by J. A. Huss
I was in custody long enough to be tortured by him personally after he recovered. They burned me. They choked me. Hell, they hanged me once. Not enough to break my neck, obviously, just enough that I had to stand on my tiptoes for hours… days, sometimes.
They say the reason I’m so dangerous now is because I never gave up then. And I guess that’s true. I don’t. I figure fuck this goddamned world. It’s got nothing I can’t take. All I gotta do is become Tet when the time starts to slow down and he steps right in. He’s got no problem blowing heads off and Tet does not miss.
If you’re gonna kill someone, you finish the job or die trying.
Because it’s no gusta hanging around to get caught or having to go back and try it again. Take it from me. I know. I got caught and I went back to finish the job of taking over the city they call Murder Capital of the World. It was like combining the worst moment of my life with a weird sensation of coming home.
I think that’s when Tet really started to take an interest in my jobs. I don’t consider Southern California home anymore, not since I left there when I was sixteen. But thinking of Honduras as home back then? That was a new level of fucked up, even for me.
It took me years to understand that I was different. When One came to rescue me from the Honduran gangs, I had an inkling. His third name is Shroom because his calling-card poison is amatoxin. Poison mushrooms. We get assigned a poison to use when we need to kill people for personal reasons. Mine’s the toxin found in the blue ring octopus. Classic James Bond kinda shit.
Tet the toxin is a blockbuster movie way to die, for sure.
But Tet the dude? He’s definitely more of a Goldfinger kinda character.
I don’t know whose idea it was to give us three names, but I took that shit seriously because when your job requires you to interact with some of the biggest scumbags on Earth, you gotta keep it in perspective.
Tet.
I can feel him inside me. He tips his hat in greeting. He’s relaxed right now. His version of winding down at the beach. But that’s because I’m with the kid and I think Harper is safe for now.
Fucking Harper. I miss her more than I’d like to admit because there’s just no telling how all this shit will play out. I have no idea who is on my side inside the Company or who is actively working against me. They might be using her to get to me. They might be using me to get to her. Hell, anything is possible at this point. I don’t know if a single person can say they understand their loyalties these days.
It’s a sketchy world at the best of times, but the Company has seen the last of the best of times. Ever since Harper and Nick took off with that file, everyone’s been on edge.
What’s on the file? Only one person knows that for sure. The person who made it.
And he’s dead.
I don’t know a lot about it, but I do know they can’t access it. Before Nick took it, they had every expert on the planet trying to get past the firewall.
That’s one reason they brought in Merc. And fuck—what good luck for them that the guy was a professional mercenary. He was working private security when I was sent to Europe to recruit him. He was not interested and it was dropped. But we got to be friends over the years. He’d call me. I’d help. I’d call him. He’d help. Debts, man. Debts make the world go round.
And then one day… a call came in to his home phone while he was busy and I was minding the shop. And I listened to that message.
And who do you think that call was from?
Ford fucking Aston.
Turns out Merc has a similar quid pro quo arrangement with Aston, and this call was a cash-in for a debt Merc owed him.
It was a small identity theft request. But that wasn’t the interesting part. The interesting part was when Ford said, I’d do it myself, but I need to keep my distance.
Which told me two things. Ford was not above fucking with people’s lives. And he had skills in his own right. Both of which might come in handy for me.
Tet took over from there. Merc came back from that job, it was a total fuckup, and as soon as he walked in the door, the message was playing.
I’m not sure if he knew about Tet before he came home that night, but he sure the fuck knew of him by the time we were done.
Tet blackmailed him. Either he does the job I need him for, or I call Ford back and get him involved.
And for some reason, Merc is loyal to that asshole in a suit. He caved. I gave him a number, Seven, and a calling card. If your name is already Merc, it only makes sense to become mercury.
As far as I know, Merc kills whoever he wants, whenever he wants, and he has never actually bothered to poison someone with mercury.
Which is why the Company started thinking up ways to get rid of him once his usefulness wore off. He’s not exactly a team player.
Hence the ‘accident’ up in Wyoming last Christmas.
The Admiral was not happy about that fuckup. I know that for a fact because I was sent to eliminate the assassin who botched the job when both Merc and Sasha showed up alive the next day.
Of course, this is all hindsight shit. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening last year. All I knew was I was being sent to kill people who were supposed to be on our side.
No one knows who to trust these days.
We’re all guilty. We’re all killers, even if we’re not all numbered assassins. We’re all wary of each other.
Because that file has been floating around for more than a year now. And from what they say, that file has enough dirt on it to cut the entire Company off at the knees.
I don’t get this file. I have no idea what’s on it. I think just your basic who’s who kind of info. Which means I’m in there. My family’s in there. We’re all in there, I guess. But who gives a fuck? Really, if some investigative reporter gets a hold of it and flashes that info for everyone to see, who would believe it? It’s like a very bad Dan Brown conspiracy book. This shit is so twisted, and the people involved so high up, and the accusations about what we’re doing so outlandish no one would even believe it. People just ignore shit that’s too big. You tell them small things—like we busted a terror cell in Colorado but the guy’s in custody, or there was a helicopter crash in Afghanistan and ten Navy SEALs died—and they’re OK with that. People can process that shit.
