Bounty

by J. D. Cunegan

  For the first time Jill could remember in all the years she'd known Freeman, he smiled -- full-blown, ear-to-ear smile. It was an unnerving sight, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of betrayal ballooning inside Jill. Her commanding officer, the man she trusted when she first showed up to boot camp, green and homesick, was in cahoots with David Gregor.

  "I told you,” Freeman approached Jill, and she stepped backwards in kind. She tried to shift direction, keenly aware that she was approaching the window looking over downtown. "I told you that you were playing with fire."

  "Guess I'm burned, huh?" She spat in Freeman's face, kicking him in the stomach when he flinched.

  In one swift motion, before Jill had a chance to react, Freeman grabbed by her wrist, twirled her a full 360 degrees, and tossed her into the window. The glass shattered, raining down on the floor, as Jill careened toward the pavement.

  "Damn right, you are."

  Chapter 48

  Jill plummeted toward the ground, bits of shattered glass taking the free fall with her. The wind was brutal against her hair, brown strands flapping in the breeze, covering her face, tangling against her fingers. But that was nothing compared to what the wind felt like battering against her body, the harsh chill slamming against her face like one of those onslaughts in a UFC ring.

  Oh, this is gonna hurt...

  Nights like this made Jill grateful she decided to be a superhero. If she was just Jill Andersen, Baltimore Homicide, a fall like this would be the death of her without fail. Not that it was going to be any fun this time around, but at least Jill figured she had at least a chance -- as slim as it was -- of surviving this fall. Then again, maybe that was wishful thinking on her part.

  Besides, if she did survive, then Joel Freeman was in for a world of hurt. Her mentor had betrayed her. The man who helped her survive boot camp, who taught her how to handle the Neanderthals in her platoon. The man who put in a good word for her when she retired from the military and enrolled in the Police Academy. The man who came to Janice's funeral when so few others had taken the time.

  Jill's plummeting body picked up speed, and for the first time, she let herself embrace the possibility that she wouldn't survive. Even with her enhancements, Jill wasn't so sure she could handle a fall like this. Her mind flashed to Paul, selfishly glad she probably wouldn't be around to see him die. But then she thought of Ramon and Juanita and Daniel and Evelyn, and she shuddered at the thought of one of them finding her.

  Would her team have to solve her case? Would someone else take the reigns? Would Gregor put one of his pet officers on the case, thus ensuring it would become a cold case and be forgotten within a month's time? Would the local news broadcast her secret postmortem?

  Paul was right: she should've made more of an effort to reconcile with Brian.

  The sidewalk appeared to be abandoned. Thank goodness for small favors, in that case. Jill didn't particularly care for the idea of hitting the pavement in front of bystanders. The resulting mess would probably scar a lot of them for life, not to mention that was probably one of the most embarrassing ways to go.

  An idea struck Jill as she fell, her body within arm's reach of a brick building across from Transamerica Tower. She carefully grabbed for her katana again, pulling the weapon from its sheath before wrapping both hands around the handle. With a deep breath, she shoved the blade into the worn brick, feeling the sword enter about a quarter of the way along the blade. With the resistance from the wind whipping around her, Jill needed to use every bit of strength she had to pull off that maneuver.

  Jill's momentum stopped in an instant, and her shoulders screamed in pain once she stopped and she tried desperately to keep her grip on the sword. Her body jerked to a stop, to the point where her arms cried out in protest. Even with her enhancements, this was one of the most painful sensations Jill had ever endured. The pain was almost enough to make her lose her grip on the blade, but with another deep breath, Jill steeled herself against it and tightened her hold even as her fingers risked going numb.

  Gritting her teeth, Jill grunted in pain. Her arms felt like they'd been set on fire. She lost count of how many times she'd almost lost her hold on the sword. Despite her brain's protests, Jill allowed herself to glance down, seeing a green awning directly below her. With a deep breath, and realizing she wouldn't be able to hold on much longer, Jill released her grip and fell. She curled her body as tightly against itself as she could, feeling the awning tear under her weight. She squeezed her right eye shut and braced herself for impact -- an impact that knocked the breath out of her once she slammed into the pavement.

