by Matt James
The pair swung a simultaneous right and left hook. Jack hopped back at the last moment and watched as the bumbling men’s fists collided with one another. They reacted by stepping back and shaking their busted knuckles. For just a second, they took their attention off Jack.
He launched forward with a pair of straight punches. One caught Dumb in the nose, the other connected with Dumber’s chin. Both stumbled back. Jack caught them before they fell and pushed. Before they knew it, all three men ran over Zietz. Limbs tangled with one another, and someone shouted in pain like they had been kicked where no man should ever be kicked.
During the scrum, Jack laid out Dumb and Dumber. He dug through their pockets and found a few more sets of zip cuffs, attaching their legs to Zietz’s wrists. Jack left the bigger man awake. He wanted Zietz to see what was happening. He went to step away from the trio but stopped and got an idea. Jack quickly stripped the shoe and sock off Dumber’s left foot and shoved the sweaty garment into Zietz’s mouth mid-curse.
“There. That’s better.”
Jack looped around the receptionist’s station. He stopped cold when he saw a picture on her desk. It depicted a happy looking couple—Hawk and Nina. He gazed down at the photo and spoke.
“Do yourself a favor and watch your back.”
“What?” the seated young woman asked, leaning away from him.
He tipped his chin to the pile of men in the middle of the room. “How do you think you got this job?”
She glanced at the picture. “Nina? No, she got in a car accident.”
“Says who, the men who just tried to kill me for no reason?”
Jack stood there for an uncomfortably quiet five seconds. He never once took his eyes off the new girl. She got the hint. Her eyes darted back and forth between the photo and Creed’s office door.
Jack nodded and silently mouthed, “Watch your back.”
He didn’t know Nina’s replacement, and he didn’t have to. No one deserved to be in Nina’s shoes right now. She had been beaten within an inch of her life because of something that might not even exist. Even now, he wasn’t sure if he would find anything.
Jack grasped the door but was stopped. It didn’t budge.
“Mr. Creed isn’t here.”
Jack spun on her. “Where is he then?”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t tell me everything.”
“But you’re his receptionist. If anyone should know where he is, it’s you.”
The new girl shrunk lower in her seat and shrugged again. “I’m new, remember?”
Jack rolled his eyes and tried the door. It was locked.
“Shit!”
He pushed away from the door and headed back to the elevator. Zietz cursed his existence from behind his gag. The impossibly strong man climbed to his feet and dragged his unconscious subordinates behind him. It was enough of a Herculean display for Jack to turn and run.
Gotta find Bull and Hawk.
He rode the elevator back down to the first level and was about to get out. He expected the door guards to be present, but oddly, they weren’t. Must’ve been the assholes from upstairs. He inspected the panel and noticed there was a floor beneath this one. Its button was blank too.
“Oh, what the hell,” he said, pushing it.
The doors closed, and the elevator descended what must’ve been three levels. This wasn’t just some typical basement level. The doors slid apart and revealed some sort of secret floor only accessible from Creed’s private elevator. Another soft chime rang out.
Not taking any chances, Jack drew his pistol. He leveled it at the hallway and slowly stepped out. The corridor was ultra-utilitarian. Pipes lined the ceiling, and everything was painted in shades of grey. He thought about heading back.
“No,” he said, speaking to the passageway, “you’re here for a reason.” He needed to trust his gut.
Every ten feet, another motion-sensor light bloomed to life. After five such lights, Jack came to a door with one word printed across it.
Jack mouthed, “Security.”
Carefully, he tried the door. It was unlocked. He rotated the knob but didn’t open the door. The last thing he needed to do was make a lot of noise. Cautiously, he opened it two inches and peeked inside, and was assaulted by a blast of cold air. Server rooms were often kept at a chilly temperature to keep the hard drives from overheating.
But this wasn’t that.
On one side of the dimly lit room was a wall of monitors and a desk with an empty chair. Even from this distance, he could make out the casino floor within most of them. There were even a couple that displayed the interior of a handful of the rooms.
Well, that’s gross.
