by Natalie Grey
“Whatever, John. Just don’t take my kills,” Eric said.
“God, still on that? We were even back there,” Darryl commented.
The six Black Eagles dropped down over the moonlit jungle to the coordinates Frank had supplied. It wasn’t until the team was within a thousand meters that they could see the break in the trees that revealed the small village.
The six Pods quietly landed two at a time. John and Eric got out first, placing their helmets in the Pods, followed by Scott and Darryl, then Akio and Peter. The Pods went back up and disappeared.
John called out loudly in a dialect none of the men understood. When he stopped after repeating his words a third time, they got a lot of movement in houses and people leaving past them, giving the six curious glances as they took in the six men carrying pistols, knives and a sword.
“This way,” John supplied, and the six men walked abreast as they started down the dirt main street. Six pairs of boots kicked up dirt as several weather- and time-beaten faces regarded them from cutouts the huts used as windows.
People too old to leave or too old to care anymore.
The six could hear the group coming toward them long before they were visible. They moved to the shadows beside buildings about twenty yards from the jungle, and Akio disappeared up a tree. John just shook his head. He couldn’t find the Japanese vampire.
The attacking group congregated just out of sight, and John counted to sixty before the yelling and running started.
The five men on the ground allowed half the group to appear before they stepped from the shadows. Every thug who held a gun was horribly torn apart by the pistols the men fired. Many of the attackers had to pick themselves up off the ground after half-bodies were blown into them as they ran down the path on which only three could run abreast.
The running faltered as the simple village attack turned into an ambush. Many froze when the screaming from those in the back started.
“Akio!” John yelled. “For God’s sake man, leave a few!” He pulled his Bowie knife and smiled as he strode toward the closest man, who was holding a machete.
“Let the fun begin!” he growled as he parried the first swing with his knife and kicked the attacker, crushing two of his ribs as he flew into plants next to the path. “NEXT!” he yelled into the chaos of men cursing, slashing, and dying in screams.
The cries of attackers turned to whimpers as each voice was systematically silenced in the night.
The six collected all of the ADF’s weapons and placed them in the center of the village. John spied a smaller knife on one of the attackers and a machete two bodies over. He found one body that seemed to be the leader since he was wearing a military-looking coat. Grabbing the knife, he strode over to the body, grabbed the coat’s collar, and started dragging it into the jungle. He had gone about a half mile before he placed the body against a tree that allowed him to throw the arms over the lower limbs. He pulled the machete back with both hands and used his massive strength to thrust the machete through its chest and embed it into the tree, then ripped off his Queen’s Bitch patch and pinned it to the body with the knife.
It was a warning to the ADF that if they didn’t get the message, he would personally come back and deliver it again. Permanently.
You don’t fuck with this village. It is under the Queen Bitch’s protection.
John walked back through the jungle, complete in its silence until he passed.
Minutes after he was gone, the jungle sounds returned.
New York City, New York
John “the Don” Cherynsky pulled his coat closed as he stepped out of the limo. His two guards had already confirmed that the warehouse, a twenty-foot high affair a hundred feet long and sixty wide, was safe for the meet, so his car drove through the garage door and parked thirty feet from a similar limousine. By the time John came around the front, the SUVs that had followed had unloaded ten men near each limousines.
The agreed-upon number for each side.
John’s six-foot-four-inch height and barrel chest usually dwarfed most men, but the Asian man might be his equal. Maybe not in height, but his chest was even larger, and his arms were massive.
They shook, their handshakes firm, with neither playing stupid “who is stronger” games like you would get with immature operators.
“John.” The Asian man spoke, a whispered breathing due to an unfortunate “accident” with chemicals in his youth. He had made it out alive. The others had not.
“Jing,” John supplied. “I trust the family is well?”
“Yes, thank you, John. You are always a pleasant American to interact with on my trips. Rarely do you speak business first.” Jing turned to look around. “It is refreshing.”
