The Dark Age: A Marlowe Gentry Thriller (Marlowe Gentry Thriller Series Book 2)

by Dallas Mullican

  “Yeah. Scared, of course.”

  “The bastard’s messed with a cop and his kid. This crosses every line.” McCann slammed a fist into his palm.

  “Nothing you can do. Nothing ties him to any of this.” Marlowe’s voice fell haggard, all the adrenaline from earlier now leaked away.

  “We can make his stay here hell.”

  Marlowe shook his head. “The guy never leaves his estate. None of his men either. He’s using outsourced muscle.”

  “What you gonna do?”

  “Something. I don’t know yet. I need a sit down with Caesar. He’s a businessman first and foremost, gotta be a way to make it worth his while to let this vendetta go.” Marlowe stuffed his hands into his pockets and craned his head back, staring into the sky.

  “Keep me posted. I’ll cover you best I can, but don’t go all Charles Bronson on this thing. Only so much I can do.” McCann, in an uncharacteristic show of being human, reached out and squeezed Marlowe’s arm before walking away.

  CHAPTER

  29

  When Marlowe finally made it back to Becca’s, his nerves were shot. He needed a good stiff drink, but knew it would be a bad idea. Once he started, no stopping the train until he crashed shitfaced drunk, caboose up in the bed. Instead, he propped against the kitchen counter and attempted to keep his knees from knocking together.

  “That went about as well as we could hope.” Wayne strolled across the living room with Victor close behind.

  “Nice shooting, Vic. I can’t thank you enough.” Marlowe clasped the man’s hand.

  A shade shorter than Wayne, but moved like a cat, and shy for a tough guy, Vic simply nodded with a faint smile.

  “What’s the plan? Those douchebags gonna do anything?” asked Wayne.

  “Not a fucking thing. Caesar’s as slippery as a fart in the wind.” Marlowe reconsidered that drink and poured out a single finger of good Scotch. “Any ideas?”

  “A few.” Wayne grinned and handed Marlowe a folded piece of paper. “Meet us at this address later tonight. Bring Becca, Paige, and Mable with you.”

  Marlowe scanned the handwritten note. “This is in Greystone. Wait, why do you want them to come?” He eyed Wayne, suspicious of his friend’s intent.

  “Yeah, it is.” Wayne winked. “And because we won’t be here to keep an eye on them.” He turned to Victor. “Tell the guys to mount up.” Victor nodded and hurried away. Wayne glanced once more at Marlowe and followed Vic out the front door.

  Paige was sleeping when Marlowe looked in on her. He made certain of no more deceptions, but felt certain that after today Paige wouldn’t be running away again any time soon. He entered Becca’s room to find her sitting on the edge of the bed. She rose and rushed to him, throwing her arms around him.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

  Her body quivered with guilt and the residue of fear. Unable to hang onto anger, he returned the embrace, leaned back in her arms and pecked her on the forehead.

  “Enough blame to go around. I should’ve been here. But she’s okay, and I’m gonna take care of this.”

  “Please promise me nothing will happen to you.” Her eyes pleaded with a need he had not seen for months.

  “I promise.”

  Marlowe kissed her deeply and held her as they gently swayed in a stream of inchoate moonlight. The past two weeks had turned an already shaky road steeply downhill, but perhaps present fears presented a speedbump to slow the progress. Maybe hope for this relationship remained within reach. They needed time together, with Paige, to start over fresh. First…deal with a drug lord hell-bent on making Marlowe suffer and stop a psycho torturing and killing in some insane quest to subdue his own pain. Piece of cake.

  Waking Paige took some effort. Exhausted from her ordeal, the little tyke grumbled and fell straight back to sleep as soon as he lifted her into his arms. Marlowe carried her to the SUV with Becca and Mable leading the way. He fastened her into the seat, her head lolling against the door, as the others climbed in and quietly shut the doors. She finally woke after the half-hour trip to Greystone and sat with her palms and nose pressed to the window, staring at the mammoth homes.

  Marlowe pulled into the drive at the address Wayne provided, a house that would contain three of his own yet still dwarfed by mansions further down the hill. Wayne met them at the entrance and ushered them into a spacious great room furnished in expensive modern décor. The bright pastel colors and sharp metallic angles gave Marlowe an instant headache. Wayne’s crew—Victor, Prince, Karl, Rob—huddled around an array of monitors. It occurred to Marlowe he hadn’t seen Rob in over a week and now understood why.

