by Bryan Smith
Casey believed her. He glanced at Echo in desperate hope of some sign of solace, but there was nothing there. Just a hard, resolute mask. Maybe she wasn’t thrilled about him being forced into this situation, but she knew there was no way out of it.
His gaze settled on Dez again. “I’ll do it. I know I’ve got no choice.”
“That’s right. You don’t.” Her expression softened some, but Casey figured that was just more manipulation on her part. “But here’s the thing. I know you think you’re being made to do something terrible for no reason, but that’s not true. Consider this an initiation. If Echo is serious about taking you back, I’ll have to respect that, but not until you prove yourself to us. Do this thing and you’ll be one of us, a part of our family. And as family, we’ll do whatever we can to help your sister.”
Casey studied her face. She wasn’t smirking and there were no obvious signs of deception. With someone like Dez, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He had no clue whether her offer to help was sincere.
In the end, it boiled down to making a leap of faith.
A hugely fucked-up leap of faith, but it was all he had.
He turned away from the women and approached Micah, who started shaking and whimpering louder than ever. His shining eyes looked up at Casey. They were open wide and devoid of hope. All he wanted now was deliverance from this suffering. Casey didn’t need to read his mind to know that. He was afraid to die, but who wasn’t?
Casey pressed the button and the blade popped open.
He mouthed two words: I’m sorry.
And then he plunged the knife deep into Micah’s neck.
Chapter Nineteen
De Rais Ranch
Six days after the shootout on 2nd Avenue
The raid everyone had been expecting finally happened. Thanks to his security team’s police connection, John Wayne de Rais was warned of it a full day in advance. It was more than enough time to craft a façade of harmlessness. There was nothing to be done about the bodies buried out in the woods, but de Rais was confident the graves would go undiscovered for now. The corpses were buried deep in areas beyond the borders of his property. By the time they eventually were exhumed, it would be too late to matter.
The law arrived in force early in the morning to serve the search warrant. The Order offered no resistance whatsoever, despite the brusque demeanor of the lead investigator on the scene. They had prepared for this and knew what was expected of them. There would be no repeat of the Waco standoff at the de Rais compound. The top cop’s frustration mounted throughout the course of the search. He had expected to find large caches of illegal weapons and narcotics. All he did find was a modest assortment of legally acquired handguns and hunting rifles. Excuses were manufactured to confiscate these along with several computers from the big house. A handful of Order followers were busted for possession of small amounts of weed and other substances. All the serious weaponry had been temporarily moved to another location, as had the hard drives of any computers containing genuinely sensitive information.
The search went on for several tedious hours, but John Wayne never became visibly irritated. He politely answered every question asked of him and even made occasional suggestions about where the jackbooted thugs might search for hidden contraband, which only further stoked the lead investigator’s ire.
The man was under a lot of pressure. The city was still screaming for a resolution to the mystery of the 2nd Avenue shooter. And now, mere days later, a rising country star and her boyfriend had been slaughtered in spectacularly grisly fashion in an upscale Nashville neighborhood. Melanie Montgomery’s killers had written on the walls of her home with her blood, things about revolution and a cleansing rain of blood. Most of the grislier aspects of the crime had been withheld by investigators, but news of the scrawled messages leaked to the press. This rattled an already spooked public and led to intense speculation about a possible link to the Order.
Which was all to the good.
John wanted people scared. He also welcomed the suspicion. He reveled in the idea of all those lips flapping to no effect. After years of writing him off as a harmless flake, the local power structure now believed he was anything but harmless and had set in motion plans to dismantle his organization. Of course they were fully capable of doing just that. John harbored no illusions to the contrary. But his enemies were hampered by the need to follow certain processes that would take time. And while the wheels of justice were just beginning their slow, methodical grind where he was concerned, he was already prepared to implement his endgame.
The latest visit to his doctor confirmed his suspicions regarding the cause of his crippling headaches and other symptoms. He was terminal. At best he had months left to live. The diagnosis did not surprise him and he received it with stoicism. He had no reason to fear death because he knew what was happening to him was a sign from God. His illness would be a catalyst for the great change he’d preached about for so long.
The actualization of an idea birthed as a sham was a strange and wonderful thing. It felt good to know his true legacy would be something so much more meaningful than an unparalleled ability to scam gullible sheep out of their money. It was a chance at redemption he suspected had been a part of God’s grand scheme all along.
He was God’s agent on earth.
The time of the great cleansing was at hand.
Keely was whisked away to another location ahead of the raid. She knew the raid was happening, but not much regarding the actual cause for it. Her Order minders refused to shed any light on the subject when she queried them about it. After a while, she gave up asking them questions and spent the bulk of the day silently watching a lot of boring crap on TV in a depressingly bland motel room.
