Sloane

by V. J. Chambers

  Axel tapped his left nostril. “You looking for a little pick-me-up, Jimmy?”

  Armstrong raised his eyebrows. “Here?”

  Oh. My. God. Had Axel just offered Armstrong cocaine?

  Axel looked out over the ballroom. “This is dull, isn’t it? Don’t you need something to stay awake? Besides, it’ll keep things interesting.”

  “Listen,” said Armstrong. “You should know that I don’t… indulge in certain vices when I’m trying to be professional.”

  So, Armstrong was a cokehead, huh? And how did Axel know this? Furthermore, it looked like Axel’s idea wasn’t even working. So, now Armstrong was going to think I was Axel’s drugged-out groupie, and he was never going to talk to me.

  “Professional?” Axel laughed. “It’s a party, Jimmy. Live a little.”

  Armstrong drew in a deep breath. He was thinking about it.

  I closed my eyes. This was crazy.

  Then Armstrong caught the eye of someone across the room and gave him a quick nod.

  I followed Armstrong’s gaze to see that he was looking at a man in a dark suit, who was standing in one of the corners. Though the man could have been a party guest, I knew that he was a bodyguard just by looking at him. The way he carried himself and the serious look on his face were dead giveaways.

  “All right,” said Armstrong. “Where?”

  “Come with me,” said Axel. He started for the entrance.

  Armstrong went after him, and I saw that the bodyguard was moving too.

  Great. A bodyguard. Why did Armstrong even have one? Was he that paranoid? That self-involved? Did he really think he was so important that people were trying to hurt him?

  Of course, I remembered that whenever French or any of the other heads of Op Wraith had gone out for high-profile events, they’d usually taken one of the assassins along for protection. That was because they knew they had enemies who might want to steal the biotech they’d developed and used on us. If Armstrong was doing stuff like that in a lab, he probably felt the same way.

  I brought up the rear behind Axel and Armstrong and sized up the bodyguard out of the corner of my eye. I could take him, as long as it didn’t come down to a grappling match. He was probably stronger than me.

  We emerged out of the ballroom, and Axel started down one of the hallways. “There’s a bathroom that’s out of the way down here,” he threw over his shoulder. “They won’t disturb us.”

  “I really shouldn’t be doing this,” muttered Armstrong.

  Axel turned around and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Jimmy, stop beating yourself up. You work hard. You deserve a little fun. Isn’t that what you always say when you come by the club?”

  So, that was how Axel knew him. Armstrong went to The Golden Key to see burlesque strippers.

  Armstrong laughed a little. “You know what? You’re right. I do work hard.”

  I sneaked a glance behind us. I could see the bodyguard. He was standing outside the door, pretending to talk on his cell phone.

  We rounded a corner. Now we were out of sight of the bodyguard, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be coming after us.

  Axel stopped in front of a restroom. “Here we are.” He swung open the door. All three of us went inside. The restroom was small but clean. It smelled strongly of lavender cleaning fluid. There was a sink right next to me, a large framed mirror over it. In front of me was the the toilet. Axel locked the door behind us. He and Armstrong stepped in front of the toilet, while I stayed by the door. Axel got a small container out of his inside suit pocket. He drew out a small coke spoon heaped with powder. He handed it to me. “Ladies first.”

  I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

  Axel smirked. “Tight ass.” He started to hand the spoon to Armstrong.

  But I was faster. I yanked my gun out of my holster, eased off the safety, and cocked it. Then I leveled it at Armstrong’s head. “You and I need to talk, Dr. Armstrong.”

  Axel was so startled, he spilled the cocaine. “Jesus, Sloane. You could warn a guy.”

  I didn’t even respond to him. I kept my eyes on Armstrong.

  Armstrong slowly raised his hands. “What the hell’s going on here?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on,” I said. “You’ve kidnapped my best friends and you’re using them as guinea pigs for your secret lab experiments. Now, you’re going to take me there, and we’re going to get them out.”

  Armstrong’s jaw twitched. “Axel? You’re part of this?”

