Hired Killer (Cryptid Assassin Book 1)

by Michael Anderle

  With beers in a cooler and a lunch ordered to share, the time passed amicably with them shooting the breeze while they tinkered. It reminded him of the times he worked with his friend at the base near the Zoo to build and repair the suits they used on the trips into the jungle.

  Well, that he used, for the most part. Bobby had elected to withdraw his name from the list of those mechanics who were available to work in the Zoo itself.

  It was a smart move and most of the mechanics thought so, which really only left a handful who were brave or crazy enough—or desperate for the money—to venture in. It wasn't that they tried to be overly cautious. Some things simply weren’t worth the risk for some people, especially since they were mechanics and not trained fighters.

  Either way, whatever had happened there was in the past and they both had a rare opportunity to do something they really enjoyed. The afternoon was certainly one that he didn't think of as work, even though some people might. There were enough good times to be had while working on Liz's engine.

  It was as the sun began to descend toward the western horizon and painted the desert sky a vibrant shade of red that an SUV turned into the parking lot. He’d already noticed its arrival when Banks called his phone.

  For the first time that afternoon, he picked up. "Pull the SUV into the back. We're in the garage."

  She did as she was told and parked close to where they worked on the truck.

  "It looks like you guys had a productive day," she said as she stepped out of the SUV. "Working on a car?"

  "Truck," he corrected and she rolled her eyes. "Why are you here? And did you get any sleep?"

  "In order, I'm here to tell you the mission is a go and we'll head to DC as soon as possible. And yeah, I had a power blackout—about six hours' worth—and I feel much better, thanks for asking."

  "Well, you know there's nothing I care about more than your well-being, Banks," he said with a grin. "Anyway, since we're good to go, I will start packing for a road trip."

  "Are you insane?" she asked incredulously.

  "What do you mean"

  "What the hell do you mean with a road trip? I have plane tickets that will get us there later tonight."

  "Fuck no," he said and shook his head vehemently. "Being stored like fucking tuna in a giant flying can—in coach, I assume—along with fifty or sixty other people, of which there will be three people with tuberculosis and at least one baby who will definitely cry for the duration of the flight? Thanks, I'd rather drive."

  "But—"

  "Did I fucking stutter?" he demanded and raised an eyebrow.

  "It'll take you a week to get to DC, you dumb shit," she pointed out sharply. "Do you think I have the kind of clout to delay the local law enforcement for that much time until you get there to start investigating the area to see if it's a Zoo monster?"

  "No, it won't." He turned to pat Liz's hood. "With this baby on full roar, I bet I could get there in two, three days tops. Especially with the new upgrades we put in."

  "Yep, she's way over what you would expect from a huge beast like that," Bobby confirmed. "Besides, assuming you want to go in with a full suit of Zoo-tested armor—which yes, you definitely do—it's easier to transport it in Liz."

  "I'll admit I hadn't thought about getting your armor there." She grimaced. "Most of our operatives work with the suits and weapons we provide for them—nothing special, obviously, but enough to get the job done for the most part."

  "That's because they're mostly idiots," Taylor stated dismissively. "Well, I assume so, anyway. The kind who relied on the suits the government handed out while they were in the real Zoo. Because those who are smart know well enough that you don't head into the Danger Zone—thanks, Kenny Loggins—with a suit you haven't used at least two or three times before."

  "Okay, fine." The woman gritted her teeth and rubbed her temples as if it was all a little too much to deal with. "Because I intend to take some Ambien for the flight and would appreciate having an empty seat next to me, I'll say fine, drive your shitty truck across the country in mere days. I'm sure there are probably downsides to that, but at this point, I honestly couldn't give a shit. I'll see what I can do to keep the local law enforcement out of the area until you get there."

  "It's for their own good," he pointed out cheerfully. "Seriously, if there actually is a Zoo beast in those woods killing hikers and shit, regular cops won't stand a fucking chance."

