Asp (Guardian Shadow World Book 2)

by Kris Michaels

  Chapter 24

  Asp waited in the front room of Lyric’s family; the home where her grandfather was murdered; the place where her father was tortured—and watched the evening shadows lengthen. There was no intelligence regarding the deaths of Lyric’s family from Halo’s camp. In fact, most of the intelligence they gathered had fortified the information in the paperwork Lycos had found. It was a stroke of luck that led Asp back to the small farm today. He’d wandered down to the closest village because he was fucking tired of the crap he was eating in the field. It was late and dark as Asp sat outside the local cantina in the outdoor dining area. Though food was still served, the interior was full of locals, and they were drinking. Asp didn’t give a flying fuck about the locals. From the interviews Guardian’s people had conducted, they didn’t know who had killed Lyric’s family. But it wasn’t locals he overheard that night. He’d finished his beans and rice and some sort of mystery meat and had drifted into the shadows. The music and laughter coming from inside lessened the stress of the past two weeks. It was comforting to hear humanity laugh and live. Two men in National Police uniforms exited the cantina, and after casting glances around, they sat at a table near the entrance, obviously intent on talking in private.

  “The man is fucking insane.”

  “No shit. When he put a gun to that defenseless old man’s head, I left. I wanted nothing to do with that.”

  “They were found dead.”

  “Man, I can’t wrap my head around it. Why would Ricardo do such a thing?”

  “She threatened him. Then she was gone. He thought she’d gone to the district commander to file a complaint. The old man, he ranted crazy shit about her finding a real man. Ricardo lost it. He shoved him down and put a gun to his head after he pistol-whipped the other, knocking him out. I told him to leave with me, but…I should have done something, you know? But how could I even conceive that he’d kill both of them?”

  “If you report him now?”

  “He’d kill me. He has people who take care of him. How could he progress so quickly if he didn’t?”

  “Have you seen her?”

  “No, and I pray I never do. I hope she left like they said. You know he still goes out there to look for her. Even after processing his own crime scene. How can they catch the killer when he is in charge of the investigation?”

  “Insane. What happens if he gets away with this? Where will it stop?”

  “I don’t know, Miguel. I don’t know. Our life, it is never easy is it?”

  The door opened, and a large crowd of laughing men fell out into the small courtyard. Asp took that moment to ease his way over the low wall and walk away. He had a name, and he had a profession.

  He waited in the darkness. It had been two days since he took up his vigil. He’d wait two more before he’d have to track down Ricardo Castro de la Mata. Asp preferred to make the kill here, where the bastard had committed his own acts. Only he wouldn’t sully the interior of the small ranch house. He had plans for Ricardo.

  Asp had never wanted to kill someone before. The missions he’d accomplished were done out of duty, to help thousands by taking a life. Rationalization? Perhaps, but it worked for him. Until the night he overheard that conversation. Now? Well, now he knew what Anubis went through when he tracked down and killed the bastard who’d gone after his woman and child. Now he understood the white-hot fury that embedded inside a man’s heart and prevented him from seeing the correct way to do things. Now he understood, and he’d apologize to his friend because the desire to kill Ricardo Castro de la Mata ate him from the inside like acid. It was a slow, painful burn and with each passing hour that Lyric’s family wasn’t avenged, it killed a little more of his soul. Asp's muscles tightened at the sound of a motor. He stood and moved to the window. A set of headlights bounced down the pothole infested road. He pushed back into the shadows. He’d turned on the small lamp in the bedroom. It would be noticeable from the driveway, but the bastard wouldn’t be able to see who was in the house.

  He heard the car stop and idle for a long span of time. The bastard was either amping himself up to come inside, or he was running through his options of confronting Lyric. Whatever he was doing it ended with a twist of the ignition key. Asp listened to the computerized ding when the car door opened and noted the absence when the door shut, although there was no slam. The bastard was going to try to break into the house, then.

  The door handle jiggled and then turned. Asp hadn’t locked it. A slight crack between the door and the jam let in a sliver of moonlight. The door inched open, carefully and quietly. What was the motherfucker’s intent? The man entered. Asp saw the gun pointed toward the floor, and in the hand that controlled the door, he saw a rope. Another cascade of fury slithered just underneath his skin. He planned on abducting Lyric. Planned. Past-fucking-tense.