The other half of the security office was out of sight. Staying behind the door, Jack cautiously swung it open and stepped in to find Bull and Hawk. Unfortunately, they weren’t alone. There was a portly, ginger fellow standing directly behind them.
He held a gun to Hawk’s head.
10
“Looks like I missed the invitation to the party.”
Jack surveyed the circumstances while lining up the gunman’s head. He had smartly ducked behind Hawk. For good measure, he kept his gun trained on the back of Hawk’s skull. Now, all Jack could see was half of the guy’s round face. Still, it was too small a target to do anything with. He was confident in his abilities, but even Jack couldn’t assuredly say that the nine-millimeter projectile wouldn’t hit Hawk on its way to its intended target. They were at an immovable status quo, and in situations like this, the bad guys always had the upper hand. They didn’t care who died.
Jack did.
“Drop your gun!” Gingy screeched. His voice was intolerably high-pitched. But it was also shaky.
“Easy there, buddy.” He bit his lip. Shit. “Okay, look, we’ll do this your way.”
Jack’s eyes flashed to Hawk. Bull’s nephew had just been in this exact situation a little bit ago, and Jack desperately needed him to come through again. Hawk must’ve read his mind. He gave him a sorrowful look and shook his head and tried to move his chair. But he was unsuccessful. It had been bolted to the floor.
Wonderful. Jack sighed. There goes that idea.
He put down his FNS-9C.
“So,” Jack said, trying to delay the inevitable, “see any good movies lately?”
“Shut your mouth!” Gingy’s hands shook terribly, and not from the icy temperature of the room. He was nervous and sweating more than any person should ever sweat. The guy had no formal training with the weapon—that Jack was sure of.
He squeezed the trigger to its wall. “I want you to—”
Jack wasn’t prepared for how fast Hawk acted. The young man flung his head back into Gingy’s face. Unarmed, Jack charged forward, dodging two wild shots. The rounds buried themselves in the screens behind him with a pair of quick, splintering cracks of glass. He lowered his shoulder and collided with the other man’s gut. Jack churned his legs, driving the off-balanced guard into the rear wall. The fight instantly went out of him when he hit. Instead of getting up and fighting back, he held up a pathetic hand, whimpered, and gasped for air.
Jack didn’t take the time to celebrate the victory. He dove for Bull’s bonds, unsheathed his knife, and cut him free with a flick of his wrist. Getting to his feet, Jack hustled for his gun and retrieved it before hurrying over to the security feeds. He needed to confirm whether anyone on the above floors had noticed their scrum here or the one back up in Creed’s waiting room. So far, not much of anything was happening besides business as usual.
Cards, broads, and fish and chips—so, cods!
They couldn’t expect the silence to last for too long. Bull cut his nephew free and carefully helped him to his feet. Hawk was in pretty bad shape. But once he got moving, he looked healthy enough to get around. Jack was increasingly impressed by the youth’s resilience. The real test would be the next day.
Boy, is he gonna hurt!
“We need to leave,” Bull said, handing
Hawk the security guard’s pistol. His nephew looked wary about handling the weapon. Nevertheless, he accepted the firearm and checked it over. Satisfied that it was in working order, Hawk slid it into the back of his pants and limped over to Jack. But instead of gawking at the impressive array, he plopped down at the terminal and started clicking.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked, patting Bull on the shoulder when he joined them.
“Doing what I do best,” Hawk replied. He looked very much in his comfort zone. “Got it!”
Jack and Bull watched a replay of the fight outside of Creed’s office. Hawk searched a few of the desk drawers before fist-pumping. He had found what he was looking for.
“A thumb drive?” Jack asked.
“Yep,” Hawk said, typing away. “Now we have some evidence against these dickheads. At the very least, we have Zietz pulling a gun on you.”
Jack nodded his approval. “It’s something.” His eyes widened. He had an idea. “Can you look up something for me?”
Hawk shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”
“Is there a camera feed inside of Creed’s office?”
The younger man typed away. Ten seconds later, he replied, “Yes, there is. Why?”
Jack smiled. “Pull up everything from the last forty-eight hours.”
