Abe unlocked his jaw and backed off, panting hard with excitement.
The house burned behind me, the last of my life disappearing in smoke and flames.
I cocked the gun and pressed it to Officer Ryan’s temple. “Talk to me, or get ready to have a chat with God about your sins.”
His face drained of blood and his Adam’s apple bobbed violently. “Orders came down that . . . that you were to be watched. That there was a suspicion you were a violent offender in hiding. That’s all I knew. Schmidt had the details, not me. I swear, that’s all I knew!”
That much I could believe. Schmidt would be close to retirement, looking for a sweet payout that would pad a better lifestyle than a mere pension. I rolled the gun in my hand and slammed the butt of it into his head. His eyes rolled back and his body slumped into the mud. I grabbed his arm and dragged him to Schmidt’s body. I wiped the handle of the blade still in Schmidt’s forehead and then wrapped Ryan’s hand over it, pressing his fingertips over it tightly.
For good measure, I took Schmidt’s hand that still held the gun and wrapped my hand around his, put the muzzle to Ryan’s right shoulder, deep in the soft flesh, and pulled the trigger. Let them figure this shit out with the forensics lab.
I stood and went to the cop car. “Abe, let’s go, buddy.”
He leapt in the passenger side and I shut the door behind him. I took off my bag and flipped it into the back, then slid into the driver’s seat. I backed the car up as Zee drove back into the yard with the truck. He lifted a hand to me, and our eyes met. He gave me a nod.
I knew he would understand.
Time to truly begin the hunt, to bring down the predators who’d come to my door, thinking to find a shivering little mouse.
Time to show them the real monster they’d woken.
Chapter Eleven
The drive into town was tense in the growing dark as the day faded, mostly because I knew more than ever, I was on the wrong side of the law. I’d never killed a cop before. Bad guys, that had been my job. Men who’d fucked over my father and tried to steal from him, or our family. I’d never killed anyone before that would have been labeled a ‘good guy’ and that had made what I did acceptable in my own mind.
My legs rattled with excess energy.
“Phoenix,” Eleanor spoke, “why did you use the knife and not one of us? We could have killed him much faster.”
“Zee is right. I rely on you ladies too much. I need to be better prepared if you get taken away. Or if I am facing a beast that can’t be killed with a simple bullet.” And then there was the connection to them that was almost too strong. Zee was looking out for me, and he would know being an abnormal himself.
Dinah snorted. “No such thing.”
I knew she was wrong, there were a few beasts out there that were immune to bullets, hell my father had three of them at his side. I had to hope I wouldn’t end up dealing with any of them.
“Abe, you ready for this?” I glanced at him. He tipped his head to the side and gave me a woof. Good enough.
As we neared town, firetrucks passed us at top speed, headed the other way, their lights shattering the night. I wasn’t going to have much time to switch out the police cruiser for another vehicle. And it wasn’t like town was big enough that another missing vehicle would go unnoticed.
Unless . . . unless it was Noah’s.
Noah wasn’t here. He’d left as he’d said he would a short time after the funeral. But he had a cheap overseas-model car he left parked at the airport for when he came to visit. I’d never questioned it before, thinking he just didn’t want to be a burden on Justin. Now I wondered if it was so he could move around without people knowing he was here.
I took the turn that would lead us to the airport. Only seven miles out of town, it was a busy airport, surprisingly enough. Again, not so busy that I wouldn’t be noticed, stinking of smoke and covered in soot as I was. I looked down at my body, taking in my appearance as I drove.
My clothes were torn from the fight, and they were splattered with mud from grabbing Bradley and dragging him around. Abe wasn’t looking much better, his fawn-colored fur tipped in mud. He blinked his dark eyes at me, as if he couldn’t believe how dirty we were too.
I patted his head. “We need to get cleaned up, buddy.”
I pulled the cruiser onto a secondary street, parking it to the side of the road, and stepped out, sweeping the area with my eyes. There was a row of houses, three of which I knew were rentals.