“Jing, you might find more Americans pleasant if you didn’t treat them as uncultured barbarians first, and work up to barely accepting them as civil over a year,” John replied, smiling. “Even if, between you and me, it is mostly true.”
The powerful Asian man clapped the taller American on the shoulder. “You repeat this wisdom every time we meet, yet I am not wise enough to understand.”
“Uh huh.” The two turned to walk toward the far wall. “Why do I feel it has more to do with the television shows we ship all over the world?”
“Because it is true!” Jing laughed. “The reality tv shows you export explain the zombie-like mental state of the unwashed masses!”
“Which, I might remind you, are very ‘washed’ compared to the rest of the world?” John replied.
“Bah.” Jing waved a hand. “Physically clean, yes, mentally full of sugar.” Jing put his hands on his ears and pulled them away. “You open it up, and there is nothing but talk about someone’s ex-wife or the latest actor scandal.”
The two men turned before reaching the wall and started walking back. It was time for the two of them to get down to business.
“So, we have retrieved the four boxes from the cargo containers. Do I have your personal promise these will not be used here in my state?” John asked.
Jing raised an eyebrow. “Did you open them?”
“No, of course not,” John replied. “My people are good. You might blame someone's choice of shipping containers. Two of my men are ex-military. They know what an RPG crate looks like.”
Jing stopped, turned back slightly toward the wall, and lowered his voice. “John, we have done business for a very long time. I cannot promise where these might be used. I can tell you that they are slated to be used against a CEO who makes her home in Florida or possibly against one of her flying vehicles.”
“Yes,” John kept his voice low, “I’m aware of the person you are speaking about. There is an open offer of a million dollars for her capture.”
“Five,” Jing admitted and looked into John’s eyes. “But if you bring her to me, I’ll double it.”
John considered. “Well, that makes the effort worthwhile. I understand, and I respect, your need to keep your options open. If they are to come into my territory, please give me a heads-up. I’d hate to have a team get between your effort to send one of these as a gift and my effort to acquire a guest.”
John held out his hand.
Jing nodded and took it. “Agreed.”
“Can you believe that shit?” Darryl hissed. He and John were on the roof right next to one of the old windows, listening to the discussions below. Eric and Scott were watching one door, Peter and Akio watching the opposite door of the warehouse. “He wants to off Bethany Anne.”
John’s face went from dark to impossibly black, if it were possible. “Yes, I can believe it.” His voice was quiet, if grim.
“Did you know about it?” Darryl asked.
John shook his head. “No, Frank said that a cache of Chinese weapons was being unloaded at the port, and there was a meeting to pass them over here tonight. So, mafia types and Chinese players. I didn’t know they were looking to hit Bethany Anne.” John reached around to a pouch on his back and pulled out two grenades,
then leaned over to look down into the building again.
John tapped his mic. “Hey , y’all. Watch this shit!”
“Oh, fuck,” Darryl whispered and started quickly and quietly moving to the edge of the roof on the other side of the building as John pulled out one more grenade.
John, face lit by the building’s lighting and contorted in anger at anyone who would threaten Bethany Anne, started grinning as he pulled the three pins. “Say hello to my leetle friends!”
On the south side of the building, two sets of boots could be heard running away. On the north side, there was a hushed conversation. “No! John does not mean watch this!” Scott tugged on Akio’s arm, and the Japanese vampire allowed himself to be pulled away to start running from the building. The two had made it to the street when Darryl came running out of the alley and joined them.
Akio was confused, but started sprinting with purpose now that Darryl was with them. “What is it? Didn’t John say to watch this?”
“Hell, yes!” Darryl huffed. “But whenever John Grimes says, ‘Hey, y’all, watch this shit,’ that is code for 'get the fuck out of there!’” Darryl and Peter grinned when explosions rocked the warehouse behind them.
