“Do not presume to know my orders, you infantile speck of a mammal.” He hadn’t yelled or raised his voice, yet the words echoed through the warehouse.
Murray’s voice caught in his throat.
“Why would I trust you to be my general when you can’t even rob a bank with the bounty I have provided you? Why feed the dog that fails to catch his dinner?”
As the man spoke, terror grew in Murray’s gut and spread into his chest. In moments, his entire body shook in fear. And he wasn’t the only one. The smell of hot piss come to his nose and he knew he wasn’t the only one who felt what he did. He’d heard that dragons could do this—that they could make a human feel a certain way—but it was one thing to hear a rumor and another entirely to feel it in your very soul.
Even if the monster before them didn’t eat him, he never wanted to feel that terror again.
“Please, sir!” He threw himself prostrate before the being of power that stood implacably. “We won’t let the police catch us off guard again. We hadn’t faced SWAT before. This time, we’ll be ready.”
“He’s had his chance, Mr Black. Please, let the Knights serve you.” Marcus too put his forehead to the concrete floor of the warehouse.
“The Dead Reds will do you great honor with the tools you gave the Breaks.” Lee also put his head to the floor.
The leaders of the other two gangs followed suit and mumbled empty promises and tried to place the blame on Murray for his failure.
“Please, sir, please,” the Breaks leader begged. “You came to us because we’re the most organized club in Detroit. Let me lead us all against the corruption in this city. Let me set the Motor City on fire for you.” He honestly had no clue exactly where the words came from, but when he said them, he believed them. At that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to please the man, even if it meant burning his hometown to the ground—no, especially if that meant burning his hometown to the ground
“Arise, Murray of the Breaks, and take my blessing.”
He stood slowly. Mr Black stepped toward him and cupped his face with one of his massive gloved hands.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“You will be my general.” His boss—or perhaps owner was more apt—removed his glove to reveal fingernails sharpened into points. Again, he cupped the gang leader’s face but this time, his thumb scratched a bloody line on his cheek.
“Thank you, sir. Thank you so much,” Murray stammered, startled at the sight of his own blood on the massive hand as the man stepped back to where he had stood before. One of the two men in suits handed him a handkerchief and he wiped the blood away.
“Understand that this will be the last time I reward failure because if you do not succeed, there will be no next time. There will be no pleading and no forgiveness. You will be bled, and you will be burnt.” Mr Black raised his voice and filled the cavernous warehouse with his orders. “Arise, Marcus of the Knights, and take my blessing.”
Marcus stood, and the man scratched a line on his forehead with one of his fingernails. The Knights leader thanked him for the wound.
“Arise, Lee of the Dead Reds. Arise, Hector of the Eskeletos Muertes. Arise Jane of the Stray Cats.” The gang leaders complied, and he marked each of their foreheads in turn. “I believe in each of you. With Murray at your head, I am sure you can disrupt the broken rails this city runs on. And if his leadership is lacking, I am sure one of the four of you can save me the trouble of putting this dog down.”
Murray swallowed hard as the four leaders of the other gangs in town nodded at one another. Despite the fear he was certain they all felt, they wore smiles at the idea of betrayal. They really were nothing more than animals.
“Now, come. Behold the gifts I bring thee.”
The two henchmen opened the van. The last time Murray had seen the inside of the vehicle, it had been the greatest cache of weapons he’d ever laid eyes upon. This treasure trove, however, was enough to take over a country.
There was better body armor with helmets to match, military-grade assault rifles, two heavy machine guns that he thought would look fucking fantastic mounted on top of one his cars, and best of all, a rocket launcher.
He looked at his benefactor like a kid on Christmas morning. They couldn’t fail, not if they worked together. With this arsenal, they wouldn’t have to stop with the police, those lapdogs to the politicians. They could destroy the entire damn establishment and make the people who ran this city finally understand injustice.
Mr Black smiled, lifted the rocket launcher from its stand, and placed it in his hands. “You will have to share, Murray of the Breaks, and you must be careful. This city is a fireworks factory and I have given you the match.” Despite his words, he did not seem at all concerned about the implications of this statement. In fact, he looked even more eager than his new general felt.
For a few minutes, the man said nothing and merely smoked his cigar while the gangs loaded the weapons. In the end, Murray got one of the heavy machine guns to mount on one of his cars, plus the rocket launcher. After all, it had been put in his hands and he didn’t want to lose it. He’d agreed to share the other heavy machine gun and divide the assault rifles between all the other gangs.
But were they still other gangs? He had been put in charge, and that meant everyone there was his…as long as he didn’t fail.
“Now, go, all of you. I will return to you once the sickness that has choked this city for decades has been burned out. You will be the wildfire that cleanses the land before the rain.” Mr Black’s red eyes gleamed.
Murray nodded. He could see the vision reflected in his red eyes, and it was beautiful. The city would soon be in chaos. The gangs would wreak havoc on every corner until those in power felt the foundation of their towers of steel and concrete tremble. Together, the five gangs would make a fist that would smash the windows of this city. They’d light every business on fire. After all, only the corrupt could flourish in the Motor City. Those who were successful had only achieved that by taking from people like him.
