Grim Ambition

by Jennifer Reinfried

  Shock rooted Emma in place, and she stood with her mouth open in fury. She watched as Alex sauntered up to Cassie, now on her back on the dirty concrete floor, pulled out his Glock, and put a round through her left shoulder. The echo of the gunfire flared in her ears and drowned out the screams of both Cassie and Emma.

  “Holy shit. Warn a guy next time,” Marcus said to Alex. He held a finger to his temple and moved his jaw up and down in an attempt to clear his deafened ears.

  Emma ran forward. “Alex! Stop!” she yelled.

  Alex knelt and removed the girl’s gag. “Henry was careless, Cassie. We got your name from his place. I took my time killing him. After, Vance and I sent Emma to gather information from you, find out who you were working with. Have anything to say to your new friend?” he asked the girl on the floor, then turned his face up to Emma, eyes glittering in excitement.

  Cassie gasped for air through clenched teeth, her eyes glazed from pain, as blood seeped out from underneath her body. She was crying freely, and she turned her head and locked her gaze on Emma.

  “You bitch,” she snarled. Spittle flung from her lips. “How could you? How could you? Grim’s going to come for me,” Cassie raved, her eyes wide. “He’ll save me, then he’s going to fuck all of you up, especially you, Emma.”

  “Blah, blah, blah.” Alex stood again and fired another round into the girl, this time in her right shoulder.

  “Hey, what the hell?” Marcus frowned. “We need information. You’re gonna kill her.”

  Emma stepped forward but Alex turned and aimed his gun at her face, bringing her to a quick halt.

  “Whoa, whoa, seriously, Alex.” Marcus stepped forward, his hands up, palms out. Alex’s gun didn’t move from Emma, who took a slow step backward. “Hey. We need to get the info. Think about this, man.”

  Alex slowly turned his attention on Marcus. Alex’s pupils were dilated slightly behind his glasses, and his chest heaved. What scared Emma the most was how his lips were curled into a thrilled grin.

  “Okay. Okay. Do it your way, I’m just here to help,” Marcus said with his eyes now downcast.

  “Guard her.” Alex nodded at Emma. Marcus hesitated, then aimed his pistol at the side of her head. Only then did Alex turn his gaze down to the writhing form of Cassie once more. “Doesn’t feel good, does it?” he sneered.

  “Fuck you,” the girl muttered.

  “Fuck me? Well, that’s just rude.” Alex stepped alongside Cassie, who, despite her painful wounds, tried to move away from him.

  “Alex, please,” Emma pleaded.

  He ignored her, slid the gun into his waistband, and withdrew a folding knife from his pocket. The sound it made in the small room as it clicked open chilled Emma.

  The cold, hard nose of Marcus’ gun poked her temple, but she ignored it as she watched Alex’s blade slice into Cassie’s stomach. Tears of frustration fell from her eyes as she stood by helplessly.

  Marcus nudged Emma with the nose of his gun again. She slowly turned her gaze to him. Hope jumped to her chest when she saw that his eyes held unease.

  “He’s fucking insane,” he whispered to her.

  “Why are you helping him?”

  “He offered to double my income if I did. But the plan was to get information, not this.”

  “This is how Alex gets his information.”

  Marcus shook his head. “He’s snapped, Emma. The way he’s been talking, I think you’re next.”

  Emma’s insides churned. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Impossible, she thought.

  Cassie’s sounds had dwindled, but she now let out a bloodcurdling scream. Alex stood, crimson dripping from his blade. He turned and looked at Emma with what looked like a desperate need for approval in his eyes. Emma’s hands shook, and she looked over at Marcus with wild eyes. Her chest hitched as she attempted to control her breaths, and her vision blurred.

  “Get out of here. Run. I’ll hold him off. Go to Vance, let him know what happened.” Marcus gestured to Emma to back out of the room so he’d have a clear shot at Alex, and she didn’t hesitate to oblige. She took a step back, then another, trying to move slow enough to not draw Alex’s attention.

  Marcus pulled the nose of his pistol from Emma’s direction and aimed it at the man standing over Cassie’s torn body. In one motion, Alex bent and pulled the girl up from the floor, who moaned in delirious pain. He stood a mere five feet away from the nose of Marcus’ gun.

