by Amarie Avant
She lurched slightly when Peter shoved the gun further in her back. “Your promptness is much appreciated. I can hear Hurricane above. I’d rather not be in his line of vision when he’s completed with Beasley.”
Mary Jane continued through a hallway with statues and past a dark living room. “You seem to love me so much. Why not a Romeo and Juliet ending? You sick fuck.”
“Adorable,” he replied sarcastically. “Since we’ve decided to forego the entire brain-cleansing process, I could only oblige and provide you with all the memories for my amusement and for Mallory’s sake.”
“I am Mallory.” Mary Jane grabbed the door handle.
“Doubt is clear in those beautiful brown eyes. However, the gentleman in me is leaning toward a family reunion.”
“How so?” Mary Jane murmured as she gawked at two large Rottweilers in a two-story cage before her. Their massive kennel gave them ample room to run, but they snarled, nipping at the fencing surrounding them as she and Peter passed by a lap pool.
“Your sister is here. I couldn’t dump her anywhere else after lovingly squeezing that neck of hers.” Peter chuckled, pointing to the large dogs’ cage. He pulled at the lock on the door but it wouldn’t give. “Hmmm, I did notice a maid feeding the dogs through the top one day while Beasley was out of town. Let’s go.” He gestured for the patio stairs that had been built to wrap around the kennel.
“Fuck you,” Mary Jane spat. “You couldn’t get me to follow you without that gun in your hand.”
Peter nudged the barrel toward her back.
“Allow me to disregard that last comment. Back to the family reunion. I’m not sure of your level of understanding, so I shall elaborate. After my lovely Mal’s unfortunate death, she met King and Knight. And I dropped your ass off here to be switched up. The cops wouldn’t look for a crackhead, but a replacement for my lovely wife was necessary. But now, I’ve changed my mind.”
She looked down to see the two Rottweilers’ snapping teeth, just as ghastly as Hurricane’s. The muscles in their limbs constricted as they jumped repeatedly. Mary Jane, their dangling prime meat, was just out of reach.
Mary Jane’s lips parted slowly. She tried to figure out how easily it would be to steal the gun. She’d once been untouchable, believing herself to be a secret agent. Now, her confidence had diminished, pulling her back to reality. I could have gotten myself killed fighting those dumbass twins! And Wulf…
Even though her resolve was crumbling, she couldn’t allow her mind to think about Wulf right now. Just the thought of him crushed her heart.
“Stop it!” Mary Jane snapped. Deep inside her bones she had a feeling she was Megan. There was no need to continue this madness. “Shoot me and feed me to the dogs!”
“Who said anything about shooting you?” Peter’s eyes glinted with hatred. “The dogs like to tear a body into pieces pre-mortem.”
22
Under a full moon, a burly black man sat on a wicker chair on a trailer porch with his feet propped up. Head dipped back, he snored softly. At the sound of a horn, he pulled a Beretta from under the Lakers cap nestled on his lap. He knocked back the safety in less than a second and aimed it, alert as ever. His eyes peeled to the darkness as a sixteen wheeler pulled over to the side of the road.
Swiftly, the Beretta went to his side, and he stood. Half swagger, half limp from a firefight on the job, he ambled down the steps. Then he noticed a familiar figure getting out, saying something and closing the door of the semi-truck. The man he knew for over a decade as a good friend moved on lead legs into the lot.
“Hey,” Wulf gave half a greeting as he opened the driver’s door to Quincy’s rental.
His eyebrows furrowed. “Damn, Dylan, what the fuck happened to you?”
“This is your rental, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Get in. I don’t have time to explain,” Wulf ordered.
Quincy tossed the keys over the roof of the sedan. “Well, hello, Quincy. How are you? Yes, I’m fine. No, really, my wife didn’t get all up in my ass telling me I had to come see about you nor did she argue about you fucking up our vacation in order to check on you, which—mind you—had me confused,” Quincy muttered as he got in the car.
“You only have one piece?” Wulf asked as he drove off.
