The Harbinger Collection: Hard-boiled Mysteries Not for the Faint of Heart (A McCray Crime Collection)

by Carolyn McCray

  “Nobody is going to pick him out as a cop,” Kent said with a chuckle.

  With that Nicole couldn’t argue.

  “Home, then?” she asked.

  “Are you kidding me?” Kent said. “We’ve got to get you up to speed.”

  “What do you mean?” Nicole asked, worried, very worried, about what he had planned for the rest of the evening.

  “We’ve got to get your reflexes up to par,” was Kent’s only explanation.

  * * *

  Ah, the smell of sea air. It always invigorated Kent.

  “What are we doing at the docks?”

  “What do you think?” Kent countered.

  “No idea,” Nicole said with a sigh, sinking into the driver’s seat, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s been a long night.”

  “Hardly,” Kent said. Although he sometimes forgot she wasn’t used to these all-nighters.

  “Seriously, Kent, tell me what we’re doing here or I’m heading home.”

  “You know about the city’s underground urban fighting ring?” Kent asked.

  “Yes,” Nicole sighed.

  Kent shrugged, “Then you should know what were are doing here.”

  She finally seemed to catch on. “No. No. No.”

  “Yes. Yes. Yes,” Kent said. “I infiltrated the gang.”

  Nicole leaned forward and put her head on the steering wheel. “Of course you did.”

  “It’s kind of fun,” he said. “Plus, good money if you win.”

  “How many bouts have you fought in?” Nicole asked.

  “Four,” he answered. From her dilated eyes and the shaking of her head, that was not the number she was looking for.

  “And you were going to tell me about this when?”

  “Never, if you are going to get all uptight about it,” Kent shot back.

  “So I was just supposed to just find your body in some scummy warehouse and never know that you were in danger in the first place.”

  “Oh please,” Kent scoffed. “These are just punks who are trying to show how tough they are. The fight club for the current generation.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Nicole got out of the car to follow Kent. This sounded like a horrible idea, but per usual, she had no choice but to follow. The vice department had been trying to get someone inside this gang for months to no avail. They smelled undercover cops at first whiff.

  As they approached the large warehouse, Nicole realized it was a laser tag place. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “So we’re playing laser tag?”

  Kent nodded. “Except with knives.”

  “What?” Nicole blurted.

  “Same principle. We wear Kevlar vests instead of the sensor vests. If you get bloodied, you’re out.”

  Nicole grabbed Kent by the sleeve and pulled him to face her. “Kent, we can’t go in there. Operational undercover cops are allowed a certain leeway in illegal activities. But this is serious. Attempted murder serious.”

  “Oh please,” Kent said, waving away her concern. “I let them slice each other up, then swoop in at the end to win it.”

  Nicole rubbed her temples. Tonight wasn’t going at all the way it should have.

  “Why exactly are we doing this?”

  Kent smirked. “I told you, we both need the practice.”

  He walked up to the door and knocked twice, then paused and knocked three times. The door swung open.

  Instead of the usual neon light show, the interior was dark. Only the low red emergency lighting was on. Off to the right was a table filled with every type of bladed weapon imaginable. Kent picked up the ax, feeling its heft in his hand.

  “Told you this would be fun,” Kent said with a wink.

  Nicole chose a large machete. She figured the larger the sharp area, the better.

  Although Nicole wasn’t above bringing a gun to a knife fight. Her hand went to her hip holster, only to find the weapon gone. Kent was all smiles across the room. He showed her the gun, then tucked it into his waistband.

  “Couldn’t have you cheating, now could we?”

  Yes, yes they could have.

  There were two entrances. One to the right, the other to the left. Kent pointed to the left one. “You take that one. I’ll take this one, and we’ll meet up at the end.”

  “Hopefully,” Nicole muttered, not minding that she sounded just a tad bitter. How did she get talked into this crap? This was such a bad idea. Like worse than breaking into the morgue bad.

  But here she was with a machete in her hand.

