by S. K. Lessly
I ignored his taunt and focused on my brother.
“You alright, Josh? You with me?” I asked and watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He couldn’t move his head due to the tight hold Davies had but I did catch his fingers move. That was enough for me.
“Hey, motherfucker, I’m talking to you!”
I glanced up at Davies and watched the tension in his shoulders and arm deepen. My eyes then moved to the knife he had against Josh’s throat. I clocked the blood running down his neck and the flinch his body made.
“Let my brother go and I’ll go easy on you,” I announced breaking my silence. I kept my finger gently on the trigger, ready to apply the slightest pressure.
Davies laughed and opened his mouth to say something fucking stupid. I sent a round close to his head, the bullet missing his ear by inches.
Davies flinched and shifted. “What the fuck—” he began but I cut him off.
“You think this is a fucking game?” I admonished, my voice rising in pitch. “You wanna dance, let’s dance, but you will let my brother go or the next fucking bullet will be right through your eye.”
Davies didn’t hesitate, he let go of Josh’s hair and slowly stepped back, his hands raised in the air.
“Lift your shirt and turn around so I can see if you’re armed.”
He did what I asked and once he faced me again, I lifted my finger from the trigger of the gun and lowered it.
Davies grinned at me, his eyes taking on a sinister glint.
“Yeah, why don’t you put that gun down and show me what you got. They say you’re a badass, you can fight and shit. Yeah, show me what you got.”
I placed my gun up against the wall next to me and unsheathed my fighting knife. I walked up to my brother leaned over and cut the binds at his wrists. I started to help him out of the chair when Davies charged at us both.
I only had time to push my brother out of the way and duck under his swing at my face. Davies recovered, laughed and charged again. This time I was ready.
I leaned back from the constant and vicious swings of his knife hand. The fucker was everywhere and he was fast, attacking with each step he took toward me. I took advantage of one of his wild swings and ducked under his arm. I felt his knife hit the back of my bullet proof vest but it didn’t slow me down. I spun and brought my knife across his back.
He cried out in pain and stumbled away. I waited, bouncing on the balls of my feet, for him to get his breath and footing. I was playing with him and he knew it. I could have easily finished him off but I wanted him to pay for the shit he’s done. For the lives he’s taken. He deserved that shit.
Davies, understanding what I was doing became furious. He came at me again, his movements erratic and uncalculated. I shifted to the left, striking his wrist. The knife fell from his grip, but it didn’t slow him down. He sent a quick side kick to my head, missing its mark but hitting my shoulder instead. I lost the grip on my knife and it clanged to the ground. Both of us were unarmed however it didn’t slow either of us down.
He came at me, swinging haymakers at my face. Davies was large, muscled, but slow. He didn’t have much training in fighting. I did.
I ducked from one of his blows, came up and connected a hard knuckle punch to his solar plexus. He stumbled back slightly and I took advantage of him being off balanced. I moved with him, sending a series of precise jabs to his kidneys.
Any man hit in their kidneys would drop like a sack of potatoes. Davies wasn’t any different. He went to a knee and I used his face as a punching bag. I didn’t go easy. I didn’t let up because he was down. I fucked his face up the exact same way he did my brother.
The fucker fell and crawled away from my assault and again I let him. My fists were balled at my sides, my chest heaving not with exertion but with fury. I was going to kill this piece of shit with my bare hands. What he did to the Crasses, to Jacks? This motherfucker deserved to suffer tenfold.
He managed to get to his feet and I finished him off. I sent calculated blows to his body, making sure to do as much internal damage as I could. I felt bones breaking, the rage behind my fists driving me. Justice was mine and I was taking it.
I yelled out in frustration and sent a web strike to his throat, crushing his hyoid bone. Davies gagged and grabbed at his throat. He started gurgling searching for air. I sent a roundhouse kick to his face and dropped him.
He laid there suffocating to death. I stood over him watching him suffer. To try to breathe. No such luck. He was done.
