by Matt Lincoln
“Anything that involves Wraith shouldn’t count,” Header nodded. “I can’t really call it being on the front lines when I have an impenetrable shell around me. It’s not really a fair fight.”
“No, but it’s a fun one,” I admitted as we drove down the side street and found a rear entrance to the building. A dumpster out back housed some old baked goods, evidenced by the fact that a few loose ones had broken free from the bags and rolled onto the ground surrounding the dumpster. We were here, and the time for small talk was over.
I gave my outfit and my equipment a once-over. Unlike Header, who wore black all the time, I tried to avoid it. Not tonight, though. Tonight I wore a black long-sleeved shirt with black cargo pants and black steel-toed boots. I was geared up with a knife hidden in my boot and another tucked beneath my belt. Bonnie’s sample kits pressed against my thigh, a gentle reminder of her one request. It wasn’t my usual ensemble, but it was necessary for tonight.
I thought of Holm and his parents and his sister as I smoothed out my shirt and took a deep breath. Header pulled into a nearby parking spot and killed the engine as I glanced out my side window. Across the street, pulled alongside the curb, was our second vehicle with Warner and Bonnie inside. Trusting that they could hear us if we needed help, I looked over at Header. When he nodded, we both climbed out of the car and quickly made our way to the rear entrance. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. Also unsurprisingly, Header still managed to get the door open, and we got our first look at what was inside.
For all intents and purposes, the space looked exactly like one would expect the back room of a bakery would look like. There was plenty of metal shelving along the walls, and there were a few fridges in the corner that most likely held all of the freshly baked goodies from earlier in the day. In the corner beside the back door was a stack of cardboard boxes, dusted with white powder that I easily assumed was confectioner’s sugar.
As Header and I walked through the space looking for some kind of clue, Bonnie’s sample kits bounced against my leg, and I set to work looking for something to snag a sample of. For the most part, though, the kitchen was spotless, leaving little to nothing to bring back to her.
On our second lap, I noticed the confectioner’s sugar on the boxes. Perfect, I thought as I pulled out Bonnie’s sample kits. There was a solid chance that it would be a waste of her time, but that would have been preferable to me showing up empty-handed.
When I got closer, something seemed off. Instead of the sweet smell that I usually associated with confectioner’s sugar, I caught a whiff of something else. It had been muddled by the smells permeating the rest of the kitchen, but now that I was close, I recognized it almost immediately.
“No,” I murmured, stepping closer to get a better look.
“What?” Header came up beside me and followed my gaze.
“Do you smell that?” I asked. I could feel him beside me, gearing up to make a sarcastic remark about the delicious smell of sugar in the air, but then he stilled. I knew then that he recognized it, too.
“Cocaine,” he muttered, rocking back on his heels. “In a bakery?”
“It’s perfect,” I mused. “I almost missed it. With everything else going on in here, who would question some loose white powder?”
“Man, do you think it makes its way into the baked goods?” he chuckled darkly. “It’d definitely keep the customers coming back.”
I shot him a reproachful look. “That’s not funny.”
“No, I guess not,” he conceded. “It’s a bit close to the other product, though, isn’t it?” Header nodded in the direction of the long steel table that was obviously used to prep the pastries for sale.
“Yeah, no kidding.” I scanned the rest of the room. “It is by the door, though. Maybe it’s ready to get shipped out? It could be unrelated to the bakery, and this is just a stopping point.”
“Why?” Header’s brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to work it all out like a puzzle. “Why here, of all places? Have you looked at a map? Coney Island is nowhere near anything. To get here from anywhere in the five boroughs, you would need to travel completely out of your way. Imagine doing this in midtown Manhattan. No one would question the boxes or the shipments, and it would be easily accessible by everyone. Not only is it risky being so close to the baked goods, but it also makes no sense from a location standpoint.”