  Axel was brushing white powder off his suit and licking his fingers. “She says you’re hurting my friend Leigh. Now, I haven’t talked to Leigh in years, and she’s kind of cut me out of her life or something, which hurts my feelings, but that doesn’t mean I want her to get hurt. Like not physically hurt. So, do what she says, huh?”

  Armstrong looked back and forth between the two of us. Suddenly, he yelled, “Worthman! She’s got a gun!”

  Shit. That must be the bodyguard. I moved forward to grab Armstrong. I was planning to convince the bodyguard to put down the gun to save Armstrong.

  But the door to the bathroom burst inward, wood splintering everywhere. The bodyguard had broken it down.

  Startled, I lost my balance and fell into the sink.

  Worthman the bodyguard dove inside.

  I brought up my gun.

  Worthman’s hand cut through the air, coming down hard on my wrist.

  Pain shot up my arm. The gun fell out of my hand. Shit.

  I ducked down to pick it up.

  Worthman intercepted me. He drove his shoulder into my midsection and propelled us both into the sink.

  My head slammed into the mirror. I heard it crack as the pain went off in my skull like a bomb. I grunted.

  I clawed at his face, digging my fingers into his eyesockets.

  He yelled, but he plucked my hands away like they were nothing.

  Shit, shit, shit. The one thing I needed to avoid was a fight like this, and I was in the thick of it right now.

  Worthman wrapped his fingers around my neck. His hand was huge and strong. He started to squeeze.

  Panic rushed through me. My heart sped up as my throat was crushed.

  A loud pop echoed through the room. It was a muffled noise, since my gun was fitted with an Op Wraith silencer, which actually dampened the noise of a shot quite a bit.

  Worthman slumped into me. Blood poured out of his forehead.

  I turned to see Axel holding the gun I’d dropped. “Ugh,” he said. “Get away from him. He’s going to ruin the dress.”

  “Armstrong,” I said. “Cover Armstrong.”

  Axel spun around to aim at Armstrong, who was cowering in the corner, his eyes wide.

  Grunting, I managed to push the body of Worthman off enough that I could get free of him.

  I went over to Axel. “You shot him.”

  “Yeah,” said Axel. “I’m not bad with a gun. My dad used to take me to the range all the time when I was a kid. Never shot at an actual person, though. Does this mean I’m going to need a lawyer?”

  I held out my hand. “Give me the gun.”

  “Listen,” said Armstrong. “Let’s talk about this.”

  Axel wasn’t moving, so I snatched the gun away from him. I advanced on Armstrong.

  “Shut up,” I told him.

  I turned back to Axel. “First we need to get Armstrong out of here and get him tied up. Then we need to move this body somewhere.”

  Axel made a face.

  “What?” I said.

  “There’s blood on your dress,” he said.

  * * *

  We tied Armstrong up, and then we forced him to march out to the car. I got him in the backseat and then I clubbed him over the head with the butt of the gun and knocked him out. Axel was oddly cheery during all of this. He seemed to think this was a rip roaring good time. He kept saying that this was the most exciting thing he’d ever done.

  I needed his help with the body of Worthman, or I
would have told him to get lost. Honestly, Axel was in the way of everything. I was grateful that he’d saved my life with the bodyguard, but I also wished that we didn’t have a body to contend with.

  But that turned out to be a moot point, because when we got back to the bathroom, Worthman was gone.

  “What?” said Axel. “Did the police already find his body?”

  I shook my head. Damn it. Why hadn’t I seen this? “He’s not dead.”

  “The fuck he’s not. I shot him in the head. The bullet went into his skull. He’s dead.”

  Rushing into the bathroom like that, not knowing what he was getting himself into? Knocking the gun out of my hand? That was something that someone did when he knew he could be reckless with his life, because he knew he was hard to kill. “He’s got the serum.”

  “The what?”

  “Biotech serum,” I said. “Developed by the arms corporation Dewhurst-McFarland to make supersoldiers. It increases healing ability, allows people to heal from basically any kind of injury.”

