Rogue Agent

by Kellie Wallace

  “Does everyone know you?” she whispered.

  “I have a certain reputation.”

  “You don’t say.”

  He approached a man dressed in a black suit standing by the shooting range, seemingly out of place from the plaid shirts and cowboy boots. His strong jaw line, olive skin, and mop of dark hair hinted at a Hispanic background.

  “Raul, it’s nice to see you again, man. How long has it been?”

  The men embraced. “At least five years. Remember when you knocked on my door, bloody and half naked, looking for a drone supplier to take out that sheikh in Saudi?”

  “Well, you certainly delivered. There was nothing left of him to bury.”

  Raul’s gaze crossed to Terra and a handsome grin spread across his face. “So this is the infamous Miss Terra Bloom. I admire you for what you stand for, lady.”

  Her eyebrow cocked. “I used to protest against weapon smugglers like you,” she replied. “You’re the reason why America has severe issues with gun related murders.”

  “I’m not a smuggler, honey, just a businessman.” Raul breathed out a pocket of air and looked at Seth sympathetically. “She’s a firecracker, man. Are you sure you can handle her?”

  “I have been so far.”

  “So what can I do you for?”

  “I’m assuming you’ve heard over the wire about me and Haroun.”

  “Yeah, you’ve got Spencer all hot under the collar. You must have balls of brass to do this to him.”

  Seth glanced at a customer handling a gorgeous 1873 single action revolver and salivated. He missed the old training days, spending hours testing his skills with a myriad of weapons at his disposal. He must have fired thousands of weapons until he found his niche. “I have two specific requirements today. I need a 9mm Glock with a silencer and a .22 Smith and Wesson for the lady. All ammo included. What am I looking at for price?”

  Raul walked to a table in the corner of the room and returned with the weapons. Passing them over, he said, “I can do $300 for the Glock and $175 for the .22. It’s only because you’re a good friend and Terra Bloom is standing next to you.”

  “It’s a deal.” Seth withdrew a wad of credits from his inner jacket pocket. “You’ll find it’s all there.”

  Raul flashed another smile at Terra. “The range is free, darlin’. Do you feel like venting some frustration?”

  While Terra fired her newly acquired handgun, Seth enjoyed what may be his last cold beer. Being on the run had its downfalls and lukewarm beer was one of them. Showing his face with Bloom would get people talking now that Spencer had released the news. Cold beers and fancy restaurants were out of the question. They had to go underground.

  Raul joined him, nursing a shot of bourbon, closing up the shop after the last customer. “I’ve known you for a long time and never thought you would do this type of thing. I always imagined you to retire and settle down with Trix. What made you change your mind?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that for days, and I can’t seem to find the answer.” He tossed the rest of the beer down his throat and instantly felt the alcohol pool in his empty stomach. “I think something was unearthed the day I killed David Bloom. For once in my career I felt to blame for taking a life.”

  “You’re as cold as they come,” Raul said. “You once killed a pregnant meth dealer in front of her eight year old boy. That’s not cold, that’s frigid, man!”

  “In my defense, she claimed to be pregnant. She wasn’t showing.”

  “So what happened to melt the ice? Did Terra get her claws into you?”

  He studied her loading another clip into the Smith and Wesson, her eyes narrowed in concentration, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. She glanced up, caught him staring and smiled. “She did something to me, Raul,” he said. “The worst part is I can’t get her out of my head.”

  His friend patted him on the shoulder. “Better to get out now. If a woman has dug so deep into your conscience you can’t think straight, it’s time to move on.”

  “I owe her too much now.”

  “What are you planning to do? Keep running until you’re old and gray?”

  “I’m trying to keep one step ahead of Spencer right now,” Seth said. “He knows I’ve betrayed him and he doesn’t know why. Terra is what he wants and I can’t hand her over. We’ll keep running until one of us is dead.”

  One of Raul’s guards entered the room and whispered something in his ear. “Okay, keep men posted on the door at all times,” Raul instructed. “I don’t want anyone getting in here. Got it?”