“Nah.” Quincy turned in his seat and added, “two nines were all LAX would allow. And that’s because my ex works there. Don’t tell your sis. Anyway, you sound like I should’ve come strapped with tactical defense. Dylan, what the hell is going on? You never mess with the crazy chicks. What’s up with the amnesia girl from your voicemail?”
The car climbed up a lone hill. “She’s not safe. We have to save her.”
Quincy scoffed. “You said the SCPD was corrupt. I assumed you messed with some chick, and she was family. Hell, in these small towns every-damn-body is some-damn-body’s cousin.”
Wulf swooped off the road at the edge of Beasley’s property. He turned off the engine and cut the lights. It instantly went pitch black.
As they sat parked in the car, Quincy asked, “How many people?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are they armed?” Quincy asked as he got out of the car.
Wulf quietly shut his door. “Most likely. If they have a gun, shoot them. Except for Mary Jane. You’ll know her when you see her.”
Adjusting to the darkness, Wulf’s eyes scaled the brick wall. After finding a groove in the blocks, he climbed over. Quincy was right behind him. They pulled out their guns, cocked back, and headed in the direction of a U-shaped carport.
Quincy gave a low ‘click’ sound with his tongue and pointed to the roof. Light sensors, possible cameras. They headed around the mansion toward the side that was dark, presumably with no one home. Finding an open window on the second floor above a trellis against the wall, Wulf began to climb. When his hands touched the windowsill, he hoisted himself up and into the room.
The bedroom had a frilly canopy and a bunch of pillows silhouetted by the moon. Teddy bears sat in a bookcase against the wall. For the lifestyle that Beasley led, the room was bizarre. Wulf did not recall the criminal having a family, and this appeared to be a little girl’s room. He turned around and gave Quincy the go-ahead. Seconds later, he heard a sneeze. Wulf froze as Quincy climbed in.
A night light flicked on, and he knew the sound from the first time he’d heard it in the field. Someone had cocked a pump-action shotgun.
Pow! Pellets sprayed the wall above their heads.
“Hello, boys!” A blonde got up from the bed, holding the shotgun in both hands. She was skinny—sickly skinny—in a silk camisole and shorts. “They call me Sugarland, but I ain’t hardly sweet. What are you doin’ in my room?”
“Ma’am, we’re looking for Mary Jane, that’s all.” Wulf spoke calmly from a hiding spot kneeling behind a treasure chest.
“Well, if Beasley’s got her then she’s his property now!”
Another shot went off, blasting through the stucco near Quincy’s head. Sugarland shook her head. “No one move. See, that first shot was for Hurricane. If he’s here, he’s hungry. Who wants to die and who wants to be eaten?”
Her hand lifted for another pump. Wulf lunged at her. They went sprawling onto the floor. Her thin body crunched beneath his girth. The gun clattered away from them. Her long fingernails dug into his face. No amount of restraining on his part slowed her down. Sugarland was clearly under the influence of some type of narcotic. He punched her in the eye, all in an attempt for self-preservation. But she continued to scratch.
“You don’t mess with Beasley! You don’t mess with Beasley!” Sugarland screamed on repeat as he caught her wrists above her head.
“Lady, just stop!” he screamed, fed up, as Quincy grabbed her shotgun. When she finally started to slow her struggling, he asked, “If I let you go, will you just sit there?”
She nodded.
As soon as he clambered off her, Sugarland began to claw again. In a swi
ft precise movement, Quincy hit her on the head with the butt of the shotgun. It was just enough force to render her unconscious.
“This is the twilight zone,” Quincy hissed under his breath as they slowly made their way to the door. “Did you see the crazed look in her eye?”
“Expect the unexpected.” Wulf rubbed the bloody scratches along his jaw and peeked through the cracked door. No one had come. They hurried down the right side of the stairs, all the while hearing commotion toward the back of the house. The voices. One of them belonged to Mary Jane. Relief slammed through him.
They slowly crept down the hall, stopping and hiding behind Greek goddess statues. They passed a large living room and looked around past a piano and couches. No one was hidden in the shadows. Then they entered toward the dining room.
They moved through the house and into the kitchen. While their gaze quickly swept through the room on their quest to get closer to Mary Jane, Hurricane burrowed down the stairs.
