Striking Blow: Book Two of the Strike Zone Series

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Striking Blow: Book Two of the Strike Zone Series Page 3

by Louise Dawn


  Antonio nodded.

  “Now, sir.”

  “One second.” Antonio reached into his pocket and flashed his badge. He turned his attention back to his phone. “What about the charges being brought against him.”

  “Happening in the next few days, but for now, he’s still in charge of the Department of Justice.”

  The flight attendant returned to her jump seat and glared at Antonio.

  “What’s Martin saying?” Pearl leaned into the aisle.

  “If we don’t take-off, I can’t hand them over.” He ignored Pearl’s sharp intake of breath.

  If Rajin got hold of her, she wouldn’t be seen alive again. Antonio couldn’t allow that to happen.

  “You’ll have no choice but to step back.”

  “Martin… no.”

  “Once we’ve filed charges—”

  “He’ll take the kid, and Pearl, and will disappear.” Antonio spat out the whispered words. “I said I’d watch out for them.”

  “If you get arrested by airport police, I can’t help you.”

  “Then let’s hope this bird gets in the air. I’ll call you from Doha.” Antonio hung up.

  Eavesdropping passengers shot him fearful glances, but his entire focus was on the plane, which rolled to a stop.

  “Rajin won’t let us leave.” Pearl’s whispered words had his heart stuttering.

  Antonio never failed in the field and always completed the directive. This time would be no different. How much power did Rajin hold? Even if they departed, would the plane turn back? Pearl and her child were listed under their actual names. Easy to find if you knew where to look. Would Rajin buy into the ambassador’s lie?

  Pearl and Antonio collectively held their breaths as the plane waited. Unable to resist, he reached across and offered his hand. Their eyes met, and he tried to smile reassuringly into that turbulent gaze. Her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath, and she looked ready to bolt. Instead, she curled her fingers around his outstretched hand.

  “I miss Brussels.”

  She frowned at his confusing words. “Brussel sprouts?”

  “No—the city. In Belgium. I also miss Madrid. I grew up in Europe. My father worked with NATO, so I spent most of my time in that international community. Most of my friends were American—like my mother.”

  She relaxed ever so slightly, and Antonio continued with the distraction. “My father is a famous Spanish general. As a family, we eventually moved to the States.”

  “How old were you? When you moved?” Her voice trembled.

  “Fourteen. I hated leaving my friends, and it took a long while for me to find my feet in the States.”

  “I’ll be the same.” Pearl shot him a shaky smile. “I haven’t been back in a long time, but I’m thankful for new beginnings.”

  Antonio stroked a thumb over her soft skin. “You seem to be a strong woman. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  The plane inched forward, and he released her hand and resettled. Pearl visibly swallowed, and then they were rolling down the runway towards freedom.

  A joyous laugh had him turning back to his pretty travel partner. With a fist pump, she grinned, and he returned her smile. God, she was beautiful. Antonio could see how she’d fallen into notable circles. There was this irresistible energy, and he couldn’t look away. Antonio had to look away. He wasn’t getting emotionally involved in her situation, not after what he’d been through with Bianca.

  Thirty minutes into the flight, he finally relaxed and eased into a sleeping position.

  “Hello! Dory. Doreee! Hello?”

  Pearl woke to her daughter’s voice. Aysha now stood in the aisle, yelling in Antonio’s sleeping face. She held her damp teddy and her travel coloring kit.

  “Aysha! What are you doing? You’ll wake him! And I told you to leave Shreddy in the bag!”

  “I wanted to ask Dory a question.”

  “Dory?”

  “Yeah! That’s his name. Agent Dory.”

  Pearl tried not to laugh. “Agent Torres, Lovebug. But you can call him Antonio.”

  “I prefer Dory—like from ‘Finding Nemo.’”

  “I don’t think he’ll like that. Use his name.”

  “Fine.” Aysha stuck out her lip and turned back to the agent.

  “Neo… hello.”

  “Not now, bug. Let him sleep. And his name is Antonio.”

  “That’s too hard.”

  “I’m awake.” Antonio stretched and opened an eye.

  “Not that hard.” Pearl folded her arms. “Both your names start with an ‘A.’ Aysha… Antonio.”

