in every direction. Liquor bottles exploded behind me as I wobbled to my feet and lurched forward, ignoring the gunshot that zinged by my ear.

  Several of the soldiers were down, but not all of them evidently, and the ones who weren’t were recovering faster than me. I gripped my knife as hard as I could and staggered toward the burned out husk of the front door, trying to keep the debris between them and me as flames leapt across the ground and up the walls. Each breath scalded my throat as I looked around, trying to ignore the fact someone had tried to crash a helicopter into me. Still, something told me it hadn’t been on purpose. So who had done it?