The three men slowed to a stop and turned around. A massive amount of smoke was billowing out of broken windows, glass still tinkling as it fell to the concrete around the old warehouse.
A few moments, they heard pistol shots from inside the building.
“Does he need us?” Akio asked.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Darryl answered. “He’s getting his mad out right now.”
“What happened?” Peter asked Darryl when Scott and Eric joined the three.
Darryl answered, “The Chinese in there were importing RPGs to use against Bethany Anne, and John heard them talking about it.” Two more shots could be detected among the crackle of the flames.
The four men turned from looking at Darryl to staring at the now-burning building. Soon, a figure emerged from the door, walking calmly toward the Bitches as a siren cut the dark in the distance. John had made it about halfway to the group when another round of explosions rocked the warehouse.
“There go the RPGs,” Darryl mused.
Chapter Four
Akio stepped out of the suite’s bath. “Next,” he called as he shoved his clothes into his overnight bag. He had changed into a nice dark blue pair of pants, a pressed white shirt, and dark blue loafers. A gold watch accented the ensemble.
“All mine!” Peter yelled as he rushed into the shower.
The men had rented a large suite on the other side of New York to clean up. John had had to be brought in through a side entrance because he smelled too badly of smoke to walk through the lobby. The huge fire and dead men inside the warehouse had made the news. The police were keeping quiet so far about how the men had died.
John, Eric, and Darryl were using the connected suite’s shower while Scott, Peter, and Akio used this side. Scott had to cut out a small piece of metal from the fight in Iraq and was making sure he didn’t have anything else stuck in his body that he hadn’t noticed.
John walked through the open door between their suites. “Damn, Akio, you clean up well.” He turned to look at Scott. “Are you done, Dr. Demento?” Scott threw up his middle finger. “Told you not to get too close, but you had to go all Rambo and shoot off your Dukes Special on 10!”
“Motherfucking thing should show 11 on the side, not 10.” Scott grinned. “God, it packs a punch like a mule.” He rubbed his shoulder. “I know the healing is done, but you don’t forget that feeling.”
“Experience is the mother of all teaching,” John said. “We have a limo picking us up in thirty minutes, guys. Carry concealed only; nothing to get us in trouble.”
The shower door opened and Peter stepped out in a towel. “Next!”
The six men, all decked out in nice clothes, swept through the hotel lobby, and many ladies followed them as they walked through the front doors to a waiting limousine.
John went up to the driver and held out his hand. “John Grimes.”
“Um, Bartholomew,” his driver supplied, and shook his hand. The driver stuttered a bit as he watched the men enter his car, his eyes wide in shock.
John leaned forward. “Bartholomew?” The driver nodded his head. “You know I asked for you specially, right? I wanted a Nacht to drive us around.”
“No, I didn’t realize that,” Bartholomew answered as he turned to face John. “I didn’t realize that I was on a list for anyone to know…um…what I am.”
“Bartholomew, Bethany Anne doesn’t care so long as you stay ‘good,’ ok? Don’t go Forsaken, and you will never hear from her. However,” John reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card, “here’s my card. You need help? Call me. We are here to let off steam, and I’m sure you know most of us?”
“Of…of course!” Bartholomew commented. “You’re practically rock gods on the UnknownWorld. The only gentleman I don’t recognize is the one in the blue slacks.”
John looked at the limo. “Akio. He is a Guard, the leader of the Queen’s Elite.”
“And a..a…” Bartholomew stammered before John could finish it for him.
“Yes, he is a Queen’s Bitch as well. We are here to have a good time for the next few hours. Can you help me make that happen for these guys?”
Bartholomew smiled and gave a sharp nod. “Yes, I can, Mr. Grimes.”
John put one foot in the car. “Let’s go to 245 Eldridge first, Bart.” He finished sliding inside.
“Bar Goto it is, Mr. Grimes,” Bartholomew said as he closed the door.
“Bar Goto was nice,” Akio admitted. “It was a touch of home in this new world. Thank you.”