  “Neo, can I sit here?”

  The seat next to him sat empty, and Pearl picked up on Antonio’s brief panic. The guy clearly wasn’t used to kids. Pearl purposely kept quiet, waiting to see how this played out.

  “Um. Sure.”

  Aysha grinned and handed him the wet toy and coloring kit. “Hold that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Shreddy dangled by a grubby paw as Antonio searched for a space to deposit the wretched bear.

  “My name is Aysha. Not ‘Ma’am.’ Not ‘Lovebug.’ Not ‘Ladybug.’ And don’t call me princess.”

  “Noted.”

  Pearl pressed her lips to keep from smiling. Aysha climbed onto the adjacent seat and reached for her toys. “I actually wanna be a fairy, but I think I’m too tall. A fairy can fly. A stupid princess just wears a crown.”

  “Sure.” Antonio handed over the bear and coloring kit.

  “Fairies need to be small enough to fly.”

  “That makes sense.” Folding his arms, he stared at the tv monitor showing the flight progress.

  Amused by the conversation, Pearl opened a magazine and pretended to read.

  “Although unicorns can fly….” Aysha folded her little legs and pulled out her crayons.

  “Well… like fairies, they could if they were real.” Antonio latched Aysha’s seatbelt.

  Pearl shot him a warning glance which he ignored.

  “Unicorns are real!” Aysha frowned and pursed her lips.

  “In a way. They’re not all sparkly and pink.”

  “Yes, they are!”

  “I’ve seen a real unicorn, and it’s not pretty. It’s sturdy and sweet. Not pretty, though.”

  “Where?” Aysha asked.

  “In South Africa,” Antonio answered. “It’s gray and covered in mud. It has a big butt.”

  “That’s not a unicorn.”

  “They’re called rhinos.” He leaned towards Aysha. “Which are unicorns in disguise. They’re too heavy to fly back up to the clouds, so they hide their wings and walk the earth. They’re much stronger and braver than flying unicorns. I prefer them.”

  “Well, I don’t.” Aysha glared his way.

  “You should. Rhinos need our protection because there are so few of them left. And they can’t see very well. They have teeny, little eyes.”

  Pearl covered her mouth when a giggle escaped.

  He continued. “Just because an animal isn’t covered in glitter and sparkles doesn’t mean it can’t be loved. Did you know that rhinos can run really fast! And that they always have a bird friend with them—called an oxpecker. If their friend sees danger, it will make a noise and protect the rhino.”

  “Okay. That is pretty cool.” Aysha turned to a blank sheet of paper.

  “Told ya.”

  “Neo, can you draw me a rhino?”

  “Haven’t you seen one before?”

  “Yes, at the zoo. But I want you to draw one—with his birdy friend.”

  After only a slight hesitation, he took the coloring pad from Aysha and began to draw.

  “Can you fix Shreddy for me? He no longer speaks.” Little fingers pressed on the teddy’s belly.

  Antonio glanced over. “I think he needs time to dry out. Give it a few days.”

  After stroking Shreddy’s matted fur, Aysha slowly nodded, seeming pleased.

  Pearl watched them for a while before relaxing back
in her seat. Her child certainly took after her mother—a social butterfly. In normal circumstances, Pearl and Aysha were a force to be reckoned with. The noisy team kept everyone on their toes.

  Pearl needed to try harder to get back to her old self. Aysha had already picked up on her mother’s distress, and Pearl refused to allow their circumstances to affect her daughter’s innocence.

  Pearl knew how lost innocence felt—how a kid’s crashing world could crush their soul. She’d rather die than let that darkness touch her child.

  Chapter Three

  “Don’t be a pussy. You’ve been on clean-up for two months.”

  “It’s never… never been this bad.” Tim turned away and dry-heaved.

  Cyrus gritted his teeth. They’d both served in the military, except Cyrus had a decade on the twenty-three-year-old weakling. He’d hoped the younger veteran would’ve had a stronger stomach.

