Soldiers of Fame and Fortune Full Series Omnibus: Nobody’s Fool, Nobody Lives Forever, Nobody Drinks That Much, Nobody Remembers But Us, Ghost Walking, 12 Book series...

by Michael Todd

  Roger grinned. “Ask Anne Marie.”

  She waved her hands in a mocking gesture. “No need. She told me about the Vienna sausage in your pants. She only wanted to spare you the embarrassment.”

  Everyone roared and JB shook his head. “At least shit is back to normal.”

  Holly sighed and a comfortable expression softened her face. “It’s the only thing that actually gets me through on a regular basis.”

  Marcus stood to the right of the window and peeked carefully through the curtains. The street lights shimmered and the rain ran down the glass, which made everything outside come to life. The apartment was old and still had the original large windows that gave him a good view across the landscape outside. His heart beat at about a million miles a minute, and he knew that at any moment, someone would come looking for him. He had done his best to hide but it hadn’t taken them long to get wind of it and track him down.

  He closed the curtain and began to pace as he punched his fist into his hand. “I knew this was a bad idea. Nobody gets out of the organization alive, especially not when they sneak out.”

  A sharp click sounded and a light flashed on his laptop. He narrowed his eyes and walked over to check the screen. The silent alarm had been tripped. It was the first time since he’d moved that he’d had any issue. There was no doubt about it. Either someone or something was on his property.

  Marcus shut the laptop, tucked it under his arm, and moved to the back window. There were only three trip wires for the silent alarm. One was in the kitchen, one was at the top of the stairs, and one was where his patio met the grass. No one had appeared at the top of the stairs but he assumed that if they weren’t already inside, they were damn close to being there. Either way, he couldn’t stay. He was no longer safe.

  Quickly, he moved across the room to retrieve a handgun from a drawer. He really didn’t like to use weapons, but Billie had left it for him, and he’d kept it because he knew that one day, it might come in handy. His mind recalled the kitchen in his old house when he hadn’t even been able to get a shot off before she had killed him.

  A jangling sound yanked Marcus from his memories. He shook his head and hurried over to drop to his knees in the center of the floor. His movements hasty, he rolled a rug back and grabbed the metal handle inset on the trapdoor below it. He groaned softly as he raised the door and climbed down the small set of steps. Practice had made his movements smooth and he was able to flip the rug over so that it smoothed out as he shut the hatch. He clicked the button on the wall to the right and the door latched, although he knew it wouldn’t hold out anyone who really wanted to get in.

  This was his safe room, but he had barely begun to make it a superior place to hide. The only entrance at that point was through the floor and once down there, he was trapped. Eventually, he planned to make an escape route, but time hadn’t been on his side. He was far from comfortable where he was. All he could do at that point was hope for the best and pray Billie was almost there.

  One set of black-gloved hands held the two wires in the breaker box apart. The other person unclipped a pair of pliers from their belt. With a quick snip, the power to Marcus’s apartment flickered off. The duo cracked the back door, slipped silently inside, and surveyed the interior. To their right was a door to the living area, and directly in front was a set of stairs. One of the agents tapped the other and pointed upstairs. “We’ll start there.”

  Chapter Three

  Holly stuck a rag inside the rocks glass and twisted it around to wipe the last few drops of water out. She held it up to the light, turned, and stacked it on the shelf. JB had taken a break and Holly had told Paula to sneak out for a good rest. She didn’t mind tending bar. It kept her mind off everything else. God knew she could use a vacation herself. It seemed, though, that once you were in the Zoo—once you were really involved—rest became something that only the rich had the luxury to do. It wasn’t so much about the money as it was the responsibility that now rested on her shoulders.

  She looked around the room and tried to remind herself how important everything was. Each and every one of the regulars in that bar would be thrilled to have something to save their life when the moment came that the Zoo wrapped its jaws around them. As a merc, you knew it was inevitable. The question wasn’t if, it was when. For many, especially the military guys who went in with minimal training, it was almost immediate. The few—the lucky ones—who made it out to report to command were usually the ones who learned to stay alive no matter what they had to do.

  Holly picked the towel up and ran it down the scuffed wood top of the bar to sweep the peanut shells and trash down to the end. All the customers had moved to the back of the bar to watch a very serious and rousing game of pool. She was fine with that. It meant a few minutes of peace and a chance to get everything in order before they rushed back, even more riled up than before.

  As she dropped the trash into the can, her phone dinged. She retrieved it quickly and opened the notification, then smiled when she saw that the money they needed had been moved to the account she had set up for the company. Hickok had wasted no time to get everything done. Holly had almost reconciled to the fact that Billie funded the project with blood money. At least the dick-holes who bought it were the worst of the worst.

  After a long silence during which he assumed the intruders were searching the apartment, footsteps moved almost silently across the wooden floor. Marcus listened intently and thought that he could identify two of them. His imagination immediately painted a picture of shadowy figures dressed in black. There was barely any sound, only the odd faint brush of a light step here and there, but his tension and heightened alertness somehow identified it easily. He sensed them rather than heard them, he realized, and wondered how fear managed to hone the senses so acutely. Of course, they weren’t as stealthy as Billie, but then again, no one was. She was the best they’d had.