  "Fuck!"

  Jill slowly rocked onto her side, trying to regain her breath. Blood trickled from her nose. She curled into the fetal position; the second fall hadn't been terribly far, and her titanium reinforcements meant she wasn't shattered, but as consciousness slowly slipped from Jill, she thought how she couldn't come up with a word to describe this kind of pain. Before she finally passed out, Jill wondered if she had heard someone scream her name.

  Chapter 49

  When Jill came to, she found that she was in one of downtown Baltimore's back alleys. Jill had no idea how long she had been out, or even exactly where she was at this point -- though it didn’t look like the spot where she passed out. She tried sitting up, but her back howled in protest. Blinded by the pain, she momentarily forgot the predicament she had endured -- being tossed out of a window forty stories in the air, trying to use her katana and a nearby awning to break her fall.

  Good news: it worked.

  Bad news: it worked.

  Jill forced herself to sit up against the wall with a grimace, the cold brick against her throbbing back actually serving to dull the pain. Jill opened her eyes with a sigh, equal parts physical discomfort and frustration, her mind flashing back to the image of the man who sent her careening toward her seemingly imminent doom. Joel Freeman had betrayed her. He had been working in concert with David Gregor. And though she had no evidence, Jill was certain they had a hand in Dr. Roberts' murder. They might not have actually slashed his throat and tossed him into the bay, but they were involved. The only question at this point was: why kill Trent in Baltimore? Why draw Jill out like this? Was it simply a case of tying up loose ends, or was this more personal?

  Freeman's involvement led Jill to believe it was the latter.

  "Jill."

  The hushed voice startled her, and Jill recoiled before another jolt of pain shot up her back. She winced and hissed a sharp breath to steel herself before opening her eyes, visibly relaxing when she saw Ramon kneeling by her side. "Heeeey," She grinned despite herself. "It's my plucky sidekick."

  "Partner."

  The look in Ramon's eyes registered for her. He was scared. Not nervous, not on-edge, not bursting at the seams with equal parts dread and anticipation. No, this man was full-blown scared. Truth be told, he had every right to be. This wasn't his world. This wasn't his fight. Yet here he was, kneeling beside Jill, apparently having moved her from where she landed before authorities had a chance to show up. Which meant he'd been following her. The thought annoyed Jill, but given the circumstances, she elected to ignore it.

  Jill groaned and her human eye rolled back in its socket. "I should be dead."

  "No kidding." Ramon glanced skyward. "Clever thinking with the sword, but still."

  Sitting up a little straighter, Jill grunted in pain. Best-case scenario, her back would be a canvas of bruises in the morning. Broken bones were out of the question, but there was still the matter of potential organ damage, internal bleeding, simple pain tolerance -- and it wasn't like Jill could get checked out at a hospital. One pass through the x-ray machine would blow her cover for good.

  "Jill." It was clear from the tone of Ramon's voice that she couldn't get out of explaining this. "What happened?"

  She sighed and shook her head. Tears threatened to spill from her right eye, but she blinked them back as her hands curled into tigh
t fists. "Freeman's with Gregor." Her teeth gnashed together, and she spat out the next words. "They're in on this together. They killed Trent, I just know it."

  Even as she spoke the words, Jill had a hard time believing them. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that her mentor had betrayed her. All those years of teaching her, guiding her, his reluctance about her participation in Project Fusion -- had all of that been an act?

  Freeman had tried to talk Jill out of volunteering so many times, she had wondered if he had his speech memorized. Was his betrayal payback? Had he been in on this from the beginning? Had anything between them over the years been genuine? The reality of the moment threatened to overwhelm Jill. A near-death experience was one thing -- they came with the territory with being both a cop and a vigilante -- but another betrayal, perceived or otherwise, was too much.

