Fury of a Phoenix (The Nix Series Book 1)

by Shannon Mayer

  I flipped open the shitty little mobile phone and turned it on. I went straight to the contacts that were mine to exploit. Number and names of a bunch of Mancini men, their thugs and . . . an old friend of mine.

  “Seriously, Barron?” I stared at the name and shook my head. “I didn’t think you’d have the balls to still dabble with Mancini.”

  He’d been a guy I’d slept with a few times out on the West Coast. A thief and procurer of stolen and hard-to-find goods. Good at what he did, but he was a bit of a coward.

  After scribbling down all the names and numbers, all the information I could, I snapped the SIM card in half and tossed it out the window. Two of the names on my scribbled list had been tagged with Harrington. That was the group Stephen said contracted him out for Mancini. The question was why? Always before, Mancini had contracted things himself. I shook my head. Not my problem.

  The newspaper clipping stared up at me from the bed. I folded the picture and put it on the side table. I was not able to see Bear’s smiling face without tears prickling at the backs of my exhausted eyes. Fatigue rolled over me and I finally let myself fall into a deep sleep. I was going to need the rest.

  Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Abe woke me the next morning, not whining to go relieve himself, but with a low, rumbling, growl. I rolled off the bed and grabbed Eleanor from the nightstand in the same movement. A soft knock on the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Mrs. Chang. I have letter for you.”

  The owner of the motel had a letter for me . . . not even Zee knew where I was. Trepidation tripped down my spine as I moved to the door and pressed myself to the side. I held Eleanor ready and opened the door just a crack. Mrs. Chang stood there in her bright blue pants and even brighter yellow top. She smiled and held out a letter. I took it through the crack.

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, good, good. Have good day!” She waved over her head as she walked away.

  I closed the door and looked at the envelope. No writing on it. I held it up to the light, doing what I could to see into it without opening it.

  The dark lines of words on another piece of paper were all I saw.

  I tucked Eleanor into the back of my jeans and took a knife from my stash to open the letter. I spilled the contents onto the night stand. Still using the knife, I flipped the letter open.

  I know who you are.

  That was it, five little words, and yet they said a whole fucking lot. A sharp snap of irritation cut through me. Who knew who I truly was? And more important than that, how did they know where to find me?

  I was sure I’d been covering my tracks.

  I sat on the edge of my bed. Who had I spoken to? I went through the list. Zee, even if he knew where I was exactly, would never turn me in. Tank wasn’t bright enough to find me even if I gave him directions. Then there was Bradley. He’d been looking for me, and he’d warned me there was someone else looking for me, too. Someone who’d found me and wouldn’t be as nice as Bradley was.

  Someone named Simon, if he could be believed.

  Was it the man who’d set the fire on the ranch house? No, I was almost certain that had been Noah. And Noah, while a liar and possibly even FBI, was not the kind to leave notes.

  I glanced at Abe. He needed a walk, and apparently, I needed to figure out just who this was. This was a complication I did not need to deal with.

  Whoever was following me was trying to spook me, that much was clear.

  “Not going to work, asshole,” I muttered. I slipped on my holster and put both Dinah and Eleanor into their spots. I’d mixed them up once and they’d both made sure I missed my marks for days after that.

  I didn’t mix them up anymore.

  I added knives into the tops of both boots and additional ammo into the straps of the holster for the guns that weren’t like Eleanor and Dinah.

  “What’s happening?” Eleanor asked.

  “Someone has found me. I have to decide what I’m going to do about it.”

  “Shoot the fucker,” Dinah said. “That always works well.”

  “Yes, well, I would, but he just left a note.” Or a her. It could be a her.

  I checked that my stash under the floor board of the cupboard was covered with a decoy—a garbage bag of clothes with two Berettas I used for backup on top, and a small wad of cash peeking out the edge. An easy grab for anyone looking.

  I slid on a zip-up sweater with a hoodie, then snapped the long leather leash to Abe’s collar.

  We headed down the back stairs in a matter of minutes. I didn’t go out the back door, but headed through the common area where Mrs. Chang’s apartment door was. I knocked, and a moment later, she opened the door. Seeing me, she gave a broad smile.

  “Yes?”

  “The man who gave you the letter, what did he look like?”

  “Oh, not a man. Little girl. Tiny girl. Big pink hair, spiked collar.” She touched her neck and wrinkled her nose. “Not a nice girl like you.” She smiled again.

  “How long?”

  “Maybe ten minutes?” She spread her hands wide and pursed her lips. Good enough for me.

  I hurried Abe out the back door, took the letter from my pocket and pressed it to his nose. “Such.” The German word for seek came out with a z at the front of it, so it sounded like zukh.

  He pulled hard on the leash and I let him go to the end of it, running to keep up with him. We raced out around the side of the building and down the extra-wide sidewalk. I swept the area, doing all I could to see pink hair in the crowd. But it was Abe I was depending on to help me find what I thought would be a messenger girl.

  He kept his nose to the ground, following the smell only he could pick up. The leash was taut in my hands, even though I ran flat out. He pulled me along, weaving between bodies. He took a sudden right turn down an alley and there she was, right in front of us.

