The Divine Devils: Mystery Suspense Crime Thriller: Book 1

by R Weir

  Hunter waved his hand, finding the smoke irritating. “No thanks. I don’t smoke.”

  Brushstroke waved his cigar in the air. “Nothing to drink and won’t smoke. Such odd characteristics for a hard man like yourself.”

  Hunter was getting peeved. “Can we get onto the pleasantries before I get sick.”

  “As you wish. I have a little demonstration for you to watch. Valerie would you care to bring in the monitor.”

  Valerie stood up, walking slowly past Hunter, showing off her body so he got a good look at her. She wore a long lavender dress, with a slit up to the middle of her thighs, showing her attractive bare legs. She smelled of scented flowers, also lavender. She glided across the floor, her feet bare, soon returning pushing a rolling cart, with a monitor on it, about thirty-two inches in size, the screen blank. Hunter wasn’t sure what to make of her. She most definitely had a vicious side hidden under her beautiful looks. She was dressed to impress, but he had to wonder for whom. Was it for the man across the table, for Hunter or just to show off? She’d seen him naked and wouldn’t mind her returning the favor. It was a thought he needed to shake from his head. He was in a precarious position and sex should have been the last item on his mind. But it was a challenging emotion for him to completely shake from his being.

  Valerie grabbed a remote from the cart and returned to her seat.

  “This is what happens when people don’t do as they’re told,” trumpeted Brushstroke, his voice growing sterner. “Witness the consequences of their actions.”

  He motioned to Valerie, who hit a button on the remote. The screen came to life, showing a man tied to a chair via his arms and legs with plastic strapping. His mouth was gagged, his face showing it had been beaten. Besides the welts, bruises and blood, stark terror was plainly on display. He struggled to free himself, trying to yell to someone apparently standing off camera, his eyes dancing back and forth. Sweat and blood glistened on his bald head and Hunter immediately knew it was one of the men who had been following him, before attacking him in North Dakota.

  “I know him,” Hunter declared, surprise on his face.

  “Yes you do. He was supposed to follow you.” Brushstroke’s hands waved in the air in frustration, cigar ash and smoke flying. “He was ordered to make sure you didn’t meet with anyone you shouldn’t have. An order he ignored. Then he tried to make up for it by being even more stupid. He and his partner decided they could get points by snatching and then delivering you to me.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Fools the both of them. One has already forfeited his life. Now the other will end, all for your glorious enjoyment.”

  Hunter had no love for either man, but he didn’t care to watch them murdered. He turned his head, he had no desire to watch. Travis stepped over, slapping Hunter on the face as a warning. Nothing overpowering, but still getting a point across.

  “You must watch,” declared Brushstroke, overwhelming joy on his face. “This way I know you’ll understand what will happen to the lovely Olivia if you don’t cooperate. And believe me, we can do much worse to her for you to witness. A horror no young woman should ever go through.”

  Hunter cringed at the possibilities. Whatever horrid acts the evil man had planned, he’d do his best to prevent. Hunter’s eyes glared at the screen, trying to stay detached from the proceedings. The man had already been beaten, but it wasn’t enough. With a contact attached to his forehead, a second to his chest, they began running large currents of electricity through him for longer than Hunter cared to consider. It continued until the bald man screaming in agony passed out, smoke coming off his skin.

  An arm came into view, checking for a pulse. It appeared the man was still alive. The torture starting again, the body shaking, the eyes beginning to bulge out from the torment. When it finally stopped, the man was dead, the brutal treatment going longer than Hunter cared to count. The camera then pulled out to show another man tied to a chair, the second member who had tried to grab him, already dead, having dealt with the same fate. The monitor left on for all to see.

  “Bravo,” cheered Brushstroke while clapping, the cigar in his mouth. “Beautiful work. A masterpiece to behold.”

  Valerie nodded. “He is talented.”

  “More like…sick in the head,” proclaimed Hunter with a growl.

  Travis stepped in again and tried to slap Hunter, but he grabbed his hand, twisting with all his strength, before slamming the man to the table. Hunter’s face was inches away, his eyes boring in, before releasing him.