  “Go on, shoot,” Alex said as he held the girl in front of him. He let his blood-soaked blade clatter to the ground and reached behind him for his Glock.

  “Emma, run,” Marcus muttered. “You’re fuckin’ crazy,” he shouted at Alex.

  “I’m just doing my job.”

  “Put the gun down. Let her go. Now. Now.”

  “Like this?” Alex pulled his arm back, placed the nose of his gun against Cassie’s temple, and pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed the side of the room as the girl’s body twitched and fell limp in his arms. Emma screamed, then turned and ran, listening to more gunshots as the sounds of Marcus fighting Alex followed her outside.

  Heart beating so hard it hurt, Emma sank into a crouch and snuck up behind Nate’s SUV. No movement. She took a breath, steeling herself, then reached for the handle of the backseat. Still no movement. Fighting against the urge to run, knowing if she could just get her gun she could protect herself, Emma yanked the door open.

  Part Three - Chaos

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was almost after eight-thirty at night, and Isaac was in a near panic. He couldn’t reach Emma, who was over an hour late. He’d been frantic since ten after seven, and had called her countless times, only to connect with her voicemail each time.

  Isaac’s alarm edged closer and closer to a full-out hysteria. All his frenzied mind could focus on was the phone call with Alex the night before. He had talked back to the man, he had agitated him, possibly pushed him over the edge with his disobedience. He had only wanted to protect Emma by refusing Alex's orders, but now it was clear to him he had only endangered her further. With each passing minute, Isaac's worried mind drew up image after image of her hurt, or worse, by Alex's hands. There’s no way he would hurt her, he reassured himself. There’s no way. With a sound close to a growl of anger, Isaac called Emma again, and nearly threw his phone against the wall when he heard her voicemail pick up once more.

  There was only one other option left to him at this time. He looked down at the phone gripped tightly in his hand and opened his contact list, then scrolled until he reached the only name under “V.”

  His finger hovered over the green call button, hesitation in his mind, but concern outweighed the nerves. He tapped his screen and lifted the phone to his ear.

  “This better be good.” The Russian’s voice interrupted the third ring.

  “Sir, I think we have a problem,” Isaac said in a strained voice.

  —-

  Emma did her best to keep the SUV under the speed limit, despite the fear in her chest. Her cell buzzed continuously in the pocket of her jeans, but her fear of Alex chasing after her, finding her, spurred Emma forward with no destination in mind, and she ignored the calls. Instead, she let the road occupy her. She sporadically changed lanes and took random exits with her hands gripped like a vice on the wheel as she struggled to control the breaths that shot out past her clenched teeth. Her focus was more drawn toward the mirrors of the car, but she was unable to determine if she’d been followed.

  Eventually, Emma was left with a fear that simmered instead of raged. Her thoughts began to reconstruct, and she finally pulled over on a side street. Her fingers trembled as she slid her buzzing phone from her pocket. She took a large gulp of air and let it out slowly before she answered.

  “H-Hello?”

  “Where are you?” Isaac’s normally smooth voice cracked and shook. “What happened?”

  “He’s snapped.” She turned and scanned the street behind her. “Alex. He...he killed
Cassie.”

  “Oh, God, are you hurt? Emma, talk to me, what’s happening right now?”

  She tried and failed to hold back hot tears of fury that began to flow from her eyes. Her voice wavered all over as she spoke in one, long, quick sentence, her upper lip curled slightly in a snarl. “He kidnapped me and took me to some abandoned place, and Marcus was there, he tried to help me, Alex shot Cassie over and over, and—”

  “Slow down, slow down. Emma. Are you safe?”

  “I...I think so.” Her eyes flicked around her surroundings once more, wide and wet.

  “Marcus was there? What happened then?”

  “Alex shot Cassie.” She sniffled. “I tried to stop him but he was going to shoot me. Marcus got in the way, told me to...” Emma slammed her palm on the steering wheel. “He told me to run, and I did.”

  “Then what?”

