by K'wan
“You could say that.”
James Wolf, known to his NYPD comrades and the scum he hunted as Lone Wolf James, was the subject of a piece on police corruption that Kahllah had been working on awhile back. He had a reputation as a hard-nosed detective who didn’t mind bending the law to the point of breaking it to get what he wanted. Plenty of rumors circulated on his dirty deeds, but no one had ever been able to catch him with his hands in the cookie jar. That was what put Kahllah on his trail. She hated dirty cops and had been determined to expose Wolf for the villain he was. At the time, Wolf was investigating what the media had dubbed the “Black Lotus killings.” They were named after the rare black flowers present at each crime scene.
The latest victim had been a priest named Father Donovan Fleming. They’d found him in his church, strung up by chains like a sacrifice in some dark ritual. A respected priest being murdered in such a way caused a public outcry for justice that was heard as high as the mayor’s office. When Wolf’s friend and mentor Captain Marx dumped the case into his lap, it was the detective’s last shot at redemption, so he took it. What nobody expected was that the Fleming murder investigation would reopen a years-old cold case, that of a little boy named Johnny Gooden who had been beaten, raped, and left to die in the snow. It was the one case Wolf had never been able to solve, and it haunted him for years. As it turned out, Father Fleming had not only been a man of the cloth, but also a serial rapist of children. Rich and powerful people had helped bury the secret, and it was Wolf who unearthed it. It ended up earning him a promotion. Although he never managed to catch the Black Lotus, it was the assassin’s bread crumbs that had helped break the case and give the Goodens peace, so they were even as far as Wolf was concerned. At least until they next found themselves on opposite sides of a gun.
“I don’t know, Audrey. I’ve got a ton of work to catch up on.”
“Kahllah, we’re the bosses. What are you going to do, fire yourself? If you do this for me, I’ll owe you big-time.”
Kahllah sighed. “Fine.”
“Thanks, K! We’re gonna have a blast, you watch!”
Kahllah smiled. She had agreed more out of wanting to appease Audrey than believing the event was a good idea. In fact, she was pretty sure she would regret the decision. The last time she’d entered that venue, things had gotten nasty. And one thing she’d learned from both her jobs was that lightning struck twice more often than it didn’t.
* * *
After they finished eating, Kahllah paid the bill. As they made to leave, Audrey gave her the latest office tea from a marketing firm Real Talk used to work with, before they cut ties. To its credit, the firm did good work, but upper management left a lot to be desired. Its head was a notorious womanizer who would stick his dick in a brick wall if it got wet enough. He was said to have slept with nearly all of the women who worked with them. He’d even tried his hand with Kahllah, but she shut him down. He’d been sniffing around Audrey too, and though she said nothing ever happened, Kahllah had heard a rumor to the contrary.
His latest conquest was a young and naive receptionist who had made the mistake of falling into the deep end of the pool. She hadn’t been there a week before he was in her panties. The wife, Audrey narrated as they neared the exit, had paid an unexpected visit to the office and caught her husband with his fingers knuckle-deep inside the receptionist.
Kahllah was so engrossed in the tale that she accidentally collided with someone coming in as they were going out. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way—a high forehead with wavy black hair that was just beginning to recede at the temples. The gray suit he wore fit him nearly perfectly; no doubt it had been tailored. His build was decent, bordering on athletic except for the slight bulge of his stomach. Yet his gut wasn’t the only thing Kahllah noticed around his belt. A sleek black nine millimeter rested in a leather holster on his hip. His jacket did a fair enough job hiding it from the untrained eye, but Kahllah’s eyes didn’t miss much. Especially not concealed weapons. If she had to guess, from the cheap suit and gun model, he was a cop.
“My apologies,” the man said.
“No, it was my fault,” Kahllah replied. “I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
“Nonsense, the error was on me, sweet thang. I’m normally more careful where I place my feet, but I’m afraid I was temporarily blinded by your sheer radiance.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things in my day, but I don’t think radiant is on the list.”
“That’s a shame, because it should be at the top.” He smirked, showing off white teeth. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
The man was about to follow up, but he saw something in her eyes. Something that made him cautious. He nodded. “Of that I’m sure. In any event, you have my sincere apologies for my clumsiness. You ladies enjoy the rest of your day.” He mock-bowed and continued inside.