I grabbed my bag from the backseat and Abe heeled to my left without being asked. We jogged to the townhouse that Noah used without being seen. I waited for a solid five minutes, watching the windows in the rental house, but no lights came on, there was no movement of someone walking around. I walked up the stairs as if I belonged there, put my hand on the doorknob and tried it once. Locked, of course.
There was a window right next to the door. Perfect. I pulled off the long-sleeved shirt I wore, leaving me in nothing but a camisole, and wrapped my hand in the muddy shirt. A quick punch and I was through the glass, and the deadbolt was flicked open. I stepped through and into the dark house. “Abe.”
He didn’t need a lot of encouragement, hurrying in with me. I locked the door behind me for what it was worth.
I turned, letting my eyes adjust to the dark main living space. Couch and recliner, TV, a nice coffee table. I walked past them to the back of the house where the master bedroom and bathroom were. I could get cleaned up, then Abe and I could run the last few miles to the airport to pick up Noah’s car . . . my thoughts stuttered, trailing off as I flicked on the small bedside lamp.
The room . . . it was not empty as a rental should be, not by a long shot.
The walls were covered with paper clippings, maps, lists. At first I thought I was seeing things wrong. Yet here it was, evidence of what Justin and Noah had been neck deep in.
I put a hand on one of the paper clippings and read it through.
Business tycoon Luca Romano is showing no signs in slowing down the expansion of his multinational company. With his most recent bride at his side, he opens the newest of his businesses, a Hollywood studio dedicated to helping struggling actors find the limelight.
The news clipping was dated almost a full year before. In Justin’s hand.
Justin’s sharp, angled scrawl had written the date on the paper, the same angled scrawl that had been on the coded papers here and there as they danced around. I pulled the papers out of my bag and held them up to the clippings. Justin’s scrawl, and the neater printing.
The neater printing that was on the wall was also on the coded papers.
“Noah, you lying bastard.” I struggled not to rip the news clipping from the wall.
They both knew who my father was . . . and they’d been tracking his movements.
I skimmed the remaining papers, looking for a thread other than my father. But they were all tied to him, all tied to his business and what he was doing, who he was with. My heart picked up speed as I skimmed article after article.
A slow pattern began to emerge. I looked at the cities where my father was doing business. I closed my eyes, thinking about the cities Justin and Noah had been traveling to the last few years.
Boulder. New York. Los Angeles. Salt Lake.
They matched.
“What have you two done?” I whispered, pressing my hand against the wall. I didn’t care that I was leaving a muddy print. Noah would know someone broke in the second he saw the window. I backed away from the wall and went to the kitchen.
There was food on the counter, and a coffee pot still half full of black sludge. I frowned and went to it, put the back of my hand to the pot.
Still warm.
Noah was in town, then.
My heart picked up speed.
The man at the house . . . he’d been looking in Justin’s office. He’d seemed familiar. Noah at the door after the funeral. The Gore-Tex material in Abigail’s mouth.
“Mo
ther fucker.”
I wanted to sit and cover my face with my hands, because he’d been right there in front of me at the funeral. At my house. And now he’d set my world on fire.
I had no doubt he was on an ATV somewhere out in the woods. It would take him time to get back here. I had a choice. I could wait for him, and force information. I could wait and kill him. Or I could go, and leave him to roam, knowing he would show back up, knowing that if I tried to force info from him, it would likely come out as more lies.
I clenched my fist, struggling with my decision.
I headed to the bathroom, stripping my clothes off as I went.
I found dark gray sweatpants, white socks, and a stack of T-shirts in the one dresser in his bedroom. I pulled what I needed and went to the shower. I scrubbed off as fast as I could, then beckoned Abe into the tub.
He jumped in and I washed the worst of the mud off, and towel-dried him. He took the opportunity to shake several times, spraying the room with the last flickers of mud and water that smelled lightly of dog. My lips twitched, a smile almost happening because I knew that Noah disliked the smell of dogs. More than once he’d commented on not ever being able to live in a place with animals like we did.
