What is he doing here?
Sidney checked the beacon. She was on target. She brought the Interceptor to a halt a hundred feet from the front doors. Fog was lifting into the early sunrise. A man in jeans and a leather vest lay face down in the parking lot. Fresh blood from a broken nose dripped on the ground. There was a gentle rise in his chest. She took out her weapon and crept to the doorway.
What have you gotten into, Smoke?
Inside the bar she could hear loud hillbilly rock playing.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.
She pushed the door open and peeked inside. A gunshot cracked out.
Blam!
CHAPTER 17
Sidney crouched down outside the door.
Blam! Blam!
The shots were coming from inside the warehouse, somewhere above her head. Adrenaline pumped through her veins.
Crash!
Glass rained down into the parking lot from above her head. A man fell onto the hood of an old white Camaro. Groaning, he rolled off the hood and onto the ground.
Sidney peeked up and around the corner. A figure stood looking out of the oversized window pane. It was Smoke.
“Freeze!” she said. He vanished. She turned her attention to the other man, who was stumbling away. He hopped onto a motorcycle and started it up. “FBI! Freeze!”
He revved the engine.
“Don’t make my day,” she said, pointing her weapon at him. “The first hole goes in your gas tank. The next hole goes in your head.”
He raised his hands over his head. His sagging face was skinned up, and his chin was bleeding.
“Sure thing, lady. Sure thing.”
“Aiiyee!” a man screamed.
Sidney turned just in time to see another man flying through the window. He crushed the roof of the Camaro.
Vrooom!
The biker revved up his engine and started to speed out of the parking lot.
Blam! Blam!
Sidney put a bullet in his tank and another in his back tire.
“Get on the ground now!” she said.
The man obeyed.
She bound his legs and wrists with flex-cuffs.
“You didn’t have to shoot my bike,” he said. “Stupid bi—”
She shoved his face in the ground and rubbed it in the gravel.
“What was that?”
“Nothin’.”
Smoke landed on the Camaro’s hood, a tall figure in a dark shirt and jeans. He dragged the man who had crunched in the roof to the ground.
Sidney trotted over. “What are you doing?”
Smoke had a dangerous look his eye. He punched the man in the face. Whap!
“Taking care of unfinished business.”
“Stop!” Sidney said, holding her weapon on him. “Stop now!”
Smoke let go, and the man sagged to the ground.
“Who is he?” Sidney watched the man gather himself into a sitting position.
The man was in his forties, shaven head and black bearded. Dusky skinned. Tattoos covered his naked arms. He was thickset. Formidable. Valuable rings dressed his fingers below all of the knuckles except for two of them. His trigger fingers were missing.
“Ray Cline?”
“Sting Ray,” Ray interrupted, spitting blood. “You’re going to die, Smoke. Die in a horrible way! Oof!”
Smoke kicked him in the gut.
“What was that, Ray? Say, how did that hit that you put on me go down, in prison? Not so well, did it?”
“Back off,” Sidney stepped between them, keeping her eyes on Ray. She had become familiar with his file when she studied up on Smoke. He was a killer. A drug lord. A career criminal. For some insane reason, the system had let him out. “I’ll handle this.”
Ray started laughing.
“You want to handle me, Pretty?” He winked at her. Blood dripped off his chin. “Help yourself then.”
She handed Smoke another pair of flex cuffs and covered Ray with her weapon.
“Secure him.”
Smoke slipped the flex cuffs around Ray’s neck.
“No, no, no!” Ray said.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Smoke replied.
“No,” Sidney said. “Just the wrists.”
“I can make it look like an accident,” Smoke said.
“The wrists,” Sidney said. “Take care of it while I call this in.”
“Wait,” Smoke said, cuffing Ray’s wrists behind his back. “Before you do that, let me show you something.”
“Yeah,” Ray said, “let me show you something too, Pretty.”
Smoke rabbit-punched Ray’s ribs and hauled him up to his feet.
