by LS Silverii
The garage flooded with tension. Eyes cut back and forth between STR and Savage Souls as allies, no longer adversaries. Rose stood her position next to Doctor Hailey. Everyone else had shuffled back against the walls or workbenches.
Time was wasting.
Lawless stood with palms open, looking to share his secret. He turned to Justice for some clue.
“Rose, I think it’s best to close the circle,” Justice suggested. “Time is becoming precious.”
“We’ll be with Voodoo,” she snapped, jerking the doctor by the elbow. Doctor Hailey frowned.
“Mercy, go with them,” Justice ordered.
His command resonated like Zeus from atop Mount Olympus, the tool bench his throne. No one debated Justice’s decision. Hollywood had noticed the power shifting over the past several hours. Now it seemed complete. He barely cared. As long as Voodoo was protected, his loyalties were negotiable—just not his principles.
“No,” Rose said forcefully.
“Then no one goes in there,” Justice countered.
“Rose, we’re no longer under federal authority, which basically means it’s every man for himself. We’ve agreed to save the president whether she deserves saving or not. Jeopardizing Voodoo’s safety isn’t part of the bargain. Rules have changed. Mercy goes in, or I do. If I go in, you’re alone on this mission. You make the call right now, or your unsecured doctor friend hits the road.” Hollywood’s words were a far cry from the former playboy Navy SEAL who used to work harder at getting laid than hunting terrorists. His love for Voodoo had changed the very core of who he’d become.
He motioned to the biker named Mercy to accompany Rose and the doctor into the break room.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Chase said as he bumped into Doctor Hailey. He grabbed her by the shoulders to keep her from tumbling. She sneered at his touch.
“Go, Lawless,” Justice ordered.
“My Task Force got a bead on none other than NOPD Detective Alphonse Hebert, aka, Fats. Seems he’s in New York for the memorial ceremony. Kinda pisses me off to think that dirty bastard is here to honor law enforcement.” Lawless’ eyes never left his cell phone screen.
“Fuck yeah, Lawless. Great job grabbing his cell. Where is he?” Hollywood leaned in to give Lawless a high-five, but the police captain offered a simple handshake. It was probably extra hard to show happiness in front of his six brothers.
“Let’s set a plan in motion,” Billy said.
“Lawless, you still got the balls to master that hog?” Justice’s voice drowned over Billy’s.
Lawless nodded.
“You take Mercy’s Fat Boy and track down Fats. Vengeance will go with you. Understand?”
“Okay, Justice. Sure Mercy won’t mind?”
“This is business. Do as I say and go, now,” Justice tossed a set of Harley keys to him. Vengeance quickly followed.
“Thanks Lawless,” Hollywood said.
“The rest of us need to get our asses back to New Jersey and flank the ceremony’s entrances. I doubt Fats will accompany Bonny—he doesn’t have the juice to get that close. So many armed cops make this shit a nightmare. No matter, we know what this bitch looks like, so peel your eyes and be ready to yank her ass fast. Mercy won’t let Voodoo out of his sight. He knows to kill the doctor if anything goes sour. Hollywood, tell Rose it’s time to roll and say your see-you-later to Voodoo.” Ice water in his veins, Justice directed resources like he’d probably done his entire time working with the CIA’s Special Operations Group.
“If she dressed as a cop, Bonny could enter with a weapon—no questions asked.” Hollywood suggested.
Justice directed a finger his way. “Good point—you’ve just complicated the shit out of things. But good point.”
CHAPTER 18
It was still an hour and a half past sunrise services, and about the same spread until traditional church services began. Unfortunately for STR and the Savages, Easter morning brought out those who’d not seen a pew since the last time they’d forced the children into dress clothes. Hollywood smirked. At least the church offering plates would benefit today.
The April morning was cool and crisp. He looked in the side view mirror and wondered how the hell the bikers weren’t freezing their asses off. He’d battled the cold during BUD/S, but the one thing he’d come way with was verification that cold was freaking cold, and being cold sucked.