  Three armed men dashed up the stairs toward the shop. Seth heard their heavy footfalls thundering above his head. “What’s going on?”

  “I just got a call from a source down the road,” Raul said. “Spencer’s men tracked you from Tulsa. You better grab the pretty lady and leave now.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Your shower will end in thirty seconds. To extend your water usage, please insert twenty credits in the slot below,” the robotic voice announced.

  Seth waited until the water ran out before exiting the shower. He couldn’t remember the last time he stood motionless, quiet, unthinking, allowing the heat to soften his body. He reached for the towel on the rack and dried himself, studying his reflection in the foggy mirror. A man he didn’t recognize stared back, a man who had made a life altering and foolish decision. The stranger with shoulder-length raven hair, dusted jaw line, and a broken, scarred body wouldn’t have succumbed to rash decisions if he didn’t have a conscience. Back in the day, he would have gladly—without remorse—killed an agent if they showed any sort of emotion to a target. Now, it was different. Despite being a formidable force, Seth was still human and accepted the consequences for saving a life.

  He wrapped the towel around his waist and exited the bathroom. Terra walked into the hotel room at the same time, her gaze inadvertently falling onto his muscular torso. She dropped the shopping bags she was carrying onto one of the single beds.

  “I don’t think being on the run is doing anything for my fashion sense,” she said, pulling out a large t-shirt with an alligator printed on it. “This was all I could find in the gift shop. When all this is over, I’m going to Macy’s.”

  “Terra, I don’t think this will ever be over,” Seth said. “Not until one of us is dead.”

  She dug around the bag and threw a shirt at him. “You didn’t need to ruin the mood. Here, I got you one too.” She entered the bathroom, though didn’t shut the door completely.

  Seth blew out a frustrated breath and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt before Terra came out. When she didn’t exit, he walked to the door to close it. She stepped into view dressed only in black lace panties, and he felt something stir below his belt. Her bare firm breasts looked delectable in the yellow light.

  When she turned, he noticed the Haroun tattoo etched into her left arm and welcomed a wave of guilt. If he’d never killed her father, would they be hiding out in some dirty flea motel fleeing for their lives?

  Movement under the front door caught his eye. The place was empty when they checked in and they weren’t expecting any room service. Seth tiptoed to the bed and grabbed his Glock from its holster, twisting on the silencer. He lowered to his hands and knees and peered underneath the door. A pair of polished shoes paced back and forth.

  Shit, they found him.

  Knowing the hotel was free of nosy tenants, Seth squeezed the barrel of the handgun between the door and carpet and fired. The softened bang of the silencer muted the mystery man’s yelp of surprise. Seth opened the door halfway, peered out, saw his opponent on the floor clutching his foot, and dragged him inside by the collar.

  “Who sent you?” Seth rasped in his ear.

  The man sneered back at him. “I’m not telling you shit, Langdon.”

  “Who sent you? Was it Spencer Hack?”

  “I’d rather die than tell you anything. I had one goal.”

  �
�And you failed.” Seth wasted no time emptying another bullet into the man’s skull. At that moment, Terra opened the bathroom door, saw the body by Seth’s feet, and screamed. “Who the fuck is that?”

  “Some goon for hire.” Seth patted the suit down. “If there’s one, that means there’s more.”

  “How do you know Spencer sent him? Did you speak to him?”

  In the man’s jacket, he located a handgun and cell phone with a text of their location. Even though he didn’t recognize the goon, he knew Spencer would have hired specific agents–men like Joca–to take down potential threats.

  “He knew my name. Look, his cell phone has our location. We have to go.”

  “Again?” Terra whined. “I was looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed. I hate living like a bum!”

  Seth gathered his belongings into a backpack, tossing in t-shirts and boxers, socks, loose ammo, and his wallet. “Get your things, Terra. I don’t want to argue. Spencer is a dangerous man. I can’t tell you what he has in store for you when he finds you.”