John nodded, and Peter spoke up. “I’m voting Club Purple.”
“You’re voting for the babes around their pool!” Scott called to general hoots.
“And the bikinis,” Darryl added.
“I’m voting for their willingness to drink until they find Peter handsome,” added Eric.
The glass separating the driver’s area from the back started to open. “We are almost to the last place, Mr. Grimes. Are you sure you want to come here?”
John was sitting on one of the seats that ran the length of the car, so he leaned over to speak to Bartholomew. “I’m positive.”
The limousine pulled to the curb in a dilapidated neighborhood, and Bartholomew stepped out and put on his hat. He hadn’t expected to take these men from some of the hottest clubs in New York to this neighborhood, which was run by gangs.
Ones that, Bartholomew suspected, had eyes on them right now.
He stepped around the vehicle and opened the door. The first one out was Darryl, then Akio, Peter, John, Eric and finally Scott, who had a look of shock on his face. “Dude!” He turned around. “This is one of my old areas!”
“I know,” John said. “You know who happens to be in that two-story a block down with the two guys lounging outside smoking?”
“No, who?” Scott asked, looking down the street.
“A world-class fuck-head pimp who killed a certain prostitute a long time ago. Care to have a word with him?” John asked. “We got your back.” He paused. “This can be civil…”
Scott started walking toward the building. “God, I hope not.”
Darryl winked at John as he followed Scott. John told Bartholomew, “I expect this car to be right here when we get back.”
Bartholomew’s eyes flashed red. “Oh, hell, yeah Mr. Grimes. No one is taking my ride tonight.”
“Good,” John said and followed the rest of his team.
This was going to be a great finish to a lively night.
Buenos Aires, Argentina
“So, I requested that Hirotoshi and Ryu drain them. Well, I asked them to drink from their necks, but I guess I had expected the guys to kill them. So, same thing, Bethany Anne.” Tabitha spoke into the phone she had been given to call TQB.
“No, I
just got fed up with the bullshit. This was the third time someone tried to send idiots during the day, and this bullshit is pissing me off. I’m tired of using the computer and research as my security blanket.”
Tabitha waited for a moment. “Are you shitting me?” she asked. “Yes, I know that.” Another pause. “If you trust me, I’ll get the fucking job done or die trying. I’m sick of hiding, and none of these fuckers are going to hide from me. They want to raise their heads now that they think Michael is dead?” Tabitha’s voice dropped an octave. “Then their heads will be that much easier to take off.”
“No, I don’t need Gabrielle for this. I’m not suggesting she can’t come, just that if she is busy elsewhere, that’s fine.” Tabitha started laughing. “Yes! I guess Hirotoshi and Ryu make me feel safe.”
Tabitha’s lips drew tight. “If that is what I need to do, then I’ll do it. I hadn’t expected to learn how to fight with swords. Yes, I understand. I have to earn the honor, not just point a weapon. I’ll make it happen.”
The front door opened and Ryu walked in. Tabitha cocked an eyebrow, and he nodded quickly. “Ryu just got back from disposing of the bodies. What do you need me to do?”
She listened briefly. “I’ll be ready for the Pod in thirty minutes, then.”
A few minutes later she said, “Yes, my Queen, I will. See you shortly.”
Tabitha clicked off the phone and turned to face Ryu and Hirotoshi. “I’m going to the Polarus to take part in a ceremony to accept Bethany Anne as my Queen. It is a requirement before she can release any additional Elites to help me take out the Forsaken who have been annoying the fuck out of me here. Plus, I am going to need to work out and learn martial arts.” Tabitha started taking off her shirt and walking toward her room. “No time like the present. I’m done hiding.” She flung her shirt one direction and reached behind her to unsnap her bra as she continued down the hall.
Hirotoshi looked at Ryu, who shrugged almost imperceptibly as the two men watched her ditch her bra before turning into her room.