Rose doled out protein bars she’d found stashed back at the garage. She muttered something about “fuck them,” when asked if she’d fed the Savages. Hollywood looked at the team and thought how much everything had changed since Chase Westin first arrived in Pennsylvania a few month earlier. Aimed at dismantling the Preacher’s terror network, STR’s mission was a strict undercover mission to bust his disciples who tried to purchase high-grade weapons.
It’d been a nonstop rollercoaster ever since, which led to his meeting Voodoo. It had also led to the death of a damn fine Navy SEAL, Falcon, and now an anonymous police officer whose body possibly still lay in the weeds off of I-78. Hollywood drew in deep breathes while he recalled the thousand yard shot he’d made back in the south Louisiana marsh to save Voodoo’s life.
Fuck, I lucked out on that one.
He wished they’d get there. These trips down memory lane were killing him.
Hollywood crunched forward as his gut began to spasm. His empty stomach wasn’t receiving the chalky chocolate bar well. He’d not fed it high grams of pure protein in months. He distracted himself with thoughts of Bonny. He grimaced from his twisted gut and the memory of trying to coax Voodoo and Bonny into a ménage a trios.
Talk about sleeping with the enemy.
Everything lay like lead in his stomach. Beads of moisture formed across his brow.
Hollywood considered the top-secret security clearance he’d obtained while running with Operation Neptune. Although privy to information that led him directly to pulling the trigger that killed Osama bin laden, he’d never once, even in his most-trusted status, ever heard of a “blue star.” Who knew such a secret society existed? And one so fucking powerful as to control the federal government. Bonny had to be a loose cannon—no way they’d remained a secret for hundreds of years acting the way she did.
“Which way?” Chase demanded, as if he’d asked before without response.
Chase’s question shook Hollywood out of his thought trance. He scrambled through his cell for the address.
“Empty Sky Memorial at 1 Audrey Zapp Drive. Jersey, of course. Just stick to I-78 like we came last night and hit the Zapp Drive exit.” Hollywood shoved his feet hard against the Suburban’s floorboard as they zipped past the area where the traffic officer had activated blue lights. He scanned the fields beyond the shoulder but saw nothing.
A hand patted his left shoulder. “If so, they’ll pay for it,” Billy said softly.
Hollywood’s eyes dampened. This wasn’t the killing grounds of the Middle East but he continued to struggle between periods when adrenaline dumps left him introspective and emotional. Fury resurfaced at the thought STR had been disbanded by the very own government they’d sacrificed everything for.
He felt Billy’s grip tighten against his shoulder, and looked to see an abandoned police cruiser still parked along the side of the empty roadway with its blue lights on. Glancing into the mirror, thighs ached beneath pounding fists, to see the Savages pumping arms and high-fiving from bike to bike. Eyes slammed shut—wondering why he’d become a defender of the innocent in the first place. Had he sold his soul?
Rose waved her hand and motioned for Hollywood to put her call on hands-free.
“Lawless, you’re on speaker, go ahead.”
“We found Fats. He’s holed up with a contingency from New Orleans. I even saw Kymani at breakfast with him.” The thick thud of the idling hog made Lawless’ report hard to hear. “I gotta be careful not to be spotted.”
“Kymani, the SWAT commander? You think he’s involved?” Hollywood asked in disbelief.
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br /> “Doubt it, damn man’s good as gold. Looks like Fats is trying to fly below the radar by hanging with a legitimate flock of blue geese.”
Rose pressed against the center console. “Any sign of Bonny?”
“Not yet. Looks like they’re going to convoy to the memorial with a shit pot of other cops from all over the place. These hotels are full of cops. I think Vengeance is shitting his pants,” his voice sounded light, almost relaxed.
“Fuck off, Bro.” They heard Vengeance’s yell from the background.
“Okay, good work. We’re heading to the memorial sight to scan for Bonny. Stay in touch,” Rose instructed. Again, Chase cut a glance over her head to meet Hollywood’s sneer.
“Guys?” Lawless said.
“Yeah, Lawless?”
“Ya’ll saw it?” he said in a low voice.
“Yeah, we saw the cruiser,” Hollywood replied.