  “What is all of this?” he asked Wayne as Becca led Mable and Paige out of earshot.

  “Surveillance. Figured keeping an eye on Caesar and his guys would be a good idea.” Wayne leaned over a table, scanning the closest monitor.

  “How the hell did you get this house?”

  “Well, seems this place’s suffering an insect problem. The exterminators suggested the owners stay away for a week or so to fumigate.” Wayne didn’t look up, but Marlowe caught the curl of a smirk on his face.

  “Tools of the trade?” Marlowe waved a hand over the equipment. Electrical cords snaked in bunches across the floor. Stacks of processors and servers lined a rack to the right of a long table that held the displays—green, blue, and red LED lights blinking. “You guys aren’t bodyguards, are you?”

  “Sometimes,” said Prince. “But not today.”

  “What the hell are you then?” Marlowe rubbed the back of his neck, trying to make sense of the situation.

  “We could tell you, but…” said Karl.

  “You’d have to kill me? Yeah, yeah.”

  “Listen up. Marlowe, keep your eyes on this monitor.” Wayne pointed to the center screen where the closest estate lit up in a grainy green.

  The crew, dressed all in black, and wearing thin flak jackets, pulled night-vision goggles onto their foreheads and rechecked magazines. Each carried sidearms and assault rifles affixed with silencers.

  Wayne smeared black face paint along his cheeks with two fingers. “We’ve got six baddies outside. Four more, including Caesar, inside the house. Prince and Karl, you’re on point. Rob, you get the alarm. Vic, you’ve got overwatch.” He slid a 9 mm into his holster and cranked back the slide on an AR-15. “Non-lethal take downs…if you can. But take no chances. Marlowe, once we’re in, I’ll give the all clear, and you can have your little chat with Ramirez.” He gazed around the group and nodded. “Good. Let’s move.”

  Marlowe stared at the screen as four grey-white shapes crept toward the mansion. They shimmied over a ten-foot wall like monkeys and crouched behind a line of head-high shrubs beyond the outer courtyard. One, he assumed Victor, remained in place as the other four continued further into the estate grounds. The backside of the house was laid out in a U-shape with a guard patrolling a path down the center. Another two made continuous circuits around a roof walkway that circled the entire house. One idled in the rear at an arch leading into a garden complete with an ostentatious fountain. The remaining two guards currently congregated near the front entrance.

  One of Wayne’s crew eased close and paused behind what appeared to be a latticework partition. After a second, the guard at the archway pivoted and headed in his direction. He rounded the partition and the team member rose up to wrap an arm around his throat. Both figures disappeared near the ground with only one rising again. The shape moved from cover and crept to the side of the house. After a few moments, a whispered voice issued over the radio.

  “Alarm’s down.”

  “Karl, Prince, you’re good to go.” Wayne’s voice.

  A shadow sprinted behind Rob at the alarm box and took down the guard between the buildings on a dead run. The larger of the two crew members, Karl, dragged the body from view, proceeded to the inner wall, and scaled the mansion, pausing at the lip of the roof. A second shadow, Prince, flung a rope high into the air and
climbed up the east side, three-quarters of the circumference from Karl. One of the guards on the roof made his round, walking toward where Karl waited, poised high on the wall. As he passed, the figure below lashed out, grabbed him by the leg, and pulled him off the roof. Marlowe winced at the imagined splat as the guard impacted the concrete.

  The second roof guard spun, obviously hearing the disturbance, and raced along the walkway toward Karl, who was pulling himself over the lip. Prince had made the roof from the east side, but remained too far behind to intercept the guard. With both unable to react in time, Marlowe held his breath, his pulse pounding, anxious for the man about to die. Within a few feet of his target, the guard went down face first and rolled off the roof. Marlowe panned the camera and found Victor with his rifle aimed high.

  Man, these guys are good. This is some serious black ops ninja shit.

