Monster In Me: Cryptid Assassin™ Book Eight

by Anderle, Michael

  He didn't care about them or their pleasures. Nothing had relevance except the one thing he was there to do.

  Surprisingly, they encountered a metal detector at the entrance. Taylor looked beyond it to where a handful of men had gathered at the ring. The two fighters were being given a few last-minute instructions by their trainers. He vaguely registered the many trainers in evidence. Marino had put a good deal of money into preparing the two for the fight.

  Niki paused in front of the metal detector and stared at Marino's man for a few seconds until he explained it.

  "Oh. Mr. Marino was insistent that no weapons would be present in or near the fighting ring. All things considered, with how heated these events can be, it was thought to be the safest option for everyone."

  Taylor looked at her until she sighed.

  "Fine." She growled annoyance and shrugged out of her jacket.

  His eyebrows raised in surprise. "What? Were you planning to invade Quebec once we were finished here?"

  She drew a 1911 from the holster under her arm, quickly followed by the sawn-off double-barreled shotgun she had tucked under her other arm. "Is that a thing? Do we want to invade Quebec?"

  "Not really, but you clearly plan to invade something."

  "Well, I anticipated trouble from Marino." She removed two Uzis she had strapped to her back and placed them on the table. "Bringing guns to a potential gunfight seemed like the right idea."

  The security team merely stared as she drew a snub-nosed .38 from her ankle holster, a knife that was hidden in the buckle of her belt, another blade sheathed in one of the underarm holsters, and finally retrieved a small Walther from a spring contraption up her sleeve.

  His mild concerns had proved accurate. All his focus slipped away when he was distracted by Niki. It made sense and he should have anticipated it more seriously.

  Niki walked through the metal detector but the red lights immediately flashed.

  "Oh, shit—right." She stopped and stretched into the small of her back to draw a stiletto knife she had hidden there. "Sorry, I forgot about that one."

  "Of course." Marino's man didn't look convinced at all but he smiled anyway as she stepped through the metal detector again. Nothing triggered this time.

  "Shit, I guess I need to turn this in," Vickie muttered as she stepped after them. She drew a Bowie knife she had hidden under her dress jacket. The hacker looked surprisingly good in a pale gray pantsuit and a black shirt. The short hair and goth-like makeup completed the look, as well as the platform boots that gave her about three extra inches in height.

  Reluctantly, she deposited her weapon on the bench before she moved through the metal detector. "You'd better take care of that. It was a gift from a very dear friend of mine."

  "Of course. All weapons will be returned to you when you leave." The man looked at Taylor as if he expected him to have a small arsenal stashed on his person as well.

  He moved past the guard and walked through the device without so much as a whisper from it to join Niki and Vickie. They moved toward the ring together.

  Marino was in the area as well, chatting to his fighters, and he saw them approaching. He left his people with a parting word before he strode to where Taylor began to prepare for the fight.

  "Yes, it’s not quite the kind of thing one would expect from fights in Vegas, but in this case, minimalism has a certain charm to it, I think. Don't you?"

  Taylor didn't look the man in the eye as he removed his jacket smoothly and handed it to Niki. "I didn't give it much thought."

  "Well, you should have. Even I couldn't have anticipated what kind of buzz only one fight would have in this business. People are always looking for something new to put their money on. The betting has been all over the place for the last couple of hours. Millions of dollars have flowed in since I advertised that it was going to start. So go in there, stay alive, and even if you lose, you'll make it out with a cool quarter-million dollars in clean money."

  "And how much will you walk away with?" Niki asked. "Will you pocket the six million yourself?"

  "That's the best part.” He smiled at Taylor. “I lost considerable money on you, but you've more than made up for it since. I have six million on the line if you win. If you lose, I'll take sixty, so I'd appreciate it if you lost."

  Marino’s rambling made it a little easier to slip back into the state he was in before. "You never should have bet against me, Marino."

  "Hey, I appreciate your fighting prowess, but suits don't make the man. This is a bare-knuckles back-alley brawl. I have twenty-four cameras in here, including a FLIR setup. There will be real-time odds and instant betting attached to the online streams. If you could do me a favor and last a couple of rounds before going down, I'll throw another fifty grand in to sweeten the pot for you."

  Taylor stared relentlessly at the man until his gleeful grin disappeared. "It's good that you're supporting your men, but I'm afraid you'll have to be happy with your six-million-dollar winnings tonight."

  The mob boss tried to laugh. It took him a couple of attempts but he was finally able to manage a passably amused chuckle. "That's what I like about you, McFadden—your ability to project a fantasy future for yourself. Good luck out there."

  He patted his shoulder and returned to where his men had already begun to warm up for the fight. Unperturbed, Taylor turned his attention to his corner.

  Bobby and Tanya were already there and had brought Leonard and Elisa with them, both of whom had already taken their seats next to the ring.

  "Do you miss this kind of action?" Taylor asked the old boxer as he pulled his shirt off, followed by his pants, which left him dressed only in a pair of light, flexible fighting shorts. He wore a cup, and Bobby handed him his mouthguard before he helped him to wrap his hands. There would be no gloves, but there was nothing in the rules that prevented him from having some protection. His two opponents had the same idea.