“What the fuck!” Quincy shouted, attempting to aim his gun while Hurricane lunged off the last step.
Wulf shot between the eyes of his bumpy face, but the disfigured man moved too quickly. The shot pierced off the upper portion of Hurricane’s ear. His punch dislocated Wulf’s jaw before he slammed down to the floor.
Fists clenched as Hurricane was about to hammer down on Quincy, he stopped. Wulf fired off a shot that landed in his bicep, but it didn’t seem to faze the beast. He took off running in the direction that Mary Jane and her abductor had gone. Quincy fired off a few shots.
“Shit, I don’t think I got him,” Quincy said.
Wulf gripped the bottom of his chin and reset his jaw with a quick jerk of the hand. “Next time, shoot something!”
They exited the sliding glass door to see Hurricane had climbed up the side of a massive fencing structure. There were stairs along the side of the Rottweilers’ two-story high kennel where food could be dropped inside. Wulf could hear Mary Jane begging a man named Peter to stop. His eyes tracked her fearful voice, and then blood burned through his veins. Peter held Mary Jane by the neck, dangling her over the opening as the massive dogs growled and perched on their powerful hind legs, lunging as high as they could.
“G-get back!” Peter screeched as Hurricane pulled himself up on top of the kennel. “I swear! I’ll drop her. Get back, you disgusting freak!”
“Mine!” Hurricane bellowed.
“Stop!” Peter yelled at Mary Jane as she scratched at his fingers and kicked in the air. With her taking all his attention, Hurricane lunged at him. At that same instant, Wulf rushed in a full sprint toward the stairs. Hurricane bumped into Mary Jane as he went for Peter’s throat.
“Ahhh!” Down Mary Jane went, falling inside of the cage.
She clung to the wire roofing and pulled her lower body up. The tips of her boots locked onto the roofing fence as the barking dogs scrabbled for a bite, growling and snapping.
Peter shot at Hurricane and was clawed in the chest. He dropped to his knees. Hurricane lunged for the kill, falling over the side. The spikes of the wrought iron fence pierced Hurricane’s spine.
“Stop!” Wulf shouted from the top of the stairs. He pointed at Peter as he lifted a foot to stomp down and crunch Mary Jane’s fingers.
“Don’t shoot him!” Mary Jane screamed.
Peter’s lips curved into a sinister grin as he started to slam his foot down. Only he miscalculated, and his foot soared into the cage instead.
Wulf put the gun down and quickly grabbed her forearm and pulled up. She watched in horror as Peter fell past her. His fingertips barely grazed her boots as he tried to pull her down into the dog cage.
“I’m here.” Wulf yanked her out. His back slammed into the roof, wrapping Mary Jane into his arms. She was positioned on top of him. Finally, safe, but she screamed for Peter.
“We have to save him!” she shouted.
“Mary Jane, it’s okay. You’re safe.”
His abdomen hurt where Hurricane had hit him less than a few minutes ago. Gritting in pain, Wulf focused all of his energy on Mary Jane. The sound of gnawing, biting, and shrill screaming met their ears as he helped her to her feet, and they went down the stairs.
“No.” Mary Jane pulled away from him at the last step. She looked back.
Peter’s crying faded to nothing. His arms, face, and skin were ripped to shreds. The dogs continued to bite and gnaw at him.
Quincy put a bullet in each of the dogs’ heads, silencing the night.
23
Mary Jane sat quietly in the state trooper’s vehicle. After the long night, she was mute. Wulf dreaded that the last couple of days had been wiped from her memory, because she was shrouded in the same hopeless demeanor from when they first meet. He sat in the back of an ambulance as a medic applied a dressing to his lower abdomen. When he refused a hospital visit, the EMT ended by compressing his abdomen. His eyes were glued onto Mary Jane.
The entire area of Beasley’s home had been rushed by the troopers and SWAT. He’d been told that the same was happening at The Petting Zoo. Then the FBI entered the scene as the morning sun came over the horizon.
“All right.” Wulf flashed at the EMT to stop the poking and prodding. The last of the binding was done. His eyes had never left Mary Jane’s. She’d been the first one to be looked over by the medical team, but after a few bandages around her calf and a few Band-Aids to her forehead, she’d gone to sit in the car.