“That’s for the Crasse family you son of a bitch,” I gritted through clenched teeth and walked away.
I knelt down next to my brother and checked his pulse. His head tilted in my direction but I couldn’t see his eyes. He was a mess.
“You alright?” I asked him. I ripped open his shirt so I could take a good look at his chest. It was hard for him to breathe and his side was bruised pretty bad.
“Took you long enough with that guy,” came his gruff reply.
I chuckled.
“Oh yeah?”
I probed his side, checking for the severity of his injuries. He cried out in pain.
“Fuck!”
“Sorry, bro. I gotta see just how bad you’re hurt. I don’t want to move you until we stabilize you, okay?” I told him, noting he indeed suffered some broken ribs.
An odd sound came from behind me and I turned to find Davies watching us. However, as I stared at him longer, I realized the fucker wasn’t watching us any longer. He was dead.
Motherfucker!
“Sweets? Jay?” he rasped out on a harsh whisper.
I turned back to my brother.
“They’re fine. Nolan, our father and half of the police department have them covered.”
“Did you find him…?”
I shook my head.
“If you mean Perchenko no. Did you see him? Do you know where he is?”
“No, I haven’t, But he’s here somewhere. Has to be.”
“The teams are searching. If he’s here we’ll find him.”
“Tell Jacks and Malcolm to search the bottom floors. I think there’s… what?”
Josh tilted his head away from me as if he was studying my face. I had tried to keep my face neutral but the moment he said Malcolm’s name I couldn’t hide the emotions I felt.
“What?” he prodded again, his voice uncertain and weary.
I shook my head, breathed out a sigh and replied, “Jacks is dead. He was killed by that fucker behind me, protecting your family.”
Josh’s face turned away and I could see the emotions covering his face.
“Malcolm?” he asked hesitantly.
When I didn’t respond he turned back to face me. I opened my mouth to tell him what happened but I couldn’t get my voice to work. My throat felt as if it was closing up on me. I cleared it, but my emotions got the best of me anyway.
“He’s uhh… holding on. He was shot and…” I informed him shakily.
“Fuckkkk…” he growled, pain laced all through his voice.
Josh’s face tilted upward. Tears fell from the side of his swollen eyes, dropping fast along the side of his face into his hairline. I gripped his hand tight and brought our clasped hands to my chest. I leaned in close to him.
“Hey, listen to me. He’s going to be fine. You hear me? He’s going to be fine.”
Josh nodded his head, but my words didn’t stop the tears.
I rested my forehead against his and closed my eyes. I kept repeating that he would be fine but deep down, I prayed that I wasn’t wrong.
23
Misty
I passed through a small hallway, my gun up and ready for anything. A man in black appeared in my sights and I didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. I kept going, moving as fast as I could. This bitch wasn’t getting away.
I passed a huge stairway which lead downstairs. I surveyed the area, found a huge hole that once was the front door and started to smile. I guess Echo and Tango te
ams did kick in the doors. I went on to another hallway and found a large room with tall windows covered by heavy red drapes and a monstrosity of a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Standing in the middle of the room, right under the chandelier was Emily.
She looked foreboding, deadly, intimidating, like a warrior goddess with two knives in her hands. Her dark hair was up in a ponytail and she had rage burning in her eyes.
I stepped further into the room and checked my surroundings for anyone else and found we were alone.
“Why don’t you put that gun down and we can finish what we started a few days ago. You know, when you suckered punched me and had your knife at my throat.”
Emily followed my movements with her eyes, never showing fear or trepidation. She was confident, and ready for anything. She wasn’t ready for me.
I didn’t take her bait. I kept her in my line of sight, my finger resting on the trigger of my rifle.
When I wasn’t responding to her invitation, she decided to try a different approach.
“Come on, put the gun down. Let’s see if you still have what it takes.”
Okay, I took the bait.
“I’ve already shown you I still have what it takes before, remember?”
She scoffed. “That’s not what I remember. You cheated before catching me off guard. Now though I’m ready. So how ‘bout it. You up for the challenge. You want a shot at the title or what.”