“Abe, come here.” I pointed at Noah’s bed. Abe jumped up and immediately began to roll around, drying himself on the nice clean sheets. Though it wasn’t exactly torture, it was a small dig. And it made me feel better for a moment.
I rinsed off once more to remove the dog hair and Abe’s mud from my arms, then dried myself and dressed in Noah’s clothes. Warm and loose, they would allow for easy movement and the ability to hide my weapons. I had the shoulder holster on over the white T-shirt, then found a windbreaker in the closet. Not exactly warm but it would do.
Dinah grumbled. “I want to be cleaned too. I feel sticky.”
“Later,” I said. “We’re on a tight schedule here.”
I twisted my hair into a tight bun at the back of my head, grabbed my clothes from the floor and went into the kitchen. Digging around, I found a black garbage bag I put my wet clothes in.
“There is still time,” I spoke out loud, more to myself than Abe or my guns. “Still time to find out what we can.”
Abe woofed at me from the bed with a big dog grin on his face and wagged his tail.
Time to toss the house. Whatever Noah had hidden here, I was going to find it.
And find it I did.
There were several standard issue guns, a couple of pieces of fake ID . . . and an FBI badge with the name Lancaster on it. I’d known him as Noah Black. I frowned and tossed them to the side. Double crossing a double crosser? Had Justin known Noah was FBI? I shook my head. Too many lies, there was no easy way to untangle them.
More than all that, though, I searched for the family bible that had been stolen, sure that it was Noah who had taken it, that it would be key in breaking the codes.
But there was no bible in the apartment.
I checked the time. Half an hour, we’d been here long enough.
“Time to go, Abe.”
I slung the bag over my shoulder, not caring that I looked exactly like what I was doing. Robbing his house.
I let Abe out the back door first, and then followed him through grass yards to the wooded areas, rather than using the road to get to the airport. Even though I was sure Noah had his vehicle with him, the airport was still a good place to pick up a car that wouldn’t be missed for at least a day or so. Lots of long term parking there.
We crossed open fields in the dark. I talked while we walked. Despite what Zee thought, Dinah and Eleanor were excellent to bounce ideas off.
“Noah and Justin were tracking my father for some reason. Maybe . . . maybe they thought they could blackmail him? Because they knew about me.”
Dinah snorted. “No, that seems too simple.”
“Did they know you weren’t your sister?” Eleanor asked.
I shook my head. “No, I let him believe I was Bianca and that I’d faked my death. Zee masked my tattoo with his Hiding abilities. They never knew.” The Hiding he’d done was broken now, which meant I could be found if anyone was looking.
A very large part of me wanted to be found.
I thought for a moment. “Then there’s Tank; the brake lines were tampered with his signature style, but there was no way he could have fit under the truck unless he’s lost a shit ton of weight in the last ten years.”
“Someone he trained?” Dinah offered.
“Yeah, probably. But he’d be the place to start.”
My mind worked to put the pieces together, to find the commonality. And that was the problem as far as I could see. There was no real commonality.
I adjusted the bag on my back. “Bradley was sent to look for me, but was really being used for bait, I think Zee was right about that. But I feel like there’s something I’m missing. What the hell is it?”
Abe gave me a soft woof, but otherwise was quiet. Neither of my guns spoke.
I shook my head. “Looks like we’re going to pay Tank a visit first then. He’s the only thing I know for sure. And he’s in New York. Or he was the last time I saw him.”
Tank’s boss was the head of the Mancini family. Magical mobsters, if you will. Most were hardened criminals, and most had never been caught in large part because of that magic.
One piece that stuck out to me was that if Tank had been brought in to deal with whatever it was Justin had dabbled in, then my husband had been dealing in high-level shit.
