No Remorse No Regret (Counterstrike Book 1)

by Ian Worrall

  She finds what she’s looking for—a 2005 Harley for ninety-five hundred dollars. She circles the ad with her pen. With fifty thousand dollars to spend, she can pay cash, the full amount the seller is asking for. On the way back home, the rest of the money will be put into different bank accounts.

  * * *

  Jackie walks up behind Mitchell sitting at his computer. She plays a quick drum beat, tapping him on his head and shoulders. “Buh da buh da crash.”

  He looks up at her. “Finished, rock star?”

  “Yeah, but I might do an encore performance.”

  “Just don’t do one on me or I’ll do one on your ass.”

  “Fair enough.”

  She sits down at her computer. “Any word back from Arlene’s trackers?”

  “No.”

  * * *

  At two that afternoon in Chicago, Melissa steps off the bus two streets over from her destination. Dressed in a little red dress and black high heels, she takes a few steps and rubs each foot. Hate these things, but heels can still do damage to a head. She has the switchblade in her bra. Even a knife that size can kill, in the hands of a skilled person who knows where to use it.

  She checks the GPS on her phone to do a third check on her escape routes. She goes over plans A, B, and C, in addition to the double back plans in her head as she steps up to the door and rings the doorbell. It’s a small bungalow, not what you would expect from a billionaire tycoon.

  The door opens and her target is dressed in denim shorts and a tank top. His arms are well-muscled; shoulders, chest and legs all proportioned perfectly for a man who can spend all his time in the gym while others do the work to make him money. He wags his tongue at her as he looks her up and down checking out her body.

  “Like what you see?” she asks him in her seductive voice.

  He takes her by the hand and leads her inside. “Oh, yeah.” He bends down and kisses her on the lips.

  Weird, I’m still on my own feet. Men always seem to think it’s an automatic green light to lift and carry a little woman around. But when going after a target, appearing to be a tiny little weakling is a benefit.

  “And do you?” he asks her.

  She rubs her hands on his shoulders and then down his biceps. “You got the kind of muscles a girl can really hang onto and lose herself in.”

  He moves one arm around her waist, bends down and slides his other arm around the back of her knees and sweeps her off her feet as she starts caressing his shoulders.

  “I love these powerful arms. You can really protect a woman.”

  “Dessert first?” he asks.

  “Dinner would be best. Then you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

  “We could do two dessert courses.”

  “We could. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get your reward.”

  “OK then.”

  He carries her through the hallway into the kitchen. “Does steak sound good to you?”

  “If it’s barbecued,” she says.

  “The only way to have it, sweetie.”

  He opens the refrigerator door still holding Melissa off the floor. Reaching in he grabs two steaks off the shelf. She runs her fingers through his hair and kisses him on the cheek as he carries her out onto the deck with one arm around her waist holding her the other holding the plate of food.

  “No veggies?” Melissa asks.

  “I made smoothies.”

  He starts the grill to let it warm up while he’s holding Melissa. “It’ll take about five minutes to warm up, so we should have a little fun.”

  She wraps her legs around him as they start kissing.

  “Thought a billionaire would have a bigger house than this.”

  “The ex got it in the divorce. The one I will be buying doesn’t go on sale for another month.”

  “How do you know they’re going to sell?”

  “I have my ways.”

  He starts kissing her on her neck as he slides his arms up her back to the zipper on her dress.

  “Remember, dessert after dinner,” she says.

  “Just thought I’d like to see what you look like under this dress.”

  “Weren’t you married?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if you’ve seen one girl naked, you’ve pretty much seen us all.”

  He lets out a small laugh. “True, but how about seeing if the dress looks anywhere near as good on the floor as it does on you.”

  “Once dinner is ready, I’ll let you take it off. Steaks ready to grill yet?”

  “Should be.”

  With Melissa wrapped around him, Mike’s hands are free to put the steaks on the grill.

  “How do you like your steak?” he asks.

  “No more than medium rare.”

  “You’re certainly a rare woman yourself. Most girls want it medium.”

  “I’m kind of blood thirsty.”

  With one hand feeling her butt, he moves the other hand to start feeling her breasts. He feels the knife inside her bra.

  “What is that?”

  She reaches in and pulls out the switchblade, opens it and taps him on the forehead. “A girl can never be too careful, especially one who’s small like me.”

  “Did you think I was going to rape you?”

  “No. I figured you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your billions.”

  “So why a knife?”

  “I travel by bus and the subway a lot. It’s pretty scary for a girl alone.”

  “So, you need to go around with friends.”

  “No, what I need is a big strong man like you to protect me.”

  He starts kissing her on her neck. Melissa’s jaw tightens stick the knife through the base of the skull and end it right here. Just as deadly as anything else. But the neighbors over there are taking in the live porn show, no sense giving them a live snuff film. Soon enough this bastard will know the price of hurting women.

  She waves to the neighbors, closes the blade, and puts the knife back into her bra.

  Mike flips the steaks on the grill and continues kissing Melissa. After closing the lid to the barbecue, he walks around the deck carrying and kissing her.

  “That feels great,” Melissa says. “If you’re this good now, dessert should be a real treat.”

