“What?” Mackenzie said, chuckling now, “Are you planning to pull out your gun and shoot me? Here? In my office? Look, I get it, I wouldn’t be the first person that you killed, but you’re not that stupid, are you? I mean, if you degenerates over at DSLH or whatever the fuck you’re calling yourself put up cameras, don’t you think we would, too?”
The comment caught Drake by surprise, and he faltered.
He can’t… he can’t know.
Drake shook his head.
He doesn’t. He’s just playing the odds, toying with you.
Drake knew very little about this Mackenzie Hart, but he’d already figured out that the man liked games… psychological and physical.
What Mackenzie Hart would soon learn about Damien Drake was that while he didn’t like games, despised them, even, he also didn’t lose.
Just ask Ken Smith about that one.
“Look, I get you’re pissed off, I would be too. After all, everything you see here,” Mackenzie waved a finger about his office, “is because of you. You skipped town, and I took over most of your business. I gotta say, you’ve surprised me a little along the way. For one, I wasn’t sure you’d come back, and then that trick you pulled? Good shit. And getting out of prison? Not bad, not bad at all. But here’s the thing, Drake: you may have someone on your side but me? I’ve got someone on both sides. I’m like the lobbyist who donates to both political parties… and I don’t give a shit which one wins.”
Mackenzie obviously thought that his little speech was clever, and while it might very well be, it was also revealing in ways he probably didn’t expect. For instance, Drake was well aware that the way you got business in this line of work was primarily through referrals. This meant that if Mackenzie had scooped up DSLH business like he said he had, it wasn’t because Screech, Hanna, and Leroy weren’t available. It was because he had someone recommending his services.
And Drake was fairly certain he knew who that person was, and what type of uniform he wore.
“I couldn’t care less about lost revenue. What I want to know is why you sent me that shit about Suzan? Why you’re spreading these lies?”
Mackenzie leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Just to let you know that I’m aware of things about your people that you don’t even know. To remind you that this is my—”
Drake snarled and grabbed his gun, falling just short of pulling it free from the underarm holster.
“My people? I don’t have people, you smug asshole. You’ve already fucked with Screech, Leroy, and Hanna—my partners—and while that ain’t even close to acceptable, Suzan is off-limits. She’s not in the business, never has been. And if I find out that you had something to do with her current situation? Anything at all? Oh, I think I’ll be going right back to prison. Only this time, it won’t be for some trumped-up kidnapping charge but something much more serious.”
“Drake, I’m flattered. I’m flattered that you think that I, a mere PI, could have that sort of influence. Sorry to disappoint, but I never went near Suzan.”
“And you won’t. You’ll stay away from her and you’re going to stop spreading these bullshit lies.”
Mackenzie lowered his elbows to his desk and leaned forward. His expression instantly hardened.
“You really don’t know who I am, do you?”
Drake thought about this for a moment before responding.
“I know exactly who you are. You’re like me, ten years ago. You’re like me without the NYPD experience.”
Mackenzie raised an eyebrow.
“Really?”
Drake shook his head, determined not to get into mind games with the man. It didn’t matter who Mackenzie was or where he was from, all that mattered was that he stayed away from Drake and the ones he cared for.
“Back off, Mackenzie.”
“Or what, Drake? What are you going to do about it?”
Drake ground his teeth, trying to keep his building rage at bay. He took two steps forward.
“I’ll fucking tell you what I’m going to—”
Drake never heard a sound until after thick forearms wrapped around his waist, pinning his hands to his sides.
At that moment, he realized that he’d made a critical error. Not the rookie mistake of getting jumped from behind, although that was embarrassing enough, but that he’d missed an important bit of information that Mackenzie had let slip.
Drake had been so surprised by the comment related to some of his past crimes, the more serious ones, that he missed the fact that Mackenzie knew that DSLH had cameras.
He wanted me to come here… he expected it…
“What are you gonna do, Drake? You still want to kill me like you did Ken Smith? Or maybe like your own brother?”
Chapter 37
This video was even better than the last one. Granted, the subject wasn’t as good—people cared less for rodents than they did felines—but Chad was able to work a little bit of a story into the death narrative.
This also served another purpose: to disassociate further from the cruel, disgusting, and downright vile nature of what he’d just done.
Chad didn’t play by the rules—at least not the ones that applied to normal people. He was famous now, and with this status came a great deal of liberty.
After he finished filming, he glanced around to make sure that no one was watching. Then Chad pulled the makeshift bandanna off his nose and mouth and placed it over his incision again. It immediately suctioned in place, soaking up some of the leaking fluid. As a final act of desecration, he wiped blood off his palms on the squirrel’s corpse.
“Anon42819… you didn’t like my Hollow Shelter videos? You didn’t think that I had anything that the world wanted to see?” A high-pitched titter exited Chad’s throat. It was so unexpected, so foreign, that it made him laugh even harder.
Right before putting the phone in his pocket, he checked the time. It was almost seven in the evening, which confused Chad.
Where the hell did all the time go?
