Savage Beast (Max Savage Book 1)

by Sloane Howell

  He crouched down over me and straddled my waist. I held my hands up and went to a defensive position, but he beat right through my guard. Bear rained basketball-sized fists from the clouds at me, his giant knuckles dented like golf balls. My vision blurred and then turned red. He’d busted my head open. Holding my hands in front of my face, I managed to wipe my eyes with my forearm and my vision cleared. Each blow hammered me harder into the ground. The back of my skull had nowhere to go and absorbed a hundred percent of the energy from each one. After two or three punches, my face went numb and my lips and nose felt three sizes larger than normal. Eventually, my arms fell to my sides and then he really opened up on me.

  It was all surreal, like I was standing outside my body, watching it happen from somewhere else.

  Bear had a slight smile on his face the entire time. He held his tongue between his teeth and brought hell down on my face. For a second I thought he might be content beating me to death with his bare fists. He heaved his arms like a lumberjack swinging an axe.

  He was a poor fighter. Just big and powerful and sometimes that was all you needed. Land one surprise punch, then windmill haymakers on the opponent on the way to a sure victory. I’m sure he’d gotten by with it his entire life. My vision started to fade, and my mouth filled with blood. I gurgled warm copper. The lights started to dim, the fuzzy black stars in my vision growing in intensity. I thought it might be a concussion from him jarring my brain around.

  My eyes rolled over and I saw Shirley. She watched from the corner of the fence. Then I looked at Morgan, still restrained to the chair, and then over at the truck bomb.

  Them or everyone.

  My eyes found the clouds, past Bear’s tense face, and his long hair dangling down. I saw Peabody and Sean. Maybe I really was dying, the lights going out. They both turned away. Neither would look at me. I couldn’t afford to lose. People would die. A lot of innocent people hurt. It mattered to Sean and Shirley and Peabody and Morgan.

  A surge of adrenaline rushed through me. I was like a mom who lifted a car off her child in the heat of the moment. Bear had pummeled my face so hard and so fast he was tiring out. I saw two of him and tried to focus him into one entity. His breaths were fast and labored but to me they were normal speed, like it was all in slow motion. Shirley screamed, but it sounded deep and slow, like a man’s voice one syllable at a time. I watched the giant fist swing up into the air, like Bear was raising his arm to the clouds, about to put everything he had into a final blow meant to kill me.

  Them or everyone.

  The fist started down toward my face. I saw every black hair on his fingers, waving in the wind, flecks of white sunlight glinting off them. I watched the fist, crashing down on me from the sky, aimed right at my head. It was his left. It rocketed toward my face like a meteor ripping through the atmosphere.

  I used every ounce of energy I had. Neurotransmitters coursed through my veins. I used every bit of it to roll my hips to the side and get my head out of the way. Bear’s fist crushed against the gravel. The collision sent a bolt of energy through the earth and radiated through my arm pressed against the ground. The crushed gravel rattled in a circle around his fist, like a shock wave. Everything focused and sped up like a movie in fast forward. I gripped his wrist and whipped over his back, slamming his chest down into the ground. It was an old grappling move to reverse positions. I centered all my weight in my hips and crushed down onto his lower back, then grabbed a fistful of his long black hair, yanking his head up at a right angle to the road. His neck wrenched all the way back and the skin tightened around it.

  I pulled Peabody’s knife from my holster and sawed across his carotid artery. He groaned and gurgled, as arterial spray arced out and painted a semi-circle on the ground in front of him. Blood meant to pump into his brain poured out of the wound and puddled beneath him.

  I stood up, facing Morgan, still holding Bear’s huge body halfway in the air by his hair. Morgan didn’t move, just sat there, frozen. I stood there, panting, heart racing, like an animal in the wild. It was Bear or me, and Bear paid the price. I dropped his lifeless body to the ground.

  Shirley sprinted up the road. I turned back to look at her and her mouth moved like she was hollering but I couldn’t hear anything. Nothing at all. My ears were still ringing from being hammered repeatedly in the head. She yelled. Over and over.

  My hearing finally returned all at once as she neared. Sounds, seemingly coming from everywhere, rushed down a tunnel and slammed into me. I stood there, wobbling. Barely able to stand.

  I held an unsteady arm up and pointed at Morgan. “Go check on him.”

  She stopped and stared at me for a brief second, then ran to Morgan. She kept glancing back at me like I was a different person, someone she didn’t recognize. It was Bear or me. She’d have to get over it. I would’ve pissed in his rotting skull if there was time.

  I held my head up toward the sun and sucked in fresh air. He’d gotten me good, but I’d won. I stumbled over to the truck bomb, trying to get my wits about me. I shook my head wildly to try and feel something, anything. Blood whipped out of the side of my mouth and onto the crushed rocks. I needed to take care of the bomb before it took care of us.

  About twenty yards before I reached the truck, I knew I’d made another mistake.

  65

  I NEVER SAW THE MUZZLE flash. A super-sonic round ripped through my shoulder before I heard the crack that followed. Pain radiated down my arm and along my rib cage. My body went to soldier mode immediately, and I scrambled across the ground to get behind the truck.