  “Dewhurst-McFarland. That’s who Leigh’s dad worked for.”

  “Yeah, and so did I. They had a shadow wing called Operation Wraith that gave people the serum and turned them into assassins for hire. Leigh’s dad gave her the serum to help her heal from a bad car accident, and that’s why we think people from Armstrong’s lab captured her and the others. They want people with the serum.”

  Axel made a confused face.

  “But how does Armstrong’s bodyguard have it? Did they steal it from Op Wraith?” I considered. “Or maybe, it’s the other way around. Maybe Costello Labs is the source of the serum, and French stole it from them in the first place. She had me steal the memory-wiping injections from them, after all.”

  “Who’s French?” said Axel.

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. You need to go back to the event or go back home or whatever it is you do. I’ve got to get back to Armstrong.”

  “You’re not ditching me,” he said. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years. I’m coming with you.”

  “No.”

  “How are you going to get Armstrong out of the car all by yourself?”

  I hadn’t really thought that through. I’d had to knock him out, because I couldn’t leave him conscious out there. Originally, however, I’d wanted him to lead me to the others. But now, I’d have to wait for him to wake up before I could do that.

  “Look, you need me,” said Axel.

  “I don’t need you,” I said.

  “If I hadn’t been here, that bodyguard would have killed you.”

  “He wouldn’t. I have the serum. I’m hard to kill.”

  “Well, you would have lost Armstrong, anyway. I’m useful. And you haven’t even thanked me for that, anyway. You really do need to work on your manners.”

  I let out a huge sigh. I didn’t even engage him. I just stalked out of the bathroom and headed back for the car.

  Axel followed me. “It’s not hard. Say, ‘Thank you, Axel.’ You can do it.”

  I flipped him off.

  He laughed.

  And then… damn it… I started laughing too.

  * * *

  Armstrong didn’t wake up for a very long time, so eventually, I just drove back to the motel room. Axel helped me get his inert form into the room.

  Jeff had been locked in the bathroom all this time, and when he heard us come in, he started banging on the door.

  Axel raised his eyebrows. “What the hell?”

  I sighed. I went to the bathroom door and opened it. I yanked off Jeff’s gag. “What?”

  Jeff peered around me into the room. “I was hoping you were a maid.”

  “Whoa,” said Axel. “You have hostages and shit.”

  “Let me go,” said Jeff.

  I put the gag back in his mouth and shut the door on him.

  “Seriously,” said Axel. “What’s up with that?”

  “I was trying to get information from him, but he didn’t know anything, so I had to go after Armstrong.”

  Axel nodded slowly. “So, when you say you’re an assassin—”

  “I’m not anymore,” I said. “We escaped. Tore the whole place down. But now all this crap is happening, and I have to save everyone.”

  “But you’ve killed people?”

  I sighed again.

  “That’s so hot,” said Axel.

  “You’re a douchebag,” I told him. I double-checked the door, making sure it was locked. Then I knelt down in front of Armstrong and slapped his face. “Wake up.”

  “What are you going to do to him?” asked Axel.

  I stood up and rounded on him. “Why don’t you leave?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t want to.”

  “Aren’t you freaked out by all this?” I gestured at myself and all around. “This isn’t a big joke, Axel. This is life and death. People are going to get hurt.”

  “Hey,” he said. “I’m the one person who actually shot someone tonight.”

  I realized that hadn’t so much as phased him. I squinted at him. “Are you so rich and entitled that you have no grasp of the value of human life?”

  “Probably.” He sat down on the bed. “Man, this motel is disgusting. Have you actually been staying here?” He ran a hand over the bedspread and wrinkled his nose.

  I should just ignore Axel. That’s what I’d do. Ignore him. He wouldn’t leave. He insisted on being around, after all.

  Of course, if I was honest with myself, the truth was that I wasn’t trying particularly hard to get rid of him. It was easier with someone else to help me out. And it helped that I didn’t actually give a crap about Axel, because then I didn’t have to worry about his safety.