He thought he’d left the house around noon, but that couldn’t be right, could it?
Did I… did I fall asleep?
Chad shook his head and hurried out of the alley. His stomach growled, but it wasn’t because he was hungry.
It was because Chad was thirsty.
And he knew exactly where he could get a drink at this hour.
As he made his way through the city, Chad was already planning his next video.
When you were famous, you could never take your foot off the gas, you could never go backward. Beyoncé couldn’t go from performing at the Super Bowl to doing cabaret at a fucking dive bar, could she? No way.
You had to keep growing, keep getting better, keep pushing the envelope.
Chad decided that his next upload wouldn’t feature a cat or squirrel.
This time it would spotlight a much larger animal.
One of the two-legged variety.
The first video had risen to the top of 8chan and he suspected that this new one would quickly become the most talked about thing on Instagram. But what Chad planned next was something that he was positive would break the entire fucking Internet.
Chapter 38
Drake didn’t bother struggling. He’d been in too many scenarios like this one to count, and he knew that if he tried to break free now when his assailant was expecting him to, he’d just use up all his energy.
The man who hugged him, likely Jimmy, slowly dragged him backward and Mackenzie rose to his feet. Drake could barely look at the man’s face as he walked around his desk and toward them.
They planned this. They knew I would come, and they planned it perfectly.
“This is my home, Drake. No one comes in here and threatens me.”
“Fuck you.”
Jimmy squeezed even harder, forcing what little air he had left in his lungs out of his mouth like a belch.
My god, he’s strong.
“All right,”
Mackenzie said, returning to his previous calm demeanor. “So, here’s what’s going to happen, Drake. You’re going to do exactly as I say, because if you don’t, Jimmy won’t stop squeezing. And then these cameras I have set up in here? They might have a malfunction.”
Drake wasn’t sure if the man was serious about killing him, but there was a look in his eyes that he recognized. And with his connections and Drake’s past…
If he wanted to kill him, Mackenzie might just be the one person who could get away with it.
“You don’t have to say anything, not now, anyway,” Mackenzie continued. He nodded at Jimmy, and the man eased his grip a little. Drake took this opportunity to suck in the largest breath possible and hold the air in his lungs. “But you have to listen. The first thing you’re going to do after leaving here is find your partner Screech. Then you’re going to tell him that he’s done working with Nick Petrazzino. You’re going to tell Screech that all his dealings with Nick will now be Hart business. Not only that but—”
There was a sound from behind both Drake and Jimmy, which drew Mackenzie’s eyes. Jimmy instinctively tightened his grip, but with Drake’s chest still puffed out, it wasn’t as restrictive as before.
“No, I don’t think Drake’s going to do any of that,” a familiar voice stated.
While Drake was thankful that Leroy had come to save him, he wished that it had been either Screech or Hanna. After all, they were the ones with guns.
To his surprise, a now scowling Mackenzie instructed Jimmy to let him go.
Drake fell to all fours and gulped more air.
Maybe Leroy got a gun after all.
Just as he was catching his breath, a hand slipped beneath his armpit and he was hauled to his feet. Before even looking at who had helped him up, he pulled his gun out and pointed at Mackenzie. Jimmy, who had since moved to his boss’s side, looked like he was going to make a stab at the gun, but Drake waved the barrel in his direction, and the man smartly changed his mind.
“Whoa, whoa, Drake,” Leroy said from his left. The strange thing about this was the man who had hoisted him up was on his right.
What the…?
Leroy might not have come with a gun, but he was still packing heat. The man to Drake’s left was none other than Brock Page, WBA and WBC Super Middleweight champion emeritus. Drake had never met the man, nor seen him in person before, but he recognized Brock from the many articles that were written about him following the tragic death of his friend in the ring.
“Now we’re back to this, huh?” Mackenzie said, trying, but just falling short, of regaining his composure. “Well, if you’re going to shoot, do it. Don’t forget to take out Jimmy, too.”
Unlike Mackenzie’s previous instructions, these were ones that he was tempted to obey.
“I should,” Drake said. As soon as the words exited his mouth, however, he knew that he wasn’t going to.
He wanted to make Mackenzie pay for dragging Suzan’s name through the mud, and whatever else his involvement might be, but now was not the time and here was not the place.
Besides, he had a goddamn cat to find.
Drake put the gun back in the holster but didn’t take his hand off the butt.
“If you ever come near me, Suzan, Screech, Leroy, anybody, I will not hesitate to pull the trigger.” As Drake said these words, he stared directly into the man’s eyes. Satisfied that he’d finally gotten his point across, he turned and gestured for Leroy and Brock to lead the way out of the office.
Just as they were leaving, he heard Mackenzie say, “You should have taken the shot.”
Drake bit his tongue until he was on the sidewalk.
“Where’s—”
Leroy glared at him, fury in his eyes.
“What the hell were you thinking, coming here?”
“Me? What the fuck are you doing here? This should have been Screech, not you.”
Leroy refused to back down.