  “Do you wish now that we had done two dessert courses?” he asks.

  “The anticipation of what’s to come will make things even better.”

  * * *

  Zach meets up with Jackie and Mitchell in the lunchroom carrying a file titled “Victims List.” He puts it down on the table in between the two of them.

  “Got twenty boxes of files to go through. I went through them all about thirty times in the past ten years. Your eyes might find something I didn’t.”

  Mitchell opens the file to see the first page with the ten names, the same list Colton Harris has.

  “Don’t have the girl on here that was blacked out?”

  “No.”

  Mitchell closes the file. “Did you take the name Celine Charlebois off the list?”

  “You accusing me of something?” Zach asks.

  “Someone’s tampered with the evidence and removed a likely victim off the list.”

  “The rumoured survivor from ten years ago?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it wasn’t me.” He turns to walk out of the room, but Mitchell stops him.

  “Grab a coffee and take a seat, bud.”

  Zach turns back. “Sure.” He walks over to the coffee maker.

  “Almond milk in the fridge. I had a uniform pick some up for you.”

  The former agent smiles. “Good memory.”

  “Helps in this line of work.”

  “That it does,” Zach says as he places the carton of almond milk back in the refrigerator. He flops down into a chair at the end of the table. “So.”

  “So,” Jackie prompts.

  “I assure you I’m not the one who has removed any names.”
<
br />   “Someone did,” Jackie says.

  “In my notes, I interviewed a girl who was about nineteen years old. She had a wound similar to stab wounds we found on the victims. They claimed it was an arrow shot by kids playing a game,” Mitchell recalls.

  “Load of –”

  “Yeah,” Mitchell interrupts.

  “If this woman was a victim of The Drowner, would the guy who was with her that night have been Danil Burlomov?” Jackie asks.

  “Who is that?” Zach asks.

  “He’s the head of the local Russian Mafia,” Mitchell says.

  “There’s a war between them and a local street gang.”

  “Thought there’d be an easier way to commit suicide than going against the Russians,” Zach laughs. “And what does that have to do with The Drowner case?”

  “Probably quite a lot,” Jackie’s says.

  “There’s other cases where there are almost one hundred men who’ve abused women who have been murdered,” Mitchell says.

  “Who says there’s no such thing as poetic justice?” Zach says.

  Mitchell and Jackie both laugh.

  “And a lot of Burlomov’s enemies over the years have been killed.”

  “Is that unusual for that world?” Zach asks.

  “No. But it is possible that he trained her to be a killer,” Mitchell says.

  “And what’s the jacket on this Burlomov character?” Zach asks.

  “The short version? He was a former Spetsnatz before being a criminal thug.” Mitchell says.

  “And the long?” Zach asks

  “The long,” Mitchell continues, “his family was high up under imperial Russia. Close associates with the Czar. After the revolution, they had property seized, ancestors sent to the gulag. Like all able-bodied men, he was required to do military services where he built up contacts. And with the fall of communism, the family tried to re-establish themselves and reclaim what they lost. In all likelihood, they pay a tribute to the Russian government.”

  “And Spetsnatz is…?” Jackie asks.

  “The Russian version of the SEALs.”

  “And if a Russian SEAL has trained her, what chance do any of these guys have?” Jackie asks.

  “The Spetsnatz are elite, maybe not compared to the SEALs. But a run-of-the-mill rapist or drug dealer like what she’s killed here wouldn’t stand a chance,” Mitchell answers.

  “Even against a woman, no offense,” Zach nods to Jackie.

  “Would you consider a woman to be a threat?” Jackie asks.

  “I guess not.”

  “Neither would any of them. It’s the surprise factor along with the training that put her over the top,” Mitchell says.

  “And how does she fall through the cracks? Disappear off a victim list?”

  “The only way,” Mitchell continues, “is there’s a mole in the police department.”

  Jackie clicks the number for Detective Torres. “Hey Torres, it’s Cruze. We need to meet. Yes now.” She ends the call.

  “On his way?” Mitchell asks.

  “Who’s Torres?” Zach asks.

  “Head of the OC task force,” says Jackie. “A good place to start.”

  * * *

  Back at Mike’s home, with Melissa still wrapped around him like a slinky, he takes the steaks off the grill, turns the burner and propane off, and carries the food and Melissa into the house. In the dining room, there are two plates with cutlery and wine glasses filled with red wine. He sets a steak down on each plate and then puts Melissa down. He starts to unzip her dress.

  “So now I get to see if this dress looks as good on the floor as it does on you.”

  “That you do.”

  With the dress fully unzipped he pulls the dress off her shoulders and it falls to the floor. He makes a move to unclasp her bra at the front of her breasts. She grabs his hands, lightly kissing them.

  “Remember, dinner first then dessert.”

  “Fine then,” he concedes.

  They both sit down and start eating. Mike continues looking at Melissa, licking his lips and loosening his fly to ease the tension from the bulging in his groin. Melissa bites into a piece of steak and blows a kiss at him. Mike then picks up his wine glass and raises it to her.

  “A toast to new lovers?”

  “Sure thing,” Melissa says and clinks her glass to his.