  "I think the biggest problem will be to keep the park rangers out of the area," she said and grimaced. "Or—and I'm not kidding here—the National Guard. Send about fifty guys up into the woods and carpet bomb the bastard."

  "You're still looking at a seventy-five percent kill rate, at the very least. Besides, if they really do head up there to kill anything they happen to come across, it'll simply be a disaster for the local flora and fauna like what happened in Yellowstone Park in the 1930s when they killed all the gray wolves in the area."

  "Thanks for the history lesson, Mr. Peabody," Bobby said and cackled.

  "Well, with that in mind, maybe don't take the scenic routes while driving across the damn country," Banks snarked. "I'll have enough trouble containing the situation as it is. I don't want to think about what will happen if a few campers decide to head into those woods despite the warnings."

  "I'll go ahead and assume there'll be a few bodies to deal with," Taylor said.

  "Yes, bodies that will be on your hands," she retorted acidly. "So, get packing and move. Every second counts here."

  "Given that I won't be able to sleep on the trip thanks to us not having time to install Bobby's AI and that I am working off of a very short night of sleep—as you no doubt recall—don't you think it would be better if I left in the morning?"

  "I really don't give a shit." She fixed him with what he was beginning to think of as her Bitch look. "I'm not your fucking mother."

  "That makes one of you." He nudged Bobby in the ribs.

  "Fuck you," the man retorted.

  "In the meantime, I think what all of us need is a drink. Mostly because none of us will drive anytime in the near future."

  "Yeah, I could actually use a drink," Banks admitted, her expression a little hopeful. "Although if you delay the trip because you're fucking hungover, I swear I'll fucking lose it."

  "Look, if I'm not there in four days, you can call one of your other operatives to work on it. Take me off the fucking case, and if you want to still keep me on and give me another mission elsewhere or simply fire me and let me get back to opening my business, you let me know on the phone or something."

  "What would be the point?" she asked. "You don't even answer your phone."

  "I don't answer when it's not really relevant to me," he corrected. "Which essentially describes you keeping me updated on every little detail of the bureaucratic bullshit that keeps the FBI running."

  "Fine.” She threw her hands in the air in a gesture of exasperation. "Where do I meet you guys for this drink?"

  "Well, I assume that since you need to turn that SUV in before you leave and we’ll be drinking, we’ll take a taxi. You can meet us at this great place called Jackson's Bar and Grill." He looked the address up online as he spoke.

  The woman sighed and looked more tired than she had that morning. "Fine, I'll meet you two there."

  Bobby couldn't help a small chuckle as she drove away.

  "What?" Taylor asked, already working on ordering an Uber for the two of them.

  "Okay, you say she's not your girlfriend but in the process of a five-minute conversation, you already have her agreeing to drinks," the stout mechanic pointed out.

  "Drinks don't mean anything. She's taking a flight sometime in the next two or three hours, so there's not really that much time for anything anyway."

  "Not with that attitude, there isn't. Seriously, do you not even think about that?"

  He shrugged. "She's really not my type."

  "Leggy and with an ass that will not, for all intents and pur
poses, quit isn't your type?" The man sounded genuinely astonished.

  "She's the kind of woman who needs to be emotionally attracted to someone to be sexually attracted to them," he explained. "And while I don't judge—it’s great for her that she can do that—I have no desire to up my emotional game to her level. Ergo, she isn't my type."

  "Do you mind if I take a pass?"

  "Be my guest but keep in mind what I told you. Make an emotional connection."

  "I know you're fucking with me," Bobby accused.

  "Oh, am I?" he asked in an overly dramatic voice. "Tune in next time to find out. In the meantime, we have a fucking car waiting for us, so let's fucking go."

  The young man in the Prius that arrived was wisely a little cautious about giving the two larger men a ride, but after a few minutes into the trip, he appeared to calm. His attitude improved even further when both men left him a generous tip in cash once they arrived at Jackson's Grill and Bar, where Banks joined them moments later.