But when you get a guy who climbs the White House fence so he can get on TV and try and tell people what we’re doing by naming names… nope. That’s crazy talk. People don’t process the big shit well at all.
A plane ‘disappears’ over the Indian Ocean and everyone goes, huh? Wonder what happened.
A plane goes missing. Hundreds of people. Missing.
No one bats an eye.
So who gives a fuck about this file? That’s what I don’t understand. It’s big shit. It’s a list of global criminals masquerading as lawmakers and politicians. But there’s so many people on it—so many government agencies, charities, movie stars, and moms and pops—it’s gotta be bullshit. I mean, come on. How could this shadow world exist right under everyone’s nose?
So I can give a fuck about this file.
But that was before One killed Harper to get it back. Now that file is all I think about. And my sister. He mentioned my sister. He said she was in on the plan. And holy motherfuck. I can totally see that. I can totally fucking see that. It’s like all these little bits and pieces of my life and memory are all coming back to me.
But that file. It’s all wrong how it went down.
Nick steals the file, gives it to Harper, tells her to poison a ship full of Company elite, and then sends her away. But he only gives her the outward appearance of escaping. He only gives her just enough cover to make her think she’s getting away.
I’m debriefed, along with the rest of the remaining assassins—but told not to approach. No one is to approach her because she’s dangerous.
Yeah, Harper has some moves, but Harper is not dangerous. She’s like a little kitten with those little kitten claws. Sh
e can hurt you, but she’s a kitten.
So everyone gives her a wide berth. Meanwhile Tony’s number comes up and he’s next on my list. At the same time, Ford calls in a favor to Merc, who calls in a favor to me, requesting that my crazy brother also be eliminated.
So yeah, I did it.
Well—I take a deep breath and crack an eye to see if Sasha noticed, but she’s deep in thought too—I didn’t do it. Tet did it. Tet did it and then Tet didn’t move to the back of the bus, so to speak. Tet decided to take the front seat, in fact. And that made me fail the psych evaluation.
Which got me sent to the beach to unwind.
And then One appeared with a video of my sister, Nicola. And she had black eyes and she asked me to help her. And One told me to get that file because I had a debt to pay.
I sigh again.
They played me. They knew Harper was a weakness. I’d stayed clear of her except on her birthdays. Still, certain people knew I went to see her every Six Day. They knew she interacted with me the day we turned Six. They figured—correctly, I might add—that I could tame her.
But I love her. I want her. I know she’s not my promise. I understand this and it killed me to lie to her while we were together. But I want her now. She’s mine.
And no one is going to take her away.
No one.
Chapter Three
James
When Harrison yells back that we’re finally landing, I get up and stretch. I shoot the Smurf a smile that says it’s all good and make small talk about food, then I sit back down to wait for the plane to stop.
When we get off, I stop to shake Harrison’s hand. “You ever need anything, Harrison, I’m your man.”
He smiles but I can tell all he’s thinking about is how he hopes he never needs the kind of services I offer.
“Thanks, Harrison,” Sasha says, giving him a hug. He squeezes her back, a little too hard maybe because she puts a hand to her chest where my bullet slammed into her last night, and he pulls away.
“Sorry, Sasha,” he says in his kind voice. “Be careful,” he adds, as he pats her on the back. And then he looks at me like I am scum.
“She’ll be OK, I promise.”
“I’ll be fine, Harrison. Don’t worry about me.” She points to the parking lot, which is sorta visible from where we’re at. “Hey, there’s your truck, James!” And then she’s off. Running like a kid.
“Tet… James… whoever the fuck you are. Don’t drag this kid down with you, man. It’s not right. You can leave her here. My wife and I don’t have any kids. We can always use the company.”
My eyes squint down as I stare at him. I have never really looked at Harrison before. He’s not quite middle age. His hair is still dark, his build still decent for a guy who sits for his job. His eyes are too kind to be part of my world. And I bet he’s got a nice home here in this town. Some no-nonsense bungalow that could be anywhere.
But he’s out of his fucking mind if he thinks he’s getting my Smurf.
“I mean, just until you figure shit out, not for good. Just for a little while. To keep her safe.”
I don’t care for what he’s insinuating. “She’s safest with me, Harrison.”
“You shot her in the chest, Tet. That’s not normal. That’s just fucking wrong.”
I grit my teeth and clench my fist. He needs to stop or I might just lose my temper. “I did what I had to do to save her fucking life. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve got people to meet. I hope we’re still good after this, but if not, just ignore my next call and you’ll never hear from me again.”
And then I turn my back and walk away.
Sasha is sitting on the hood of the black Toyota Tundra pickup. “I can’t believe your truck is still here,” she laughs.
I shoot her a grin. “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s only been a few days.”
“I know,” she says excitedly, jumping down and walking over to the passenger side door. I click the lock on the key chain and the lights blink once. We get in at the same time and slam the doors closed. “But it feels like a lifetime, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” It really fucking does. I start the truck and take a deep breath.