  “Not a big drinker?” Mike asks.

  “If I’m overly tipsy you won’t get all my moves.”

  “How true.”

  * * *

  In the lunchroom, Jackie, Mitchell, and Zach are on their second coffees each when Torres enters.

  “What was so urgent?” he asks the three of them, swaggering in to stand at the table.

  “Any information yet on Celine Charlebois and Max Kehoe?” Mitchell asks him.

  “Not yet. Who are they again?” Torres asks.

  Mitchell tells Torres his theory as to who Celine Charlebois is.

  “And what does that have to do with Organized Crime?” he asks as he saunters over to the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee.

  “Remember I interviewed them in the hospital,” Mitchell reminds him. “The guy, Max Kehoe, was probably Danil Burlomov.”

  “Probably?” he asks sitting down next to Zach with the back of the chair to his chest.

  “It was ten years ago when I spoke to them,” Mitchell says.

  “Her name was taken off a list of victims.” Jackie says.

  “This is still your department,” Torres says.

  “If she was taken in by Burlomov, he was a Spetsnatz,” Mitchell says.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “We think she might have been taken in by Burlomov. He trained her with his skills and then−” Jackie starts.

  “This man can’t get laid without us knowing about it. We have him under surveillance as constantly as we can. He only ever bangs a chick at the hotel he owns. We’ve never seen anyone enter his home. So, this girl couldn’t have anything to do with him.”

  Jackie slides the pictures of Arlene and Melissa over to him. “Recognize either of them?”

  “No,” Torres says.

  “I thought that Russian mobsters could not serve in the military, if Burlomov had served,” Zach says.

  “They were more ruthless than the other ones,” Torres says. “Took out a few groups so the others looked the other way for self-preservation.”

  “We’d like to interview at the people in your unit,” Mitchell says.

  “To what end?” Torres asks. “You think any of my people are attached to Burlomov?”

  “It’s a place to start. Along with all the people who have served in the OC unit for at least the past ten years.”

  Torres slams his hands down hard as he breathes out.

  “We can always go to IA first if you’d like,” Mitchell says.

  “Fine. As their CO, I want to be there when you interview them.”

  “Would never consider not having you there.”

  * * *

  With their dinner finished, Mike clears the plates and puts them in the kitchen sink. As he turns, he sees Melissa putting on her dress.

  “What are you doing?” he asks. “Dessert time, baby.”

  Melissa smiles. “I really should be going.” She turns her back to him as she starts to take her switchblade out of her bra. “Can you zip me up, please?”

  He turns up the stereo to top volume, walks to her, grabs her around the shoulders, and starts to pull the dress off her again. “No way, darling. We’re having sex.”

  Melissa bends down putting one arm around his waist and grabbing one of his arms. She lifts him up and does a judo throw slamming him down on the dining room table, breaking it in half.

  “What the–,” he yells.

  “This how you really treat women, isn’t it?” She has her knife open pointing it at him.

  “What’s going on?” he asks as he starts to get up.

  “Did you think yo
u could hurt a woman and not pay a price, you bastard?”

  “Shawna pay you to do this?”

  With her lips pressed together and eyes narrowed as she shakes her head, “No, you coward. Men who hurt women die for free.”

  “You pulled a knife on me. I can claim self defense.”

  “Assuming you win the fight.”

  “A little cunt like you ain’t no match for me, regardless of your little karate moves.”

  He moves to grab her with his left hand and loads his right hand to punch her. She slashes him on the left wrist, cutting him but missing the artery. She kicks him in the ankle as she side steps his advance.

  “The throw was actually from judo. But I’m trained a lot better than that.”

  He grabs his wrist and sees blood dripping down. Mike steps forward with his left foot and stumbles before lessening the weight he puts on that side. He can’t seem to figure out why someone he just met that day would want to kill him. Why does she care what happened with his ex-wife?

  “What does it matter to you why I did anything?”

  “Don’t care why. It’s the simple fact that you beat your wife. Someone has to stand up for women.”

  Mike rushes her and grabs her around the waist lifting her off her feet. She stabs him in the shoulder as she is slammed against the wall. The knife falls out of her hand. Mike kicks the knife into the kitchen and starts carrying Melissa to his intended destination.

  “Told you you’re no match for me.”

  Melissa straightens herself up and jabs her fingers in his eyes. Mike yells in pain then throws her against the wall. Her head hits the wall and she blacks out.

  Mike rubs his eyes and sees Melissa lying face down on the floor. He grabs her around the ankles and starts dragging her out of the kitchen.

  She wakes up and puts her hand to her head feeling the blood from the cut. This is going to be a lot harder than previous ones. But I’m always up for a challenge. She spins around to her back freeing one of her legs and kicks him square in the face breaking his nose. Blood starts gushing out as Mike grabs his face.

  “You little bitch,” he screams.

  She crawls away from him and finds her knife. Mike rushes at her again as she gets up. This time Melissa avoids his charge, plunging the knife into his side and pulling it three inches along as he runs into the wall.

  He turns to face her as he is holding his nose and the side of his stomach. She can see his mouth shaking, his eyes are wide open and blood shot with tears starting to flow.