“I can’t answer those questions,” I muttered. “Maybe they have staff nearby. Maybe we’re missing a piece to the puzzle. Unless there’s something else here, we can’t solve this tonight. Let’s get the samples we need and get the hell out of here.” I swiped up some of the cocaine into one of Bonnie’s kits and sealed it before shoving it back into my pocket.
An engine rumbled just outside the back door, and a set of worn brakes squealed to a stop. I steadied my breathing for a moment, listening intently, and I knew Header was doing the same. Something that sounded like a pair of heavy boots hit the ground, followed by the sound of footsteps and conversation.
“Ten bucks they’re here for our nose candy,” I muttered, jutting my chin toward the boxes.
“Excuse me,” Header replied, looking over at me with a mischievous smirk on his face as he widened his stance and readied for a fight. “I believe it’s called booger sugar.”
I fought laughter as I realized what a great bakery-themed name that was. I stepped back to give myself more reaction time. With the gates rolled down at the front of the store, this back door was our only way out. If whoever was on that truck came through it, we’d have no choice but to fight our way out. While Header seemed to be approaching this like a game, that had never been my approach. I let the adrenaline amplify my senses as I listened and waited. With everything on edge, I remembered the earpiece Warner had given me earlier.
“Warner? Buddy?” I murmured softly. Header whipped his head around with an eyebrow raised.
“I’m here, Marston.” Warner’s voice came through clearly, and I was grateful that he had thought this far ahead.
“We’re about to have to fight our way out of here,” I warned him. “I don’t know if we will need backup or an EMT, but either way, we won’t be leaving here unscathed.”
“You don’t think Farr would have let us come out here alone, do you?” Warner replied cheerfully. He was right, and I should have known better. We may not have MBLIS on our side, but we had Farr, and he had a slew of connections in both high and low places. We were playing a different game now, and I was still learning the rules.
The voices grew nearer, and there was some scraping against the door as their key found the keyhole.
“Hmm,” a gravelly male voice muttered nonchalantly right on the other side of the door. “Feels like it was unlocked.”
“Stop!” a sharp female voice called out from further back. “Get back.” Her voice dropped low and sounded ominous, and I knew immediately that she was suspicious.
I pulled out my K-bar and glanced over at Header. He grinned playfully at me and pulled out his own.
We watched as the door slowly creaked open, and then the shiny barrel of a pistol poked out from the edge. The door inched open slowly, and it was then that I realized that whoever this person was, they had no idea how to clear a room properly. They were unintentionally giving Header and me time to react, and both of us stepped over toward the wall so that we would remain unseen until the door was completely ajar.
The barrel of the gun followed the path of the door until it was about halfway open, and then a heavyset man with a burly red beard stepped through, looking straight ahead. It took him a second to notice us off to the side, but a second was all Header needed. He lunged at the man, catching him off guard. The man swung his pistol toward us and jerked the trigger, sending a round into the drywall next to my head as Header came down onto the man’s forearms.
Red stumbled backward toward the long steel table, reaching toward it for support, his pistol still in his hand. The harsh clang of metal on metal reverb
erated through the small space as Header took advantage of Red’s vulnerable stance to send a swift fist across his jaw.
I blinked, recovering quickly from the near-miss of that damn bullet, and pushed out from around the doorframe to find the woman behind the second voice. Unfortunately for me, she was a bit more skilled than her predecessor. Her stance was near perfect, and I found myself staring down the barrel of her pistol, her finger already pressing down on the trigger.
I dove backward as the round whizzed past me and, angry about two close calls now, immediately dropped down and rolled across the entrance to get closer to Header. I realized now that this woman was using Red as sacrificial bait, but we could play that game, too. Luckily, Header had caught what happened, and once I was clear, he shoved Red toward the doorway. We heard a loud crack followed by a sharp grunt as the round hit flesh, and that was quickly followed by a high-pitched squeal as the woman realized her mistake.
