by Louis Scott
“Street View showing a multi-story residential dwelling. I checked Chicago’s city utility records and it seems there are three apartments at that address. First and second levels occupied by paid-up-to-date renters. Logic says they’re not bunking with locals. Makes tactical sense to occupy the highest level.”
“Four minutes out,” Ellie called out.
Jim focused on the driving. The streets had become narrow and congested.
[Something bad has happened. I need your help. Where are you] Bonny messaged.
Voodoo considered for a moment that maybe Bonny was just caught up in the middle of some scheme and Fats was controlling her.
[I can help you baby – where are you] Voodoo texted back.
“Alex, we’re close. Which apartment do we hit?” Jim asked with a voice filled with adrenaline.
[Where are you Bonny. I’m worried about you hun]
“SWAT up. Target location three blocks ahead on the right.” Jonas ordered.
“HQ shows Bonny’s still on site,” Alex said.
Alex’s eyes twitched, and Voodoo noticed her temples pulsing. She knew that meant Alex was in the deepest realms of concentration. Logic and data had no place in Alex’s extrapolation of information—she calculated intuition, gut and instinct during these moments. Most of the time she was right. But FORCE needed an answer—which apartment?
[You lied bitch] Bonny’s message read.
Voodoo knew it was done.
“She knows,” Voodoo told the team. Something stuck in her gut—Bonny’s never used the word bitch. No matter what the situation.
“Alex, we need to know which apartment? We can’t afford to linger in the open.” Jim mashed the brakes as the SUV jumped the curb and landed halfway between the small yard and front door.
“First floor. No chemicals on site.” Alex barked with an unsure confidence.
Voodoo pocketed her cell and racked a round into the chamber of her 9mm Colt submachine gun. The team exited on the driver’s side that faced away from the freestanding complex. Everyone covered down on windows and doors.
Voodoo’s pulse pounded until she heard it inside her eardrums. The thought of confronting Bonny added strain to an already stressful scenario. Her gut wretched with a queasy uncertainty.
Voodoo waved for Alex to slide through the backseat and join the rest of the team. She read the gravity on Alex’s face, but also the grace under life-threatening pressure. Maybe Alex had been condescending earlier, but Voodoo regretted her attitude toward her. This was an incredibly talented woman and she'd brought them this far.
“Alex, move. We’re sitting ducks.” Jonas’s HK MP5 zeroed on the far front corner, but his attention was on Alex.
Voodoo began to wretch. Everything started to catch up to her. She stepped out of formation. Vomit spurted between her lips. Her rifle hung loose from the nylon harness strapped around her neck and back. She felt the weight of Pike’s gloved hand upon her hip. She nodded that she was okay.
“Come on Alex,” she pleaded through a Nomex hood soaked with bile.
“Second floor,” Alex ordered. “I’m certain of it. Not stopping at one—go hard to two. FORCE says Bonny’s still on site. We got her trapped,”
Alex looked directly into Voodoo’s moist eyes. “Thank you.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Team 1, take point to entrance,” Jonas initiated the assault.
“Roger that,” Jim said.
“Team 2, breach and cover up.” Jonas’s assignment meant Pike and Voodoo were responsible for breaking down the door—any means necessary.
“10-4,” Pike replied.
“Team 3, we will lead point up the stairs.”
The others were silent at the suggestion that Jonas and Alex would run the most dangerous section of the mission, but there wasn’t time to waste. Besides the terrorists being alerted by their presence in the front yard, it would be a matter of minutes until the Chicago Police Department arrived.
“Go,” Jonas ordered over the tactical headsets.
In a flash of fluid motion, everyone moved in a straight line from behind the SUV. Shots rang out from a window on the second floor. Alex returned fire from her rear guard position. The curtains fluttered. No more shots.
Jim and Ellie led the short sprint across the yard and covered down on windows alongside the front door. The wooden door had a top-half etched glass insert. Pike hooted at the weak barrier as his boot smashed into the doorknob and locking mechanism. The decorative door flung open without resistance.
“Good job,” Voodoo whispered as they cleared out of the path for Jonas and Alex to make their way up the narrow stairway.