  Asp took one step from the shadow and lowered the butt of his newly acquired forty-five caliber automatic in a sharp motion. The crack against the back of the man’s skull preceded the whap of his unconscious body hitting the terracotta tiles of the living room floor. Asp grabbed the bastard’s leg and dragged him back out the door. He’d gone over this plan countless times. He’d debated with himself. His inner devil’s advocate warred with the voice of reason. He’d run the pros and cons against the outrage and hatred that coursed through his veins with every pump of his heart.

  Asp made his way behind a small shack where an overhang covered a stone wheel used to sharpen tools. Asp had put it to good use when he’d arrived. He dropped the man’s leg and moved to the wood stack. The bastard was short. He needed something. Perfect. Asp set two large logs on the inside of the overhang’s frame, directly beside the two support beams on either side of the door. He reached into the shed and grabbed a rope. He took the machete he’d sharpened this afternoon and cut the rope into lengths. A quick flick of his wrist and he had the rope attached to the man’s wrists and ankles. It took a bit of effort, but he managed to get the unconscious man into position and tied off.

  Asp stepped back and ran a critical eye over his work. Yes, this would do. He sat down at the small wheel and lit a kerosene lamp. While he waited for Ricardo Castro de la Mata to wake up, he wet the stone and used his leg to pump the pedal making the stone turn. He pushed the blade at an angle against the wheel, drawing it in long, slow strokes against the stone. The edge sang against the wheel and soothed Asp’s racing mind. A moan came from the man tied spread eagle between the support beams. He waited, quietly observing the bastard in front of him.

  “What?” The man spoke in Spanish as he started to come to and then jerked awake.

  Asp reached over and pushed the button on the device Duke had loaned him.

  “What is this?” Ricardo pulled against the ropes, frantic and desperate. His eyes swiveled down to Asp. “Let me go! Do you not know who I am?”

  Asp answered in the same language. “You are Ricardo Castro de la Mata and you are a murderer.”

  The man ceased his struggles, his eyes snapped to Asp with a laser-like stare. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  Asp cocked his head and looked at the man. Did he really think he could pull off the innocent look?

  “Why did you sneak into the Garcia house tonight with a rope and a gun?” Asp was suddenly tired. He needed to end this and go home. To Lyric.

  “We had a report of a breaking and entering.”

  “Why did you kill the old man?” Asp lifted the machete, so Ricardo could see it.

  “What are you going to do with that? You know the penalty for assaulting an officer of the National Police?”

  “Oh, yes, I do. Do you know the penalty for murdering two innocent men in an effort to silence a woman you thought was making a report against you?”

  The man choked before he blustered, “I have no idea what you are talking about.” The man's eyes squinted. He stared down at Asp as if he was dirt on his shoes. A pretty cocky attitude for a man that was tied spread eagle. Asp sto
od up, and the man’s eyes widened. He knew he was an intimidating bastard. His size had worked against him at times, but not today. Today he used every inch of his height and bulk. He took two steps forward, keeping his back to Duke’s device.

  "What I am talking about, Ricardo Castro de la Mata, Sergeant of the National Police, Identification number 23-97389451, is that you came in search of Lyric Gadson, to take her against her will." Asp didn't know that for sure, but all the pieces fell into line. He couldn't see Lyric enticing this asshole's attention, so he threw it in. "When she wasn't here, you freaked out and thought she might have gone to district headquarters and reported your unwanted attention to District Commander Jesus Garcia." Asp touched the tip of the machete to the top button of the man's uniform. A drop of sweat fell from Ricardo's brow onto the blade. Asp turned the steel and let the flat side of the weapon skim across the man's ribs, wiping away the sweat. Ricardo sucked wind and held his breath the entire time the steel swiped past his internal organs.

  "I don't know..." Asp flicked the blade up and cut off the first button of the man's uniform and his words at the same time.

