by Mark Stone
“The day I start being afraid of backwoods trash like you is the day I throw myself off a bridge,” the woman answered. “And, in case you’re wondering as to who you’ll be working under up until the moment that the Archer sees you for the useless albatross you actually are, my name is Terry.” She turned back to me so that we were face to face now, no longer looking at each other through the blunting effect of the rearview mirror. “And you can call me ma’am.”
I sat back, sizing the woman up. I had to admit, her intensity was a little impressive. I had a foot and a half and sixty pounds on her. Even though I would never touch a woman in anger or hate, regardless of the part I was playing, she didn’t know that. She thought I was a dangerous drug dealer. She thought I wanted to take what was hers, and she wasn’t backing down even an inch. If not for the fact that she was doing it for all the wrong reasons, it might have actually been admirable.
“Let’s see how the rest of the day goes,” I muttered, cracking a joke. As it turned out, she didn’t get it.
“I can tell you how the rest of the day is going to go,” Terry said, turning back around in her seat. “At this moment, you’re being taken to an airstrip where you’ll be flown to the other side of the state. From there, you and your girlfriend, whose already waiting there, will be loaded onto a boat and taken to St. Thomas. Once on the island, you’ll be given further instructions. That’s what’s happening.”
“No, it’s not,” I said, matter of factly, sitting back in my seat once again.
“What are you talking about?” Terry asked. “You have a problem with the way the Archer does things?”
In truth, I had a lot of problems with the way the Archer did things. In fact, I couldn’t think of anything about the man I didn’t have a problem with. Of course, I couldn’t say that right now, and besides, that wasn’t what I was talking about.
“You said we’re going to the airstrip,” I reminded her.
“And we are,” she barked back,
“Then someone needs to tell as much to your driver,” I replied. “Because we’re headed in the wrong direction.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, the car skidded over to the side of the road and came to a stop. The tall man behind the wheel flipped a gun out from his jacket and pointed it at the woman.
“Reggie?” she asked with widening eyes. “What are you-”
Her words would never get the chance to come out, though. Before she could say them, Reggie shot her point blank in the chest.
The ringing sound of the gun being fired tossed me back against the seat instinctively. I grappled for the door handle, hoping to escape. Though the door seemed not to be locked, it wouldn’t budge.
“Child safety locks,” Reggie explained, turning around and pointing the gun at me. “Now, if I can make a suggestion, you should probably stay still. Something tells me it would hurt a lot less if you did.”
Chapter 12
My heart sped up as I took in exactly what was happening. Though I had no idea why this tall man, Reggie, did what he did, one thing was achingly clear. He wasn’t finished yet. Whatever his reasons were, he’d just shot Terry point blank in the chest, and he intended on making a pattern out of it with me.
As it stood, I wasn’t really equipped to stop him. As he pointed the barrel of the gun at me, I remembered just how deeply into this cover I had gotten myself. Al Davidson was a prisoner of the state. He sure as hell wouldn’t have been allowed to keep a weapon on him, and because I was supposed to be him, I didn’t have one either. My trusty sidearm was nowhere to be found. The only thing standing between me and a bullet to the head was a bit of air and time.
I didn’t know what this meant for the mission. With Terry, who seemed obviously in charge between the two of my chaperones, out of the picture. I wasn’t even sure if I’d get to St Thomas, which left Natasha in a very sticky and possibly deadly situation. Of course, those questions were secondary to me actually surviving this. If I was going to do that, I knew I needed to think quickly.
Without my weapon of choice, it occured to me that I’d have to use what I had, which wasn’t much. Still, my training kicked in, and I remembered that-even though my cover as Al Davidson stripped me of my gun, it afforded me something else.
With the gun in my face, I whipped my hand forward. The chain, cut in half by Reggie but still hanging loosely on my wrist, pulled upward. Jerking my wrist again quickly, the chain snapped like a whip. Though it missed the gun, it struck Reggie in the face, causing him to flinch backward and yelp out in surprise. It wasn’t much of a reaction, but it was all I needed.