“Coming through,” Alex said, laser-focused up the stairs.
Solid walls lined each side of the stairwells. The only landing visible was once they were actually on the second floor.
Gun shots rang out—random and raggedly timed. They didn’t sound like the disciplined trigger pulls of experienced operatives. She heard the heavy thud of a human body tumbled against steps.
“Friendly down,” called either Alex or Jonas—excitement blurring the distinction in the headsets.
Voodoo’s heart clutched—Alex was on point in the assault. She hesitated.
“Move!” Pike’s order snapped Voodoo out of her trance. She spun around the blind corner and saw Jonas at the base of the stairs. She gasped at the blood pooled from his neck.
Voodoo’s legs felt like steel pillars but she willed herself to jump over Jonas’s contorted body. Alex was alone at the top of the stairs. Pike grabbed Jonas’s body and dragged him to safety. She had to concentrate on climbing the steps. Each footfall felt like a kettlebell dropping. No need to worry about stealth. The creaking stairs signaled each advance.
“I’m here, sister.” Voodoo squeezed Alex’s left shoulder to signal she was prepared to fight.
“Team 1 moving to secure rear door,” Jim announced.
They had to cut off any avenues of escape.
Voodoo took a breath. That witch Bonny was trapped on a second floor apartment off South Racine Avenue, around Englewood with a bunch of deranged maniacs. It was already one of the most dangerous communities in America. It didn’t need their presence adding to the insanity of violence. There’d be no calls to surrender or second chances. Voodoo was ready to confront her.
“Ready, Alex. Move.”
Alex pulled the pin, and tossed the heavy metal canister around the corner. Brilliant lights flashed and deafening decibels from the Def-Tec 25 ignited. Both women lunged up from their crouched position on the stairs and rotated around the corner wall.
They zipped silently through the thick white smoke created by the flash bang’s diversionary device. Voodoo spotted someone in the corner looking to pop more rounds out the window. She lifted her weapon, but before she could squeeze the trigger, she heard two soft cracks from the suppressed barrel of Alex’s HK UMP40. The gangly bayou boy’s body crumbled to the floor.
“Skinny down,” Alex radioed.
A rapid fire of rounds blasted holes in a hollow core door—they melted cherry wood bookshelf across the room. Voodoo moved to the sound of the gunfire. She knew it would be Bonny. Who else would waste ammunition shooting without purpose into a door?
“Bonny come out, this is Krystal.”
More shots, but this sounded like the weapon’s select-fire had been switched to fully automatic. These shots were from an AK 47—a very distinctive sound, and nothing to screw with.
“Voodoo,” Pike radioed. “Y’all get out of there. That AK 47 will rip right through the walls. Regroup on the first floor, and get Jonas stable first.”
Alex looked at Voodoo as if to question what she wanted to do. Voodoo pointed in the direction of the closed room. The reek of a gun battle drifted thick and heavy through the air. Voodoo’s ear rung from the streamlining clatter of the AK 47, and streaks of light bounced into and out of the new holes ripped open by the Russian assault rifle.
Al
ex moved to cover and called for Bonny to surrender. Shots ripped through the door again and in the direction of Alex’s voice. Voodoo swept along the wall that enclosed the bathroom. She began to fire consecutive rounds through the wall until the AK 47’s shots stopped. She heard the clunk of what sounded like the heavy weapon hitting the tub and tile bathroom floor.
“Good thinking, Voodoo. Hold tight, let’s bang it and go.”
Alex peeked around a hard corner, pulled another pin. She threw this canister overhand like a baseball. The Def-Tec 25’s weight and force busted thru the shredded hollow core door. Like the first diversion device, this one too, exploded into a violent display of light and sound.
Alex and Voodoo sprinted their short distances to confront Bonny—kill her if they had too. Voodoo front kicked the bathroom door and they jammed their bodies into the space.
“What the…?” Alex sputtered.
“Cranston Stone. Got you again.” Voodoo taunted the brutal torturer who’d kidnapped her in New Orleans before she’d escaped on her own. “Where’s Bonny, old man?” She towered over him without an appearance of offering aid.