I laughed and lowered my rifle.
“Oh please, bitch. I already have the title. You and I both know I’m better in everything.” I told her, and quickly brought up my rifle and fired. The thing was, I wasn’t aiming at her. I was aiming at the knife she conveniently threw at me. The bullet I fired sent the knife off its collision with my body and far to the left of me. I sent a smile her way right before I pulled the trigger; however, I didn’t shoot her in the face like I had once planned. I sent a hollow point bullet through the hand that held the other knife, causing her to yelp in pain and drop her weapon. I then shot her in the shoulder, my suppressed round piercing through tissue, muscle and bone. “You bitch!” she spat coldly. She placed her uninjured hand against her shoulder and watched me warily.
I dropped my rifle, pulled my SIG and pointed it at her face.
“That’s right. I’m that bitch who is better than you could ever be. I’m faster, smarter, prettier, and sexier. I could beat your fucking ass any day of any got damn week. Why on God’s green earth do I have to prove any fucking thing.”
I was five feet from her now, my silenced pistol aimed for the center of her forehead.
“Any last words before I send you to hell?”
Emily stood taller, her shoulders back, chin up and eyes showing the defiance a warrior would have before taking their last breath.
“I’ll make sure to save a spot for you right next to me,” she vowed and I nodded my acceptance at the true reality of my future and sent two hollow-point rounds to her face in quick succession, one went through her mouth the other right between her eyes. The back of her head exploded, sending brain, blood and bones in the air.
I stood there for a moment, staring at her lifeless body, waiting for a weight to be lifted off my shoulders. It felt as if I’d been waiting all my life to kill her and now that I did, I felt… I felt… fucking overjoyed, elated, and at peace.
I smiled and relaxed, lowering my weapon and inhaling a sigh of relief. I heard a saying before, revenge is a meal best served cold. I had to agree because damn I felt full.
I holstered my weapon and bent to retrieve my rifle when I heard the slide of a gun being chambered behind me. I turned swiftly going for my gun at my hip when someone appeared in the doorway, an AR 15 assault rifle aimed directly at me.
“Don’t you think about it or I’ll put a bullet through your head now,” ordered a man with a deep Russian accent.
Perchenko.
I’d recognize him anywhere. The man was very attractive, in that devilish way bad guys looked in the movies. He was built solid, muscular. He was dressed in a black short sleeve button down and black slacks. His dark eyes were blank and dead. Your typical psychopath in the flesh.
Dark eyes surveyed me from head to toe, taking a bit longer to take in my boobs before he returned to my face.
“You are such a surprise,” he praised, his Russian accented voice deep. A sinister grin marred his hard-tattooed face. “I have heard about your escapades but she did not tell me how beautiful you were. If things were different, I would take you home with me, show you what it is like to be with a real man before I rip you to pieces and feed you to my dogs. Use two fingers and take the gun from your hip. Do it slowly or I will make you pay, yes?”
I obeyed, removing my SIG and dropping it to my feet.
“Good, now kick it away.”
I kicked it away, cursing myself for letting my guard down. I hadn’t heard his approach and believe me I was listening for any signs of someone trying to surprise me.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked moving close to me.
“Yes, you’re the fucker responsible for all this mess.” I told him and watched his face turn beet red.
“No, you’re the one responsible,” he countered and slapped the shit out of me. I wasn’t ready for the blow, didn’t sense it coming. I stumbled slightly but quickly righted myself. My cheek exploded with pain but I gritted my teeth to bite back the sting of the blow. I stepped forward, fury flowing in my veins, my fists tight ready to strike. Perchenko placed the barrel of his gun back in my face and I paused.
“You are going to pay for what you’ve done.” He warned me coldly.
“The bitch deserved what she got,” I told him, not caring if I pissed him off.
Perchenko frowned and glanced quickly down at Emily.