And then, once it was all broken and burned, Mr Black would come.
And he would be there, his loyal general.
Chapter Sixteen
Kristen parked in the parking garage, jogged down the stairs—a habit she’d picked up from training with her team—and walked into the police station.
The front desk stood empty. She approached with her hand on her hip, already reaching for a gun she hadn’t strapped on yet.
She found only a tiny web camera facing the entryway to the station. Odd, that.
Her months of training kicked in and threw her into high alert and she scanned the station quickly.
It was empty, she realized. No one shuffled paperwork or wandered to the lounge or even moved at all. Her heart began to pound. She took a deep breath and forced it to slow so she could focus and try to determine what was going on.
Cautiously, she moved deeper into the office, past the cells—which were empty too—and toward the lounge. She’d peek in there and if she found no one, she’d run like hell to the gear room, arm herself, and return to try to get to the bottom of it a little more prepared than she was right now. Could the whole force have been abducted? It couldn’t have. That was impossible, right? But what else could explain the lack of people?
A noise caught her attention from deeper in the station—hushed voices perhaps? Hostage scenarios from months of studying began to race through her mind.
After a long, slow breath, she approached the lounge in a crouch, not sure of what she’d find but knowing that she wanted to be ready for whatever it was.
She put her ear to the door but heard no more voices. There was, however, a rustle that made her think of a press of bodies.
Kristen nodded, took a deep breath, and kicked the door open.
“Surpri—”
Her momentum from kicking the door took her cleanly into a roll. She darted up and caught hold of the closest body to her. The room was dark and she co
uldn’t make out a damn thing, but she was determined not to let anyone get the drop on her.
“Someone, get the lights!”
The lights flickered on and she gaped at Keith, who she held firmly by the lapels.
“Uh…surprise?” He smiled.
A hasty glance around her confirmed that the entire station was crammed in there. The lounge had been decorated—well, a single banner had been hung that said Happy Birthday Chris but she would take it. They’d thrown her a surprise party.
Jonesy was already laughing. “Goddamn, rookie. You can’t make this shit up, can you? Only you could get ambushed while waiting to ambush someone.”
She released Keith and smiled. “Sorry. I thought, uh… How did you all know it was my birthday?”
“Jonesy looked in your personal file. Don’t worry. We’ve locked him out of the computers. Happy Birthday!” Drew clapped her on the back and handed her a card.
Still smiling, she looked at the card in her hand. It said, Breaking Expectations and had a picture of a wrecking ball on it.
Her smile broadened. “You guys! I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you is the go-to when people go out of their way to do something nice,” Hernandez snarked.
“Thanks, Hernandez.” Kristen tried to put as much girlish goofiness into her voice as possible. The woman cringed, which was exactly what she had hoped for.
“All right, you assholes. There’s nothing to see here. Get yourself a piece of cake and get the hell out before we drag your asses back to the station,” Jonesy yelled at the other people in the lounge. It really was impressive how many staff members had fit in there, only for her to ruin the surprise.
People shuffled past and gave her congratulations or wished her happy birthday as they did so. She noticed the woman who normally worked the front desk, who had a tablet in her hand with a video that displayed the entrance to the station. Ah, that explained the webcam, then.
Once only her team remained, she finally served herself a piece of cake. It had presumably said Happy Birthday but apparently, whatever bakery they’d purchased it from had decent frosting because almost all the slices with letters were gone. She took the H for Hall, sat on a couch, and dug in.
“You’re lucky we’re even celebrating at all. I lost money on you, you know.” Jonesy said around a mouthful of cake.
“Is that right, Jonesy?” Hernandez interjected and her eyes gleamed. “Did all those late nights helping the wrecking ball cut in on your time on the pole?”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Hernandez?” He retorted smartly. “Male strippers don’t pole dance.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, spoken from experience then?”
“Fuck off. Just because no one would pay to see you naked doesn’t mean— You know what? Just shut up.” he glared at her and took a bite. Kristen didn’t think she’d ever seen someone look so pissed-off while eating cake. He finished chewing. “I bet you wouldn’t last a month, let alone four, Red.”
“I wouldn’t have made it this far without you, Jonesy. It means even more to me now that I know you had money riding on me washing out. I can cover that bet.”
“No, no.” He tried to wave the offer away.
“No, really, I insist.” She dug in her wallet. “What do I owe you—ten bucks? Twenty?”
“More like a hundred.” Butters chuckled.
“You bet a hundred bucks that I wouldn’t last a month?”
“Don’t look at me like that, Red. I wasn’t the only one who lost money because you turned out to be a fucking wrecking ball.”
Kristen looked at her team. They all shoved cake in their mouths and tried not to look guilty. “So, who won?”
Silence followed and everyone seemed determined not to look at anyone else.
“Seriously, though. Who bet I’d last four months?”
Awkward glances were exchanged before finally, Beanpole stood. “I bet ten weeks, but you beat me too so take the money.” He took his wallet out, withdrew a stack of cash, and thrust it into her hands.