“Help me.” Cranston begged.
“Where’s Bonny?” Voodoo demanded.
“Please, I don’t want to die with the Yankees. Take me back south.” His rail-thin arm quivered as it reached for her. “Bonny ain’t here,” Cranston begged.
“I know Bonny’s here. I’ve been texting with her and I know she’s here.” Frustration poured into Voodoo’s tone.
“Help me, and I’ll show you.”
The face once cloaked in evil, now exposed a frightened timeworn shadow. The bullets Voodoo had drilled into the bathroom had struck him, and forced his meatless frame to spasm in agony. His wounds had pieces of sheetrock and fiberglass wall insulation meshed with the exposed blood and bone.
“Deal, Stone. I’ll help you,” Voodoo said.
“Let me show you,” He rocked his body to the right and jerked his right hand from behind his back.
“Gun,” Alex called.
Voodoo blasted two bullets into his cranium.
His hell-bound body died.
“He died for nothing,” Voodoo gasped.
She felt empty as she looked at the lifeless, decrepit lunatic.
It wasn’t her first time to take a life, but it shocked her that her emotions had become so hardened so quickly. Almost matter of fact—but in the big picture, that’s all it was. One person trying to kill another person—he lost.
“He died for his cause.” Alex shook her head.
“What cause?” Voodoo snapped back at her.
“To kill you.”
Alex lifted the cell phone out of the blood pool. She showed Voodoo the string of text messages Cranston Stone had sent to her. It was all a trap to lure Voodoo into her own execution.
“Bonny was never here?”
“At some point she was. Probably hauled tail after the Savage Souls did us a favor and inadvertently took out those barrels of chemical weapons. Of course it costs those dummies their lives.”
Voodoo and Alex both spun to quickly aim their weapons as the thumping of boots came closer up the steps and through the apartment. It was Pike. His eyes were wide as they watched the muzzles of both weapons fall back away from him.
“Jonas’s fine. He’s loaded into the SUV—Jim tending to him. Ellie’s gonna come up to help scrub the sight before locals arrive,” Pike said.
“When’s that going to be?” Alex asked.
“HQ advised CPD scanner shows Patrolmen dispatched, but they have a delayed response code thanks to a deadly chemical spill and a massive riot on Division Street.” Pike smirked.
“The Savage Souls clubhouse?” Voodoo asked.
“Seems so. Something about calling off a business transaction and half the club disagreed with the other half that called the shots.”
“I hope Miller made it out all right,” Alex said.
“I hope Justice is okay too,” Voodoo added.
“I’m just glad we stopped another threat,” Pike waggled his head, “For now that is.”
Chapter Nineteen
Voodoo nudged the cell phone between her jaw and shoulder. She and Pike had finally made it back to the Mississippi Gulf Coast, but she wanted to touch base with Alex once more before she fell off the grid. She knew Pike was waiting, but she had news to share with Alex and felt it best to directly tell her.
“Just a graze, huh?” Voodoo asked.
“Yeah,” Alex replied. “Jonas has got nine lives.”
“Hope this is the first one he’s cashed in,” Voodoo joked.
Voodoo relaxed on the ledge inside the full wall of windows. She sighed as the waves below beat a steady rhythm against a man-made jetty. She was close enough to bayou country to feel at home, but still far enough away to fell alone with Pike.
“He’s already home and should be resting,” Alex said. “Instead he’s busting the Intel Section’s balls about finishing that diary decoding. Looks like shooting Jonas West in the neck is a great way to motivate him.”
“Same here. Pike’s seen an orthopedic and is weighing surgery options. Rest and rehab until Bonny’s in the bag he said. Damn stubborn men—thankful for them.” Voodoo laughed.
“Tell him Miller is also okay,” Alex asked. “Seems ATF wanted to make a splash despite the undercover operations embargo. Miller wouldn’t allow another special agent to chance it, so he volunteered. Said some hulk yanked him through a back door when all the fist and pool cues started flying. Saved his hide,” Alex said.
“Justice?” Voodoo chuckled.