The feed auto-played and revealed something that Jack didn’t know. Creed was on his phone, talking to someone that frightened him. His voice was shaky, and he was pacing back and forth. Typically, people like Creed didn’t fear anyone. Whoever he was on the line with was big-time.
“No, Taylor, we don’t have the letter yet,” Creed said. “But, it’s nearly in our possession.”
He stopped and spoke again. “Tell the investors that they’ll get everything that I’ve promised them in due time—a couple more days at most. My men and I need a little more time.” Creed went on to shout something about a payment deadline that he needed to be pushed back.
Bingo! Hawk had been correct. Jack looked at the ceiling, picturing the casino floor. How does a guy with all this owe someone else money?
Hawk jumped to his feet. “Oh, hell yeah!”
Bull stepped up next to them.
Jack’s face was stone. “We’re taking these assholes down.”
“How?” Bull asked.
Hawk stood. “That’s easy. Social media. We plaster these vids all over the net and watch them catch fire.”
Jack grinned and headed for the door just as Gingy stirred.
“What about him?” Hawk asked.
Retrieving a single zip tie from his pocket, Jack happily handed it over to Hawk. “You get some much-deserved revenge.”
Fearing for her life, Lindsey, the new receptionist, cut Zietz and the others free. She was terrified that she would end up like Nina if she didn’t answer the grunting giant’s call. After the man named Jack left, Zietz had fallen face-first and was unable to get up. She sat back down at her desk and stayed quiet for what she hoped was the rest of the day. Lindsey said nothing until her phone rang. Her face immediately paled after answering it.
“Um, Mr. Zietz, it’s for you.”
The behemoth stalked toward Lindsey. He stopped just inches from her. Zietz stood over her for a moment before tearing the phone out of her hand. Zietz put the device up to his ear and listened to the speaker.
“I’m disappointed in you, Zietz.”
“Yes, Mr. Creed, well, this isn’t over yet.” It enraged him to have a snake like Bartholomew Creed talk down to him. Zietz believed that real power wasn’t just the weight of your checkbook. You must never be afraid to wield it physically.
“It better not be. This is your last chance. Fail me again, and I’ll be looking for a new head of security.”
“Zietz,” one of his men whispered. He pointed down to the casino floor and motioned for him to join him.
With his ear to the phone, Zietz did just that. Upon arrival, he was sick to his stomach to spot Jack Reilly, and the two Durham men heading for the front doors. Everything was falling apart around them. If they didn’t get that letter, there was no way for Creed to get the investors to back off in their efforts to collect their payment. If that happened, they would surely get the courts involved. There was no doubt that Creed and Zietz’s less-than-ideal operations would come to light.
Zietz also needed to finish what he had started, or he'd lose his own life. He knew what Creed was capable of—or rather—what the people he paid were capable of. There were a few men on his payroll that made Zietz look like a boy scout.
“Did you hear me, Zietz? For the last time, I want that letter!”
He growled. “Yes, sir.”
It took everything for the trio of Jack, Bull, and Hawk not to rush out of the casino like madmen. They stayed calm and acted as normal as possible. They got a handful of looks from the people closest to them as they weaved their way through the crowd. Bull and Hawk’s faces were bruised and caked in dried blood. Jack was the only one in decent shape for once.
For now.
“Hawk?”
They stopped and faced an employee. The guy was the same age as Bull’s nephew, but Caucasian, and he had a mop of blonde hair parted down the middle.
“Oh,” Hawk nervously adjusted his ponytail and avoided direct eye contact. “Hey, Brice.”
Brice looked his coworker up and down. “Dude, what happened?”
Hawk looked back at Jack and Bull. He shrugged. “I, uh, walked into a door.”
“Dang, bro. That must’ve been a heavy ass door!” He leaned in and inspected Hawk’s face. “You comin’ in tomorrow?”
Hawk shook his head. “Probably not. In fact,” he raised his hands toward the mirrored windows and extended both of his middle fingers, “I quit!”