As he pulled back, I lunged for the gun. My first order of business, once getting hands around the barrel, was to pull it upward. It wasn’t a second too soon either, because as quick as I did that, Reggie fired, shooting a hole into the roof of the car. I felt the heat and the shockwave running through my hands as the bullet left its chambed. It was enough to force my hands off the gun, but it also afforded me enough time to twist my body. Striking Reggie again with the chain, I leveled a kick against the back driver’s side window. I hoped it would shatter the damn thing, but no such luck. Still, it did make cracks and I knew another kick or two would leave it in pieces and give me a way out of this God forsaken car.
First though, I needed to make sure Reggie never got his composure back with that gun. Reeling my fist back, I punched Reggie hard in the face and then again in the arm. It caused him to drop the gun. It fell against the floorboard. Jumping over the seat toward it, Reggie stopped me hard with his body. Punching me himself, he wrapped meaty hands around my throat and started to squeeze as he drove my head into the roof again and again.
I blinked hard, looking at the blood pouring from his nose, and gasping for breath that didn’t come. Scrambling, I kicked at the back window again. Then again. My throat felt crushed and pressure started to build in my head. I had to be quick again. I kicked, harder and harder. Finally, the glass shattered and sprayed outward. If I could wrench myself free from Reggie’s grip, I’d have a way out of here at least.
I pummeled the man over and over again with fists and then chains. Nothing seemed to work. His intensity was amazing. He just stared up at me, my head pressed against the inside of the roof and his hands wrapped around my throat. I began to feel dizzy, and I knew if I didn’t do something in the next few seconds, I’d die in here. I’d leave my wife, my grandfather, my nephew, and all my friends behind. And it would have been all for nothing. I wouldn’t have even helped anyone.
No. Dillon Storm wasn’t going out like that. I was going to fight, and I was going to win. Wrestling as much room as I could, I tilted my head down and bit down as hard as I could on Reggie’s finger. I wasn’t sure which one it was, maybe the thumb, but it didn’t matter. He might have been bigger than me. He might have been stronger, but he didn’t have my intensity. I’d bite clear through the damn thing if I had to.
Luckily for me, that wouldn’t be the case. After applying a little pressure, Reggie pulled back, letting go of my throat in pain and allowing me to finally breathe again. The air felt crisp and glorious as it invaded my lungs, but I didn’t have time to appreciate that.
I struck the man hard again, and looked for the gun. It wasn’t there. It must have gotten kicked under the seat or something in the ruckus. Cursing under my blissfully restored breath, I shimmied out the broken window and fell onto the ground.
Standing, I huffed loudly and greedily. I blinked as I watched Reggie get out of the car, standing to meet me and still pouring blood.
“This is going to be fun,” he said ina ragged breath, balling his fists together.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I responded, starting toward him.
As he rushed toward me, though, I heard two shots ring out and then watched as Reggie stopped short. His eyes went wide and his face fell free of any emotion. He dropped forward, face first on the ground.
Looking back, I saw Terry leaning upward, the gun in her hand. Her s
hirt fell forward to reveal the beginnings of a bulletproof vest. A sneer painted her lips.
“More fun for me,” she growled.
Chapter 13
He was dead. I knew that as well as I knew my own name. I already checked Reggie’s pulse as Terry pulled herself from the car, dusting herself off and scowling as she walked toward him.
As sad as it was to say, it made things easier. If Reggie hadn’t died nearly instantly after Terry shot him, I would have been faced with the unenviable quandary of exactly how to get him an ambulance. I wouldn’t be able to just call without blowing my cover. That being said, I couldn’t have let the man bleed out in front of me in good conscious, not even after he tried to kill me himself. Given the fact that he was no longer with us, that wasn’t a decision I was going to have to make though.
Thank heaven for small favors.