  The self-deprecating smile slipped off her face. “All right, give me a minute. Just for the record, I’m taking the shampoos with me.”

  ***

  “I want a gun at every portal. No excuses this time, Dawson!” Spencer screamed into the receiver. “Do it now or I’ll add you to my kill list.” He slammed the phone down and took a long drag on his cigarette, feeling the searing heat burn down his throat. He wondered why he’d hired Dawson in the first place. The man was so incompetent, but worked wonders pairing agents with potential targets.

  “Want me to get you something stronger, boss?” Joca asked, sitting on the opposite side of the desk, stroking his feline face with an index finger.

  “Nah, I got a bottle of bourbon waiting for me in my penthouse.” Spencer stubbed out his cigarette and took a moment to inhale the pollutant smoke. “Has there been any movement on Langdon?”

  “A report came in of a stolen Lincoln in Wichita. The suspects match the description of Langdon and Bloom. They were seen breaking into the vehicle at a local diner and fleeing the scene.”

  “Mmm, he’s moving fast. Have we heard back from Utah with the hotel lead?”

  “Utah’s dead.”

  “Fuck, what happened?”

  “Langdon shot him. We found Utah with a 9mm slug in his skull. Luckily, the maids hadn’t found the body so Carmichael’s crew removed all evidence from the scene.”

  Spencer closed his eyes and bit down on the rage circling in his gut. “I want this fixed before it gets worse, Joca.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’ve known Seth for over ten years and what he’s doing is out of character. For Christ’s sake, he’s the type of man you ask to achieve the unthinkable. He’s made of fucking stone. Why would he suddenly change his morals? This chick has gotten to him somehow.”

  “Do you think he’s working with someone?”

  Spencer shook his head. “Nah, Jack’s too dimwitted and high most of the time, and Dawson doesn’t like him.”

  “What about his girlfriend?”

  “Trix is a force all of her own, though she’s oblivious to his history.”

  “What’s his motive then?” Joca asked.

  “I have no idea and that’s scaring me. I thought I could trust him with the hardest and most challenging jobs. Maybe he’s human after all.”

  Joca reached for a cigarette in his front pocket and bent over when Spencer offered him a light. He puffed on it and blew out a cloud of smoke. “If you want him dead, hire your best man before this reaches the local news. Haroun will be discovered and you know what the consequences will be when the reporters find out.”

  “I have a question for you.” Spencer swiveled in his chair to the safe behind him, unlocked it, and dumped wads of bills in front of Joca. “Would you be willing to kill Seth and Terra for three million credits? It will be off the books.”

  A smile crossed Joca’s face and he picked up a bundle of money with his free hand. “You don’t have to ask me twice. I knew Langdon was spoilt meat. What about Trix? She’s a liability.”

  Spencer thought of her tight little ass and welcomed the heat below his belt. “Don’t worry about her. I have one more card to play.”

  Later that night when the last worker left for the day, Spencer sat in his darkened office nursing a Cuban cigar and a twenty year old bottle of brandy. Thoughts of Seth flooded his mind and he struggled to pinpoint the exact moment his best hit man had turned sour. Was it the time he killed the Australian prime minister or the moment he snuffed the life of a baby rapist out on parole?

  He flicked through the multiple deaths listed on Seth’s dossier on his computer, counting thousands of faces, many of whom were known to Spencer personally. Over the years he could rely on Seth to eliminate enemies and threats discreetly and come back without a drop of blood on his hands.

  It appeared the moment he returned from David Bloom’s murder had laid the foundations of what he was today. Spencer wished he could crawl into Seth’s skull and understand what was driving him. However, he knew the one thing that would catapult the man back to the Earth.

  After finishing his cigar and half of the bottle of brandy, Spencer locked his office and rode the elevator down to the car park. He spotted Seth’s beloved Phoenix Manu collecting dust in the corner, unmoved from the day he betrayed Haroun. It must be devastating for Seth not being able to drive the car, knowing how much money he’d poured into it.