  The sniper was out there. I should’ve found him first and taken him out.

  No time for second guessing. Move on.

  He wouldn’t fire another round this close to the truck. Why hadn’t he done it already? Blown up the place? I’d killed both their guys. He must’ve been waiting for a call from McCurdy.

  I scanned the area and finally spotted him, halfway down another corridor of tanks, maybe five hundred yards away, a quarter up the stairs of one of them.

  From the angle he was perched, he hadn’t been able to track us in the truck coming in between the other tanks. His vision was obscured elsewhere but he had line of sight on the truck.

  My shoulder ached like hell, but the round had passed right through. The guy was an above-average shot, but not a professional. He should’ve been able to put it right through my ear at five hundred yards and an elevated position. I’d already spotted a dozen places that would’ve served his purpose better.

  I needed to take out the bomb, then he’d be useless.

  I pulled out my knife and wiped it on the grass. It was all I had available to get the job done. It’d have to do. Crawling around the back of the truck, away from the sniper, I reached the end of the trailer and opened the back. It was different than the bomb I’d seen on the farm. I blinked a couple of times and tried to focus.

  What the hell was going on? The detonator was on the side of the wall, but there was no paneling over it. The shock tubing wasn’t the same pattern from the farm and the pallets were stacked different. My heart pinched in my chest and my stomach twisted up in a knot.

  I thought back to the truck we’d driven, the one without a bomb in it. What was different about the back? Something had been off. I scanned the mental image in my mind. There was no license plate on the decoy truck.

  I thought back to Sean’s invoices. There was one from Classic Cola that hadn’t made any sense at first. The address up in the corner. It was a Tulsa address, to a distribution center in town.

  I took a step back and glanced over to see Shirley had freed Morgan from the chair.

  They both started toward the truck.

  “No! Sniper!” I pointed with my good arm in the direction of the shooter, but they both took off in a sprint toward the semi, ducking as soon as they heard me yell.

  Why did I throw the gun down to fight Bear? So stupid. I could’ve fired a round at the sniper to provide some kind o
f cover.

  No shots came.

  I stepped around to the rear to try and assess the situation.

  Shirley arrived first. “What is it?”

  “It’s not the same bomb.”

  “It has to be. Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. The other one was paneled over. Sealed up in the wall of the truck. This one has components in different places.”

  “Yeah, about that...”

  Both of our heads whipped around to Charles Morgan.

  Morgan had a gun trained on Shirley’s head. He wiped sweat from his brow while he stood there in his Harvard sweatpants, dirty and disheveled, but not beaten. They hadn’t laid a finger on him.

  “What are you doing?” Shirley said.

  He ignored her. Stared right at me with the gun still aimed at her.

  “Our drivers got in a hurry and hopped in the wrong trucks for the wrong places. It’s what happens when you put idiots in charge of something important.”

  “You’re making a mistake right now.” I glared at him.

  “I don’t make mistakes, Mr. Savage. Now hop down out of there.”

  I stared at the wires running into the detonator and took a mental picture. The device was attached to a large winding group of shock tube that ran down and networked itself through all the cans. A very complicated rig. The thick roll of shock tube in the wall behind the detonator probably lined up identically with the Classic Cola logo on the other side, providing a target for the sniper.

  “Anything happens to me and there is a marksman out there just itching to take the shot, son.”

  “Not much of a marksman. He hit me in the shoulder. You switched the trucks out. At Maple Grove, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “Needed you to spend some time chasing nothing. Since you wouldn’t go the hell away.”

  “That’s why we had to go to your house and watch you iron your damn pants. And why you kept checking your watch. You were buying them more time at the farm.”

  It was all so clear, and I’d missed it. The second Shirley had called him to come get us at the library, he’d smiled at his good fortune and went into planning mode, injecting himself right in the middle of everything. He deserved a damn Academy Award. He’d messaged Bear and the driver that he was right up the road at Peabody’s place and arranged for them to be taken hostage.

  Then the empty truck at Maple Grove. The guys drove it in, took the license plate off, and made it out, probably as easy as we had. We drove it out. They put the plate on the truck with the other bomb in it. It’d match the logs as already having passed through security at the lodge. I bet they drove the real bomb in the second we left, saying they forgot something. Amidst all the chaos they’d have waved them right back through without checking anything but the plate numbers.

  I had to admire the simplicity and brilliance of it. Charles Morgan wasn’t a stupid man.

  “You promised McCurdy a seat at the table?”

  “Come on down from there. I have a plane to catch. She’s going to drive me.”

  I stared at his hand. The gun was steady, aimed at Shirley. His eyes were cold and calculated. He’d trained with firearms and he had a look that said I’ll do it. Some people didn’t have it in them, you could tell. Morgan did.

  “You’re not going to fire into this truck. You’re not that stupid.”

  He stepped wide out to the side and held the gun at her head where it wouldn’t hit the truck, then stared at me like I was an idiot. It was worth a try.

  “Better? Now get out of the truck slowly and show me your hands.” His voice was firm and calm.

  “Why are you doing this?” Shirley’s face went red and then turned to pink, like she might cry or beat him to death at the same time. Her eyes welled up. She looked like her father was holding her at gunpoint.