“See what I mean about how men react to you?” Audrey said.
“Mm-hmm.” Kahllah lingered in the doorway and watched the armed man find his way to Sully’s table. Sully didn’t look pleased to see him, though that didn’t stop the man from taking a seat. As she studied them, she couldn’t figure what a disgraced filmmaker and a cop would be rendezvousing for, in the middle of Harlem. Whatever they were up to, she doubted it was good.
“So, do you want me to come by your place and help you get ready for tonight?” Audrey asked.
Must love flowers . . . She remembered the classified ad. “No, I’ve got something I need to take care of first, but I’ll meet you there.”
Chapter 4
Sully Roth sat at his table in Amy Ruth’s trying not to stick out, but it was harder than it sounded. Not because he was white in a soul food restaurant in the middle of Harlem. Sully was comfortable in any neighborhood, black, brown, or white. The only color he saw was green; he was about the dollar. No, what made him stand out was the fact that he was wearing a bulletproof vest one size too big, which bulged like a turtle shell under his white shirt. He was sure he looked ridiculous, but appearances be damned. His life was in danger. Sully had made a blunder of epic proportions and was now trying to do everything he could to fix things, including taking a meeting with the man who had been directly responsible for bringing the chaos down on his head in the first place. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
After nearly thirty minutes of waiting, Sully was about to give up and leave when the man finally appeared. He strode in casually as if he didn’t have a care in the world, pausing for a beat to exchange words with two women on their way out. One of them, tall and dark-haired, struck him as familiar, but he couldn’t see her face. He watched the exchange suspiciously, and suddenly his imagination started getting the best of him. What if the girls were part of all this? What if this was a trap and he had allowed himself to be boxed in? His eyes quickly scanned for an alternate exit but didn’t find one. He was fucked!
“Why are you sitting there looking like you’re trying to decide whether to shit yourself or find a bathroom?”
In plotting his escape, Sully hadn’t noticed that the conversation with the girls had ended and the man he was meeting was now hovering over him.
“Ah . . . trying to remember if I locked my car door or not before I came in.”
“If you’re still driving that piece-of-shit Nova, I don’t think you have too much to worry about. You couldn’t give that bucket away, so I highly doubt anybody is going to try and steal it.” The man laughed and took the seat across from Sully.
Before the conversation could continue, the waitress approached. “Can I get you something?”
“Yes, sweet thang,” the man said. “I’ll take a cheeseburger, rare. I like my meat tender.”
“Be back in a few,” she said and rushed off.
“How can you eat when the world is coming to an end, Frank?!” Sully snapped.
“Because I’ve been so busy cleaning up shit all morning that I have
n’t had a chance to grab a bite.” It was meant as a joke, but Sully didn’t laugh. “Why don’t you relax? I think you’re overreacting to this whole situation.”
“Overreacting? Your guys were supposed to do a simple snatch and grab, not commit a quadruple homicide! You said your people were pros, not trigger-happy thugs!”
Frank leaned in and lowered his voice to a stern growl. “First of all, watch your tone. I’ll bounce your head off of this fucking table if you ever speak to me like I’m one of those bitches who bust it open for you in your cheap movies! And second, we didn’t off those kids. The driver and his boy were collateral damage, but the other two weren’t on us. As I’m thinking about it, maybe it was you who lined all this up?”
“What?” Sully’s eyes got wide. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it? You promised that the van would be full of coke, but all we found were corpses. Maybe you’ve got an axe to grind with the old man and tried to use us as scapegoats.”
“Wait a second, Frank. We’ve been doing business together for a while, and you’ve put quite a few dollars in my pocket. Why would I mess that up?”
“Well, somebody fucked up. I hear the old man didn’t take it too well when they found his niece and her guy.”
“That has got to be the understatement of the year.” Sully chuckled nervously. “He was freaking livid. Word is that he’s offering up a shitload of money to anybody who can make what happened to those kids right. I hear he’s even reached out to the Brotherhood.” He whispered the name, as if saying it any louder would bring on some terrible fate.
“And?”
“What do you mean and? Do you know what the Brotherhood is and what they specialize in?”
The Brotherhood of Blood was a secret order of assassins whose origins went back several centuries. For the right price, the Order would not only wipe out your enemies, but in some cases their families and associates as well. They were not merely contract killers, but worshippers of death.