  “Do that again and I’ll break your arm off at the elbow,” yelled Hunter, now standing, his chair tipped over, his anger on full display.

  Valerie had moved, a small gun pulled from a holster on her thigh now pointed at him. She waved for Hunter to step back, as Travis got up, rubbing his wrist. He wanted to retaliate but was called off by Valerie.

  “I told you he was dangerous,” declared Brushstroke, now standing himself, cigar back in his hand.

  “Which is why we have the girl, to provide control.” He walked over to Valerie, standing next to her, his free hand on her shoulder. “That is a freebee Mister Divine. The next aggressive act will cost the lovely Olivia a painful moment. Is that clear?”

  Hunter reluctantly nodded, knowing he needed to keep his anger in check. At least until he could properly protect Olivia, he had to play along. But oh, how it felt good to release even the slightest modicum of rage.

  “Shall we pay the young lady a visit? You’ll find her accommodations are much nicer than yours. Though we do have a horror in mind for her if you fail to give me what I want.”

  Hunter cringed at the thought, as he walked after the evil man, one he was certain he knew from sometime in his past. The reveal not coming soon enough to quell the building fear.

  Chapter 49

  The SUV’s tinted windows filtered the sun, the sunroof open to let in the breeze. Cameryn sat behind the wheel, enjoying the warmth, waiting for Shen to come back from the hobby shop, his mission to see if The Train Man was working. He climbed into the passenger seat, closing the door before reaching for a bottle of water in the center console. His thirst quenched on this summery late May day.

  “He is off running errands according to the lady working,” noted Shen. “Should be back soon.”

  “Was it the same lady from the other day?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think she remembered you?”

  Shen shrugged after drinking more water. “I can’t say for certain. Possibly. Her face didn’t give away recognition.”

  Cameryn stared at the building, wishing he could see inside. If she did remember, she might be making a call. Sitting outside this close and exposed wasn’t a good idea if that was the case.

  “Disappointing. I was hoping to get him in the shop. At least follow him to a place where we could grab him.”

  “Shall we come back later to see if he returns,” wondered Shen, his eyes prudent, scanning the area for any sign of trouble.

  “Let’s move to a different location. The parking lot is big enough and will provide us an angle on the front door.”

  Putting the Chevy in gear, Cameryn parked out further, backing into a spot several rows away. Shen grabbed the binoculars, focusing on the front of the store.

  “This should work,” declared Shen. “Though the two of us sitting here gawking may look fishy.”

  “If anyone comes to check on us, we’ll say were two lovebirds enjoying the day.” Cameryn smirked at his humor, his eyes surveying the parking lot.

  Shen frowned, glaring through the binoculars. “They’ll never believe I’d fall for a brute like you. You’re clearly not my type.”

  “You could do worse!” Cameryn stated with a leer.

  “I have…many times. If you make a pass at me, I’ll whack you with my Nunchaku.” Shen pulled the weapon from the floor and waved it in his direction.

  “Then I’ll restrain myself,” replied Cameryn holding up his hands in mock surrender. �
�I remember the damage you did to that man in New Orleans. I imagine he was gumming his food for numerous days afterwards.”

  Shen laughed while tucking the polished brown Loquat sticks connected by a chain between the seat and the console.

  “You’re right about us sitting here,” remarked Cameryn. “One of us should be mobile, just in case.”

  “And since you’re behind the wheel, I’m the logical choice.” Shen frowned, knowing the answer forthcoming.

  “What a guy. Volunteering again. Besides a large man like myself would look suspicious. Window shopping doesn’t fit my profile.”

  “But a small gay man does. Sounds like you’re stereotyping me,” Shen stated with a grin.

  “The stereotyping is already out there, in the minds of others. I assuredly don’t see you that way. I’ve seen you kick too many butts through the years. Though you do have more of a fashion sense than I do.” Cameryn waved his hand down his body, his black Harley t-shirt, leather vest and faded blue jeans a normal outfit for him

  Shen laughed, agreeing with the statement. He’d rarely seen Cameryn in much else through the years.