He slowly stood up, his heart heavy and sullen with thoughts of Gracie—the young girl so in love, she didn’t rationalize that her life meant more. Peter had been literally preparing to feed Mary Jane to the dogs. Why would she be so concerned about his welfare? While medics assessed her, Quincy had mentioned that she was Peter’s wife. In the field, he’d seen women take back husbands who’d beat them black and blue, some refusing to press charges. But this takes domestic abuse to another level.
He was thrust back into a world of caring for a woman who loved too hard—the wrong man, that is. Only Gracie had reminded him of a wayward foster sister. Her situation should have been recompense for not helping the only family he’d known as a child. And Mary Jane, their complicated relationship, well, it all still pulled at his emotions. When the FBI came to take her statement, she kept staring at the road. The very same spot the ambulance had sped away from with Peter Grienke’s chewed on body.
Wulf nodded to Robertson and Juarez, the male and female FBI agents on the scene, who’d thanked him and Jones for their rundown of the crime scene a while ago.
“They want me to stick around, but forget that.” Jones patted his shoulder, stepping away from a dark-blue SUV. “I’ve been, at the very least, requested to keep my phone on for further contact.”
“Yeah.” Wulf nodded, knowing where the conversation was headed.
“Shelly wants me home asap. She chewed me out, and I have orders to bring you back with me.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” The left side of Wulf’s mouth turned upward, while he continued to stare at Mary Jane.
Quincy’s gaze went toward Mary Jane too. “She’s hot as hell, Dylan, but you know what I’m thinking, right?”
Wulf gave a slight nod.
“All right, I’ve given my two cents,” he replied. “One of the squad cars is going to drop me off at your place on their way to The Petting Zoo. I’m taking a quick nap. The next plane leaves this afternoon if you want to come back to reality too. So far, Shelly has kept your mom from knowing what’s going on but they’re women. They worry. And shit, apparently, they have reason to.”
Wulf handed Quincy the keys to his trailer. His mind was already on Mary Jane, once again. He walked around the red sports car and the swarm of cruisers to the one that she sat in after giving her statement. Her eyes slowly lit up at the sight of him. His tension eased, even though he felt like crap.
“Wow,” she cracked a smile, “I should’ve known it’d take a lot to get the big guy down.”
“You’ve surprised
me today too.” He tried to kneel between the car and door, but his body screamed. He leaned against the fender instead.
“How so? I brought down an animal, a mad scientist, and a fat psycho all by myself.” She jokingly grinned.
“Yes, all the credit belongs to you, Mrs. Mallory Grienke,” he said, peering into her eyes.
Mary Jane bit her lip for a second. “I might not be her.”
She recalled learning more about Peter Grienke and that he’d had a scientific discovery on facial products. The twin’s only distinguishing characteristic had been Megan’s scarred face. Ironically, drugs had done nothing to rot her teeth, but her face had become haggard from drug use. After using Grienke’s products, Megan had returned to her youthful look, except for the anger that lay dormant in her heart and soul. Now, nothing separated Mary Jane from being either twin.
“But Quincy told me you’re married to Peter Grienke.”
Mary Jane stared at Wulf. There was something just behind his eyes or maybe it was the reflection of the sun rising in his pupils. “Let’s keep this between us. The FBI and state police have verified me as Mallory Portman-Grienke. So we’ll just keep it as that for all intents and purposes. But I might be Mallory Portman-Grienke, or I might be Megan Portman, Mallory’s identical twin.”
“That’s why you didn’t want me to extinguish Peter while he was a deadly threat to you?” He refused to give her a pass.
“Yeah.” Mary Jane cocked her head, wondering where the animosity came from. No, wait, she wasn’t the meek type. “Peter was about to tell me the entire truth. Now he’s fighting for his life. Guess it doesn’t matter now.” Mary Jane shook her head and huffed. “I’m taking the Benz convertible that belonged to me or my sister, and I’m hitting the road. Stop looking at me like that. I’m driving ’til the gas runs out.”