  "Admit it to me now, and I won't make you suffer, too much." Asp wielded the knife in front of him. The reflection of the kerosene lamp flashed off steel that he'd polished for most of the afternoon.

  "Admit what?"

  "You know you killed those men. I know you killed them."

  "I..." The tip of Asp's blade flicked up and pierced the skin under Ricardo's chin. Asp applied the smallest amount of pressure and blood traced along the metal in a tiny stream. "If you lie, I'll cut you." Asp trailed the tip of the blade down the man's throat, barely scratching the skin, but leaving a trail of blood.

  "No, you'll kill me." Ricardo pulled belabored breaths into his lungs. His sweat was rolling off his forehead and down his neck.

  "If you speak the truth, I won't kill you." Asp lifted his eyes and locked his stare with the terrified eyes of his prey. "I. Will. Not. Kill. You." Oh, but he would maim the motherfucker. Asp had sworn an oath and had an allegiance to Guardian. As much as he wanted to slice the man into a million pieces...that was not who he was. It was not who he wanted to be for his future wife and their children.

  Asp pulled the razor-sharp edge down the man's shirt easily popping every button. He slid the tip of the blade between the man's belt and his pants. A quick jerk severed the leather and dropped his utility belt to the ground with a silence shattering thud. "Admit what you did and live." Asp tilted the weapon, so the blade pointed down and slid it between Ricardo's shirt and uniform pants. He slid the weapon down cutting a perfect line from waistband to knee.

  "Fuck you," Ricardo spit the words at Asp. It was expected.

  Asp put the tip of the blade under the man's chin again. "Too bad." He let the blade trail down to the man's chest and sliced him from collarbone to belly button. The cut wasn't deep, but it damn well hurt. The blood loss would be minimal, but Ricardo wouldn't know that.

  "Wait, stop! Don't!" The man started to tremble.

  Ahh...he was finally absorbing this reality of his. Yes, Ricardo, you are in a shit ton of trouble.

  "Why should I stop? Are you going to admit what you've done?" Asp lowered the tip of the blade and tucked it under the bulge of Ricardo's boxer briefs, bouncing his balls on the flat side of the blade.

  "I haven't—oh, God, no!" Ricardo's falsetto rang high and clear through the empty expanse of the farm. Asp expertly split the man's underwear from the bottom of the leg to his waistband with one smooth motion. He really liked the edge on this machete. Maybe he'd look into using blades more while he was in the field.

  Asp trailed the tip of the weapon from Ricardo's bellybutton to the root of his very small and unsurprisingly flaccid cock. "You must be a grower and not a shower, hey Ricardo? Or are you just a three-inch twitcher?" Asp lifted the man's cock with the tip of the blade. "Make that two inches." He pressed the tip of the knife ever so slightly against the man's ball sack. Asp quickly stepped back as Ricardo pissed himself. Tears ran down his cheeks.

  "Don't, man, I swear I'll tell the truth. Don't cut it off!" Ricardo babbled for a minute before he realized that Asp had removed the tip of the machete.

  "Talk, bitch. Tell me exactly what happened." Asp tapped the bottom of the man's balls again.

  "I came to talk with Lyric. She wasn't here. Her father wouldn't answer my questions. He acted like I was scum on his boots. The old man, he laughed. He said Lyric was free from me. He said she'd found her savior. I fucking told her not to go to my district commander. I told her what would happen if she did. The fucking bitch went anyway!"

  "So, you killed her father and grandfather?"

  "I wasn't going to kill them. The old man, he kept taunting me. Telling me I was nothing and that Lyric was safe from me. I told him to shut up. I screamed at him. He just laughed. I shoved him down and told him to shut the fuck up, but he didn't. The gun fired. I... I don't remember squeezing the trigger, I swear!"

  "And her father?"

  "He regained consciousness. I knocked him out so I could talk to the old man. I didn't know he'd come to. He attacked me. I fought him. We fought. The bastard slipped, and I got on top of him. I forced him to his knees, and I shot him."

  "What weapon did you use to kill them?"

  "My automatic." The man sniveled.

  "What did you do with the gun?" Asp wanted to make sure when the man was prosecuted for his crimes, he'd be convicted.