  “At least it’s a sunny, warm day.” Cameryn continued to watch for anything suspicious. “Unlike when we were in New Orleans.”

  Shen nodded at the thought of the memory. “It was miserable. One-hundred percent humidity and pouring rain. I think I had mold growing all over me after that job. I used a lot of disinfectant soap to sterilize my skin.”

  “Burned all my clothes. None of them were wearable afterwards.” Cameryn shuttered at the recollection.

  Shen handed Cameryn the binoculars, before getting out and plugging an earpiece into his ear to communicate. Once outside he started walking the retail space, doing a little window shopping so as not to arouse suspicion. The combination of shops featured clothing, shoes, chocolate and a T-Mobile store. Most of the clothing was aimed at women, though there was one shop aimed at men. The attire looked high-end; styles Shen wouldn’t wear. He wore mostly martial arts outfits when at his studio. Now he was dressed in loose fitting gray pants, a white t-shirt with Donnie Yen posing in a fighting stance, covered with a polyester gray zip up jacket with internal pockets to hide his weapons, including the Nunchaku. His shoes were light, comfortable and perfect for running or fighting. He was prepared for action.

  Cameryn remained in the SUV with his earpiece now on, using the binoculars from time to time, putting them down if a person walked by or a car passed. He listened to the radio, the volume low, finding a classic rock channel, playing music he liked, which was difficult to find in this day and age. It would seem pop, country and talk controlled the airwaves. The political acrimony on talk radio made his head hurt and the two-hour rotation repetition of pop and country radio bored him.

  While sitting there, a thought came to Cameryn. He pulled out his cell phone and made a call to Athena. He wanted her to contact the hobby store and ask about The Train Man, though she was to use the name Owen, and see what she was told about when he’d return. She called back in about ten minutes with the news.

  “She says he’s off this week. Out of town on vacation.”

  “Crap,” swore Cameryn. “I have a feeling we’re being setup and could be in for an ambush.”

  “I could provide backup, but it would take me twenty minutes or so to get there.”

  “No good. Besides I think they’re here. You might want to call Scanlon and let him know there might be a throwdown in Monument. We may need him to confirm our story if this gets nasty.”

  Cameryn hung up when he saw two trucks pulling in, each driving into the lot at a high rate of speed. He pulled his Glock from his shoulder holster, sitting it on the seat next to him and then reached into the back for a 12-gauge pump action shotgun, which was loaded. Stepping out the door, using it as a shield he held the shotgun, the handgun now sitting on the running board.

  “We have company,” he said to Shen via the communications device they were using. “Two Ford trucks coming in fast. You may get your chance to knock out more teeth. Provided they don’t shoot you first. I imagine they won’t be carrying water pistols.”

  Shen turned from the store window. “I see them. I’ll work my way behind them, if you can hold them off long enough.”

  Cameryn pumped a shell into the shotgun. “Not a problem,” he stated, waiting to see what they did.

  The first truck cruised the parking lot, windows down, their eyes glaring at each car, moving onto the next, going row by row. The second truck laid back, blocking the exit making sure their target didn’t attempt an escape. It wasn’t long before the first truck saw Cameryn and the SUV, having been given a basic description, moving to park in front, blocking any getaway.

  Standing, Cameryn remained calm, though his heartrate did increase, though not by much considering the situation. He’d been down this road before, dealing with people who thought they could threaten and intimidate him. He tossed off his sunglasses, adjusting his skull cap, making sure it was secure. His eyes watching for any glimpse of a gun. He wouldn’t fire until he was certain. Shooting an innocent shopper in the parking lot wouldn’t help his image any. Though from the look of the two faces he saw, shopping wasn’t on their minds.

  “Gentlemen,” announced Cameryn, ready to react. “Can I help you?”

  The man on the passenger side, listened to the driver, looking at an image on his phone. It would appear they had a photo of Cameryn to identify him.

  The passenger smiled, getting confirmation. “Yes. We have a message for you,” he declared. “Don’t come back here again or else.”