  "Are you ready for this?" Bobby asked in a hushed whisper so only Taylor could hear him.

  He answered with a nod and threw a couple of punches into the air before he rolled his neck and shoulders, turned, and marched toward the ring.

  It was time to end this.

  Chapter Fourteen

  No presenter with a famous voice waited for them. What fanfare there was happened via the online stream. Viewers probably commentated there too, which made it a full event for anyone watching. Taylor had no idea how many this might be, but the sheer number of bets Desk had picked up showed that more people than he’d expected had money invested and would probably follow the screening.

  It was on him, he decided grimly, to make sure most of the bettors lost their money.

  He climbed into the ring and shadowboxed for a few seconds to keep himself light and loose. A referee dressed in black stood in the center, but he had a feeling the man's purpose was mostly to keep things familiar for viewers who were used to more traditional combat sports.

  The two other fighters climbed into the ring with him. They whispered to one another before they separated and moved into different corners.

  The people watching from above now moved closer to the windows. While they had probably partied all day, this was the main event and the excuse for their revelry. The thought that he was entertaining the rich brats of Vegas and elsewhere in the world left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  He needed to regain his focus. Only three fighters would be in the ring, and they were the only people who mattered in the world.

  The referee put his finger to his ear, received instructions from whoever managed the streaming service, and motioned for the group to pay attention to him.

  "Protect yourself at all times," he shouted. "Follow my instructions. You will fight five rounds of five minutes each. When anyone is out, you will not continue to fight him, do you understand?"

  Taylor had a feeling the last comment was intended for him, likely because Marino didn't want his men to be killed in the ring. The mob boss would hate t
he paperwork that came with it.

  "Touch gloves!" the referee instructed.

  He shook his head. "I'm good."

  The man shrugged, unconcerned whether they followed fighting decorum or not. "All right, let's get it on!"

  Taylor pushed from the ropes and held his hands up as he advanced on the two men. They wouldn’t simply charge at him. That would make things a little too easy. The man to his right—the larger of the two with a beard and a head shaved bald—circled to his right and tried to inch behind him. His partner on the left, with long, flowing brown locks tied behind his head, advanced from directly ahead.

  They had put some work in, which was for the best. There was no point in this being an easy fight.

  The man in front of him feinted, and Taylor registered his comrade who tried to come in on his flank and throw a high kick to catch him off-guard.

  He ducked under the kick and didn’t wait for his opponent to recover from his strike before he closed the distance and tagged him in the face with a pair of jabs before he could bring his guard up again. When the man regained his defensive hand positions, Taylor shifted and hammered him in his unprotected ribs.

  His adversary rolled with the blow to make sure it didn't cause too much damage, but he was still forced back into the ropes. Taylor wasn't able to follow up on the strikes as the other man came in to help his friend with a flurry of strikes.

  It was a good attack and caught him while he was distracted. The assault forced him back and a hook tagged him on the jaw and made him lose his balance slightly. Bobby and Leonard had taught him well, however, with the result that although he was a big target, none of the blows landed flush.

  The ropes touched his back and after he’d ducked an ill-advised hook, he pushed forward and used his shoulder to upend the man, who landed with a thud. He rolled away quickly, but Taylor didn’t have the time to press the attack again as the other fighter barreled in with a superman punch that caught him in the jaw.

  It wasn't enough to knock him down, but he needed a second to recover and kept his hands up to defend himself. The long-haired man tried to press his advantage, but he squared his shoulders and thrust him back with two lightning jabs to the nose. It broke with the second strike, and the man fell back to recover as his comrade regained his feet.

  Both men looked like they needed a breather, and Taylor admitted to himself that he needed to reevaluate his strategy as well. He wouldn’t be able to take them individually as he had hoped. They were coordinating to make sure he could never focus all his power on one or the other. He needed to find a way to knock them both together or maybe tag one of them with a knockout punch, which would leave only the one to deal with.

  Before they could reengage, they were stopped when the ref stepped between them and the bell rang for the end of the round. He rolled his shoulders and retreated to his corner where Niki, Bobby, and Leonard waited for him. The old boxer handed him a towel to wipe the sweat off, while Bobby checked the cut over his eyebrow. It had been hit and a few stitches had torn, but no blood issued from it yet.

  "Are you done with this?" Niki asked and looked into his eyes.

  "I could be," he grumbled through his mouthguard. "Why?"

  Before she could reply, Vickie jogged to the side of the ring, holding her phone in her hand. "Hey, Taylor? Desk says it's time, whatever that's supposed to mean."

  "Wait, Desk is involved in this?" Niki scowled and looked from one to the other.

  Maxwell and Jansen, who had both taken seats in the corner of the room, bumped fists and grinned.

  The agent’s scowl deepened. "Taylor, what does ‘Desk says it's time’ mean?"

  He shook his head and noted that the other coaches had begun to leave the ring. "You'll see. Why did you ask if I was about done with this?"