  "Hey, Marcus, how are you doing?" Taylor asked and bumped the man's fist. "This is my friend Bungees, and I'll be responsible for his ass. And this is my…um, this is Niki Banks. She won’t be here long enough to be any trouble."

  The massive bouncer laughed and waved them in. The place was a little more crowded than usual since a baseball game was showing and they needed to sit in one of the back booths. Alex wasn't on duty either, and while he did think he would miss her, he probably wouldn’t stay for too long either.

  He could always come again once he was back from DC. Assuming he came back, of course. He didn't like that he needed to think like that again but hopefully, the odds would be in his favor against a smaller number of the beasts. They couldn't come in the same hordes he'd started to expect from the Zoo, right?

  The beers were delivered together with a basket of fries for the table and they stared at the drinks in silence for a moment.

  "To…new business partners, I guess," Taylor said with a laugh and raised his glass.

  "I guess so," Banks replied but shook her head.

  "To new business ventures on my part since I won't have anything to do with whatever the fuck kind of deal you two have struck," Bobby said as they clinked glasses.

  "Are you sure?" she asked.

  "I actually insist on it from the outset," the man replied quickly and took a sip of his beer. "Unlike Mr. I-Went-In-Eighty-Three-Times over here, I've had enough of that fucking place to last me a lifetime. I'll be happy if my life is as boring as me heading to my apartment for a shower and a long, long night's sleep."

  "I'll fucking drink to that," Taylor said.

  "Okay, I never went into the Zoo so I don't actually know anything about it and can’t really talk about what's happening in there," Banks said. "But from what I can tell, the place is a shitstorm. Which begs the question, why the hell did you go in that many times?"

  Taylor shrugged and looked thoughtful. "Honestly? I’m not really sure. My first time ended with me dragging a fucking scientist out of there with only one of my team. The three of us were the only survivors of what they ended up calling the Battle of the Armageddon Gulch or something like that. Almost seventy good people died that day, and only me, one other guy, and the scientist made it out. Now, I don't even remember their names. I guess it felt like a waste to take what I learned that day and walk away, so I kept going in."

  "You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to, man," Bobby said and patted his shoulder.

  "It's behind me, that's all that really matters," he said with a grin and downed most of his drink.

  "Look at that." Banks cackled. "The big guy thinks he can pound a beer?"

  She lifted her glass, tilted it, chugged the remainder, and thumped the empty glass down once it was empty.

  "Jesus H Fucking Christ," Taylor said, his eyes wide. "Do they teach you that shit at Quantico?"

  "Nope, a bar just outside of Quantico," she corrected and belched loudly. "Unfortunately, I have a plane to catch, so I'll see you bitches—"

  "That bitch," Bobby said and pointed at his friend.

  "That bitch," she said without a pause, “later."

  Both men stared at the woman as she left.

  "You're right," Taylor admitted. "Her ass will seriously not quit."

  "And you still think she's not your type?"

  "Yep." He rolled his neck to ease the sudden tension that had crept in. "What do you think—one more for the road?"

  Bobby leaned back in the booth. "Sure, why the hell not?"

  Chapter Nineteen

  Taylor had assumed that Bungees would not see him off, given that he planned to leave at the crack of dawn. It was a good assumption and meant that handing the spare keys to the man the night before as he suggested was as good an idea as he'd ever had. It would allow him to work there without having to break in, which really was a good thing.

  Bobby suggesting that they name it something other than “the strip mall” came in a close second. Even so, he still couldn't think of a better name than McFadden's Mechs, so he told his partner in business, who was also his employee, to start thinking about what they could name it once they had it all set up.

  They had a long road ahead of them, but he was confident that they were bound to settle on the right idea eventually.

  With that all said and done, he returned from the bar, packed what few clothes and items he would need for the journey, and loaded them all into the back of the truck along with the suit he intended to take with him.