  Cameryn frowned. “Or what?” He said without an ounce of fear in his voice.

  “This!”

  An M11 machine pistol appeared in a flash. Pulling back the top bolt the passenger fired into the SUV, emptying the thirty-two-round clip in a matter of seconds. He took out the front windshield, with several bullets penetrating the front grill, flattening the front tire and striking the driver’s door. Debris flew, steam and smoke rising from the shots, the rental SUV now disabled.

  Being familiar with the weapon, Cameryn stayed down, hoping not to get hit with any of the stray 9mm bullets and glass. When the weapon was empty, he knew it would take a minute to insert another magazine. He stood up, seeing the passenger fumbling to insert the clip, when he fired. Pumping three more times, Cameryn blasted the passenger door, striking and injuring the shooter. Blood splattered the driver, some of the pellets possibly hitting him, as he cringed from the flying shrapnel. Cameryn then fired again taking out the front tire, before grabbing his 9mm Glock, pointing and warning them to get out of the truck.

  The passenger was screaming in pain, the driver fumbling for a gun and lunging out the door in a panic. Cameryn moved to the passenger side of the truck, staying low, grabbing the M11 and tossing it in the backseat. The driver started to run, Cameryn warning him, then firing precisely, shooting him in the chest with several rounds after he turned to shoot with his own M11, never getting off a shot. He fell to the ground in a heap, blood flowing from his body, his life leaving in a matter of seconds.

  The second truck had seen the gunfight and when it looked as if the battle wasn’t going their way, the driver went to put the vehicle in gear. Being distracted, they hadn’t seen Shen moving in behind them. He hit the driver in the face with the Nunchaku, breaking his nose and a few teeth, the force of the blow knocking him out.

  The truck didn’t move, the engine was still running. Shen crouched down low, the passenger with his own M11, looking for a place to fire, but not seeing him. He jumped out glancing around for a target but was hit with a ninja fighting star on his firing hand. He screamed in pain, dropping the gun, his hand now going numb. Trying to pull out the star, Shen came upon him, with a high sweeping leg kick to the head, knocking the man to the ground, the blow enough to render him unconscious. Shen kicked the gun out of reach and then retrieved his star, wiping the blood on the shirt of the unconscious man, pla
cing the star back in his pocket.

  Light on his feet, Shen ran to the driver, pulling him out to the ground before removing his gun tossing it in the backseat. The driver was groaning in pain, mostly unconscious, his face a bloody mess. Shen stared over the carnage, actions he never enjoyed, but he was happy to be alive considering the firepower the culprits possessed. He called out to Cameryn, who responded on the coms.

  “My men are down and out,” declared Shen. “Do you need assistance?”

  “Hardly. Though one will need medical assistance, while the other a burial site.”

  “M11’s,” stated Shen. “They came prepared for war.”

  “Yes they did. Before the cops arrive, I need to confirm who sent them.”

  Knowing time was short, Cameryn grabbed the wounded passenger, who was still moaning in pain, slapping his face he forcefully spoke into his ear.

  “Tell me who sent you, or I’ll kill you like your partner.”

  The man continued to moan, but Cameryn didn’t care. He wanted answers.

  “Concentrate. You have three seconds or else. Was it The Train Man?”

  Cameryn pressed on a bloody area of the man’s shoulder, increasing the pain.

  “Yessss!” replied the man while screaming.

  “Tell me where he lives.”

  “I don’t know. But she does.”

  Cameryn heard sirens. “Who is she?”

  “His wife. She works in the store.” The injured man turned his head, nodding towards the hobby shop.”

  “Shit!” cursed Cameryn, releasing the man, wishing he had more time.

  The sirens were on top of them now, the squealing tires of several patrol cars barreling towards the scene. Knowing surrender was the smartest action; Shen and Cameryn put down their weapons and raised their hands before lying on the ground when ordered. They would remain there for a long time, each finding solace in the warm weather, not a repeat of the waterlogging they’d experienced in New Orleans years ago.