Now that the police were gone, she had been returned to solitary confinement in her room at the big house. The guard who had shadowed her those first few days after John extended the inner circle invitation—the blond thug named Boyd—had gone missing soon after she was coerced into recording that hateful video message to Casey. She strongly suspected she would not see Boyd again. He was part of a team dispatched to deliver the video message and “deal with” Casey. She knew this because a smug Susan Wagner told her about it. But the men never returned from their mission and Susan—no longer smug at all—refused to answer her questions about what happened.
But Keely could make the obvious guess. The men weren’t coming back because they were dead—because Casey had killed them.
Or, whatever, some other calamity had befallen them. But knowing her brother had somehow eluded mutilation and/or execution both relieved her and filled her with a grudging admiration for the meddling son of a bitch. He was a resourceful motherfucker and anyone who underestimated him did so at their own risk.
The door opened and Susan Wagner came into the room. Keely was sitting at the little table by the window, a dog-eared old paperback novel open in her hands. She glanced up from the book and caught a glimpse of the slender, dark-haired new security guy before he pulled the door shut.
She gave Susan a wary look. “What do you want?”
Susan crossed the room and sat on the edge of the table. “I need some information.”
“What kind of information?”
Susan snatched the thick old paperback from Keely and smacked her across the face with it. It wasn’t a hard blow. The impact of the book against her cheek startled her more than it hurt.
Keely gaped at Susan. “What the fuck?”
Susan dropped the book and seized Keely by an arm, jerking her roughly out of the chair. Keely cried out in surprise as Susan flung her across the room. She cried out again when she crashed into a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed. She tumbled to the floor and Susan fell atop her, straddling her and pinning her in place.
The door opened and the slender security guy poked his head in. “Everything all right in here?”
Susan glared at him. “Get out.”
The security guy retreated.<
br />
Susan clamped a hand around Keely’s throat and leaned in close. “We need to find your brother. Where else can we look for him?”
Keely tried to say something, but the pressure around her throat made anything other than a pained wheeze impossible.
Susan relaxed her grip some. “Answer me, whore. Where is he?”
Keely sucked in a deep breath before answering. “You get off on getting rough with me, don’t you? You’re probably wet right now.”
Susan smiled. “You’re not wrong. And by the way, I can do whatever I want to you now. John Wayne won’t be intervening. He’s not himself lately, I’m afraid.”
Keely frowned. “What does that mean?”
Susan flipped long blonde locks out of her eyes. “He’s sick. Only people like me who’ve known him forever would pick up on it, but it won’t be long before he can’t hide it from the rest of the sheep. I’ll be running things here soon and I want your brother dead before that happens. Help me find him and I’ll keep you in the inner circle when I take over.”
Keely tried to make her expression look thoughtful. “What about this ‘cleansing’ thing I keep hearing about? The revolution?”
Susan grimaced. “John’s illness has him believing his own bullshit. When he’s gone, we’ll shift our focus back to what’s really important—scamming people out of their fucking money.”
Now Keely tried her best to convey sincerity. “I like the sound of that, especially if you let me in on it.”
“So you’re a greedy little bitch in addition to being a whore.” Susan laughed and relaxed her grip on Keely’s throat. “But I can respect that. And who knows? If you play your cards right, you could wind up helping me run this thing. You can start by giving up your brother. Tell me where he is.”
“I can only make guesses.”
“Then start guessing.”
Keely sighed. “Please let me up first. This is really fucking uncomfortable.”
Susan let go of Keely’s throat and climbed off her.
Keely got to her feet and climbed onto the bed, stretching out across the luxurious mattress with an exaggerated groan. “That’s better.”
Susan frowned. “What are you doing?”
Keely pouted. “You hurt me. You play too rough.”
Susan did exactly what Keely had hoped she would do—she climbed up on the bed and stretched out next to her. She smiled and put a hand on Keely’s hip. “I can be gentle too, if you like it better that way.”
Keely smiled as she began to roll toward her. “You know what? Let’s keep things rough.”
The item stashed beneath the pillow was something she had found during an exhaustive search of her room’s nooks and crannies. It was in a drawer beneath a pile of fabric scraps. The room had been swept for removal of anything that could conceivably be used as a weapon prior to her installation in it, but it was easy to see how this had been overlooked.
The overhead light glinted on the slim pair of stainless steel sewing scissors as Keely’s hand came out from beneath the pillow. Susan’s eyes opened wide, shock registering as she watched Keely raise the scissors high overhead. Keely slapped a hand over Susan’s mouth before she could scream and brought the scissors down as hard as she could. The sharp end slammed into her throat, punching through the flesh with astonishing ease. Blood erupted from the hole as Keely pulled the scissors out and brought them down again, punching a second hole in Susan’s throat.
Susan tried to roll away from her, but it was too late for that.
Keeping one hand clamped over her former tormentor’s mouth, she climbed on top of her and easily held her in place. She leaned close and stared into Susan’s terrified eyes. This bitch had made her life hell and she was getting what she deserved. Keely maintained eye contact with her as she shifted her grip on the scissors and jabbed them into her side several times. She did it slowly, gingerly, easing the scissors in and out as she savored Susan’s terror. Her hands were slippery with gore by the time the light went out in Susan’s eyes.