  First her father. Then her mother. Then her brother. And now Freeman. Jill sucked in a ragged breath to keep the tears at bay. She'd break down later. At home. Alone.

  "Can you prove it?" Ramon cocked his head to the side. "I mean, in an official-badges-and-warrants sort of way."

  She sighed and shook her head again. Of course she couldn't. All of the evidence she had tying those three men together didn't officially exist. Aside from her own memories, the only place Project Fusion could be found was in the Pentagon, hidden behind ribbons and ribbons of black redacting ink. Bringing that information to light would label Jill a traitor to the United States. Not to mention, her mental health would likely be called into question.

  "Does Freeman tossing me out a window count?"

  Ramon huffed. "Maybe if he'd thrown Jill out the window and not Bounty." He sat against the wall next to Jill, his elbows resting on his knees. "Speaking of: Dan's gonna ask why I showed up at the scene and you didn't. I mean, he knows, but he wants something official to tell everyone."

  At this point, Captain Richards could announce her secret on the six o'clock news and Jill wouldn't care. Even if it meant her badge, even if it meant she got thrown into the same prisons she'd spent the past three years filling. If it meant the end of this nightmare, if it meant she no longer had to worry about her past bubbling back to the surface like this, then it would be worth it. Besides, everyone had always told her “Like father, like daughter,” so why not make it official?

  "It's the perfect set-up," Ramon was talking to himself more than anything, a habit he employed when he wanted to make himself feel better. Jill grabbed his wrist and squeezed, a pang of guilt overwhelming her. "They know you can't do anything to them, because doing so reveals your secret."

  Jill nodded. "And if some other cop figures it all out..."

  "... then your secret's out anyway."

  Jill shook her head. "Let's face it, Ramon. I'm stuck."

  "No... Jill is stuck." A knowing smile spread across Ramon's face. "Bounty has exactly what she needs to wrap this thing up."

  She smiled despite herself, nudging her elbow into her partner's side. "What makes you think Jill and Bounty aren't one and the same?"

  Before Ramon could answer, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted the pair. They looked up in unison, Captain Richards now standing before them. Jill's heart skipped a beat when she saw her katana hoisted over his shoulder.

  "I'm starting to wonder if there's any difference myself."

  "Dan." Jill swallowed hard.

  Captain Richards handed the blade back to Jill, the look of annoyance on his aging face giving way to a bemused smirk. He shook his head before joining Jill and Ramon in sitting up against the wall. "I thought I told you to be careful."

  "To be fair, it's not like I asked to be tossed out the window."

  "I don't mean that." He leveled a knowing gaze at Jill. "I know about Yuki." Jill opened her mouth to speak, but Richards silenced her with a hand on her shoulder. "I know you didn't kill her on purpose. But let's be honest, Jill. That little video message didn't do you any favors. You ask me, it smacked of desperation."

  "Yeah, well," Jill shrugged, "I'm pretty desperate right now."

  "I like the play, though." Richards nodded. "Try to throw him off his own game. Guy like Gregor, you can't go at him head-on. You gotta come at him sideways."

  Ramon leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't gonna end with him being led away in cuffs, is it?"

  Richards shook his head. "Not unless the feds do it."

  "They won't." Jill snarled and cracked her knuckles -- a particularly unsettling sound. She winced in pain. "If Gregor and Freeman are gonna go down for Trent's murder -- among other things -- then I'm gonna have to be the one to do it."

  Chapter 50

  "You're paying for a new window."

  It was supposed to be a joke, but David Gregor wasn't in a laughing mood. Not when broken glass littered his pristine carpet, not when a crazed vigilante had essentially called him out for the entire state of Maryland to hear. Not when he felt his control of everything slipping through his fingertips. Gregor thrived on being in control. It was abundantly clear he no longer was.

  "You'll thank me when Bounty's death is announced on the news." Freeman wiped his hands before tossing the white towel over his right shoulders, glass shards crunching under the weight of his boots. He crossed to Gregor by the bar, grabbing an empty glass and pouring himself a stiff drink, and downing the clear liquid with little effort.