  Marcus strained to hear more and actually jumped when the obvious noise of someone rifling through his things broke the silence. “There has to be a safe here, somewhere that will pinpoint him for us.” The operatives clearly didn’t regard him as a threat. Now that they were inside, they seemed to abandon the need for stealth and he could easily hear every word.

  The other person slammed something down loudly and Marcus recoiled instinctively. “No laptop either.”

  He sat in the corner and shook his head. There they were, right above him. He could activate the alarm and have them taken care of in three seconds. The only problem was that they had cut power to the whole place so there was no way to reset the system. He had ordered a backup power supply but it obviously wouldn’t arrive in his hour of need.

  Marcus closed his eyes and tried to focus on some kind of possible plan. Couldn’t they have waited a little while? Maybe scoped the place out for a few days before they rolled in? Just my fucking luck.

  The floorboards creaked and he opened his eyes hastily. They had moved from the desk and their footprints traced a distinctive path. He stood and stepped carefully across the concrete floor to follow their movement. A deep twinge in his chest squeezed his lungs. They headed directly for the safe room hatch, but if they had already searched the apartment, perhaps they would simply assume he’d gone. Muffled sounds indicated an ongoing search, and the faint hope dwindled

  Fear shuddered through Marcus as he realized that they knew he hadn’t left. They knew he was there somewhere, hiding in the shadows, and they wouldn’t leave until they had flushed him out. He had a gun but he wasn’t stupid enough to think he had even a remote chance. The reality was that he wouldn’t make it against two trained operatives. He was a handler, and physical altercations weren’t something that he had trained for— not very well, at least. He balanced his suddenly weak knees with a hand against the wall and forced his breathing to remain as quiet and shallow as he could.

  One set of footsteps stopped. “Wait. I think I found something. They look like blueprints.”

  Marcus g
ritted his teeth and cursed inwardly. He had left the safe room blueprints on the table. Of all the stupid, stupid mistakes, that had to be the worst.

  The voice chuckled. “It looks like we have a mole hiding underground right now.”

  The footsteps indicated rapid movement once again, this time toward the trap door. The rug swished across the floorboards as they dragged it away and the intruders laughed loudly with what sounded like smug satisfaction. “It looks like it’s our lucky d—huh?”

  Marcus jerked suddenly at a loud thump. This was followed in barely seconds by another thud and the sharp report of a pistol. Dust fluttered through the floorboards and he crouched against the wall, his hands over his head. Above him, a loud screech gave way before a ground-shaking explosion. He imagined the fireball that would undoubtedly trash his living room. Small clouds of dust and billows of smoke filtered down into his hiding place.

  He paused and held his breath as he listened intently to determine whether anyone had survived it. Gunfire shattered the silence once more and he thought he’d counted three people running back and forth before the salvo. Someone else had arrived, and they were either fighting to save him or fighting to be the first one to reach him. At that point, he didn’t care. It was a temporary reprieve but a relief nonetheless. Sooner or later, he’d have to face the inevitable. For now, though, he was simply glad that they hadn’t opened the hatch because he only had four bullets and very poor aim.

  The bang and scuffle of a skirmish sounded above him, and someone yelled angrily, “You don’t belong here. This is official business.”

  Another voice cackled in response but didn’t speak. A body landed hard and rolled to the right. Marcus was tempted to fire through the floor but he didn’t know who it was. If it was a rescuer, he definitely didn’t want to hurt them by accident. It wouldn’t have been a very friendly thing to do.

  He shook his head regretfully and held the gun tightly as he squatted again and shut his eyes as more gunfire rang out. “Come on, come on. Just kill each other already,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “I don’t think this is the life I really wanted. I need a take-back.”

  The male agent continued to fire his weapon as he bent low and ran toward the safe room. He snatched at the handle and yanked hard and groaned when he found it locked. He straightened and aimed his weapon at the hatch where he assumed the locking mechanism would be. As his finger eased down on the trigger, another shot rang out from behind him. The report echoed through the house and the bullet struck him squarely in the back of the head.

  Hickok huddled behind the metal desk and covered her head. “Three, two, one…”

  The slug in the man’s head exploded and his body fell with a solid thump. His partner covered her mouth and drew a quick intake of breath as the man’s head was blown completely off his shoulders. Blood splattered across the room and trailed in a rivulet from his neck and along the wooden floorboards.

  Billie smirked as she loaded her gun with the special bullets. “I know you’re over there. Why don’t you come out and we can come to some sort of agreement?” She hated that she was forced to come in this way with guns blazing and no stealth whatsoever. Unfortunately, the operatives were already in play when she arrived and, from what she had seen when she peered in through the open door, they had discovered what she assumed was Marcus’ hiding place. There simply was no time for sneak attacks or subterfuge when they were that close to their quarry.

  The remaining agent snarled and peered furtively from behind another table in an effort to find a clear shot. She eased up but remained bent to keep her head hidden from sight. Hickok turned, rested her weapon on the edge of the desk, and aimed for the space between the two tables. As the woman bolted across, she pulled the trigger but her target lunged forward, rolled, and huddled behind the other overturned table. The bullet slammed into the wall with a small, crisp click. The operative covered her head and ears as the slug exploded and a good-sized hole appeared in the concrete wall.