  He wouldn’t look at her. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

  I held my hands up and complied. What else could I do? “Don’t act like you care about her.”

  He smiled at me. “Don’t try the psychology game, Savage. You’re out of your league.”

  I thought back hard, about everything Shirley had told me about Morgan, everything we’d talked about. Her sister. Her parents. The history of their family.

  I stared at Morgan for a long second, then shook my head at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Tell her what you did.” I wasn’t sure I was right, but it was worth a try. Even if I wasn’t it would cast doubt, and cause conflict, which would buy us more time.

  He raised an eyebrow and stared hard like a poker player, trying to get every bit of information out of me.

  “I’m just a business man.” He stayed to the side of Shirley and backed her up as I got down from the truck. “Take out your weapons and toss them aside.”

  I did what he said, tossing the knife out onto the rocks. Sparks of sunlight gleamed from the blade when it rattled on the ground. It was all mind games. I’d already casted the seed of doubt in his head, and in a few minutes, I’d capitalize when he least expected.

  He wouldn’t hurt Shirley unless he had to. He was still emotionally connected to her. He’d watched her grow up. Been a second father to her.

  He walked us both back to the building. No wonder the sniper hadn’t fired when they ran across, he was on Morgan’s payroll. Morgan fished around blindly in a bag with one hand, the gun pointed at both of us the entire time. He pulled out a set of handcuffs, tossed them at Shirley’s feet, then stood up straight and kept a safe distance with the gun still pointed at her head.

  “Savage, you walk up to her. Kristine, you cuff him to the post. I’m sure you know how. Do it right too or I’ll put a bullet in his head.”

  I walked to her slowly with my palms in the air, turned around in front of her, and then stuck my hands behind my back around one of the poles holding up an awning in front of the building. She bent down and grabbed the cuffs, slapping them on my wrists. She put them on tight, not as tight as they had to be, but enough to convince him I was secure. I thanked her for it in my mind.

  “You never told her back there. What you did to her parents.”

  His face paled, then it turned beet red.

  Shirley whipped around. “What?” Her words were laced with venom.

  “Yeah, Charles? What’d you do?” I grinned.

  Morgan began trembling, shaking the gun around, no longer controlled.

  That happens when you get emotional, Charles.

  He stomped toward us. “Nothing! You shut your mouth, Savage. Before you get her killed. I didn’t do anything.”

  “She’s a detective. She knows when you lie.” I grinned wider.

  Good. He was even more emotional than I expected. What had I told Peabody? Paper clips could save your life as good as a gun. He’d agreed. And I’d found out he knew even better than me. This is for you, old man. I worked my hands into the cuffs of his long-sleeved black shirt. My fingers searched and pulled. It took everything I had not to look like I was struggling. I kept talking to Morgan to distract him.

  “What’d you do, Charles?”

  Shirley’s eyes were full of hate. She gritted her teeth. “What’s he talking about?”

  He kept the gun trained on her head, and he stared right at her, trying to convince her he was telling the truth. “Nothing. I swear, Kristine. He’s grasping at straws. They died in a car accident.”

  He kept looking away from her, then his head would snap back, like he forgot he was holding her at gunpoint.

  “No, they didn’t.” I drew out my words, mocking him with a falsetto, smiling the whole time. It killed me on the inside, watching Shirley go through this. It probably looked like I was a real asshole, but I needed Morgan good and pissed off. People make mistakes when they’re angry.

  “Your head games aren’t going to work, Savage. She knows I cared about her family. She knows she wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for you.” He turned back to her. “I’d have done anything
for your mother. You know that. For you and your sister.”

  She glanced back at me. “What’d he do?”

  “Think about it. Remember what you told me? How affectionate he was. Like a second dad to you?”

  “I was!” His scream echoed off the oil tanks.

  I got the paper clips unhooked from my shirt. Bent the edge of one up with my thumb and wedged it in the keyhole on the cuffs. I took the other and worked it in right next to the first one. Morgan needed to keep talking.

  Shirley had too many things going on to see the big picture, which worked out well, because she wouldn’t tip him off to what I was doing.

  “He had a thing for your mom. Maybe even had a fling or an affair. You said it probably happened yourself, right? Your sister passed away. Your parents were getting back together. It brought them closer. Your mom broke the news to Morgan. Your parents were trying to make it work. But he had nothing. He had all that money and nobody to share it with. Not the woman he was in love with. He was in a jealous rage over it. Probably issued her an ultimatum. Him or your dad.”

  “I swear to God I will put a bullet in your skull if you don’t shut your damn mouth! You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”

  I stared him right in the eye. “You’d better not miss, bitch.”

  “Is it true?” Shirley stared at Morgan. She had tears in her eyes. “Did you kill them?”

  I groaned through the pain of my shoulder, it hurt like hell wrenched back, trying to get the cuffs off. I wasn’t sure how much blood I’d lost, but I was getting a little light-headed. “Of course he did. He spent a year planning it too. Crossed all the Ts, dotted all the Is. Ducks all in a row. Then he started planning all this. He killed the love of his life because she didn’t love him back. He had nothing. Still has nothing.”