  Working as a crime scene cleaner took titanium balls and a tough stomach. Over the past three years, Cyrus had seen colleagues come and go. And scenes like these were the catalysts for escape. Many individuals on the Crime Scene Cleanup Crew—CSCU—were dedicated to the gruesome work. Good people who excelled at a job that few wanted.

  The June heat hadn’t been kind to the rotting body which had pooled in the center of the sagging mattress. Even after removing the corpse, maggots still feasted on the drying blood as flies buzzed and the humidity in the room worsened the sweet, cloying smell of death.

  The elderly victim had also been a hoarder, and the home hadn’t been cleaned in years—decades. Animal feces crusted up the rug, and Cyrus carefully stepped over a pile of yellowed newspapers.

  “I need air.”

  “Toughen up. I reckon you need this job more. Get your thumb out of your ass and start with the mattress.” There wasn’t much left that shocked or sickened Cyrus Nelson. Unlike his dedicated colleagues, he was one brutal son of a bitch. The mourning families never affected his day.

  Death was a thrilling companion and he’d loved pulling the trigger on battlefields across the planet. Perhaps that’s why he loved his new profession; he stood beside the ghost of the grim reaper and could feel that energy at a crime scene.

  His friends in the coroner’s office and department thought he was an upstanding colleague—their loyal beer buddy. They didn’t know shit about the wolf amongst the sheep.

  Cyrus’s protective suit crinkled as he reached for the sheets with a gloved hand. “Tim, take the other side, will ya.”

  The kid complied, and they got to work. Sweat gathered behind layered PPE, and Cyrus resisted the urge to adjust his N95 mask. The mattress was unsalvageable, and they cut away at the layered gore before placing it into the medical waste bin. After covering the shredded bed in plastic, they carried it to the van.

  Two hours later, using high-powered lights, Tim made a final sweep and ascertained that they’d removed all human remains. On paper, this was a preferable clean-up to murder or suicide. Gunshot damage meant that body parts were flung across a room and may remain hidden from searching eyes. Those calls always took twice as long. Cyrus hated the treasure hunt aspect of the job.

  On his final exit, Cyrus made his way to the van and pulled out a packet of sterilizing wipes. The sun had begun to set on the remote location. Woodland surrounded the ramshackle house and warm air swept across the yard. Once he’d disposed of the PPE, he cleaned his hands and face. When his phone rang, he glanced back at the house and answered. Tim was still inside.

  “Long time no speak.” Cyrus turned and walked up the sand road. “Harland, did I fuck up on the last job? You’ve ghosted me.”

  “Don’t start your shit, and don’t use my name on the phone. When I need you, I’ll call.”

  “So, you need me? My rates have gone up.”

  “You may be in the field for longer than usual. This isn’t a weekend gig.”

  “I have a full-time job.” Cyrus walked up a hill. “I can take a few weeks of leave, but you’d better make it worth my while.”

  “An old friend wants to find his family—along with a stolen item.”

  “A wealthy friend?”

  “Double the usual rate.”

  “How many targets?” Cyrus asked.

  “Two. A mother and daughter. The child needs to be returned to him—unharmed.”

  “And the mother?”

  “He wants his revenge, but he’s not concerned with damage during the delivery.”

  “So, I can play?” Cyrus’s blood stirred. “Is she palatable?”

  “An attractive target.”

  The call to such sweet action was an irresistible temptation. “Send me intel.”

  “How many men would you need?”

  “Five for now. I have some candidates in mind. Do you have the target’s location?”

  “Not yet,” Harland replied. “They disappeared from Colombo, but we’re almost positive that they’re landing in the States. You’re not the only team on standby. We have people in London, Canada, and Australia.”

  “That’s one powerful friend.”

  “He always gets what he wants, and the target has destroyed his world. She’s a dead woman walking.”

  “The best kind.” Cyrus smiled and walked back to the van. “I’ll be at our usual location—tomorrow at two. Are you sure about payment?”

  “He can pay. His legal assets are frozen, but he has plenty of stashed funds.”

  Cyrus hung up and dialed another number. Tim closed the van door.” Everything okay?”

  “Great. Calling the boss. I may have a vacation coming up—You’ll be on your own, puke-tard.”