“You are correct she did. She is no more use to me. You saved me the trouble. No. That is not what you will pay for. You killed my nephew, my blood and for that you will pay dearly. Put your hands in the air and go. Walk and no sudden movements or you will lose your kneecaps. I have no problem with dragging you.”
He shifted the gun toward the doorway of the massive room, signaling me to precede him. I did what I was told, my mind running scenarios like lightening. Was he going to take me hostage and torture me? I saw the evidence of his torture and I had to say I wasn’t looking forward to it. I prayed that someone would find me or come looking for me. When we headed back the way I had come, dread started to fill me.
Perchenko pushed me in the back when I started to slow my steps. I stumbled clumsily but righted myself.
“Move,” he yelled and pushed me again with the barrel of the gun.
We came to the door of the room I had left Josh and Shane and prayed they were gone.
He nudged me again and I got the hint, opened the door and stepped inside the room.
I gasped when I took in the sight. Josh was lying on the floor, not moving. Shane had his hand and was bent over his brother.
“Josh,” I whispered, tears slowly forming in my eyes.
Shane’s head popped up and he turned, going for the gun at his hip.
“No, do not fucking move or she dies.”
I watched Shane, studying his face and clocked the redness in his eyes. My eyes then drifted to Josh and I couldn’t stop the anguish that filled me.
“No…please,” I cried out, tears cascading down my face as I studied him. When I noticed him move his head in my direction, I breathed out a small sigh of relief. Thank fuck.
“Stand up,” Perchenko ordered Shane. “Slowly. Good now back away. Slowly. Good now stop. It looks like we are late to the party. No matter. I have promised retribution for the death of my nephew. And I will have it.”
“He was a sick twisted piece of shit. Do you have any idea what he did to those kids?” I probed angrily, expecting a bullet for my outburst. I didn’t get one instead he agreed with me.
“Ah, yes. You are correct. He was a sick bastard, but he was still family. I will ave
nge him. An eye for an eye, yes.” Perchenko announced and I closed my eyes waiting to feel the bullet hit the back of my skull before the lights extinguished in my eyes. But instead, he grabbed my hair and pulled my head back.
His lips hovered over my ear as he whispered, “You killed someone I loved. Now I will return the favor. Say goodbye.”
I screamed, “Nooo,” and made my move. Just before he could get anyone in his sights, I elbowed Perchenko in the ribs. I pushed the gun to the right, just as he pulled the trigger, sending subsonic rounds toward a victim. Unfortunately, one of his bullets hit its mark. To my horror, Shane’s body flew back, slamming hard against the floor.
Josh yelled, noooo, at the same time I dropped down, scooped up Shane’s M4 and began firing at the fleeting figure.
I fired and screamed until the gun clicked. I dropped the empty mag, reached for one on my hip that I kept on me, just in case, and slammed in another one. I started spraying the wall shooting at no one I knew, but God I had to do something to keep myself from falling apart and to drown out the painful sounds coming from the man behind me.
When I expelled the 30-round mag, I finally dropped the gun, turned and crawled over to Shane.
He was breathing fast, sweat had already formed all over him. His hands were crammed underneath his vest, against his chest, trying to stop the flow of blood sliding through his fingers. His body was shaking. His skin taking on that pasty death color.
“No, no, no, Shane,” I reached him and with shaky fingers, I unzipped his vest.
“Talk to me, Misty. How bad is he?” Josh asked me but I couldn’t respond to him.
I ripped Shane’s shirt open so I could see the wound. He was bleeding like crazy, his life pouring over my useless fingers as I probed the wound.
Heavy booted footsteps thundered in the hallway in front of me and I scrambled for my gun. I started loading it when I heard, “Alpha! Alpha! Alpha!”
I recognized that voice. Curtis.
I dropped the gun and went back to Shane.
We all carried first aid kits on us at all times. Gauze, bandages, pre-filled syringes full of Morphine, tape, ointment and a hemostatic, or clotting agent called Celox. I had seen Celox used numerous times on fellow Marines by field medics. The agent was created to prevent someone from bleeding out when the traditional methods, like pressure, didn’t work.