  It wasn't that he didn't trust the FBI to provide him with a suit and weapons, he told himself while only slightly buzzed from the two or three drinks he'd had with Bungees. His real motivation was that he didn't really trust them to supply him with equipment that would work the way he wanted it to.

  Given that he had worked and tinkered on the mech suits for the past few years, he knew his standards were much, much higher than the people around there were willing to rise to.

  Once his packing was done, all that was left to do was to set his alarm and get an early start on what promised to be a very, very long drive. His route would take him over the same roads he had traveled on the way to Vegas, with only a few alterations.

  One of the more serious deviations, of course, was the fact that he planned to make what had been a leisurely drive that lasted almost a week into one that only lasted less than half the time. It would not be relaxing, but he had the feeling he could do it with a little help from Liz herself.

  With that in mind, he had no hesitation when the alarm rang. Instead, he pushed out of bed, took a warm shower thanks to the repaired boiler, and set out. After a quick stop to buy breakfast he could eat on the road later, he turned Liz loose on the open highway.

  There weren't many things that made his heart tingle more than looking out onto a road that stretched on as far as the eye could see and pressing down on the accelerator like it owed him money.

  Liz's new parts already showed their worth to provide more efficient mileage and better control of the truck as she hurtled down the highway. There was always the chance that something would burn out or break if he pushed her too far, although it wasn't likely, of course. He trusted his own work and more importantly, he trusted Bobby to double-check what he had done.

  It was always possible, of course, in which case it would be a simple situation of calling the nearest Triple-A, get a rental, and drive to the nearest airport where he would do what Banks had wanted him to do all along and take the next plane to DC. He didn't like the notion, but that kind of shit came with the territory. Sometimes, you needed to do shit that you weren't comfortable with for the greater good.

  For now, though, he stuck to the plan and played the part of a lead foot to push Liz as fast as she would go toward the capital of the country he had put so much effort into serving.

  This time, however, it would actually serve him. He had made the assholes who turned the wheels around there enough money and it was about time he got some o
f that shit back.

  Something vibrated in the cabin and startled him out of his thoughts. It couldn't be the security for the building since he had transferred all that to Bobby's system. He would connect to it again when he got back but for now, he needed to focus on the mission and on that alone. He had a feeling it would take a great deal of focus to get into that dark little part of his mind that allowed him to fight the Zoo monsters.

  It wasn't a part of himself that he particularly liked but it was the part that got him out alive when so many others had died. Too many others had died. He wasn't sure what it was that had pushed him to survive, but it had been there. Maybe a little luck, maybe some instinct. His experiences had forged him into something he hadn’t quite come to terms with. He was grateful for it because it kept him alive. At the same time, he resented it because it seemed to be a driving force that compelled him to enter a place from which he might not be able to step away from one day. The thought of being trapped in that space was chilling.

  Shit, his phone was still ringing.

  He connected it to the Bluetooth in his vehicle and answered with a touch of the button on the steering wheel.

  "McFadden speaking," he said and kept his eyes off the road.

  "Hi, McFadden, it’s nice to finally meet you," said an unfamiliar voice. "Well, not really meet, per se, but this is about as close to meeting as we'll ever get."

  "Who…is this?" he asked and glanced quickly at the phone screen. The number was blocked but there were only so many people who would contact him at this point in his life. Random women didn't simply call him and talk to him about meeting like this.

  His luck wasn't that good.

  "I'll go out on a limb here and guess that I'm supposed to call you Desk?" he asked and fixed his gaze on the road ahead of him again. The car did most of the driving at this point and the motion sensors kept him a safe distance from the cars ahead and centered in his lane. It would be a while before he needed to stop so he felt comfortable to simply follow the road for now.

  "That is a good assumption," she said. "I'll work with you out in the field now that you're a part of the team, albeit on a temporary basis. You still need to prove yourself useful to the task force, although I'm sure you'll go above and beyond expectations."