  At the front entrance, Wayne had crept through the shrubbery and worked his way close to the guards. They appeared to be lost in conversation. Surely, the boredom of two weeks working security and no hint of a threat had lulled them into complacency. They went down without ever displaying any awareness of their stalker’s presence. Wayne climbed the face of the mansion and vaulted onto the balcony. Karl, Prince, and Rob had disappeared from view. Ten minutes of complete silence and stillness followed that felt like an eternity to Marlowe.

  “All clear. Marlowe Gentry, come on down. Keep your head low. Eyes are watching.”

  The price was definitely right—nine bad guys for zero good guys. Marlowe made his exit and did his best impersonation of Wayne’s team as he snuck down the hill. His climb over the wall wasn’t nearly as graceful as theirs, but he managed not to break any bones in his covert trek down the slope, only one stumble in navigating the shrubbery.

  Inside the mansion, unconscious guards sat with hands and feet tied in a row along one wall in the foyer. Caesar Ramirez knelt with his hands bound behind his back and looking none too pleased. In spite of present circumstances, Marlowe couldn’t help but ogle the environment. He felt as if he had stepped into the palace of Versailles. Gleaming marble floors, a fireplace with the likenesses of dragons, eight-feet-tall, sculpted to stand sentry beside the hearth. Lavish Victorian-style furniture adorned the great room, all maroon crushed velvet and deep, dark wood. The chandelier overhead looked like a celestial nebula, arms of crystal and gold fanning out. The ambiance made Caesar appear a supplicant before the king’s throne. Which would make Marlowe the king. He grinned at the thought.

  Time to exile this lord from the realm.

  “What’s the meaning of this? You break into my home. Assault, possibly kill, my security guards. I’ll have your badge. I’ll see you in prison.” Livid, Caesar calmed slightly at the last thought and a sneer crept across his face. “Oh yes. A policeman doesn’t fare so well in prison, I hear. And I have friends. Your stay will be a short, painful one.”

  “Shut up, Caesar. You crossed the line. You went after my daughter, you son of a bitch.” Marlowe marched forward and leaned in close, nose to nose with the man.

  Caesar shook his head and tried to back away, sliding on his knees, but Wayne put a boot on his back and held him in place.

  “I have no idea what you are talking about. Someone accosted your daughter? Well, if they did, I see it as poetic justice.” He glared at Marlowe with pure hatred.

  “Listen, shithead, I didn’t kill your son. Jose killed himself. I went there to arrest him, nothing more. He rushed a line of antsy cops with his gun raised. Suicidal idiot.” Marlowe straightened and stared down at the kneeling man.

  “You were in charge. A good general takes responsibility for his soldiers,” said Caesar, venom dripping from each word.

  “Like you’re taking responsibility for yours kidnapping and threatening my daughter?”

  Caesar had no answer for that. He only narrowed his eyes, turned his head, and spat on the floor. “I had nothing to do with it. I’m innocent of any crime, yet you invade my home. Perhaps God is responsible for your daughter’s peril. Eye for an eye, Detective. God doesn’t fail. I suspect the next time will go differently.”

  Marlowe ignored the threat. “This has gone far enough. You’ve made your point. I’m truly sorry about Jose. Pack up and head back to Miami and don’t ever show your face here again. We can still let bygones be bygones and end this stupidity.”

  Caesar smiled. “I have no reason to leave. Like I said, I’ve done nothing illegal. And besides, I still have business here.”

  The man’s smile incensed Marlowe. He yanked his gun from its holster, stormed forward, and stuck the tip of the barrel to Caesar’s forehead.

  “You’re under the illusion you’re dealing with a cop, bound by a cop’s rules. Today I’m only a father.” He pressed the tip hard into the skin. “I gave you a chance. I’m not leaving with you still here…and alive. You’re too much of a threat to turn my back on. You’ve left me no choice.” Marlowe flipped off the safety and squeezed down on the trigger.

  A hand grabbed his wrist. He glanced over to meet eyes with Wayne, who shook his head.

  “No, Marlowe. I got this.” Wayne gently forced Marlowe to lower the gun. “Go home. But stop by the department on the way. You forgot something you needed to pick up. And make sure someone sees you doing it. Call me from Metro.”