  She chuckled and turned to look over the top. Billie holstered her special gun and drew her two pistols. With a nonchalant yawn—deliberately loud to send a mocking message—she checked the magazines.

  Hickok stood and fired a volley that peppered the table. The agent rolled away, returned fire, and scurried back to her original spot. Billie glanced at her arm where a bullet had grazed her skin but thankfully, the wound wasn’t very deep. Only an agent would have been able to get that close with the only illumination the light that seeped in through the window, and from the looks of the other bullet holes around her, it hadn’t been luck. While she’d believed it all along, it was definitely a relief to have confirmation that the organization was involved. In that moment, her irritation at being forced out of her usual stealth technique was swept aside with a new thought. This was a perfect opportunity to find out exactly where they stood—an opportunity that made overt action an advantage.

  Her adversary retrieved a small mirror and held it carefully to the side. Her lips curled into a smile when she saw the other woman pull off her disguise and throw the wig on the floor. “You know,” she said, “it’s funny. Only you, Hickok, would walk willingly into a situation where you are being hunted. No one ever said you were very smart.”

  Billie tilted her head to the side in mockery when she recognized the voice. “Agent Valerie Keens, what a nice fucking surprise. Did they assign you this or did you jump at the chance to try to take me down?”

  Valerie stood to face her. “You know I would jump at it, but they picked me because, let’s face it, you’re washed up.”

  Hickok pealed a laugh of real amusement before her expression settled into a cold, indifferent mask. “Oh, sweetie. I’ll show you how not washed up I really am and love every minute of it.”

  “You’re a fool,” the other woman declared disdainfully. “You might kill me, although that’s debatable. But someone else will come, you know that. The organization will never stop until you and that little prick you’re so determined to protect are obliterated. Did you honestly think you could pull the wool over their eyes? That you could cut and run and they’d buy your fuck-stupid death bullshit?”

  Billie shrugged. “It was worth a try. But I’m the best operative they ever had, so good luck to them. It’ll take more than a half-assed prick-sucker like you to kill me. But don’t worry, I’ll make it quick and you can check out knowing that your death performed a valuable service. You and your dumb-as-fuck partner over there can be a personal message not to fuck with me. I’m sure the organization will be most grateful for your sacrifice.”

  Her adversary laughed scornfully and opened her mouth to retaliate but Hickok was already in motion. She vaulted over the table and fired a barrage that distracted Valerie for the few seconds she needed to close the distance between them. The woman raised her pistol, but it spun from her hand as a vicious roundhouse kick shoved her hard into the wall behind her. She flailed to find purchase on the almost-blur of her attacker but gasped for breath when a brutal blow to her throat crushed her windpipe. As she twisted instinctively away, Billie’s arm snaked around her neck and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed against her temple.

  “Time’s up, bitch,” she whispered but Valerie had already slumped in her hold. Calmly, Hickok pulled the trigger and released the body to gravity. She stared at the dead operative and shook her head as she wondered how many more were out there. Too many, probably. The organization would definitely get the message—she intended to leave her disguise there to make a point—but she honestly didn’t believe they’d back off. If anything, it would spur them on. Right now, she needed to locate her friend and get the hell out of there.

  Marcus sat in absolute silence with his knees to his chest. The gunshots had ceased a few moments before, followed by the scuffle of what was likely a hand-to-hand fight. All he wanted was to get out of there, but the winner of the above battle would decide his fate. He could only hope that Billie still had it in her, but the nature
of the conflict worried him. She excelled at what she did, but her MO was always covert. Her missions relied on stealth and surprise rather than a cavalry approach. Still, she went into the Zoo, didn’t she? That had to count for something—people were, after all, small cheese compared to some of those monsters.

  Another blast of gunfire was followed by a loud thump directly above him and he raised his head. A trickle of what he assumed was blood seeped between the floorboards and dripped beside him on the cement. He stood and narrowed his eyes as he listened intently.

  His heart thudded louder and louder as a single set of footsteps moved across the floor. The person ejected the magazine from their gun and it thunked onto the floor as they walked. Marcus held his breath as they clicked a new one in place. One step at a time, the footsteps drew closer to the hatch and stopped.

  Clicking and scraping ensued. Whoever it was, they were determined to enter the bunker. He held his gun to his chest and backed into the corner, ready to do anything to keep himself safe. Suddenly, the latch clicked and the handle turned. With a loud creak, the door opened.

  Marcus scooted to the right, shoved behind a row of boxes, and covered his mouth. He hoped if they couldn’t see him, they would assume he had gone. The person paced the floor above him. He tensed and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

  “Marcus, you dick-head. Get your fucking ass up here. We need to make like Elvis.”

  Chapter Four

  “Okay, seriously…” Hickok sighed from the top of the stairs leading down into the saferoom. “I didn’t race across the world, change disguises five times, and ride on the back of a supercharged scooter through the streets—and stairs—of Bangkok for you to freeze up on me now.”