  "She's not dead."

  Freeman scoffed and poured himself another shot of vodka. "David, I just tossed her off the fortieth floor." He downed the drink with a hiss, trying to rid himself of the image of his protégé crashing through the window. "So unless there's a giant bouncy castle --"

  "Where's the body?" Gregor interrupted, his tone making Freeman flinch. "If she's dead, Joel, I need to see a body."

  Setting his empty glass on the wooden surface of the bar, and sliding the glass away from himself, Freeman stared at Gregor in disbelief. He cocked his head to the side and sucked in a breath. A priceless French painting hung on the wall over Gregor’s shoulder, appropriately enough of a woman with a sneering look on her face, hovering over what appeared to be a monarch groveling on his knees. "You're kiddin' me."

  "No body, no death."

  Freeman shook his head. "You really gonna fall for that crap?" He stepped toward Gregor, feeling an unusual amount of bravado. Maybe it was the vodka. Maybe it was just a front. Freeman had backed Gregor for a lot of years, but this? Throwing Bounty out of a window? Trying to kill the woman who was once one of his brightest, most capable cadets? Retirement couldn’t come soon enough.

  "Are you?" Gregor took a step forward. "Do you really believe she's dead, or are you trying to mask the guilt?”

  Freeman stiffened, clenching his jaw as Gregor handed the shot glass back to him. He snatched the glass before pouring himself another drink, downing it with a gulp and snarling at the businessman standing inches from him. Anger and hatred rose up inside the lieutenant colonel, his free hand curling into a fist.

  "If you'd ever served a day in your life," Freeman growled, "you'd understand."

  Gregor shrugged. "You know honest work never agreed with me." He snatched the empty shot glass from Freeman, tossing it into a nearby trash can. "You also knew what this was when you signed up. You will do as asked -- and that means if she's not dead, you're going to kill her again."

  Freeman watched Gregor pace back toward the broken window, the chilly night air blowing into the penthouse. Freeman had a gun tucked under the bar that he was certain Gregor didn't know about. Part of him thought he could simply grab the weapon and down the businessman before he had a chance to turn around. After all, Gregor had said wanted a body. At this angle, the bullet would likely send Gregor plummeting toward the ground, so Gregor would also get his wish of a messy body.

  But Freeman thought better of it. There would come a time where Gregor would be put down. But it was not now, and Freeman would not be the one to do it. In fact, Freeman guessed that when that time came, he
'd be out of the picture. That knowledge brought him an odd measure of peace.

  "Not if she gets to you first." When Gregor whirled back around in anger, Freeman smiled. "Assuming she's not already dead."

  "For your sake, Joel, I hope she is."

  Freeman's smile grew. He no longer worried for himself; his days of looking over his shoulder were long gone. He knew his day of reckoning would come as soon as he attached himself to Gregor and Dr. Roberts, and he had made peace with that years ago. Gregor was still so full of his own sense of self-importance that he refused to see what Freeman knew -- that Jill, for all of her faults, was persistent and relentless enough that this would not end until Gregor's entire empire had been dismantled. And Freeman had no doubt she could do it.

  "I long for the day she proves you wrong." Freeman muttered as Gregor left the penthouse, grabbing the bottle of vodka and taking a long swig before crossing to the floor and grabbing a stuffed manila folder. "And I hope I have a front row seat for it."

  Chapter 51

  Jill wanted to go home, but her partner and boss both overruled her, dictating that she spend the night at Ramon and Juanita's place. An attempt on her life led them to believe there might be others, and they didn't want to risk her attacker knowing where she lived. Bravado aside, Jill didn't disagree, and because it was Ramon, she eventually relented.

  Silently glad Juanita had already turned in for the night by the time they got back to Ramon's apartment, Jill immediately flopped onto the couch from physical and mental exhaustion. Her back was still sore, but it was a dull ache. Ramon set her katana against the wall by the door before applying all the necessary locks. She barely noticed when he sat next to her and began untying the laces on her boots.