  She was about to argue that they should go together when a knife came arcing over Kent’s head. He must have seen her pupils dilating, as he used the handle of the ax and shoved it backwards, hitting the assailant in the gut. The guy grunted, his arm dropping useless at his side.

  Then Kent turned the ax’s blade flat, hitting the guy in the face. The crack of his nasal bone breaking filled the small space. Kent finished him off by turning the ax backward, slamming the end of it onto the back of the guy’s head.

  He fell to the ground, unconscious.

  Nicole hadn’t even had time to move. She stared at the man at Kent’s feet.

  “See?” Kent said sweetly. “Not that hard.”

  If she’d thought this was a bad idea before?

  “You’re just scared,” Kent commented.

  “No,” Nicole said, feeling her back stiffening. “I am just realistically sussing the situation and doing a risk assessment.”

  “That’s just what scared people say,” Kent commented.

  With her pulse keeping time in her ear, Nicole really couldn’t argue with him.

  * * *

  Kent knew that Nicole’s sensibilities were offended by the very notion of this underground fighting ring. But if she had any hope of catching serial killers, she really needed to get rawer. Open herself up to challenging experiences. Get her heart pumping.

  “Okay, the first rule of knife club is…”

  “Never talk about knife club?” Nicole asked with her hand on her hip.

  “No,” Kent said. “Don’t get stabbed.”

  “Great,” Nicole said, not seeming amused.

  Kent cocked his head. “You are constantly bitching that I don’t let you in on my process enough, and here I give you the Golden Ticket, and you are all pouty. Seriously.”

  She seemed to regroup, gripping her machete with both hands. “Alright. I’m in.”

  “Good. See you in about half an hour,” Kent said, but saw that momentary look of panic in her eyes. “Just call out if you get in trouble.”

  “Yeah, right,” Nicole snorted.

  That was his girl.

  Without looking back, Kent entered the “play area.” He felt perhaps just a little bit bad about not filling Nicole in on his strategy more. It was ineffectual to try to fight your way through the gauntlet of knife-wielding idiots. No. Kent would go around the periphery, set up at the end, then take on whoever had made it through.

  Many people would consider that cheating. Kent considered it smart. If you tried to play by the rules with a sophisticated serial killer, you would be dead before you could say “unfair.”

  He also didn’t tell her that he had an ulterior motive. Yes, he wanted to keep his skills up. However, a knife club like this was also sure to attract a serial killer or two. Not Wallflower, of course, but any city of this size had a minimum of 4-5 active serial killers. This event was like serial killer bait. Glory seekers or power asserters couldn’t stay away. It was like crack to them.

  So Kent had been haunting the club trying to suss one out. He didn’t tell Nicole because she would have gotten all Law & Order on him. Asking if he had a warrant. How the case wouldn’t stand up in court. All that crap you had to worry about if you cared about your conviction rate.

  Which, of course, he didn’t. Not with an ax in his hands.

  Even though he had a gun, he’d never use it. He knew the weapon was like a pacifier to Nicole
. She felt like it evened the odds. That it was her power center when, really, it was her brain.

  Back in Afghanistan, Kent had over two dozen highly trained Special Forces soldiers protecting him, yet a stray shot had alerted the drug lord to their position and voilà, Kent was nearly decapitated. His finger went to the ragged scar that ran along his neck. He’d learned then that a knife could be equally as effective, and stealthier, than a gun.

  Kent kept his back to the wall, avoiding the vaguely post-apocalyptic interior of the laser tag arena. There were overturned boxes, steel scaffolding. A veritable maze. Occasionally you would hear a shout or scream. So far, none of them were Nicole’s.

  Up to this point, no one had been killed, since the goal was to only bloody your opponent, but running around with knifes was eventually going to end in a fatality, intended or not.

  Kent vowed it wouldn’t be him.

  He paused. A pile of crates stacked nearly to the ceiling blocked his way. They were covered with a crude rope net. Either he had to head deeper into the maze, or go over the pile. Neither option was very appealing. The other side of the pile would be a perfect place for an ambush, as would be right beyond the turn in the maze to the side.