“I knew he was trouble,” Terry snorted, shaking her head as she looked down at the man’s body. “Since the first damn time I saw him, I knew he couldn’t be trusted.”
“Looks like you were right,” I responded, remembering to keep my voice unaffected as to keep the ‘Al Davidson’ ruse going strong.
“I’m always right,” Terry answered. “It’s a burden, but it’s one I’ll take. Not that it’s done me any good. I’ve been telling The Archer for months now that we’ve got rats in the cheese wheel. Do you think I could get taken seriously? Not a chance.”
There was a lot to unpack in that sentence. Not only did I now know something as intimate about the Archer’s inner workings as the fact that there were whispers of traitors among them, but I also sensed a bit of resentment between Terry and the person at the center of all of this. I made a mental note about it. If I could break her, which seemed possible, it might prove to be an important part of taking down the Archer. Of course, I had to focus on the main thing right now, and that was something else Terry eluded to.
“You’ve actually met the Archer?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the woman.
She chuckled loudly, shaking her head. “You newbs are always so surprised about that. Why wouldn’t I have met the Archer?”
“Honestly?” I asked, tilting my head to the side and daring her with arched eyebrows.
“Do I strike you as a woman who can’t take honesty?” she shot back,her own eyebrows arched.
“You strike me as a woman smart enough to know her own importance,” I answered. “I’m told only the highest ranking members of the organization are allowed to come face to face with the Archer.”
“Do I not look high ranking?” she mused.
“Like I said, you’re impressive,” I responded. “I just didn’t think the Archer would be foolish enough to send someone pivotal enough to have actually met him to do what amounts to extremely dangerous grunt work.”
Something passed through Terry’s eyes that I couldn’t quite place. It looked like a mixture between amusement and outright rage. Whatever it was, I could tell it was very combustible, which meant she had the capacity to be a hot head. That was good. I could use that too.
“Well,” she sad, after taking a minute to allow the storm to move through her eyes. “I guess one thing is clear.”
“And what’s that?” I asked sharply.
“I might be smart enough to know my own importance, but you certainly aren’t.” She nodded to the car. “Come on. We’ve got a long way to go, and we’re already late.”
“What about him?” I asked, motioning to the body on the ground.
“Doesn’t look like he needs a ride anymore,” Terry quipped in return.
I sighed. “You can’t just leave the body out here exposed. Someone is bound to find him. Don’t you think that would raise questions?” In truth, leaving Terry’s body out in the open would only serve to leave a breadcrumb of a clue as to what happened here today. If someone found the body, word would instantly get back to Boomer, which meant it would also instantly get back to Merriman. At least then, they’d had a semi working knowledge of the way things went off the rails already. Still, I needed to keep my guise up, and what was more, I had a hunch Terry was smarter than to just leave a body out like this. I needed to make sure I was right.
“Did I say we were going to leave the body out here?” she sneered, shaking her head at me. “We have people who take care of that, and they aren’t me. I might do dangerous grunt work, but I don’t do corpse clean up. I also don’t do windows, in case you were going to ask.”
Terry must have thought that was funny, because she smiled widely after she said it. I matched her grin, though it was a forced thing. While she might not have entertained me, she did give me a piece of information I could use. If a cleanup crew was coming, that meant more of the Archer’s people were on the way and I knew exactly where they’d be. If I could get that intel to Merriman, then who knows what kind of information he could get out of them once he had them in custody. At the very least, a few more bad guys would be off the street.
Still, it left me with the problem of actually getting in touch with them. Luckily, I had a plan for that.
“I need to talk to my fiance,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and planting my feet firmly in the sand at the side of the road.
“Excuse me?” Terry asked, turning back to me.
“You heard me,” I replied. “I’ve almost died twice now, and we’re running late. I need to talk to my fiance to make sure she’s okay.” I snarled. “There’s no reason to believe that the people the Archer sent for her aren't every bit as incompetent as you.”