“Not another word, fiend,” he said in his ear. “Not another syllable.” He shoved Ray back toward the warehouse bar.
“Are you coming or not? You need to see this.”
Sidney followed. The intensity in Smoke’s voice compelled her. He was angry. It stirred her.
Inside, there was a long bar, a band stage with instruments, high tables scattered about, and a checkered dance floor. Smoke pushed Ray toward a metal stairwell that led up. Two goons were knocked out cold by the threshold.
“Watch your step.” Smoke banged Ray’s head into the doorframe. “I’d hate to see you get hurt more than you already are.” He banged his head into the door frame again. “No, I wouldn’t.”
At the top of the stairs they entered an office with a large one-way mirror overlooking the dance floor. The furnishings were fine leather and well-crafted oak. A kitchenette. A bar. An apartment of sorts. Bags of cocaine and cash were on a black velvet pool table, along with dozens of small bottles full of pills.
At least a million worth of dope and cash.
Sidney stepped over another prone body, one of three more men whose blood had been spilt on the floor.
“He has a nice little empire here, doesn’t he?” Smoke said to her.
“I’ve seen bigger,” she said, “But without probable cause there isn’t a case here.”
“That’s right, Smoke,” Ray said with a sneer. “You don’t have a case with me, you frigging renegade. You’re toast, Smoke.”
Smoke shoved Ray onto the sofa and tied his legs to the sofa’s foot with the man’s belt. One by one, he tore open the cocaine bags and slung them out the window.
“I’m going to kill you, Smoke! Stop doing that!”
“That’s evidence,” Sidney added.
“Whose side are you on?”
“The law’s.”
“Yeah, the law’s, you stupid bastard,” Ray added.
Smoke chucked bundles of cash out the window.
“That’s enough,” Sidney said, “I’m calling this in.”
“Just one more minute,” Smoke said, “You haven’t seen anything yet.” He tilted his head toward another door. “Check there.”
She eyed him.
“It’s clear. Go ahead.”
“Something you want to tell me, Ray?”
The drug lord looked away.
Butterflies started inside her stomach. Smoke’s tone. Ray’s feverish look. What was on the other side of that office door? She grabbed the brass door knob and shoved it open. A short hallway, maybe twenty feet long, greeted her. A heavy door stood at the end. On the left, or the front side of the warehouse, was an open office with computers. A black man in a biker vest was laid out on the floor. She walked up to the door and glanced back. Smoke stood just outside the doorway.
And behind door number 1 we have …
She pulled open the door and gasped.
CHAPTER 18
Children were inside. Six in all. They wore aprons and masks. Wide-eyed, frail and skinny, their hollowed eyes froze on her.
Sidney’s heart sank. Blood drained from her face.
The children kept working. Scales. Baggies. Small piles of pills and cocaine. Latex gloves stretched over their little hands. Not a one of them could have been more than ten. Girls and boys. Eyes weak and glassy.
A little Latino boy dropped his utensils, ran over, and hugged her. Within seconds, they had all closed in and embraced her. Tears streamed down their faces. Her own eyes watered. Her heart ached. Their lithe bony bodies pressed against hers.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Let’s find you something to eat.” She picked two of them up in her arms. The others hung on her legs and waist. She gently yelled down the hallway, “A little help please.”
Smoke picked up a few of the children and took them into the office. He peeled their tiny fingers off Sidney and set the children down at a table. There was a refrigerator that had some sodas inside. Some Doritos were in the cabinet over the bar. He filled their hands and said, “Eat.”
Their fear-filled glances fell on Ray’s hard eyes.
Sidney’s temperature rose. Her cheeks turned red.
“You’re going away for a long, long time, Ray.”
“Am I, Pretty? I don’t think so. You see, those kids … heh, heh, well, they’re all my kids.”
“I’m sure that isn’t so,” she said, stepping between Ray and the kids. “I’ll see to it this all sticks.”
“Good luck with that, Pretty. The only thing that’s going to get stuck, though, is you.”
