Right to the Kill (Harmony Black Book 5)

by Craig Schaefer

  He hadn’t gunned them down the second he got here, which meant he had a reason—at least for now—to keep them alive. That meant they still had a chance.

  “What about us?” Harmony asked.

  “Well, first of all, kick your guns my way. C’mon, send ’em over.” He waited until the pistols clattered along the frost-white tiles. He reached behind his belt with his free hand, produced a pair of handcuffs, and gave them a rattle. “Temple. Catch.”

  He tossed them underhand. She snatched them out of the air.

  “Now cuff your partner’s hands.”

  Harmony felt a flicker of hope, even as she turned and put her wrists behind her back. That meant he’d have to cuff Jessie himself. Dumb move. He’d have to get close, inside her reach. The cuffs ratcheted around her wrists, not tight, but tight enough to hold her.

  “Got a pair for me?” Jessie asked.

  Dominguez chuckled. “You think I’m stupid, Temple?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question?”

  “I don’t know what the deal is with your freaky-ass eyes, but I know you’re not human. I’ve seen you in the gym; you’re strong enough to break cuffs.”

  He pointed to the steamer trunk, the supposed big discovery he’d been claiming to deliver, and swiveled it around with his boot. It was empty.

  “Brought this just for you. Get in the trunk.”

  “Yeah,” Jessie said, “I’m not doing that.”

  “Don’t be a pussy. I drilled air holes. Killing you isn’t on my agenda. I just don’t want you busting loose and ripping my throat out while I’m trying to get shit done.”

  “When it happens, I won’t be starting with your throat.”

  “Get in the trunk,” Dominguez said, “or pick a kneecap.”

  “You’re going to shoot me?” Jessie asked.

  “No.” He sighted down the barrel. “I’m going to shoot your partner and make you watch. You ever see somebody get kneecapped, Temple? They scream like you wouldn’t believe. Or you can save all of us a lot of aggravation and just get in the damn trunk. Now.”

  Jessie looked in Harmony’s eyes. Harmony gave her an almost imperceptible nod. “It’s okay,” she said.

  She wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure Jessie or herself. Jessie crossed the laboratory floor, careful and slow, and stepped into the trunk. Dominguez had done his homework: as she knelt down inside, it was just big enough to hold her. She had to ball her knees up to her chest, tight, and clench her arms against her sides to fit.

  “Hope you’re not claustrophobic,” Dominguez said. “Not that I really care all that much. Hey, Black, turn and face the mermaid. You’re making me nervous.”

  She turned toward the tank. The mermaid watched her, silent and curious. In the polished glass she watched her partner disappear. Dominguez shut the lid and threaded the finger-thick band of a padlock through the clasp. It locked with a coffin-lid snap.

  He approached her from behind, gun trained on the small of her back.

  “Where are you taking us?” Harmony asked.

  “You? Nowhere. Funny thing: I didn’t even know you two were in town, until Cranston showed me the security-camera footage from your dinner together. He was afraid you were more of Bobby’s hired guns. Of course, I told him that’s exactly what you were. Also told him I’d handle the situation.”

  “You’re his new best friend.”

  “That’s right. Naturally, I started thinking about how I could make the most of things. Killing you two would be easy. I’m already going to be on Vigilant’s hit list once they figure out what I did, so adding another couple of bodies to the pile is no big deal.”

  “We’re still breathing,” Harmony said.

  “Yeah, well, then I called Bobby, since I know you have history. He offered to pay me to murder both of you. Bonus if I do it slow and nasty and get it all on video. He’s a real sick guy, you know that?”

  “We’re aware.”

  In the glass, Dominguez’s blurry reflection gave her a shrug.

  “Then I found out Nadine’s got a bounty on you two. Strictly a live bounty.”

  “She wants to kill us herself,” Harmony said. “She’s been fairly outspoken on that subject.”

  “Then I’m thinking, well, I promised Cranston I’d liquidate you two. And I don’t know how much longer I’m going to have to play the loyal bodyguard. Giving him a body would go a long way toward keeping me in his good graces, at least until I’m ready to take him out.”

  “What a predicament,” Harmony said, her voice flat.