Brice didn’t know what to say, and no one stuck around to hear it. Jack led them under the buffalo. Its rear end was too high to touch, so he gave it an air-slap on the way through, instead. Outside, the sun hung low in the sky, and a cool breeze slapped his face. He skidded to a stop, shocked to see someone he recognized.
“Chaska?”
They hurried over to his beater truck. Jack and the others needed a getaway driver in the worst way. Luckily for them, Chaska didn’t know the meaning of the words ‘Speed Limit.’
The old-timer gave Jack a toothless smile. “Hello, Jack.”
“What are you doing here?”
The old man closed his eyes and looked up. “The wind. It speaks to me. It tells me that my new friend still needs my help.”
“Stop right there!”
A security guard came running toward them, appearing from around the corner of the casino. He spoke into a walkie-talkie, and luckily, wasn’t armed.
“Get in!” Jack shouted, leaping into the bed with Bull.
Hawk practically dove into the front passenger side before Chaska launched them forward with a squeal of rubber on asphalt. He didn’t even have time to close the door before it was flung shut on his foot. The two park rangers clung to one another for dear life as Chaska swerved in and out of traffic. Just before they blew through the first of what would be many red lights, Jack spotted Zietz limping out of the casino’s front entrance. Even from this distance, he could feel the man’s eyes burning holes in him. Zietz lifted his phone to his ear and spoke. He was too far away to hear, but Jack knew what he was saying.
He was calling in the cavalry.
“Oh crap,” Jack said, drawing his pistol.
Bull didn’t seem to understand what was happening. He glanced down at Jack’s weapon. “What’s wrong?”
They bounced over a curb to avoid a bottleneck.
“You mean besides the prospect of being tossed from the back of a moving vehicle?” Jack could hear Hawk shouting in fear even though he was safely inside the truck’s cab. He pointed back toward the casino. “Zietz… This isn’t over.”
As if on cue, a trio of blacked-out SUVs came charging up behind them. One stopped to pick up Zietz. The other two continued forwar
d, their V8 engines roaring through the crisp, early evening air.
Jack pounded on the roof of the truck with an open palm. “Move it or lose it, Chaska!”
11
From the sound of it, Hawk almost lost it—his lunch, that is. His screams were nearly as loud as the wind and car horns as they each trumpeted into the air. Jack knew firsthand how terrifying it was to ride shotgun with Chaska. In any event, it was a hell of a lot better than being tossed around inside the bed of his beater.
They fishtailed around a turn. The pull of the horizontal g-force caused Jack and Bull to grab for one another as they were whipped across the rough, Rhino Shield bed. Together, they slammed into the siding with authority.
“Kinda like the waterfall back home, huh?”
Bull didn’t think that was very funny. He had since pinned himself into the front passenger side corner of the bed—right behind his nephew. Jack was camped out in the middle of the bed, arms and legs splayed in every direction. The maneuver kept him from sliding, but every time Chaska hit a bump, he went airborne and crashed back down to the pickup’s steel bedding.
“They’re here!” Bull shouted, looking a touch green.
The trio of blacked-out wraiths had caught up quickly. The local’s economy ride didn’t have a chance against the superior modern engineering. But Jack and Co. had an ace up their sleeves.
“Chaska!” Jack shouted. He held on and squeezed his eyes shut. “Get us out of here!”
Just before the local yanked hard on the steering wheel, Jack could’ve sworn he heard him respond with, “What—why?”
Like a big-budget Hollywood movie, they drifted through the next intersection, taking the left turn at breakneck speed. As he did before, Chaska put on a driving clinic that few could replicate.
Or survive, Jack thought, feeling his stomach lurch.
It wasn’t until bullets started flying that Jack knew he had to do something to help. From the floor of the truck bed, Jack sat up, holding himself steady with his core. He leveled his pistol at the lead vehicle’s grill, gripping the weapon tight with both hands. Timing the bouncing motion perfectly, he pumped five shots into it. The fifth round struck something vital. The SUV’s engine exhaled a column of smoke, causing the driver to freak out. He pulled too hard on the wheel and smashed the vehicle into the back of a parked minivan.