Her fingers danced on her gun. She wanted to wound him. Shoot him. Make him pay for all that he’d done.
“You won’t shoot me.” Ray chuckled. “You have a career. A pension. Hah. You wouldn’t want to lose all that, would you.”
“True,” she said. “But that’s not why.”
“Really, why is it then?”
“It’s because I don’t want to set a bad example for the children.” She looked at Smoke. “Do you mind removing him from our sight so they can eat in peace?”
“As you wish.” Smoke undid the belt, picked Ray up by the scruff of the neck, shoved him toward the outside window, and leaned him over the edge. “Time to fly Smoke Airlines again.”
“No! Wait! What are you doing?”
Smoke, much bigger than Ray, hoisted him up over his shoulders.
The whine of police sirens cut through the air.
Sidney rushed to the window.
Three police cruisers pulled into the parking lot. It was the county sheriff.
“Ah ha ha!” Ray laughed. “My cavalry has arrived.”
A nagging feeling crept between Sidney’s shoulders.
Smoke started to heave Ray out anyway.
Sidney grabbed his shoulder. “No, don’t. Put him down.” She messed with her phone. “We have to let the law sort this out.”
“Amen to that,” Ray said. “Amen to—ow!”
Sidney elbowed him in the nose.
***
The scene was ugly. Sidney had called in her colleagues at the bureau. Ray had called in his the moment Smoke arrived. The two parties fought over jurisdiction. Possession. The children. Smoke was handcuffed in the back of a bureau SUV. The only thing going for them was that nobody had died.
“Stupid, Sid. Really stupid.” That was all Jack said when he showed up an hour later. “He needs to go back in the hole.”
“I’ll handle the paperwork,” she said. “It’s not that bad. Nobody died. The media hasn’t arrived.”
“Oh, really. It’s not that bad? You have an ex-con going vigilante. You’ve pissed off the county sheriff’s department. I can imagine a dozen lawsuits being filed from all this.” He rubbed his forehead. “None of the charges will stick!”
“I can handle it.”
“You’re what, going to make something up? Lie?”
“No,” she sighed, “embellish.”
Jack’s face turned red. “Embellish!”
“Don’t you raise your voice to me, Jack. You saw the drugs. The lab. The children. Don’t you act like this can’t stick.” She poked him in the chest. “We’ve handled worse. I seem to remember doing a few favors for you.”
“Get … get over here.” He pulled her away from prying eyes and ears. “Listen to me. You are out of your lane. This is not part of the Black Slate. No, you blew it. Your little soldier over there is going back to the jail cell where he belongs. Experiment over. And you will be spending a lot more time behind the desk.”
“Wait a minute. It’s only been one day. I’m supposed to have two weeks.”
“Tough. Now get in your car, go home, and report back to me in the office tomorrow so you can get started on all the paperwork you wanted.”
“No,” she argued. “We have a lead on AV.”
Jack looked up into the sky and shook his head. “I could almost let this slide.” He locked eyes with her. “Except there’s another detail you missed. Congressman Wilhelm gave me a call late yesterday, and let’s just say it wasn’t so pleasant.”
Crap!
Congressman Wilhelm was her brain-dead sister’s boyfriend Dave’s uncle.
“I gave you the benefit of the doubt, Sid. I sympathize with you regarding your sister. But now this?”
“Sir—”
“No sirs, Sid! Go home. It’s over.” His phone buzzed inside his suit pocket. “Excuse me.” Jack walked away.
Sid headed for her car.
I can’t believe this!
Smoke sat in the back of a black FBI SUV. She shot eye daggers at him through the tinted windows. She could have sworn he waved.
Good riddance.
Things were beginning to clear up. Ray and his men were gone. The children had been taken by protective services, leaving only a few men from the sheriff’s department. One of them passed her by and in a low voice said, “Now you’re in the crosshairs. Beware, Agent. Beware.”
“What?”