She counted the money in disbelief. “This…this is almost a thousand dollars.”
“Happy birthday.” He nodded and moved aside quickly to help himself to another slice of cake.
“You assholes bet almost a grand that I would wash out?” She might have been pissed if she’d known about it months before, but it didn’t bother her now. After all, these people had trained her—especially Jonesy, who she had no doubt was the first to make a bet against her. They’d sweated together, been hurt together, and she had taken a bullet for one of them and saved most of their lives.
“I didn’t want to, but…well, the odds were good.” Butters shrugged.
“Bullshit, Butterball. You were the one who wanted to raise the buy-in to a hundred bucks.” Hernandez raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him to argue, but he merely hid behind his piece of cake.
“Look, honestly, if things had gone differently, I might have washed out and one of you would be all the richer.” She held the wad of money up. “Like, say for example, if Jonesy could actually take a bullet or if any of you were halfway decent at airsoft.”
Everyone laughed, especially Jonesy. “Leave it to Red to stay on the force because she got fucking shot.”
“But seriously, guys. Thank you. I know I joined the force under weird circumstances, but you still helped turn me into the officer I am today.”
“You had more potential than any of these punks. Don’t think otherwise,” Drew said and earned another round of laughter from the team.
“Still. I’m thankful. Really, from the bottom of my heart, I am. This job is damn hard, but you guys make it all worth it. It means so much to be a part of the team, even if I did have to kick down a thousand doors before I earned my place.”
“It was our pleasure to watch you fuck up so many times, Red.” Jonesy smiled.
Hernandez shrugged. “I still think you’re an uppity, privileged white bitch, but at least you’re not another privileged white male. Plus, you’re definitely better than the rookie.”
“I’m not the rookie,” Keith protested and again, the room filled with laughter.
“It’s good to be here.”
“Okay, Jesus—someone turn on the blinking light or whatever so Red knows her fucking speech is coming to a close,” Jonesy said.
Butters cleared his throat. “Kristen, if you’d truly like to thank us, promise us you’ll never cook for us again. I’ll cook any dish that’s ever been served south of Tennessee if you’ll please promise to refrain from attempting any more creations.”
Everyone collapsed at that.
“Holy shit, do you remember the smell when we got back to the station?” Hernandez held her sides and could barely speak around her laughter.
Jonesy nodded. “You thought an animal had died in the vents.” He managed to regain a little control, but that seemed to set him off again.
Kristen let it wash over as she sank into the couch. After all these months—no, it was longer than that—after years, she finally felt like she was home. These people, her new team, pushed her to succeed in ways she never had before. They challenged her, protected her, and believed in her. In her short time in SWAT, they’d already transformed from co-workers, to teammates, to friends, and now, she finally felt like they were family and that this was home.
She took a deep breath and soaked in the continued shit-talk they didn’t seem capable of stopping. The most important thing was that she was home—she was finally home—and she was committed to protecting her new family, even if she had to make Jonesy look bad and take another bullet for him.
Chapter Seventeen
Jonesy and Kristen were out in a squad car when the call came in.
“We have something happening downtown. Armed robbery.”
“Where at?” Jonesy asked.
“We don’t have a specific location yet, only multiple reports of armed gunmen. The damn phones are flooded with conflic
ting information.”
That in itself was odd. The dispatchers were great at pointing them in the right direction. How many calls would it take to overwhelm them?
“We’d better get back to base.” Jonesy put the car’s siren on and pressed the accelerator.
They made it a few blocks through downtown before something shattered the glass of one of the back windows.
“What the fuck was that?” he hollered and ducked involuntarily.
“I think—” Before she could answer, more gunshots clattered and the bullets pinged as they struck the passenger door to the vehicle—her door. Their impact could actually be felt through the metal. “Some asshole shot at us.”
“Un-fucking-believable,” he swore but he didn’t turn the car.
“Jonesy, shouldn’t we show these assholes whose boss? Contain the threat?” she protested.
“Listen to the damn radio, Red.” He turned it up.
“Active shooters on Grand Boulevard and Woodward. Reports coming in of hostiles at the DIA, please confirm. Requesting all units to mobilize. Repeat, all units.”
“We’re a unit, Jonesy. Where the fuck are you going?”
“It sounds like there are more than a dozen damn shooters out there and you want to take them down in a fucking police cruiser with a couple of pistols? We’re SWAT, Red. The police gotta hold these assholes until we get there.”
Her heart plummeted into her stomach. The city might not have a few minutes. If people were already shooting at police, the tipping point might have already been reached.
Jonesy sped toward the station and for once, he was silent. Instead, he cranked up the radio so they could hear it over his sirens.
“There is no apparent pattern to the attacks. Most are in the Riverton Warehouse district but there’s no focus on targets. All officers mobilize, repeat. We need all officers.”
“It sounds like a fucking warzone,” he mumbled.
Kristen tried to think of what could have triggered it all but was cut short when a copper corvette screeched around a corner and raced up beside them.
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