  “I’m not going to kill your partner. I’m going to sell her. Already made contact with Nadine’s people and they’re just pleased as punch. A little irked that a human pulled off what a posse of demons couldn’t, but they can grumble all they want as long as they pay me in cash.”

  Harmony had to smile. “Nadine’s people? You’ll be lucky if they pay you at all. Between her and Bobby, you’re getting in bed with rattlesnakes.”

  “Meanwhile, here’s the scenario: you broke into Cranston’s lab, looking to assassinate him. Thankfully, I was on the scene, watching out for the doctor’s interests.”

  “How are you going to explain the dead body on the floor? Randy worked for him. You can’t pretend he was on Bobby’s payroll, too.”

  “I’ll figure something out. I’m good at improv. As for you, you’re going to feed the fishes.”

  The blurry reflection of his arm swung up and then whipped down, whistling through the air. Harmony felt the barrel of his gun crack across the back of her skull in a burning shock wave. Then the laboratory floor was racing up to meet her, and her vision faded to black.

  25.

  Harmony woke to a world of pain.

  The back of her head throbbed, and she could feel her hair matted like wet straw to her scalp. Warm blood trickled down the nape of her neck. Her arms were burning, shoulders twisted and strained. Her hands were numb and her wrists felt like she’d thrust them into a nest of fire ants.

  Concentrate, she commanded herself, the word a mental slap across her face. She forced her eyes open. The world spun, hard lights stabbing at her as her vision reeled into focus.

  She was hanging from the laboratory rafters. A length of rough hempen rope leashed her wrists; it ran over a steel rafter and then downward, to a winch on the far side of the room. Another loop of rope bound her ankles tight.

  The tank was directly under her, the restless waters eight feet beneath her bare toes. The mermaid gazed up at her. One by one, the shark-toothed petals of her face unfurled to bare the raw red pit of her mouth.

  The winch rattled and the rope dropped. Just an inch, a heart-dropping fall followed by a muscle-wrenching jolt. Harmony winced, her teeth gritting as a fresh lance of fire shot along her back.

  Her shoes and jacket lay discarded on one of the workstation tables, along with her shoulder holster and her gun. A bulky camera stood on a tripod, aimed at the heart of the room. The steady red glow of the recording light told her why she wasn’t dead yet. Dominguez wanted to get paid. He’d set the winch on a timer, designed to lower her into the tank one slow inch at a time. The mermaid was going to eat her alive, starting with her feet and working her way up.

  This was how Cooper had died. With the camera recording every second of it, for Bobby Diehl’s viewing pleasure.

  The winch rattled. The rope dropped. The waters lapped against the glass as the mermaid slapped her tail, eager to be fed.

  Harmony bit back a surge of panic. In a crisis, panic killed faster than a bullet. Words from her training blanketed her rising fear. Assess the situation. Evaluate resources. Act with intent.

  Resources. The pen. He’d taken her obvious weapon, her pistol, but Dominguez had been in too much of a hurry to pat her down properly. Kevin’s prototype from the mission briefing, the ballistic pen, was sitting snug in her pocket. Freeing her wrists was step one. For that, she had magic.

  Magic needed serenity. Discipline. Above all
, focus. Fear was the death of magic. She closed her eyes. She tried to ignore the pain, the danger, turning inward and taking deep breaths. As her chest swelled with air, the muscles of her back burned. A trickle of blood ran down her left arm, welling from where the rope had rubbed her wrist raw.

  The winch rattled. The rope dropped, then jolted, wrenching her shoulders back. Her naked toes curled as the water frothed, sloshing around the hungry monster below.

  She tried harder. Trying harder just made the magic slip away, dancing around her extended fingertips, like a snatch of a dream she couldn’t quite recall. This wasn’t working. Focus.

  She thought about Jessie.

  Right now, Jessie was locked in a trunk, under the gun, being delivered to Nadine’s agents. Jessie needed her.

  A connection sparked inside Harmony’s heart. A pathway ignited along a ragged strip of nerve endings, glowing in the shape of a sigil. The pattern needed fuel. She found it in the stray bits of raw essence she’d stolen from Ethan. She transformed it like a Renaissance alchemist, transmuting his demonic energy to elemental power.