  Ultimately, Kent chose to go up and over. At the least he would have the high ground. He had to give it to the organizers. They changed the course each time. You couldn’t plan out your strategy ahead of time. You had to figure it out anew.

  Tucking the ax into his belt, Kent grabbed hold of the thick rope and began to climb.

  * * *

  The machete didn’t seem all that large in her hands as the darkness closed in around her. She jumped at every little sound, a scrape of boot or clunk of metal. So far, so good. No one had killed her yet.

  Figuring this was like any other black box situation, Nicole had taken to the periphery. A shout came from deeper within the gaming arena. There was no corresponding cry, so it was hard to tell what had happened there.

  People really did this for entertainment. Nicole didn’t get it. She tended to avoid activities that might land her on life support in the ICU. Kent, though? This was right up his alley.

  He’d probably do it even if he didn’t need the practice.

  Nicole pulled out her phone and used the light to guide her way. While it was out, she really should call Ruben. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he would come as backup in case things went south.

  She didn’t dial, though. Kent had been through this four times and hadn’t needed backup. But she wasn’t Kent. Which was exactly why she needed to go through this maze without any back up. She needed to have as much faith in herself as Kent had in her.

  Was that a scuff behind her? Nicole turned off the phone. It was like a freaking homing beacon in the dark arena.

  Then another scuff. Was someone following her? She gripped the machete tighter. Who was there? Had Kent doubled back around, or was it one of the participants bent on making her bleed?

  * * *

  Kent crested the peak of the unnatural mountain. He stopped and listened. Was that someone’s breathing? Squinting, he searched the debris below. Sure enough, there was a small pocket under the metal where someone was hiding. Kent guessed that he hoped that Kent would walk over him, since it was the straightest path down, and he could stab Kent. The guy must have chosen a spear or some other longer-shafted blade.

  The guy didn’t seem all that confrontational. Hiding, using a weapon that didn’t get him up close and personal with his victim. Certainly not a serial killer. Although he had to give the guy props for trying to make it work, even though he clearly was a coward.

  The only problem with his plan was all the mouth breathing in anticipation of his victory. Talk about counting your chickens before they were hatched.

  Kent tried to act natural, heading down the pile. He acted as if he were going to step over the guy’s hiding place. Only, at the last moment, Kent pulled back. The spear tip was shoved upward.

  Grabbing it by the shaft, Kent used the long handle to whack the guy in the face. He then jerked the spear out of the guy’s hands, then using the blunt end, hit him again and again. Everyone here was so about the sharp point of the blade, when really the blunt ends were equally effective.

  Finally, the guy went down, which was Kent’s gift to him. The guy clearly wasn’t here for the thrill. He’d probably agreed to come to impress someone, an older brother or girlfriend. Kent had just saved him a potentially life-threatening injury. He was going to be banged up, but alive.

  Checking around him, Kent continued down the pile and headed toward the exit.

  * * *

  Nicole tried to slow her heart rate as she hid behind a pillar of steel struts. What did Kent always say? Get control of the adrenaline before it got control of you. Well, with heavy footsteps approaching, Nicole was losing that battle.

  A long shadow passed in front of her hiding place. Kent would never allow his shadow to announce his presence, so it was one of the participants. The shadow made it seem as if he was carrying a broad sword. Some guy that fancied himself Lancelot?

  What were her options? His sword gave him greater reach, but she had surprise on her side. However, she didn’t want to kill him. Kent would have seen that attitude as a disadvantage, but Nicole wasn’t quite as deluded as him. She was a cop. It was bad enough she was participating in this knife club. To kill someone during it? That would go on her permanent record.

  To say that Glick would be upset would be an understatement. Nicole did not want to be the cause of his fourth heart attack.

  So what options did that leave her? The guy was crossing right in front of her. Could she just let him go, then avoid him as she made her way to the exit?

  Would Kent consider that stealthy, or cheating? Cheating, that the profiler would probably approve of.