Terry’s face stoned over. “My ‘incompetence’ is the only thing that kept you alive. I’m not sure if you realize it or not, but Reggie was about a second and half away from snapping your neck.”
“I can hold my own,” I growled.
“I’ve read your file. You can’t,” she replied. “What’s more, you couldn’t talk to your fiance if you wanted to. She set sail ten minutes ago. There’s no way to reach her until she docks at St. Thomas.”
“Set sail?” I balked. “I was told we would be travelling together.”
“And you were,” Terry answered. “But then things took a turn and we had to turn with it. They couldn’t wait for us. Don’t worry. Miss Blonde Bombshell is perfectly fine. She’ll be in St Thomas when we get there, and she’ll be just as she was the last time you saw her.” Terry chuckled again. “Trashy and useless.”
“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” I answered, keeping up my guise. This might have been a test. I needed to make sure I showcased the appropriate amount of indignation.
“I get to do whatever I want,” she said, stepping toward me. “That’s one of the perks of the job. Now stand still. Like I said, we’ve got a long way to go.”
“How is me standing still going to help us get somewhere?” I asked. “I mean, how are we even going to get there at all if the boat’s already set sail?”
“We’re going to take a more direct route,” Terry said. “And standing still isn’t to help us get there. It’s to help give me peace and quiet as we do.”
She pulled something from her pocket with a gloved hand, and from the corner of my eye, I saw it was a taser. Before I could move, she plunged it into my neck. The strong electric currents flooded me, taking hold and tightening every muscle in my body in a song of agony and hurt.
I heard her as I fell, darkness enveloping my senses.
“See you in St. Thomas.”
Chapter 14
I woke slowly, with a pain in my head and the smell of the water filling my nostrils. My first thoughts were of home. As I lay there, slowly drifting between sleep and the land of the living, a few thoughts began to filter their way into my head.
Rebecca must have left the window open again, because not only could I smell the water, but I could hear its gentle rustling too. That would be more than enough to lull me back to sleep. For all the inconsistencies in my life, the ulf had always been a constant. It was always there, its scents, its sounds,
its sights, and the feel of it always lifting me up and making me feel more like myself. Even when I was in Chicago, I could still feel it strangely, calling me back, calling me home.
Only, something about this wasn’t right. The sounds were different, the smell was a little off, and I felt less than at home in this particular moment. This wasn’t the Gulf. it wasn’t my Gulf.
My eyes flew open as I remembered what had gone down. I wasn’t safe. I wasn’t resting beside my wife, my hand in hers as perspective baby names flew through my imagination. I wasn’t about to hear my alarm go off and trudge off to another day in Naples, Florida. Hell, I wasn’t even Dillon Storm anymore. I was Al Davidson, and he was in more trouble than he knew how to proceed with.
My body jerked upright, my hand reaching for my neck, for the spot where Terry thrust that taser into it. The area stung, and I knew without looking at it that it was red and marked.
Dropping my hand, I took a few deep breaths, surveying the situation. I lay on a large bed in one of the most beautiful bungalows anyone had ever seen. I had seen these kinds of places before, but I never could actually afford to stay in one. A detective’s salary doesn’t make you a millionaire, and it wasn’t like my late father had been looking out for me with any of his millions, not that I wanted him to in any event.
“Thank God you’re awake. I was afraid that bitch gave you brain damage or something,” a familiar voice sounded from behind me. TUrning quickly, I saw Natasha. She wore a flowing white sundress that wafted in the breeze from the open window. I was in St. Thomas. I was smack dab in the middle of this thing. SO, that meant it was time to put on the lampshade. It meant I needed to be the man I had come here to be and allow Natasha to be the woman.
“Margo,” I said, using her cover’s name and standing to meet her. My head spun and my feet seemed unsteady beneath me. Still, I held my ground, stuffing my hands in my pockets and swallowing hard to coat my dry throat. “Good to see you, babe.”