  “I got outside. Got my gun. Nate came after me but I shot at him. I don’t know if I hit him, but I kicked him in the balls before stealing his SUV.”

  “Good. They didn’t follow you?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. Emma, listen to me. We need to leave. Right now.”

  She nodded as she listed to Isaac’s words, calming the toil in her chest, slowing her breaths.

  “Pick me up at my place. Pack only essentials. I have money tucked away here, enough for us to at least start over once we find a place to settle down. Okay?”

  “Yes. Yes, okay.”

  “Emma, now. Drive. Hurry.”

  —-

  Forty minutes passed in which Alex and Nate narrowly escaped the eyes of oncoming police. Alex had strode out of the dark building to find his driver curled into a large, round mass, his pristine clothes picking up dirt as he writhed. He had bent over and pulled the man up as best he could, faint sirens growing closer, and shoved him into the back of Marcus’ car; the SUV had disappeared. He wasted no time as he climbed into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine, pointed back toward civilization.

  “Which way did she go?”

  “I didn’t see.”

  “How could you not?” Alex yelled.

  “I was busy throwing up from the blow to my balls, okay? Where’s Marcus?”

  Alex ignored him. He thumped the steering wheel with the palm of his right hand and let out a short scream of frustration. The men spent the rest of the ride in tense silence, only broken by Nate as he continued to recover on the leather seats behind him.

  The vehicle finally glided along a dimly lit street littered with open bars and closed shops. Alex parked and exited. Not for the first time since fleeing the scene, he considered killing the driver for the loss of Emma. The stress of the sirens held his murderous intent at bay, but the sounds had long since disappeared. The men moved up onto the curb and began to walk along the street.

  “We need to get out of the city.” Nate’s face still showed traces of pain and discomfort, and he walked with a hunch and slight limp from Emma’s assault.

  “Not yet,” Alex muttered. They reached the front windows of the first bar in sight and he peered through the glass for a moment before moving further down the street.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Alex felt his irritation raise at Nate’s question, but he ignored him for now and squinted through the window of the next bar. A television was on, its rectangular screen bright in the darkness, and the light flickered over the hunched backs of multiple patrons who nursed their beverages. Alex’s eyes widened slightly and he felt his mouth press into a hard line. A sketch that closely depicted his face stared back at him from the illuminated surface. Nate’s appeared next to his a moment later, along with a phone number to call if the men were sighted.

  “Vance already knows.” He let out a frustrated curse.

  “What? How?” Nate asked, incredulous. “The cops haven’t even—”

  Alex silenced the driver with a raised hand as he continued to watch the television. “If Emma contacted him before we left,” he explained, “Vance would have had time to raise hell at the police department.” He swore again, and was about to turn away when something in the closed captioning caught his attention: one survivor, who is being transported to a hospital with minor gunshot wounds...

  Alex smiled as he read the capitalized white letters in their black background, an eyebrow cocked. “What’s the nearest emergency room, Nate?”

  —-

  Alex walked toward room 515B at Redborough’s Legacy Medical Center. His black polished dress shoes made a subtle click click click as he moved down the empty hallway. This late at night, there was no one around save for a few nurses. He’d had Nate cause a distraction at the other end of the floor by pulling the plugs of multiple patients’ life support, and he now had free reign of the area, albeit temporarily. As he neared his target, he paused, and looked to his right at a box mounted on the wall, which contained a bright red fire extinguisher, its short, black plastic hose tucked to one side. Alex pondered his options for a moment, then moved sideways to the box and lifted the red cylinder from the container.

  A smile on his face, Alex continued down the hall amidst beeps and sighs of machines in different rooms until he arrived at 515B. He quietly turned the handle and pushed the door open with minimal sound. He stood for a moment in the entrance and stared at Marcus. The man was hooked up to an IV, and a plastic mask cupped his face, held in place with two blue rubber straps on either side. His skin was pale from blood loss, and a slight sheen of sweat dotted his forehead. He was dressed in a cheap hospital gown, and his bare arms lay limp along his sides.

  Alex stepped inside and shut the door behind him in a soft, gentle motion.