  The choice was taken out of her hands. The guy must have smelled the aftershave she’d used to fool Kent. The shadow turned toward her. She had a split second to make use of her advantage.

  She led with her shoulder. Nicole slammed into the guy, pinning his sword hand against a metal pipe. The guy was no slouch, though, and he swung a punch with his other fist. Nicole ducked it, feeling the air swish by over her head.

  That’s when the guy must have noticed that she was a woman. He looked confused momentarily. That’s when Nicole went for a knee to the groin. The guy was heavy enough, though, that when he doubled over, he nearly knocked her over, as well.

  She slammed her body weight into his shoulder again, trying desperately to keep the sword pinned. The guy was nearly twice her size, though, and recovered quickly. This time he backhanded her, snapping her head to the side. Vision blurred, Nicole was running out of options. Well, options if she wanted to stay alive. She couldn’t help but stumble to the side, releasing his sword arm.

  The broadsword swung up and over her head. She’d tried to keep from using the machete in her hand, but now there was no other option—or at least she really hoped that Internal Affairs would see it that way.

  The machete was a slashing weapon, so that’s how she used it. Nicole aimed for above the sword. She took a nice chunk out of the guy’s forearm. He screamed, clutching his arm. The sword clanged to the ground. She kicked it away, holding the machete out almost like her gun.

  “Just back off,” she said, but the guy’s nostrils flared. “You’re bloodied. It’s over.”

  “It’s never over, bitch,” the man said as he hurled toward her.

  Nicole hadn’t been prepared for such a bold and reckless move. Kent would have a field day with it, if she survived to tell the tale. He slapped the machete away, tackling her around the waist. They both flew backwards, finally slamming against a wall. The wind knocked out of her, Nicole couldn’t stop the guy from wrenching the machete from her hand. Instead of slicing her, though, he punched her again, knocking Nicole to her knees.

  The guy grabbed her by the ponytail, jerking her head back.

  “I’ll show y
ou bloodied,” he said as he raised the machete above his head.

  The blade was on its way to her neck when it suddenly stopped and the guy twitched. A thin silver object stuck its way out of his chest. Nicole scrambled out of the way as the man pitched forward, a spear in his back.

  “Okay, so longer shafts do sometimes come in handy.”

  It was Kent.

  Nicole tried to shake off the near miss. “I had it under control.”

  “Yeah, because being on your knees, head back, sobbing are all characteristics of a person in control.”

  Nicole was way too hyped and shaken to argue.

  “This is going to be slightly hard to explain,” Nicole said.

  “Not really,” Kent replied with a shrug. “Look at his neck.”

  Nicole bent over the body to find a large skull tattoo on his neck. She also took the opportunity to pick up her machete. “I don’t get it.” More than likely, gangbangers were common players in the arena.

  * * *

  “You haven’t seen that tattoo somewhere before?” Kent prompted. “The red eyes? The body of a snake?”

  Nicole’s brow furrowed. “It does seem familiar.”

  Kent so wanted to prompt her, but she needed to figure it out on her own.

  “It was in a briefing…” Nicole said, clearly trying to jump-start her memory.

  “What kind of briefing?”

  Nicole took a step back, inhaling sharply. “This guy is on the FBI’s Most Wanted. It’s Death Eater.”

  Kent nodded. “Yep.”

  Then her eyes narrowed and she glared at him. “You knew he was here?”

  “Suspected that he would be drawn to a competition pitting blades against one another, of course,” Kent said. “Knew he was in the arena tonight, no.”

  Nicole put her hand on her forehead. “Oh my God, we just stopped a guy who had killed over a hundred women.”

  “Feels kind of good, doesn’t it?”

  Nicole breathed out a harsh breath. “Yeah, kind of.”

  Kent heard something behind him. Before he could turn, Nicole’s machete flew through the air, nailing the guy who thought he could attack Kent with impunity right in the shoulder. The man’s tiny switchblade fell to the floor, looking awfully silly.