“Yeah, Justice. Seems you were right about him. Different patches, but a solid code of honor,” admitted Alex. “You’ve done a great job, and I’m sorry for doubting you at times.”
“Thanks, Alex. You’re an incredible woman. I appreciate all that you’ve done, but if it’s all the same to you, I’m returning to my South Louisiana Violent Crimes Task Force assignment.”
“No more hunting Bonny?” Alex sounded surprised.
“She’s out of my league. FORCE or some other super secret squirrel team will find her. I belong back on the bayou.”
“You’re more valuable than you think, my sister. Just in case, I’ll keep you in the loop as decoding progresses. Bonny’s not done yet and I’ve got a suspicion you’ll want to be a part of stopping her.” Alex said.
“Thanks Alex. Send Jonas my best.”
“Goodbye, my friend.” Alex ended the call.
Voodoo took a moment alone to allow the events of the last few weeks to fade from her shoulders. Dropping the cell back into the pocket of her plush robe, she strolled through the luxury suite. Pike was already relaxing in the hot tub.
“Time to finish what we started, baby.” He whispered.
She untied the robe to reveal her unclothed form. She knew just how to turn him on. His eyes softened and a wide smile beamed up at her. Yes, they’d been through hell and back, but this was their time. The world would just have to wait. She grabbed her cell to shove it in a drawer and felt the vibrations that signaled another text message.
[Thought I could trust you roomie. Next time you die, bitch]
Book 3 - New York Second
Sneak peek at Book 3:
New York Minute
A F.O.R.C.E. Adventure
The chopper’s tarmac gave Pike the craps. It meant heading off to who knew where to do who knew what. Throbs of pain pulsed through his shoulder—not bad enough to sideline him, but a reminder he wasn’t twenty-three years old anymore.
As usual, Voodoo sprinted to the Black Hawk with her tactical gear dangling from every Velcro strap and hook. Pike waited at the cargo door and helped her get kitted up. He still regretted the earlier dust-up with Voodoo, but he'd come to understand the fiery passion of Voodoo’s Creole culture. It’s what drew him to her, and what would keep him there.
“Sorry again," she said. "It’s still overwhelming, but I’ll fight heaven or hell t
o be with you.”
Her expression was sincere, almost angelic. Her fair caramel skin showcased a picturesque smile and emerald green eyes. The olive drab tactical coveralls didn’t diminish her beauty.
“Let’s roll. This’ll be a short hop to Scarsdale,” Pike said as he held her heavy bulletproof SWAT vest and Kevlar helmet. Although his hands were sheathed in tactical operator shooting gloves, he lingered before releasing her hand—it just felt perfect in hers.
“Where’s Scarsdale?” she crinkled her nose while fastening her harness.
“New York, but Alex will brief everyone inflight.”
Jonas, the former Delta Force commander and FORCE’s number two, took his usual position in the chopper. He liked to face everyone and ensure there were no mistakes. Alex was the abstract conceptualizer of the unit—she saw patterns where nothing existed. Jonas was her counterpoint—everything to him was in the details.
Jonas had taken a bullet in the neck when the team took down terrorist plotting an attack in Chicago. They thought they’d cornered the leader, but she’d escaped again while Jonas was dumped to the bottom of a stairwell during the gunfight. He looked no worse for wear now.
The Black Hawk’s cabin glowed in eerie green LED lights. It diminished everyone's expression and cast unnatural shadows over their faces. Rotors whooshed, biting air in mighty strokes as the pilots rocketed the bird northeast towards the Big Apple. Jonas craned forward, started to speak but stopped. He made strong eye contact with each operative until they nodded in acknowledgement.
“Jim, you with me?” he asked. Jim Graham nodded.
“Ellie?”
She blinked and whispered, “Yes.”
“Voodoo, you with me?”
Pike saw her hesitate, but realized it was more from the intensity of the moment. Her mouth agape, she nodded.
“Dave, you with me?”
Dave Miller nodded. “I know ATF screwed this up, but tonight I’m FORCE.”
“Pike?” He nodded, feeling a rush of adrenaline flood over him that made giving a verbal answer almost impossible.