“You miss her already?”
“Yeah,” I say, putting the truck in gear. “Dropping her off with the Admiral is a huge risk.”
“Do you think he’ll hurt her?” Sasha asks, the worry coming through in her voice.
“Nah. That’s not what I’m worried about. Now buckle up, it’s the law.”
She snorts at that, but it serves its purpose. She drops the line of questioning.
I’m worried about him hurting her, sure. He’s not looking out for her. Not the way he is Nick. He left her at the beach for a year. Fighting the panic and barely surviving. They both left her at the beach for a year.
And that file she had. No. Something is wrong about that file. If One has it, why haven’t we been called back?
I mean I know why I haven’t. I’m crazy and I’m pretty sure the next hit will be on my head.
But the Company has always been disciplined. We’re a military faction, albeit a covert black-ops one. We have rules and traditions. We have… protocols.
None of those seem to matter these days.
And it all leads back to the fucking Admiral. Why does he want her back now? I didn’t lie to Harper when I told her I haven’t talked to him in a long time. But I was not very forthcoming, either. Because he contacts me regularly with the phones. Almost everywhere I go, I find a phone. He always knows where I am. I’ve never hidden from him. So when I found the phone in my truck before I found Sasha, it was no big deal.
But maybe it is a big deal?
He asked me to bring her home before he got news of the file. So what was he thinking?
He wants to turn her against you, James, Tet says in my head. He wants to get her alone and turn her against you.
But why?
Because he set you up, James.
If there’s one person on this earth who knows me, it’s the Admiral. If there’s one person on this earth who knows what’s wrong with me, it’s him. And if there’s one person on the earth who can turn her against me, it’s him.
I drive the truck across the freeway and hit the McDonalds where we pick up breakfast, then head north on one of the side roads. I am on edge the whole time Sasha is eating, just waiting for the questions to start. But she finishes her food, looks out the window at the farmhouses passing by, and then drops off to sleep.
A few hours later, when we get to the next big small town, I start heading west. The drive is quiet and uneventful. Just a two-lane highway that gives me way too much time to think.
I go west, zig-zagging my way through the back roads of Colorado, until hours later we reach I-25.
I turn north, staring at the road signs as they count down the miles to Fort Collins and when that exit appears, I take the off-ramp and drive into the town. It’s still pretty quiet in downtown even though it’s lunchtime. There’s a university campus here, but I guess most of the students goes home for the summer. I spot the tattoo shop first and then a little farther down, the bike shop.
There’s a ton of people outside the bike shop. Spencer Shrike himself, in fact. I turn my head just in case he sees me and then hang a left at the next street, and then a right another block down.
When the red roof of the condo building comes into view I almost turn around. But I need to see it. I pull up to the curb and put the truck in park, leaving the engine running.
Sasha is still asleep, so I exit the truck quietly and push the door closed until I hear the click. I don’t want to tell Sasha why I’m here. I don’t want to tell anyone why I’m here.
I walk up to the footpath security gate and then grab the spear-shaped finials of the iron bars and jump up, swinging my leg over and landing on the other side with a soft thud.
I look behind me to see if anyone is paying attention, but it’s clear. So I walk to the side door of
the building and open it, take the stairs down, and push open the heavy door that leads to the garage.
This is where Veronica got shot. I look over to my right. That spot was where she fell. Where Ford tied off her arm and saved her life.
Did I shoot her?
I actually don’t know if it was me or…
My eyes wander until I find a dark stain in the middle of the garage.
Tony.
I walk over to the stain. There’s no cars in here, so I can only assume they never finished the construction. When I found this building the builder ran out of money and it was just sitting half empty. Looks like that hasn’t changed.
I kneel down next to the stain and call it like it is. The stain of my brother’s brains as his head splattered from the force and velocity of my bullet.
I look behind me and imagine Ashleigh and Kate. My perfect little niece. I never knew Ash. I could give a fuck about that girl. But she’s the mother of my niece and that means something. She’s family. And I don’t have much family.
I look back at what’s left of Tony’s mark in this world. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I swear to God, I’m sorry. I just need to make this end. And it’s not your fault you were crazy. It’s not my fault I’m crazy. They did this to us and if I let you take Kate, they’d do it to her too.”
I swallow hard and stand up, taking in a long breath of air.
“I’m gonna end it all, one way or another.”
I look up and wait. For some kind of signal. Or feeling of forgiveness. Or something.
But that’s Hollywood movie bullshit. I only deal in reality. And in reality, there’s no such thing as forgiveness. There’s no such thing as redemption. And there’s no such thing as justice.
There’s only revenge.
I nod at the stain and turn, going back the way I came. When I get to the gate, I open it instead of jumping over since I’m on the inside now. And then I walk back to the running truck where Sasha still sleeps with her face pressed up against the cool window.
I put the truck in gear and watch a few bikers go by in a roar of power a block down.
I look back at Sasha and consider Harrison’s offer. He’d never be able to control this kid. Because she’s not a kid, she’s a killer. But…