I ran out the door at that exact moment, swinging my K-bar across my body as I closed the gap between us. Somewhere in the distance, I heard motorcycles revving their engines, but they barely registered in my mind. I had more important things to focus on at the moment, as my prediction had been right. When the woman realized she had shot her own partner, her stance had faltered, leaving me a very short window to escape.
The window was too short, though, and she recovered in just enough time to get a shot off. I felt a searing pain in my shoulder as my blade made contact with her arm, causing her to drop her gun and clutch at the wound. I heard footsteps coming up behind me at the same time as the cacophony of motorcycle engines roared closer. Header grabbed my shoulders, and I winced.
“Sorry, man,” he muttered, kicking the pistol away from the woman. Fury shone in her dark eyes, and we needed to get away before she came up with her next move. The motorcycles turned toward us and pulled to a stop right before us. There were a ton of them, and I couldn’t make out the number. My stomach knotted as I readied myself for another confrontation.
“Which one is Marston?” the lead rider called out over the noise. I stiffened, but then the second rider piped up.
“Farr sent us, that old bastard,” he announced. “Said you pansies might need some backup.”
“Ahh,” Header replied smoothly. “Well, in that case, this is Marston right here.” I was grateful that he refrained from clapping me on the shoulder.
“Oh, yeah?” the lead rider replied, looking at Header. Engines started shutting off as the other riders began to dismount. “We aren’t helping anyone until we hear your name, too. You know, precautions and all. Can’t be too safe.”
The woman on the ground was frozen on her knees. There was nowhere for her to run. She was surrounded by a wall of leather-clad bikers who had just announced their intent.
“My name is Jake Header,” Header announced. Apparently, Farr had included that bit of information in his instructions to the bikers because Header’s announcement sent the group surging forward toward the woman.
“Did you guys get beat up by a girl?” A grizzly gray-haired man with a handkerchief tied around his neck chuckled at his own joke as he yanked her up from beneath her armpits. She stumbled as she tried to regain her footing, and I noticed a few other bikers heading inside to find Red.
“Yeah,” Header admitted. “We were dumb enough to bring a knife to a gunfight.” He held up his bloody K-bar as evidence and then used it to point toward her abandoned pistol.
The lead biker approached us and took a cursory look at my shoulder. “Raven, get over here.”
A woman approached, recognizable only by her eyes and her curves beneath her tight riding gear. She loosened her helmet and removed it, revealing thick black braided hair that shone under the streetlights. She yanked the black fabric that had been acting as a face shield down around her neck, revealing the rest of her face.
“Yeah, boss.” She came to a stop beside the lead rider, who had a name tape on his chest that I now saw read Trigger. I didn’t want to ask how he had earned that nickname.
“You got your kit on you?” Trigger asked, gesturing loosely toward my shoulder.
Raven glanced over at me, and her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. “I sure do.”
“Good,” Trigger replied authoritatively. “I’d like you to tend to his wounds. Leave your bike. We’ll take it back.”
“Sure thing, Trig.” Without slowing or showing any hint of personality, she went back to her bike, hooked her helmet onto one of the side mirrors, and dug through her saddlebag. I scanned the bikes, at least the ones I could see anyway, and noticed that she was one of the few with bags on her bike. It made a lot of sense when she returned with a first aid kit.
Trigger turned back to us. “Raven’s one of our EMTs. You can borrow her for the night. She will set you right. Just… don’t piss her off. We call her the Hulk for a reason.”
“Noted,” Header chuckled. I saw a familiar car roll up before the windows lowered to reveal Warner behind the wheel.
“You guys need a ride?” he grinned excitedly. Bonnie leaned forward from the passenger seat with a matching grin. Trigger stepped to the side and let Header and I walk through.
“Thank you,” I said appreciatively to the leather-clad biker. “We appreciate it.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” he chuckled in response. “I’m glad we were able to help. We owe Farr, anyway. This clears our slate, so I assure you, we’re happy to be here.”