  And, I really didn’t. Give a crap about him. At all.

  I went back to Armstrong. I slapped his other cheek. “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey, Armstrong.”

  He flinched away from my hand.

  “You’re awake,” I said.

  He opened his eyes.

  I folded my arms over my chest. “Where’s your secret lab? How do I get in?”

  His mouth twisted into something like a smile, but he didn’t say anything.

  Fine. I slapped him again.

  His cheek turned red, but he just laughed. “You hit like a girl, Sloane.”

  “How do you know who I am?”

  Axel came over. “You want me to hit him?”

  I glared at him. “Axel, just stay back and try not to hurt yourself, okay?”

  “Well, what are we doing with him, anyway?” Axel asked.

  “We need him to tell us about the lab,” I said.

  “He’s not telling us,” said Axel. “So, we should hurt him, right?”

  Armstrong glared at him. “What do you have to do with all of this?”

  “Just along for the ride,” said Axel. “Nothing personal, Jimmy. Although I will say that the girls at my club complain about you, because they say you’re a cheapskate. You haggled the price of a lap dance with Chandra last month. Haggled. That’s so tacky.”

  Armstrong grimaced.

  “Can I hit him?” said Axel.

  I rubbed my forehead. “Do whatever you want.”

  Axel grinned. He bounded over, rolling up the sleeves of his suit.

  “You know,” said Armstrong. “You’re wasting your time. You won’t be able to get anything out of me, not before they show up.”

  I put my hand on Axel’s chest, holding him back. “Before who shows up?”

  Armstrong laughed. “You don’t think I have protection? I’ve got protection. And you forgot one thing when you were tying me up. My cell phone.”

  My heart sank. He was right. I’d been so worried about the body, that I hadn’t even thought about it. I straddled Armstrong, furiously padding him down until I found it.

  He was laughing the whole time.

  It was in his back pocket. Easily reachable, even with his hands tied behind his back.

  I looked at the
last sent text messages. There was one that simply said, “Code Red.” It had been sent ten minutes ago. “Fuck,” I said.

  “They’re tracing that phone,” said Armstrong.

  I ripped off the back of it, tugging out the battery and the SIM card.

  Armstrong just laughed. “You think that’s going to matter now? They know where you are.”

  Axel made a face at me. “Is this bad?”

  “Yes, it’s fucking bad,” I said.

  Axel punched Armstrong.

  Armstrong howled.

  “Ow!” Axel backed up, shaking out his wrist. “Jesus.”

  “Hitting them in the face always hurts worse,” I told him. “Too many bones.”

  He cradled his hand. “God damn it, that really—”

  “Axel, if they’re coming here, we need to be prepared. All his guards might have the serum. I don’t know. You should go, but if you’re not going to go, then open that suitcase over there and get out the Beretta and start loading it.”

  I pulled my own gun out of its holster.

  Axel chewed on his lip, seeming to consider. Then he dove across the room and began rooting through the suitcase.

  “There should be a magazine for the Glock in there too,” I said. “Can you hand me that?”

  He came up with it and tossed it across the room to me.

  There was a tapping at the door. “Housekeeping,” said a male voice.

  Housekeeping, my ass.

  I fumbled to load my gun. Axel was bent over the suitcase, working at the Beretta.

  “Help!” yelled Armstrong.

  Something rattled the handle of the door.

  I raised my gun.

  And then bullets ripped through the wood, punching holes into the door, whizzing past us in the air.

  “Down!” I screamed at Axel, hitting the floor behind the bed.

  More bullets sailed over my head, lodging in the wall above me.

  From the bathroom, Jeff let out a squeal.

  “Watch it!” yelled Armstrong.

  I raised up from the bed to take things in for a second. Axel was on the floor next to the door. Armstrong was struggling against his bonds.

  They blew the handle off the door, and it swung open.

  I squeezed off two shots right away, before I even saw who was coming through.

  But I was good, and I had good instincts, and my shots were true. They pounded right into the chest of the man on the other side of the door.