  "I threw it away in a dumpster in Cartagena. I reported it stolen to my supervisor." Real fear filled the man's eyes as he watched Asp move the machete.

  "Why are you here tonight?" Asp ran the tip of the blade down the inside of the man's leg letting it scrape deep enough to cut the surface layers of skin. Ricardo whined, high pitched and pleading.

  "Why?" Asp shouted.

  "Lyric! I came for Lyric!"

  "And what were you going to do with her?"

  "Fuck her! Kill her, maybe? I don't know! I don't know!" Snot hung from the man's nose as he bawled uncontrollably. Blood from the shallow cut ran in small streaks down the man's thighs. Asp pulled a latex glove out of his pocket and put it on. He bent down and removed the man's new service weapon.

  "Balls or knees?"

  "What? What the fuck are you talking about? You said if I confessed you wouldn't kill me!"

  "I did. And I'm not going to kill you. But you need to make a decision. Do you want your balls, or do you want your knees? Two balls or two knees for two lives. You're getting off easy."

  Asp slapped the man's balls with the blade. He shrieked and pleaded, babbling incoherent words. "Balls or knees!" Asp shouted the question at the man. His patience had pegged in the red the minute the mother fucker had regained consciousness.

  "No! No, no, no..." Ricardo screamed as Asp lifted the weapon and pointed it at his knees.

  "So, you want to lose your balls?" Asp lifted the machete.

  "No!" The shriek pierced the night.

  "Which is it? You have ten seconds to decide." Asp started counting. "Ten, nine, eight..."

  The man screamed and pulled at the ropes that secured him. "Five, four, three..."

  "No! No!" Ricardo shrieked.

  Asp dropped the weapon, pulled the man's ball sack down with his hand and sliced the entire package off. He looked up at the convulsing man. Unfortunately, he knew the bastard would live. Asp pulled his phone out and dialed. He told the emergency services team to dispatch an ambulance. He took the machete with him. He'd grown attached to it. Asp strode to the National Police Car and used his gloved hand to open the door. He got in, put the car into drive and left. He'd made the man pay. The confession was streamed from Duke's helmet camera to Guardian and from there to the district commander's personal IP address. He'd have the file on his computer in the morning when he logged in. Asp had honored his oath. He didn't kill the monster, but only because he didn't have clearance. He'd avenged Lyric’s family. The bastard would go to jail and Asp
could live with himself because justice was served.

  He bumped down the pothole infested drive and turned left onto the paved road. Behind him, red lights crested a hill. The ambulance or other National Police officers no doubt. Asp turned on the radio and found a soft tune playing on one of the stations. He had a hell of a drive to get to Cartagena. He had a flight to catch. He was going home.

  "Wait, what the fuck? There. Is someone else there?" Jared King pulled his brother's attention back to the video screen.

  "Who?" Alpha barked across the room to Bengal. The video feed showed a man dressed in a hooded sweatshirt, the hood pulled over his head to hide his face, wearing baggy sweatpants and bulky gloves moving across the small space between the helmet cam and the man Asp had strung up.

  "Not one of our assets. Can't be." Bengal picked up a landline and dialed Thanatos's number.

  "Dude, I'm supposed to be on mandatory downtime. I'm kind of busy." Thanatos’s voice crackled over the speaker.

  "Where are you?"

  "In bed, with a bonny lass." A woman's laugh popped all eyes up. They stared blankly at each other.

  "Yeah, sorry for bothering you. I'll talk to you later." Bengal began to hang up.

  "Wait, now you have me curious. Where did you think I was?"

  "Never mind. Have a good night." Alpha gave Bengal the kill sign, and he cut the connection.

  "Where's Lycos?" Archangel snapped.

  Anubis answered from the video screen where he was patched into the conference from South Dakota. "He's here with us. I just saw him going into the mess hall. He was chasing after one of the new med techs not more than two hours ago."

  Alpha's eyes hadn't left the screen. "Small. He's too small for one of our guys. Maybe he's a local?" The man stood in front of Ricardo. He lifted a gun from his side and put it under Ricardo's chin. The man was unconscious, so it wasn't...