  At the sound of movement in his room, Marcus’ eyes snapped open. He struggled to focus his vision for a moment, then his light brown gaze found Alex’s cold green one, and fear washed over his face. He tried to speak, but his voice was too muffled by the mask. Marcus watched as Alex circled his bed intently, reaching up to pull at the plastic surrounding his mouth and nose.

  “Well you sure took your time,” Alex said in a bright voice. “You fought for your life. I’m actually surprised you pulled through. It’s funny,” Alex said as he came to a stop next to the side of the bed, the room’s large bay windows at his back. He set the extinguisher on the floor beside him. “I considered you one of my most loyal men. Yet somehow, somehow, the police have my name and face connected to Cassie’s death.”

  “I didn’t say shit,” Marcus wheezed, the mask now free of his face. He struggled to prop himself up on his tattooed forearms, but collapsed back, too weak to accomplish the feat.

  “It could have been Emma, you’re right. Doesn’t matter though,” Alex raised an eyebrow, then winked. “I’ll be paying her a visit after you.”

  “You’re fucking insa—”

  The back of Alex’s hand silenced Marcus in a flush of pain. His head snapped to the side. He took a moment to recover, then chuckled and held his jaw between his thumb and fingers. “Well that hurt,” he said.

  Alex turned and faced the windows, his reflection clear in their darkness. “Wow.” Alex laughed. “I look like shit.” He reached up and flattened his hair. His eyes lingered for a moment on his dirty, blood-stained hands with a faraway gaze, then he reached up and slowly pulled the string to the right of the glass, his eyes losing the visual connection to the outside world until all he saw was the off-white color of the blinds. He turned at a noise behind him and saw that Marcus had sat up.

  “Look, man, like I said before, I didn’t say shit.”

  “Marcus,” Alex said in a low voice. “Calm down. I’m not here to hurt you.”

  He removed his suit jacket and draped it over a chair beside the window, careful not to crease it.

  “So then, what are you here for?” Marcus asked warily.

  Alex ignored him and adjusted his glasses, then rolled up his right sleeve.

  “Well?”

  The other sleeve rolled up in Alex’s fingers.


  “Come on, man, how many times do I have to tell you? I didn’t...say...shit.”

  Alex leaned down and picked up the fire extinguisher. He stared at it for a moment, as if contemplating its true use, then looked Marcus in the eye. He drew in a deep breath, held it, then exhaled through his nose. “How disappointing,” he said.

  Marcus struggled again to sit up, and a red splotch of blood began to form in the fabric of the thin gown near his chest where he’d been shot. He didn’t seem to notice, and he managed to lower the side rail of his bed and swing one leg to the floor before Alex moved, reaching out and gripping Marcus by the shoulder with his free hand. With a grunt, he shoved him back against the bed. Marcus cried out in agony. The small area of blood widened, and he panted heavily through gritted teeth.

  “Liar,” Marcus growled. “Coward. You fucking pussy.”

  Alex’s face never changed as he balled his right hand into a fist and struck Marcus in the nose. He felt cartilage snap, and leaned back to listen to the howl of pain that emitted from the the older man’s throat. Alex lifted the long, heavy, red cylinder over his head and brought it down with as much force as possible.

  Marcus lifted his arms to defend his face. The metal weapon snapped his right arm, which all of a sudden had a new shape, the skin and tattoos stretched oddly around the site of the trauma. The blow also shattered three of the fingers on his left hand. He screamed in pain and curled halfway into a fetal position as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. A line of spittle fell from the corner of his mouth onto the white bedsheet. He lay like that, breath coming in ragged gasps, until movement from Alex brought his focus away from his injuries. The blunt, rounded bottom edge of the fire extinguisher sailed down again, this time into his skull.

  A small furrow between his brows was the only form of expression Alex showed, his face unreadable as he brought the extinguisher up and crushed it into Marcus’ head once more. Inside, however, he felt an elation greater than one he’d ever experienced as he hit the other man again, and again. It nearly took his breath away, this euphoria, and Alex could feel it surge from his chest, down through his stomach and into his hands and feet in a pleasant tingling sensation. He smashed Marcus’ ruin of a head one final time, the squelch of gore loud in the quiet room, then let go of the makeshift weapon.