  "Because I'm fucking horny, is why. So finish this shit. Get it over with, you hear me?"

  He nodded slowly and something cold collected in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah. Yeah, I hear you."

  * * *

  Vickie returned to her seat and turned her phone off for the rest of the fight. There was nothing in the world that could interfere with what came next.

  "What does Desk mean that it's time?" Elisa asked as she slid into the seat next to her.

  "It means we're about to see something special, I think," the hacker commented and leaned forward expectantly in her seat.

  "Yeah, I don't think I've ever seen Taylor like…that."

  "You're right. That is a new look for Tay-Tay."

  He looked calm and relaxed and possibly, even a hint of a smile played across his lips as everyone cleared the ring to leave only the three fighters. She had never seen anything quite like this, and it was a little unnerving.

  "Is he…smiling?" Elisa sounded nervous too.

  Vickie shrugged. "I guess that's what he looks like when he goes…wherever he goes when he's about to be incredibly violent. Maybe they're playing ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’ and serving copious amounts of beer and meat in that little happy place of his."

  It made sense for a guy to get completely out of the way and allow his body to simply do what it had been trained to do without any interference from his brain. Conscious thought might result in overthinking in a moment when every second counted and the reflexive and instinctual actions committed to muscle memory were all that were needed.

  He didn’t even move that much. His arms were lowered and his fingers flexed and relaxed slowly.

  "I…think he might be having a seizure," Leonard commented.

  "Maybe," Niki replied, her voice unconcerned. "I don't think so, though."

  She was proven right when the bell rang and his hands snapped up, but it didn't look like a defensive posture. He had moved beyond feeling them out.

  "What did you tell him?" Vickie asked her cousin in a hushed whisper.

  "Something about…finishing the fight quickly."

  "Oh."

  Bobby nodded. "I'll tell the medics to be ready."

  Marino, seated on the other side of the small temporary arena, tensed slightly. The confident smile he had worn for the whole of the first round melted slowly away as he watched Taylor advance to the center of the ring.

  Vickie knew there was something different about her boss. Something was wrong—or right, in this case. She decided that was a good thing, especially since she wasn’t the one opposite him in the ring. That would probably never happen, thank goodness.

  Probably.

  * * *

  Meeting in person would never be his choice. Jack hadn't been a field agent in years and honestly, there was a reason for that. Anxiety issues had removed him from the field in the first place, and he had spent almost a full decade simply overseeing and planning operations and helping the assets when necessary. He didn't like the necessity to change that, but he forced himself to do what was required rather than lose it and melt down in spectacular fashion.

  Special circumstances were in existence, and he didn’t have the time to deal with this via proxy anymore. People wanted to see him being effective in the field. Maybe he would be able to fake it as long as he needed to.

  "Hello again."

  The Chinese operative still sounded vaguely like an American from a place in the country that had no accents.

  He motioned for her to take a seat as he took his time and fiddled with the scrambled eggs and toast he had ordered.

  Finally, he looked at her. "It’s nice to see you again. How was your flight?"

  "Cramped. And that is enough small talk, I think."

  Relieved that she’d cut through the pleasantries, he nodded. "We appreciate the files your agency shared with us. At least we know the scientists they're importing there aren't trying to weaponize the goop that was flown in. Or, at least, that's not their primary goal."

  "Indeed, but I discovered something else from the files that were shared. Between the intelligence operatives our three agencies had in play, I was able to discover that there are at least
two more assets of unknown origin at the island who are still alive—or at least were alive when ours were killed. We need to connect with them—find out what they know and who they are working for. In that order."

  Jack nodded. "I'll get on that. Thanks again."

  "Of course." She stood and made her way to the door.

  "Good talk," he muttered and took a mouthful of his breakfast.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The ring seemed to have shrunk and the other fighters appeared to move in slow motion. Taylor could hear the slow ticking of his heartbeat as if it counted down and waited for something to happen.

  His long-haired opponent moved closer, a little bolder than his partner, and jabbed with his fist. The other man managed to circle and punch him once in the body and then in the jaw to force him back a step.

  Both surged in a combined attack and in their eagerness, lined up in front of him. They attempted to throw punches as quickly as possible to get him on the mat.

  He defended and let the need to think about it slip away. His body already knew what he was looking for, and when the opening appeared, it was like magic. The inner persona had taken over and he was only in there for the ride. One of his opponents dropped his guard in his effort to focus on delivering strikes to his body. He paid no attention to body language, like he expected it to end there and then with his victory.

  His enthusiasm was quickly tempered when Taylor launched forward, caught him on the back foot with a left-hand jab to the nose, and forced him back, suddenly blinded. The other fighter saw what was happening and tried to step in front of his comrade while he maintained the same tactic that had kept them alive in the first round.

  A hard hook connected with Taylor’s ribs and a shockwave of pain rippled through his body. It registered on a distant level like that part of his brain was closed for business at the moment. He shifted his hips and whipped his body to crack his elbow in the bald man's eyebrow. The cut was instant, and blood flowed immediately. The man dropped back, tried to staunch the flow, and left only one man in front of their adversary.