  Spencer walked to his black Bentley Phantom Knight and slid into the egg blue leather seats. Turning on the radio at full capacity, he drove to East of Eden riding the bus lane the entire way. Trix was performing on stage when he entered the foul smelling establishment. She saw him pull up a chair at a table closest to the stage. From his position, he noticed panic flash in her eyes. He ordered a martini and waited until her performance was over before visiting her dressing room.

  “Spencer, I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight,” Trix said, pulling on a t-shirt to cover her bedazzled bra. “I’ll bring your money soon. I made three hundred credits in tips last week which you can have.”

  She was reaching for her purse when he took her hands. “Trix, stop it. I’m not here for your money. I’ve been getting your deposits every week.”

  She shot him a questioning glance. “So why are you here? Looking for a lap dance or something?”

  Spencer’s gaze dropped to a framed photograph of Seth and Trix sitting among her strewn makeup. “Have you spoken to your boyfriend lately?”

  “Seth called me the other day to say he’s going off the grid for a while. He didn’t say what for. Do you know what’s he doing?”

  “There’s a lot about Seth you don’t know, my dear.”

  “Is he in trouble?”

  Spencer glanced at his reflection in the vanity table mirror and smoothed out the invisible lines in his suit. “I’ll be blunt and say he is, love. He has something of mine I want back. Can I rely on your help?”

  “Anything.” Trix reached for her purse and sneakers from her locker. “Is there anywhere you want to meet to talk or shall I follow you?”

  Spencer cleared his throat and withdrew a slick handgun from his back pocket. Trix’s eyes widened at the piece and she backed up against the vanity. “What are you doing with that?”

  With his free hand, he seized her wrist, jerking her toward him. “Honey, it’s hard to hit a moving target. Seth has done me wrong and I want him to pay. You will help me do it.”

  She blinked back tears. “Spencer, I don’t want to get involved with whatever you’re planning. Just don’t hurt him.”

  “Listen here, you little bitch. You owe me a hell of a lot of money. Until you pay me back the very last dime, I own you.”

  Some fire returned to her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I don’t use anymore.”

  “Really?” He pointed to an exposed needle and baggie of Clandestine on the table. “Are you going to tell
me that’s not yours?”

  “I’ll call security if you don’t leave.”

  “Trix, baby doll.” He curled a lock of her blonde hair around his finger. “How can you call security when they’re all being entertained by the club’s best girls?”

  A shaky breath exited her lips. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want to tell you a story about a boy.”

  ***

  “Bloom, I got your breakfast.” Seth tossed a brown paper bag into Terra’s lap. “When all this is over, you owe me three credits.”

  An hour after dawn, the lakeside park was quiet, giving them some time alone. He sat down next to her on the bench, wrapping his fingers around a takeaway coffee.

  “I’d thank you if I wasn’t so angry,” Terra snipped, taking a bite of her warm pastry.

  Seth laughed out loud. “That boy at the gas station was only eighteen years old. He would have screwed you and dumped you if you let him.”

  “It didn’t stop him from flirting with me. It felt nice to be wanted for once,” Terra remarked. “It didn’t give you the right to act as my jealous boyfriend.”

  “I did what I had to. Spencer has many eyes around the country. I couldn’t risk someone recognizing us. I had to get you out of there.”

  “Well, you just came between my future husband and I.”

  “You keep telling yourself that.”

  Terra glanced over at him and smiled. “You can be quite charming when you’re not killing people.”

  “That’s all you can say after what you’ve been through? You’ve been kidnapped, branded, almost killed, watched me kill a guy and you’re okay with that?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not, and it’s my way of dealing with things.”

  The rising sun cast its rays across the water, dazzling and blinding. For a fleeting moment, Seth could imagine another life, one where he was blessed with marriage, children, and a house among the oak trees. However, in his line of work, he had accepted long ago he was impervious to such blessings.