I laughed and shook the man’s hand before sliding into the back seat of Warner’s car. Header stepped back and let Raven and her kit slide in next to me. She had stunning facial features, though something about her had me on edge.
Header clapped the roof of the car and leaned down to talk to me. “I’m going to drive the other car back. We can debrief back at, uhh, headquarters.” His eyes darted over at Raven during those last few words, although I didn’t think it much mattered if she knew where we were staying. Besides, if she was coming back with us, she’d find out in a few minutes, anyway.
Header slammed the door shut and began heading toward the other car. Warner waited for him to pull up behind us as I watched the bikers tie up Red and his counterpart outside the back door of the bakery. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to them, and I also wasn’t sure that I wanted to know. I considered the fact that we could have interrogated them if presented with the opportunity but also trusted Farr’s judgment as far as that was concerned. For all I knew, that’s exactly what he had in mind.
The ride back to the base was much calmer than the ride out, but it was also more painful as Raven went to work on my shoulder. The night could have gone a lot worse, so I was grateful that this was my only injury, and that I had the privilege of returning to see Tessa again. I sank back into my seat, ignoring Raven’s poking and prodding as my mind turned fully to Tessa. She’d be a nervous wreck when I showed up in this condition, but I absolutely could not wait to see her.
Chapter 13: Tessa
Two sets of headlights made shadows dance across the far wall of the living room, and I knew then that Ethan and Jake had returned. Tessa’s stomach had been in knots since they left, and although she knew it would be smart to try to get some rest, there was no way that she could do that while Ethan was out there risking his life. Seeing the headlights brought her relief because no matter how the night had gone, it was officially over. As long as Ethan walked through that door, everything would be alright.
When the door opened, the first people through were TJ and Bonnie, and Tessa couldn’t tell by their facial expressions how it had gone. She only needed to wait a second or two longer because Ethan walked in right behind them. Her heart swelled until she noticed the bandage on his shoulder, and then she rushed over to him.
“Oh my god, Ethan!” He smiled his usual charming smile at her as she gently grabbed onto his arms and looked up into his eyes. “What happened?”
“Be gentle with him.” The woman’s voice behind Ethan was firm an
d cold, forcing Tessa to let go of him immediately. She peered around Ethan’s arm to find an angry-looking woman with a long dark braid and a completely blacked-out outfit standing behind him.
“Uhm, who are you?” Tessa asked, taking in the woman’s appearance and growing very angry at being told how to treat Ethan by another woman. The woman simply stared back at Tessa until Ethan had to intervene to take over the introductions.
“Tessa, this is Raven,” he said, waving in Raven’s general direction. “When Trigger saw my wound, he sent us home with his EMT to take care of my wound. I’m fine, though. I’ll be fine. Raven won’t be staying long.”
“Just for tonight,” Raven informed him, speaking up for the first time since Tessa had laid eyes on her. “If you don’t need much overnight, then I leave here tomorrow. I’ve got more important things to do.” She walked purposefully past Tessa into the living room, looking around thoughtfully. “Unless you have a bed for me, I’ll crash on the couch.”
“Sure thing,” Ethan shrugged. “We fill up all of the bedrooms here, but no one has had to resort to the couch yet.”
“Perfect,” she nodded. Tessa eyed her suspiciously but tried to make a conscious effort to avoid passing judgment right away. After all, Raven had taken care of Ethan when Tessa couldn’t. Surely she could show a bit of appreciation for the woman.
“We’re debriefing in the dining room,” Header bellowed from behind Tessa. She whirled around to see him taking up most of the doorway into the house, no worse for the wear. Apparently, Ethan had pulled the short straw tonight.
“Is it going to be an hour long?” Raven asked from her spot on the couch. She had already begun to sink deep into the cushions to get comfortable. “I only ask because my patient’s shoulder needs more attention than being in a dark moving car could provide. I need him to sit still in here while I work.”
“Our debriefs are usually short and to the point,” Bonnie informed her. “Can it wait, or does he need more pressing medical assistance?”