  She smelled the tang of hickory smoke. She looked up as the rope leashing her wrists began to smolder. Gray smoke trickled up to the laboratory lights. Harmony concentrated, directing the flow of power to one focused point, tight as a laser beam.

  The rope ignited. Then it broke loose and let go.

  For a heartbeat, she was weightless. Then she was falling free. She lurched and shot up her hands to snatch the dangling rope. One hand missed. The other grabbed hold, tight, the rope twisting and spinning her around in a dizzying circle. Her free hand dove into her pocket. She tugged out the ballistic pen and flipped the clip back. One shot. She aimed for the tank, one inch above the waterline, squinting as she struggled to keep her trembling arm steady. Her strength was running out, the smoldering rope slipping from her sweaty grip.

  She pressed the clip and fired. The chromed steel tip of the pen blasted into the wall of the tank and punched straight through it, jagged cracks spider-webbing in every direction. Then it burst. With a tidal-wave roar, the tank collapsed into broken sheets of glass and sent saltwater billowing across the frost-white tiles. The mermaid fell in its wake, tail thrashing, toothed flesh-petals flapping wildly.

  The winch dropped and the sudden jolt stole Harmony’s grip. She plummeted to the laboratory floor, landing hard on her shoulder as a slice of glass carved through her sleeve. She rolled on the slick tile, ankles still bound, struggling to get away from the flailing monster.

  It pursued her. The mermaid dragged herself across the broken glass, tail slapping the wet floor. Her twin tongues licked the air and her petals slammed open and shut, desperate to kill one last time. Harmony pulled herself along the tile on her forearms, shards of glass clinking as she shoved them out of her way. The workstation was just ahead, and one sleeve of her jacket draped over the table’s edge.

  The mermaid was faster than she was. Harmony had to be careful on the slick tile, picking through the wreckage of the tank. The creature didn’t care. She ripped herself open on the glass, leaving a trail of black blood that mingled with the cold puddles and became oil-slick rainbows.

  Every pull of Harmony’s forearms meant another searing yank of her shoulders. She fought through the pain, focused on the race as the mermaid closed in on her bare feet. With one last burst of strength, Harmony shoved herself up on one hand and lunged for the jacket sleeve with the other.

  She fell, pulling the jacket down with her. And the holster that was resting on top of it. Harmony rolled onto her back as she yanked the pistol free. The mermaid reared over her, petals wide, ready to feast—and Harmony opened fire.

  Radical-invasive rounds plowed into the mermaid’s open maw. One bullet after another tore into the dying beast’s gullet, punching holes through her body, spitting torn flesh and black blood in glittering arcs. Harmony squeezed the trigger again and again until the hammer slammed down on an empty chamber.

  The mermaid crashed to the laboratory floor, motionless. Trails of black-rainbow blood leeched out from beneath her corpse like rivers on a map of hell.

  Harmony lay still, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

  “Oh my God,” Neptune said. “Oh my God.”

  Harmony wasn’t sure which ‘oh my God’ was directed at her and which one was about the dead monster on the floor. Neptune raced over to her side, glass crunching under her tennis shoes.

  “Harmony! Are you okay? Oh God, you’re bleeding.”

  Harmony groaned as she pushed herself up, sitting with her back to the table.

  “Told you not to come,” she managed to rasp.

  “You did, and, well, I didn’t listen. I thought you might not even be here, but I heard the gunshots and followed the sound.” Neptune held Harmony’s shoulder, eyeing the cut on her arm. “I didn’t even know this was down here. And what…what is that?”

  “Ideally, something you never would have found out existed,” Harmony said. She reached down, tugging at the knotted rope around her ankles. “Grab my shoes and socks off the table? Don’t know how much time I’ve got, can’t stop moving.”

  “Harmony, please. Tell me what’s going on. Tell me and maybe I can help.”

  She couldn’t stop. She did anyway. Harmony looked into Neptune’s eyes, feeling the waves of worry washing off her.

  “That’s a mermaid,” Harmony said.

  “Like some kind of medical experiment? Did Judah operate on a woman and turn her into that thing, or—?”