  Pink hair, spiked collar and black grunge clothes topped with half-laced army boots. A weird mix of punk and goth.

  I dropped Abe’s leash. “Fuss.” Heel.

  He dropped back to my side and I pulled Dinah from my lower back, holding her steady with both hands. “Freeze. Police!”

  The girl in front of me stuttered to a stop and raised her hands over her head. Her back was still to us. “I didn’t steal nothing! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

  “You delivered a letter.”

  “I got paid to do it! I didn’t hurt no one,” she cried out.

  “On your knees!” I closed the distance between us, and booted her in the back of the knees, forcing her down to the rough pavement. I shoved her hands to the top of her head and when she tried to look around at me, I pressed the gun to the side of her face.

  “Eyes closed.”

  She cried softly and closed her eyes tightly. “He paid me good. I swear I didn’t steal nothing.”

  “When did you take the letter from him?”

  “This morning, early. He gave me the address on a slip of paper and the letter. He, he gave me a hundred dollars to do it.”

  I kept the gun on her and quickly frisked her top half. In her left pocket, I found the slip of paper with my address on it. Precise handwriting, all in capital letters. Just like the letter in the motel room.

  “Did he have a name?”

  “No.” Her head was bowed and her chest heaved between sobs.

  “What did he look like?”

  “I’d just woken up. I don’t remember.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to the open street. No one had noticed us yet. I grabbed her by the back of her jacket and hauled her to her feet. “Get walking.”

  She stumbled and I kept at her until we were far enough into the alley that I was satisfied. I moved her so we stood between two large dumpsters.

  “You aren’t a cop.” She tried again to look over her shoulder. I smacked her face with the back of my hand.

  “Eyes forward. And no, I’m not a co
p. Which means you are in far more trouble than you realize.”

  Another whimper.

  “Tell me everything you remember.” I kept one hand on her shoulder, and the other kept the gun laid against her cheek so she could see the tip of the muzzle.

  Abe sat beside me, content to wait now.

  “He was well dressed. I think the suit was Gucci, and . . . he had brown eyes.”

  That didn’t eliminate many people. “Anything stand out about him?”

  “He had a lisp,” she said.

  “Age?”

  “Maybe thirty?”

  A lisp was something I could work with. I needed to get into my father’s database to find out just who he’d set on me, and to see if there was anything on Mancini’s hits.

  So much for keeping things simple.

  I pulled two hundred-dollar bills out of my pocket. I shoved them into her coat. “If he comes to you again, take the job. See if you can get his name.”

  I let her turn around, let her see me. “He’s a very bad man. He helped to kill my son.” A lie, but close enough to the truth that she believed it.

  “You thought . . . I was working with him?”

  I took a step back. “You know where I am if he comes to you again.”

  “Will he try to kill me?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  I left her in the alley, shaking from the top of her pink hair down to her army-boot-covered feet.

  He’d been kind to her and I’d been a bitch, yet I knew she would help me over him. Gut instinct and all that. Reading people was important in this business. It was why I’d trusted Tank as far as I had while most people wouldn’t have.

  My plans for the day shifted. As Zee said right at the beginning, Mancini could wait, he would always be there, and while I hadn’t found exactly the person who’d called in the hit on Justin, it would come.

  I needed to eliminate Mr. Lisp first, or I was going to get caught somewhere with my pants down in the middle of a situation where I needed them on.

  Once more at the apartment, I went through my clothes, picking out suitable business attire. Black pencil skirt, a demure white top, low heels. I laid them out. They would do for getting into Blink Management. Blink—as my father had always called it—was the central hub of his business. All branches of his empire stretched out from there, and it was the place where his databases on Mancini and all his contractors could be found.

  Mr. Lisp didn’t know me all that well if he thought I would be overly bothered by him knowing where I was. To be fair, that knowledge worked in my favor because it meant at some point he would come for me here, thinking I was asleep, or letting my guard down. I’d be waiting for him.

  From my closet, I pulled out a light brown wig with long curls. That would be best. Not my natural black hair and not the blonde locks I currently sported.

  I styled the wig, twisting it into a soft bun that would sit at the nape of my neck, a few strands escaping the edges. A pair of black-rimmed glasses set with plain glass, and that would do the trick.

  I shook my head. “Abe, it’s time to cut my hair.”

  He didn’t even lift his head from his paws as I took one of my smaller knives and headed to the bathroom. This was not the first time I’d done my own hack job of my hair. When I was twelve, I’d done a similar thing.

  Harder to be grabbed by a ponytail that no longer existed.

  I worked on the cut for half an hour, angling it so there was a longer swath at the front and the back was super short. I brushed a hand through the poorly done pixie cut. Good enough for me and even better for dealing with wigs.

  I spent the rest of the day getting my ID ready, printing a picture of myself and my new name “Beth Andrew” with a small, portable printer, and set the picture and information onto an ID card. The mocked-up barcode wouldn’t work, but that was often the case when my father’s employees turned over as fast as his did.