He tipped his cap and kept on moving. Seconds later, the deputy sheriffs and their cruisers were gone, leaving only her, Jack, and Agent Tommy Tohms—and Smoke, but he was locked up. She popped open her car door and started inside.
Well, at least the kids are safe.
“But sir?” she heard Jack exclaim. His face reddened. “But—” He looked at his phone. “Dammit!” He started to throw it on the ground, but stopped short. He marched over to his SUV and opened Smoke’s door.
“Get out!”
Smoke eased his big frame out of the car.
“Uncuff him, Tommy.”
Smoke handed Tommy the cuffs.
Jack snatched them out of Tommy’s hands and slung them away. He pointed his finger in Smoke’s face. “Don’t get my agent killed, you stupid sonuvabitch. Let’s go, Tommy.”
“But my cuffs!”
“Let’s go!” Jack glared at Sid. “You got your wish, Sid. He’s all yours.”
Ten seconds later, Smoke and Sidney stood in the parking lot all alone.
She got into her car, feeling a little bit elated.
Smoke joined her.
“I have one question,” she said.
“Shoot.”
“How in the hell did you get here?”
CHAPTER 19
“Hungry?” Smoke asked.
Sidney rolled her eyes. She was torn between mad and happy.
Smoke patted his belly. “I always get hungry after an adventure like that.”
“I don’t care.” She accelerated up the highway.
“It’s early. I know a diner around here that makes great pancakes.”
“No.”
“Excellent coffee too.”
Yes.
“No.”
“Come on, Agent Shaw. You can’t be that sore at me. We did a good thing back there.”
“‘Sore at you?’ Really? Is this the nineteen fifties? Who says that anymore?”
“I picked it up from some old timer in prison. He said that a lot. ‘Don’t be sore at me, boss.’ It kind of stuck.” He popped open the glove box. “Got any snacks in here?”
She leaned over and slammed the glove box shut.
“No.”
Smoke shrugged. He adjusted his
seat backward, locked his fingers behind his head, and closed his eyes. Seconds later he was snoring.
You have got to be kidding me!
She glanced over at him. His athletic frame filled out his black T-shirt and jeans. His knuckles were scuffed and swollen, and there were white scars on his bare arms.
He wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t hate him.
She backhanded him in the chest.
He lurched up. “What—what?”
“You’re on duty. No sleeping.”
“So now we’re a team, are we?”
“Where’s the diner you were talking about?”
Smoke’s dark eyes scanned the signs on the highway. He rubbed his jaw. “Two more exits. You’ll love it.”
“We’ll see.”
***
The diner wasn’t much, but the silverware was clean. It was an old dining car in the front with much more built on in the back. Blue stools hugged the chrome-trimmed counter. The floor was hardwood, and the booth they sat in was a soft blue vinyl. A gas fireplace burned at one end. It was warm. Cozy.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Smoke stuffed in a mouthful of pancakes that looked like they were stacked to his chin. “Ever seen a fireplace in a dining car?”
Sidney picked through her eggs and bacon. “No.” She took a sip of coffee. Mmmm … good coffee.
“How’s the coffee?”
“It’s all right.”
“Would you like to try my pancakes?”
Yes.
“No.” She scraped up the rest of her eggs and washed them down. “Are you about finished?”
Smoke looked at his stack. “No. Are we in a hurry?”
“Yes.”
“For what? AV isn’t supposed to show until five. We have plenty of time.” He flagged down the waitress. “Could I get another Coke, please?”
“Sure thing.”
“I’m still catching up from prison time,” Smoke said to her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m hungry.”
“Fine, take your time.” She checked the messages on her phone. “You clearly know what you’re doing. And your friend, Ray, when he’s released—say, tomorrow—will be thankful for your intervention.”
“It wasn’t supposed to go down that way.”
“Really?” She leaned forward and looked him in the eye. “And how was it supposed to go down?”
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files Collector's Set: Books 1-10: Urban Fantasy Shifter Series Page 8