  Marlowe understood without asking for an explanation, and he knew by the resolve on his friend’s face he wouldn’t dissuade him. Marlowe nodded, took one last look at Caesar, whose confusion was only beginning to set in, and left the mansion. He crept back to the house on the hill, careful to stay low and avoid prying eyes—no doubt the Feds had the place under surveillance—and gathered Paige, Becca, and Mable. They each hugged him in turn. Confused themselves, but knowing better than to ask, they seemed satisfied with his mere presence in their midst.

  Marlowe stopped off at Metro as Wayne had instructed. He grabbed some file at random from his desk drawer, spoke briefly with a detective from Vice and two beat cops working the nightshift. Once back in the SUV, he phoned Wayne. There was no answer, but he hadn’t expected one. Certain knowledge of what Wayne had planned for Caesar, surprisingly, didn’t bother Marlowe too much.

  Back at Becca’s, he put Paige to bed. Without complaint, she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. Marlowe stood beside her bed and watched her sleep for a long time. After saying goodnight to Mable, he joined Becca in the bedroom. The night’s events still had his adrenaline up…and his libido. Even so, he couldn’t chalk his feelings up completely to being horny. Everything that had transpired, and everything still on his plate, drove home his appreciation of life and family. Not only Paige, but Mable, Becca, Spence and the team, all family in their own way. Caesar would no longer present a problem, and Spence would pull through. Now only Evan Marshall remained, and Marlowe was determined to end the psycho’s killing spree. Yes, time to reevaluate things a bit.

  He leaned in the doorway, his gaze lingering on Becca as she removed her make-up at the bathroom sink.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just looking.”

  She snickered. “Why?”

  “Because you’re so beautiful.” He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  She smiled at him in the mirror as she wiped a wet cloth beneath her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was worried sick.”

  Marlowe leaned forward and kissed her neck. Becca tilted her head, allowing him to nuzzle and peck at her ear. Her hand came up to cup his cheek and she turned to face him. Their eyes locked, and so much unsaid for too long passed between them in a longing gaze. She took his hand and led him from the bathroom to the foot of the bed. They undressed each other with gentle caresses, never looking away, as if they feared a single glance elsewhere and the moment might vanish. Marlow eased her onto the bed and kissed her breasts and stomach. Her fingers wove into his thick brown hair and she moaned as his tongue licked along her inner thighs and moved upward.

 
He had not felt so close to her in months, nor had she given herself to him with such abandon. Though his body and hands felt every inch of her, and he remembered every moment of tenderness they had shared, his mind drifted to all he had lost. Katy appeared in his thoughts. With a sweet smile, she said goodbye and took the past with her. Here, now, this was his life. Paige and Becca, his friends. He couldn’t be the old Marlowe anymore. The man who had loved Katy with all his heart was gone, burned away. The Marlowe who lived in grief and hated the world after her murder, who suffered the torment of a haunted child, he too vanished in the cleansing flames. And now, he must let go of another identity fostered under conditions which could no longer apply—the Marlowe who had waded into a relationship with Becca, tiptoed around a fragile Paige, and hung on to a moral code that sought to save the unsaveable. A man who had lived with the hope everyone could come back, no matter how far the fall, that Marlowe, too, followed the others into the blaze. A new man was emerging. One who would face reality without conditions, for what it truly was, what it might become, and what it could never be.

  Becca’s nails dug into his back as he entered her. He pressed further, trying to merge into her, become one form.

  “I love you, Marlowe.”

  His head lifted to look into her eyes. Fear swam there. Fear of rejection. Fear of acceptance.

  “I love you, too. I do.”

  It was the first time he had said those words to anyone other than Paige since Katy’s death. And he meant them. Her joyful smile melted his heart.

  “I love you,” he said again, louder, with more conviction, as though confirming the declaration for himself as well as her.

  They made love late into the night.

  CHAPTER

  30

  Saturday morning woke Marlowe with a sunbeam across his face. He shielded his eyes from the glare and gently rolled Becca’s leg off his thighs. She gave a soft groan of irritation, but didn’t wake. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared at her, admiring her body and the peaceful expression on her face. He took a shower and dressed in a light gray suit and black tie with tiny silver stars dotted along the cloth. After a pause to look in on Paige, Marlowe made his way downstairs to find Wayne pouring himself a cup of coffee.