She sat up and stared at the dead woman beneath her.
Panic set in after a few moments.
Killing Susan was something she had fantasized about for weeks, but now that it had actually happened, the reality of the situation slammed home. She had just murdered one of the top-ranking members of John’s organization. There was no taking this back. And there was no way in hell John would ever forgive her for doing this.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. What do I do now? What do I fucking do now!?
She gasped and whipped her head around as the door to the room came open. She expected to see the slender security guy aiming a gun at her.
Instead she saw John Wayne.
He peered at her in a glassy-eyed, confused way. “Susan? What…have you done to that girl?”
Keely started to say something, some kneejerk, ridiculous denial, but she closed her mouth.
Wait. Hold on.
She frowned. “What did you just call me?”
John Wayne smiled. “Your name, of course.”
Keely’s heart was slamming away in her chest.
My God…he thinks I’m Susan Wagner.
She remembered what Susan had said about John’s deteriorating condition. She hadn’t believed it until this moment. Still, it was possible the reprieve would be very short-lived. His confusion might give way to a moment of clarity. And if that happened and he understood what she had done to his old friend…
Kill him. Kill him now.
She was scooting toward the edge of the bed when the slender security guy finally entered the room. His eyes got big when he got a look at the bloody mess she had made of Susan Wagner. They got even bigger when he focused on the blood-stained scissors clutched in her hands.
He fumbled for his gun.
John Wayne snatched the weapon from the man’s holster before he could get a grip on it. Confused the man might be, but his reflexes were still ace. The security dude could only gape in dumbfounded, uncomprehending terror as the boss put the barrel of the gun against his forehead and squeezed the trigger.
A spray of blood leaped from the back of the security guy’s head.
He fell over dead and Keely let out a big breath.
Holy motherfucking shit…
John Wayne looked at her. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I’ve just learned Claude was a police informant. I know you’re not really Susan, by the way, though I admit to a moment of confusion.” John looked around at the bodies and shook his head. “It shouldn’t surprise you to know I have listening devices in every room of this house and cameras in a lot of them. This room has both. I watched you kill my friend.”
Keely swallowed a lump in her throat. “You knew what was happening in here the whole time and did nothing to help her?”
John Wayne nodded. “I heard what she said about her plans for the Order after my demise. Her greed saddened me. She was a traitor to the cause, thus I cannot mourn her. I need to know who has what it takes to stand beside me during the last days, Keely. Some of what she said is true. I’m a walking dead man. But death is a transition, not an end.”
Keely tried to smile. “I’ve always believed in you, John Wayne.”
John’s features took on a coldly calculating cast. “Tell me something, Keely. Will I be able to count on you now that the cleansing has begun? Will you be one of my chosen few?”
Keely nodded. “Yes. I’ll be whatever you need, faithful and true until the end.”
John smiled. “We already know where your brother is.”
Keely tensed. “You do? But Susan—”
“Knew only what I wanted her to know.”
“But how did you find him?”
“It was not difficult. A private investigator tracked him down easily enough by looking into known associates. He will no longer be a problem very soon. Which means the final and most important phase of our destiny can begin.”
“That being this ‘cleansing’ business you keep talking abo
ut?”
“The cleansing is underway. But we have our own roles yet to play, you and I. A time of great sacrifice is ahead of us, Keely. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Actually, no. Because fuck that shit.
But Keely went to him and kissed him lustfully on the mouth. “Of course I’m ready. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”
John moaned softly as she reached for the snap of his jeans.
So far as you know…
Chapter Twenty
Home Base Echo
Six days after the shootout on 2nd Avenue
The area behind Echo’s hideaway house in Rutherford County was too large for Casey to think of as a “yard” in the traditional sense. It was more of a small field that happened to be immediately adjacent to the rear of the property. The area was banded by a dense stand of tall trees that kept the rest of civilization hidden from view.
As he strolled with Echo in a directionless way around the field, Casey felt a deep gratitude for the privacy it afforded them now. A mistrustful Dez had hardly let him out of her sight since his arrival. She told him she was just being cautious and that it was nothing personal, but Casey suspected the real reason for her ongoing animosity was her general dislike of men. He was intruding where he wasn’t welcome and was tainting the special bond the three of them had formed.
Today was the first time he had been allowed to leave the house. The outing earned Dez’s reluctant approval only after yet another heated argument with Echo. Casey had a hunch the only reason Dez yielded to Echo’s demands was that she sensed she risked causing a permanent rift in the group by carrying the argument any further.
He glanced up at the clear sky overhead, squinting against the bright sunlight. “Nice day out.”
“Yeah.”
“Nice being out of that fucking house too.”
Echo squeezed his hand. “You have to try harder to get along with Dez.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s my friend.”
Casey grunted. “Some friend.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”