It didn’t matter to me that Justin had been doing something illegal. Reality was, illegal practices had been what I’d spent most of my early life doing, so there was no judgment from me. Except that it had cost our son his life too.
If I was honest, it wouldn’t have mattered as much to me if it had just been him that had died in the accident. I would have grieved, but I would have gone on.
If Bear had survived, I would have gone on with the life I’d created for myself and our boy. I would have looked for the killers. I would have bumped up security around the farm. But I wouldn’t have gone after them, not like this. I would have had Bear with me to take care of, to love still. There would not have been this fury that was propelling me forward.
The blinking lights of the airport called me out of my thoughts.
I circled around to the long-term pay parking.
I settled on a dark blue mid-sized truck that had a time stamp on the window ticket for two weeks from the current date. Two weeks before it was officially missing. Perfect.
I broke a back window with the flick of a baton from my bag. Unlocking the doors, I let Abe into the front seat passenger spot. From the driver’s seat, I ripped off the paneling under the steering wheel, cut the wires, and jumpstarted the engine in under a minute.
The engine growled to life and I checked the gas gauge. Right full, and according to the meter beside it, that would probably give us close to four hundred miles. Four hundred miles.
I pulled out of the parking space and headed toward the exit, taking the only road out of town leading east. East to the coast, to Tank and the mob.
Chapter Twelve
Thirteen hundred miles between Wyoming and New York was a blur of cheap fast food, dirty truck stops and thirty minutes of sleep snatched here and there. Not a single abnormal, not a single person who so much as looked at me sideways.
New York was as I’d left it, what felt like a hundred years ago. Busy, bustling, full of people, smells, energy and music. That was the side most people saw. The other side was . . . not so pretty.
Dirty, dangerous, broken down, full of death and very bad things like abnormals and magic. Here and there, I saw them, the abnormals. A flicker of movement on the peripheral of my vision that drew my eyes time and again.
The thing with abnormals was when you weren’t looking for them, that’s when you saw them. The energy around them was different. People naturally gave them more space, sidelong glances. They moved in a circl
e of their own; even when they fit in, they stood out. This was not a skill easy to learn as a human and it had taken me years to perfect it.
I stopped at a local secondhand store that was still in business and picked up clothes. Things that would work in multiple situations. I didn’t want to advertise I was back in town, so I grabbed a frilly dress and thigh-high boots far more suited to a stripper. My mother would have loved them both. Along with the dress-up clothes, I grabbed several wigs, and a few other types of outfits from casual to business.
From there, I headed to the heart of Manhattan in the Garment District. Known for the violence here, I was less likely to be noticed. The cheap-ass motel room I rented smelled like bug spray and whiskey.
I stared into the partially fogged mirror of the bathroom, my body wrapped in a thin towel.
Phoenix Romano had been barely a woman when she’d run from her father. Her long dark hair and matching eyes were stamps of her family as surely as her attitude and penchant for violence. She’d worn clothes that matched that blackness, to the point where people mocked her behind her back.
Now, I was Nix, and with my white-blonde hair and a pair of green contacts in, I was nothing like that girl from my past. The frilly pink dress kissed the tops of my knees, covering the height of the thigh-high boots, which covered the fact I was carrying knives on my upper legs.
At least on the outside, I didn’t resemble Phoenix.
A long loose trench coat covered the dress all the way to my calves. A thick pink belt made of strips of leather wrapped around my waist, and allowed for a holster to be set in my lower back. There was no way I’d leave Eleanor or Dinah out of this. I ran my hands over the variety of weapons I had, counting them. Three guns besides Dinah and Eleanor, three knives, and two sedative darts tucked into a case in the trench coat pocket. Just in case.
A girl can never be too prepared.
“Where are we going tonight?” Eleanor asked.
“Finding an old friend,” I said as I put her into her holster.
Abe was passed out on the crappy queen sized bed, and I gave him a pat before I left. “Abe, bewache.”
Fury of a Phoenix (The Nix Series Book 1) Page 13