“I asked Vengeance, but he said I’m better off not knowing.” It sounded like he was trying to talk without being detected by his brother.
“They’ll pay for what they did,” Rose said just before Lawless disconnected.
“You don’t think they’ll just let us roll on through, do you? Security’s going to be tighter than a gnat’s ass.” Chase spoke so everyone could hear.
“We can roll our gold,” KC offered from the rear seat of the extended ride.
Rose had been unusually quiet. Hollywood suspected the presence of the Savages had become overwhelming. Sure, she was one of the best operatives he’d known, but the nonstop outlaw ethos could wear anyone down.
“Or, I could just flash my tits,” KC said. “You know what horn dogs cops are.”
Hollywood chuckled. Now that was the KC he knew. She seemed much more comfortable now that the bikers were elsewhere.
“These badges might get us through, but the Savages stick out like a boner in a Speedo.” Chase laughed at his own joke. It was one of his favorite sayings, and Hollywood laughed more at Chase’s response than it actually being funny any longer.
“Son of a bitch. Look at that traffic line. Pull off onto the next shoulder. Lets tell them we’ll get through with our badges, but they’ll have to find another way to access the event. Honestly, if they killed that cop, I don’t want them anywhere near me,” Hollywood stated.
“Oh no, this shit is bad. Real bad,” Chase barked.
Hollywood took the wheel as Chase fumbled with his cell phone. He watched a map with flashes of light, but Hollywood wasn’t able to determine what it all meant.
“What is it?” Rose fell back against the console.
“I didn’t trust your doctor friend Rose,” Chase said. The SUV fell silent as he slowed. Tires crunched against gravel covering cement and mud.
“And why not?”
“You broke protocol, that’s why the fuck not. I bumped into her at the garage,” he said.
“Yeah, I saw that. It looked to be on purpose and she didn’t appreciate it.” Her eyes rolled with an exaggerated exhale.
“It was on purpose so I could plant a tracking beacon on her.”
At Justice’s hard knock on the driver’s window Chase lunged away and grabbed for his weapon. Hollywood held up a finger to signal for Justice to wait. The big man looked pissed to be put off while eighteen-wheelers rocked his ass along the highway with powerful wind gusts.
“Why in the hell would you do that Chase Westin?” Rose’s voice went up in tone. Nervous, Hollywood thought, crossing his arms. He felt it—Voodoo was in danger again.
Chase powered his window down. Even with fresh air, the vehemence in the cabin was stifling. Justice poked his head through the opening, not amused at being ignored.
“Voodoo and the Doc are no longer at the garage, Rose.”
CHAPTER 19
Billy and Chase shielded Rose as Hollywood lunged across the back seat. She leaned back with feet ready to strike her former teammate. Hollywood’s face flushed with hatred as he cursed Rose for her carelessness. The SUV rocked as violent bodies swayed it.
Two New Jersey State troopers pulled their vehicles across the lane to block highway traffic. A booming voice over the loudspeaker ordered the driver to exit the Suburban.
Chase exited with his gold badge in his left hand.
“We were changing clothes in there. Too many brother cops in one place. Sorry officers, on our way to the memorial.” His words matched his embarrassed smile, and it worked.
“Sorry, just had to check out the suspicious activity. Got a VIP coming through. Stand clear,” the anonymous voice ordered. Chase nodded, hands still raised.
He pounded his elbow against the door and everyone’s face pressed against the heavily tinted glass. Lumbering toward the Zapp Street exit was a beautifully custom painted Hummer H-1. The 300 horsepower behemoth slowed until it crept past their SUV. The red, white, and blue motif and American flag graphic wrap was specifically created to honor America’s hero, JW Colt. The H1 also bore the former Navy SEAL’s name and movie advertisements.
“Sorry you had to see that, Hollywood,” Chase said as he climbed back behind the wheel.
“Fuck him. Maybe Bonny will take him out along with the president.” Hollywood scrunched down low in his seat. Arms folded tight against his rigid body, head turned out the window, his thoughts returned to his family in exile thanks to JW Colt’s tell-all movie. Chase lowered the front passenger’s window for Hollywood. He stuck his hand out to ride the wind, which seemed to calm him by returning him to a safe place in his life.