  Through the multiple connections and endless flights, Pearl had barely slept. Now, she looked like a jittery and exhausted mess. Antonio guided the pair onto the JFK breezeway. New York wasn’t his final destination; he lived and worked in Arlington, Virginia, near DS headquarters. Antonio glanced at his watch, confirming a comfortable connection time.

  Now that they were on U.S. soil, he’d walk Pearl and Aysha to their gate and say his goodbyes. As soon as they stepped into the terminal, Pearl paused and bent to open her carry-on.

  “Aysha, give me Shreddy and your pillow.”

  Yawning, the kid did as asked, and Antonio waited to the side. The airport looked busy, and he scanned the bustling crowds looking for anomalies—an action he performed even in normal circumstances.

  Situational awareness didn’t just come from his military training; his father had taught the skill to his children from a young age. Dad called it “high intelligence fitness.” The ability to catalog an environment, note every detail, and rank the threat levels.

  A tiny hand gripped his fingers, and Antonio almost jerked in surprise. He glanced down as Aysha rested her head against his leg. On the first leg of their journey, she’d fallen asleep beside him after demanding that he draw not only a rhino but a crocodile, an elephant, and a leopard. Antonio wasn’t much of an artist, but she’d seemed happy with the results, carefully running a finger over his drawings with a pleased expression on that tiny face.

  Her fingers squeezed, and he gripped her hand firmly in his as Pearl zipped up their bag.

  “Thanks for all your help.” Pearl stood. “I’m truly grateful for your protection. You should get going before you miss your flight.”

  Recognizing a forced smile and picking up on her anxious energy, Antonio felt reluctance rise. She was correct; he needed to part ways. Now that they were State-side, they were safe from Rajin’s reach and influence. His world would come tumbling down—Ambassador Durant would see to that. Soon, he’d be caught and would stand trial for his war crimes and murders.

  “I have time. Let me walk you to your gate.”

  “No, really—”

  “I insist.”

  “Our flight is much later. We’re going to the food court first.”

  Antonio was good at reading people, and he immediately picked up on the deception. Pearl wouldn’t meet his gaze and looke
d for an escape. Where were they heading? He’d never asked after their final destination. Antonio assumed that they’d meet up with friends or family. He knew that her parents were in Colorado but knew that she’d avoid their farm as Rajin knew of that location.

  They walked slowly. Pearl pulled the carry-on, and Aysha kept a tight grip on Antonio’s hand. He adjusted his pace to fit with hers. When she stumbled, Antonio paused to hoist Aysha into his arms, and she immediately tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

  His hold tightened, and he swallowed past a sudden dry lump in his throat. She was so trusting—so vulnerable. Fuck Rajin for placing his family in this position. Antonio eyed the woman beside him. When they’d landed in New York, he’d expected to see relief in her gaze, but all he detected was escalating fear. Those gorgeous eyes looked desperate and almost panicked.

  “This is us.” Pearl pointed at the McDonalds, her movements stiff. As he placed Aysha on the ground, he saw Pearl’s gaze dart to a nearby flight board before pausing and studying it intently.

  Still kneeling, he asked. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine.” Another fake smile. “Thanks again, Agent Torres. We’ll be fine.”

  She’d reverted to his title. The brush-off stung. “I’m glad I could help.”

  She was no longer his problem, and he should walk away. Her stand-offish vibes indicated that their brief liaison was over. Antonio would give her what she wanted.

  On his haunches, he cupped Aysha’s tiny shoulder. “Take care of your mommy. Thanks for keeping me company on that smelly plane.”

  Aysha frowned. “Where are you going?”

  “He’s going home, Lovebug.”

  Antonio stood. Reluctantly stepping away from Aysha, he nodded at Pearl. “Ma’am.”

  “I won’t forget your kindness. Thank you.”

  He should give her his number. “If you ever need—”

  “We’re fine.” She nodded before turning away. “Aysha, do you want a happy meal?”

  Effectively discharged. Antonio headed in the direction of his gate. Forcing one step in front of the other, he ignored his irritation over her abrupt dismissal. Perhaps her friendly demeanor had all been an act. She’d used him as a tool to get to safety, and now that he’d played the part, and she was safe, she’d reverted to her true aloof self.

 

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