“Screech sent me after you, sent me to get Brock and come save your ass.”
At the mention of the man’s name, Drake looked over at him. Even though Brock could manhandle both of them, probably at the same time, he was the one who looked scared.
Drake growled and was about to chastise Leroy some more when his phone rang.
He cursed and moved away from the two men as he pulled it out of his pocket.
“Yeah?”
“Mr.… PI… uhh, Drake?”
Drake couldn’t put a name to the voice.
“Yeah—who’s this?”
“It’s Patty… Patty Sheer from the SPCA?”
“Oh, shit, hi, sorry about that.” Drake glared at Leroy. “Just one of those days.”
“I’m getting the fuck out here,” Leroy stated, looking at Brock. “Come on, let’s go.”
Drake watched the men leave, once again marveling at just how much Leroy had changed.
“Drake?”
He shook his head and turned his attention back to his phone.
“Yeah, sorry Patty, how can I help you?”
“Well, you know that cat you were looking for? Cosmo?”
Were?
As Drake opened his car door, his heart sunk.
“Yeah? What about him?”
“Well,” Patty sighed loudly, “I think I might have found him. But Drake? I’ve seen pretty much every horrible thing a human can do to their pet, and this still made me sick to my stomach.”
PART III – The Wheel
Chapter 39
“Big guy, handsome… sometimes likes to rock just an apron and nothin’ else?” Chad said casually as he sipped on his vodka cran.
The bartender, who Chad was pretty sure was the same guy who had served him last time he’d been at Focal, shook his head.
“Sorry, man, don’t remember. I see literally hundreds of people a night.”
Chad snickered.
“Yeah, but you remember me, right? I mean, you were going to—ha—you were going to send me to the ATM with the bouncer?”
The bartender shrugged.
“Sorry.”
With that, the man turned his back on Chad.
How fucking dare you!
Chad grabbed the man’s arm but the bartender immediately shook free and moved out of reach.
“Do you know who I am?” he snarled.
“Naw, buddy. Like I said, I see—”
“You will, though, you will.”
Chad spun around and rested his elbows on the bar as he sipped his drink and surveyed the scene. It was still early, much earlier than he’d ever been here before, and Focal was mostly empty. He was actually surprised that it was open before eleven.
At least he didn’t have to wait in line or grease the bouncer again.
Chad’s eyes drifted over the few people dancing on the main floor. He spotted a crew of what was likely underage girls awkwardly laughing and swaying their hips. There was an equally awkward group of frat boys opposite them. They weren’t swaying their hips but extending their chins in time with the beat.
Neither of these groups interested him. With a sigh, Chad was just finishing his drink when he spotted two men near the dark hallway that led to the bathroom. They were so prototypical Twink and Bear that for a second, Chad thought he was looking at an LGBTQ+ pride poster.
This was more his speed.
He placed his empty glass on the bar and started over to the couple. They were so deep in conversation that they didn’t even see him approach.
“Fellas, who’s carrying the blow today?” Chad said with a giggle.
The Bear’s back was to him, and his hand was on the Twink’s hip. Neither of them paid any attention to either Chad himself or the comment.
“Boys, the blow? Who’s carrying?” Chad said, louder this time.
The Twink raised his eyes and then lifted his narrow chin to his partner. The big man looked over his shoulder.
Chad staggered.
It’s him! It’s the man in the apron! The one with the rope!
It’s him!
“Excuse me?”
The man’s face transformed. He had round, full cheeks, and a dark brown beard. His hair was thinning on top.
Chad swallowed hard and regained his composure. He cleared his throat.
“Oh, don’t be coy with me, big man. Which one of you gaylords wants to party? Get high?” he laughed. “Depending on how high, I might even let one of you guys suck me off.”
The much smaller man’s mouth fell open.
“What the fuck? What’s wrong with you?” the man with the beard demanded, his thick brow furrowing.
Chad licked his lips.
“Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you don’t know me.”
The man’s eyes were slits now.
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“Rory, what is this all about?” the Twink asked, hands on his hips.
Rory stepped between his partner and Chad.
“Listen, pal, I don’t know—”
Chad deliberately turned his head to try and replicate the same angle as in his Instagram photo—the one in which he was wearing the Balenciaga beanie.
“Of course, you do.”
Now, in addition to brow furrowing, Rory adopted a sneer. He actually looked like a bear.
“Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, you and your weird ass Suzanne Somers headband, but why don’t you just leave us alone. This place is practically empty, just fuck off.”
The Twink put a hand on his partner’s shoulder.
“Let it go, Rory. Just let it go. It’s not worth it.”
“Yeah, Rory. Let it go,” Chad mocked.
The Twink’s attention drifted from Rory to Chad.
“Umm, not a good idea. Rory has a mean streak in him, and you don’t want to be on the other end of that. We are not interested in whatever you’re selling or buying or whatever, okay?”
Chad laughed again.
“Why you playing? I’m looking for some blow—both kinds.”
Almost Infamous (Detective Damien Drake Book 9) Page 14