“Hollywood, I really am sorry about the doctor. I did vet her and trusted her very much. I can’t imagine what might’ve caused her to flee,” Rose offered.
Hollywood refused to respond.
“We’ll know soon enough. Justice and crew are on the tracker website now and heading toward the beacon’s signal. Looks like the doctor is heading back toward the apartment from last night,” Chase said.
“The one where Justice sniped the biker?” KC yelled from the back seat.
“One and same,” Chase replied with a glance and smile in the rearview.
“That’s an odd coincidence.” Rose stated the obvious.
Chase piloted the SUV as close behind JW Colt’s motorcade as possible. Had it not been for the audacious H1, their SUV looked like a VIP transporter. A flash of gold federal agency badges greeted the security guard at the first of many entrance checkpoints.
“Hang on, it’s Lawless,” Rose said.
The others began scanning the crowds for Bonny.
“Don’t worry about Fats,” Lawless’ voice was flat and serious.
“He change his mind about coming?” Rose asked.
“Vengeance changed it for him.” Lawless hung up.
“Lets spread out. There’s got to be fifty thousand people here,” Rose guessed.
Hollywood spotted the bodyguard contingency escorting JW Colt through a designated side alley. There’d be no way the U.S. Secret Service would chance trapping POTUS in this crowd without an escape route. The privacy sheeting that covered the temporary fencing provided that path. JW Colt used it; Hollywood would use it.
The ocean of police blue, fire red, and military green leapt to their feet at the introduction of the national anthem. Hollywood’s natural instinct was to stand at attention and pay proper respect to his country. He did while scanning the crowd. Even so, gazing at the sight of the future “Empty Sky” memorial, he became overwhelmed with its significance. The State of New Jersey had lost seven hundred and forty-nine citizens on the morning of September 11, 2001. This Easter Sunday ceremony was to honor them and to serve as a fundraiser for the site.
His entire career had come as a direct result of those seven hundred and forty-nine people’s death, along with the other two thousand, two hundred and forty-seven victims killed in the terrorist attacks. As a result, Hollywood had committed every second to tracking and killing those responsible. He’d been successful, but he’d also paid a huge price along the way.
He began to slip quietly along the fence before the music ended. The best chance of spotting Bonny was while everyone was standing. The pledge of allegiance was next—he moved closer.
It was just past mid-morning and the sun’s glare shimmered off the Hudson River. Adjusting his sunshades, he systematically searched the audience using the wide area surface scanning technique taught to him while counter-sniping Taliban long-range shooters. The technique had earned him numerous confirmed kills.
There was the president. She was easy enough to spot, and there was his fraudulent ass, JW Colt. Seated about three chairs down from the leader of the free world. A world Hollywood had helped keep free by hunting and killing the wolf.
He felt a flush rise at the sight of JW Colt being honored as a guest and a speaker. Okay, enough of JW Colt. Where was Bonny? He saw law enforcement from across the country and the world, but no Bonny. He recalled Justice saying she might be dressed as a cop.
Glare limited his vision and made his tired eyes water, so he maneuvered closer to the opening at the end of the makeshift escape route. He moved slowly because he knew once Secret Service detected him, they’d remove or arrest him for being within a restricted zone.
[Anybody got eyes on?] Rose’s text went unanswered.
Hollywood’s focus strained to eliminate the view of Manhattan just across the river. The President of the United States of America had just been introduced, and Hollywood knew that would be the perfect time for an assassin to strike.
[No word on Voodoo either] This text from Rose caught his attention. His heart sunk—he’d failed her again.
He forced himself to focus on the mission. Still over one hundred yards away, Hollywood could see officers stand to applaud as the president delivered her most patriotic speech to date. A British Bobby standing alone caught his attention. Attired in a formal uniform like the other officers present, the distinctive hat appeared overly ornate and outdated. It looked classic when combined in a dress-class uniform.