  When you were an asshole, people didn’t stick around long to see if your shit was going to stick to them. When you were an asshole with freaky fucking demon guards, the turnover was astronomical.

  Preparations took me into the afternoon and then into the evening. Darkness clothed the city and the moon rose high above the tall buildings, giving a sliver of light through my one window.

  Time to walk back into the place I’d run from, the place I’d sworn I would never return to.

  But I had no real choice. I had to deal with the man gunning for me, Mr. Lisp, if I was going to revenge my boys. The last thing I needed was whoever was hunting me to show up when I was otherwise occupied killing my boy’s killers.

  Distractions in the middle of a fight did not tend to go well.

  Now it was just a matter of waiting.

  The next day couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Blink Management LTD was situated in the Financial District not far from Wall Street, which meant a long commute from the Garment District if I wanted to make it there early enough to put my plan into place. I took the subway and was inside the glittering glass building by 7:30 a.m. Long before most employees had shown up for work. Even so, there were still a few go-getters that were hurrying through the main doors and toward the elevators.

  Wearing my wig, glasses, pencil skirt and white top, I walked through the sliding doors and right up to the check-in desk and the sleepy guard there. He was from the night shift, still waiting for his replacement at eight.

  I slid my homemade card through the scanner, it beeped red. The guard looked up and I shrugged. “It’s new. Today’s my first day.”

  I scanned it again. Red. I bit my lower lip and sucked in a sharp breath. “I can’t be late. I’m temping for Mr. Romano. Can you help me, please?” I pushed my glasses up with one hand and offered him my card with a fake shaking hand. The guard shook his head and waved me through.

  “Probably will work by lunch. Go on up and keep your head down.”

  “Thank you, and for the advice, too.” I gave him a smile, tried to keep it demure. My father’s security had fallen since I’d left. I would never have let anyone through without at least taking their name, or putting them down on a list to be checked at some point. The guard wasn’t even trying.

  His sloppiness worked in my favor.

  I hurried to the elevators and stepped on with several other employees.

  I hit the button for the twenty-fifth floor and waited quietly in the corner, listening to the chatter.

  “Did you hear that the Japanese merger is going through? Apparently, it’s being headed up by Gabriel.”

  “Yeah, but who is he going to pick to oversee it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Kind of, yeah. The pay raise should be substantial. And they’ll be spending a good deal of time in Tokyo. It would be nice to see Gabe there.”

  In other words, it would be nice for Gabe to be as far away as possible.

  That was interesting. The only business my father had in Tokyo in the past had been to try and woo the Yakuza to work with him. They had the money, power, and no small amount of magic, and he wanted in on it. He was the smartest fool I’d ever met.

  The talk went like that back and forth between the employees, ebbing and flowing as they got off on their various levels and new people came on. The ride up took a long time because of all the stops.

  Finally, the doors binged open on the top level. Nothing in the layout had changed. My father’s office was the entire side of this floor with his top executives in their own offices around him, and the secretaries that looked after them scattered in front of the various doors.

  There was a secretary bent over the desk in front of my father’s glass office. He wasn’t there yet. I’d be surprised if he showed up before ten, which gave me a couple of hours to work. Not that I should need that much time.

  I went straight to his secretary.

  “Excuse me, but I’ve been sent in to replace you.” I put my one hand on
the edge of the desk. The woman—she looked to be in her forties—snapped her head up.

  “What did you say?”

  I smiled at her. “The temp agency got a call this morning.” I pulled a sheet of paper out with my father’s letterhead on it, briefly terminating her job with a simple ‘to whom it may concern’ at the top. Although it might seem strange in another business, my father liked to have the person coming into a position fire the one going out.

  Her face blanched. “He said I was doing a good job just yesterday.”

  I frowned. “I’m sorry, I was sent in with the letter and told to be here before eight. You have all the information I need to get started?”

  She was shaking and started to cry as she wrote down the passwords for getting into the system. Truly, this was far too easy, and I almost felt bad for her.

  “He’s a right bastard,” she bit the words out as she gathered her stuff. “A right damn bastard to work for, and now to fire me like this after so many years?”

  Shit, maybe things had changed around here if he’d kept her on that long. I shrugged again. “I probably won’t be here long either then.”

  She looked me over and a glare settled on her face. “You’re pretty enough, he’ll keep you around until you say no.”

  Didn’t I know the truth of those words.

  With that, she stomped off, and I settled into her chair. I wasted no time in pulling open the most recent files she had on the desktop. Business, business, that wasn’t what I was looking for. My father had always kept his shadier side of things under a hidden file. Again, one that I suggested he change regularly. But again, he refused. And now I was banking on his stubbornness to help me.

  Bullet Point is what he called the file, thinking he was being so smart with the double entendre. I’d told him repeatedly that criminals were not as dumb as he thought. The problem was he had so much faith in his deal with the devil, he believed he was untouchable. Maybe he was, what did I know?

  I did a search for the file, and there it was.

  I glanced up as the elevator opened and several people came in, my brother Gabe amongst them. Damn it, what was he doing in so early? Something must have gone very wrong to get him here before ten.