  “No. It’s an actual mermaid.” Harmony took a deep breath. This was going to hurt. She reached up, grabbed hold of the table’s edge, and winced as she forced herself to stand. “I don’t really work for Diehl Innovations.”

  “Well, yes,” Neptune said. “I figured that much.”

  Harmony held her gaze. Time was a weight on her burning shoulders. The window of opportunity for getting Jessie back was shrinking by the second.

  “I’m part of an organization that hunts and eliminates supernatural threats”—Harmony waved a shaky hand at the dead mermaid—“threats like these, so they can’t prey on people like you. One of our own turned traitor and kidnapped my partner. He’s taking her somewhere…bad. Really bad, and if I don’t get her back, and fast, she’s going to die.”

  Neptune’s eyes went wide. “Wait. Oh God, was she locked in a trunk?”

  “What did you see?”

  “When I first got here.” Neptune pointed upward, tracing it back in her memory. “I parked up the block, to be safe. I saw a guy lugging a trunk out through the garage with a hand truck. He looked a little sketchy and I’ve never seen him at the house before, so I held back until I was sure he was gone. He really strained, wrestling it into the back of his pickup, like it weighed at least a hundred pounds.”

  Harmony felt a surge of hope. “Did you get a license-plate number?”

  “No, but I remember the make.”

  “Good enough.”

  She snatched her phone from the table and hit the speed dial. Kevin picked up after one ring.

  “Yeah, boss?”

  “We need to move fast. Is April on the line?”

  “Right here,” April said. “Harmony? What’s wrong?”

  “Dominguez screwed us. He’s working for Bobby Diehl. He took Jessie and he’s going to sell her to Nadine for the bounty money.”

  “What can we do?” Kevin asked.

  Harmony looked to Neptune. “Tell me about the truck.”

  “It was a pickup, silver—” Neptune squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to remember. “A long one, the kind with a back seat. It was a GMC…no. No, it was a Toyota. I’m sure of it. I remember the emblem on the back.”

  “Okay, good, you’re doing great. Now picture the back bumper. Did it have any kind of sticker, like from a rental agency?”

  Neptune shook her head. “No. No bumper stickers. It was dirty, though. A lot of spattered mud, like it had gone off-roading.”

  H
armony put the phone back to her ear.

  “You get that?” she said. “It wasn’t an airport rental. Now, Dominguez isn’t a local. Not his car, no local resources, so—”

  “He stole it,” Kevin said.

  “Hit the police reports, look for any mention of a stolen Toyota pickup. We’re going to find that vehicle, we’re going to find Dominguez, and we’re going to get my partner back.”

  26.

  Neptune scurried upstairs. She knew Cranston kept a first-aid kit in his bathroom, and the cut on Harmony’s arm was still leaking. The torn sleeve of her dress shirt had turned cherry red, and droplets spattered onto the saltwater-slick floor at her feet.

  “Found a hit,” Kevin said. “Silver 2015 Toyota Tacoma, stolen from a construction site four hours ago. I’ve got a plate number.”

  “Good. I’m pretty sure I saw a couple of cameras on light posts while we were driving around. Does Tampa have a traffic monitoring system?”

  April checked. “Privately owned. Red-light cameras. A civilian contractor operates them for the city; they watch for traffic violations and send tickets by mail.”

  “Kevin, can you—”

  “Already working on it, boss.”

  * * *

  Side by side at their consoles, April and Kevin worked in concert. Twin pianists, keystrokes yielding up a symphony of data. As she passed him the details on the camera vendor, separating the wheat from the chaff and shooting the essentials to his screen, he shifted to a second phone line and adjusted his headset.

  Nationwide company with multiple branches. Good. Tampa was a satellite office. Even better. April sent him a link for their public-facing website, complete with staff lists. People hated red-light cameras; the company was trying to wage a charm offensive, putting on a human face and giving out too much information in the process.

  They also outsourced their camera-monitoring software to a third-party vendor, who bragged about it in a press release. The press release led to a white paper; the company had proposed bringing their program to Cincinnati, and city rules mandated making all bids public. Nothing confidential inside, but it had all the technical details Kevin needed.