“For the part we played in this, it ain’t gonna end well unless we figure a way to get clear of it.”
“You mean the part you played,” Frank corrected. “This was your caper, so it falls on you. Me and my guys were just hired muscle.”
“So, you’d really hang me out to dry?”
Frank shrugged. “Plausible deniability.”
“You think you can throw a rock and hide your hand when it comes to the Brotherhood? Don’t be stupid. We need each other right now. I say we head for the hills until we can figure a way out of it, or at least until it blows over.”
“I ain’t doing shit,” Frank countered. “See, I can understand you being shook, but I’m not. I ain’t some regular schmuck.” He brandished the badge on the end of the chain beneath his shirt. “I’m the police, remember? Ain’t nobody gonna be stupid enough to try and kill a cop.”
Sully shook his head. “You just don’t get it, do you? Titles and affiliations don’t mean shit with the Brotherhood. There’s nothing you can hide behind once they’ve been contracted to take you out. Not even a badge.”
“You done?”
Sully realized that Frank just wasn’t getting it. “Yeah, I guess I am.” He dropped some cash on the table and stood. “You do what you want, but I’m about to crawl under a rock. If you were smart, you’d do the same. Good luck to you, Detective Cobb.” He saluted and then made his exit.
* * *
Frank continued sitting there long after Sully had gone. He weighed the man’s warning. The moment he recognized the two dead bodies in the van, he’d known that trouble was soon to follow. Though he’d pretended to be unbothered in front of Sully, Frank was no fool. His being a cop would give the average contract killer pause, but this was the Brotherhood. Would his badge protect him when the devil came to claim his due?
PART II
take it in blood
Chapter 5
He smelled it long before he saw it. A distinct aroma, carried on the chill evening wind and into his sensitive nose. The faintest hint of copper tickled the back of his throat and made him spit on the ground. It was a smell he could identify anywhere . . . blood. Like a hound on the trail of an elusive fox, he followed it. Even if he hadn’t been texted the address forty minutes prior, he would have known where he was going. The closer he got to the source, the more pronounced the scent became.
It was there, just a few feet ahead. He could see a dark alley with beams of flashlights bouncing off the walls. A line of police tape covered the entrance, and two uniformed officers guarded the perimeter. It appeared only one was doing his job, while the other was hunched over. His hands rested on his knees, and from his mouth spilled a hot stream of bile. The color had completely drained from the man’s face, giving him the appearance of a living corpse.
He neared the alley, sticking close to the shadows. He doubted either of the uniformed officers would’ve noticed him even if they had been paying attention. One was focused on the meal he’d just spewed on his shoes, while the other was trying to look everywhere except the alley. They were clearly shaken. He shifted, causing the heavy gold chain hanging around his neck to rattle against his chest. It was a deliberate action to announce his presence so he wouldn’t get shot by accident. Police shootings in the city were at an all-time high, and he didn’t think his name would look good in headlines . . . again.
The first to notice him was the cop who had been throwing up. He watched as the pale beat walker wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and let the other rest on his service weapon. Frightened eyes said he didn’t want to shoot, but trembling hands suggested he might.
“You need help with something?” the second cop said.
“I hear it’s the other way around,” he joked in his raspy tone.
Neither of the officers laughed. He hadn’t expected them to. There was a brief moment of silence as they sized each other up. He could only imagine how he looked to these uniformed officers, dressed in a baggy gray sweat suit, white Nikes, and hair braided back into five thick cornrows. He had a slender face with heavy sideburns, ears that rose to slight points, and a deeply cleft upper lip. In certain light he almost resembled a canine. He could tell that the officers weren’t quite sure what to make of him, and he didn’t yet feel inclined to be forthcoming.
“Some mess you boys got in there.” He glanced past them, into the alley where he could see a medical examiner taking photos of something.
“This is official police business,” the cop who had been vomiting said. “You need to move along.” His hand was still resting on his holstered weapon.
“If only I could.” He reached inside his sweatshirt and produced a gold badge attached to a silver chain.
“Bullshit you’re a cop!” the second officer scoffed.
“True shit. I’m Detective James Wolf.”
“Wait, as in Lone Wolf?” the vomiter said.
“I guess my reputation precedes me.” Wolf had been prepared for the skepticism and disdain he generally got from fellow officers who knew his history, and was surprised by this different reaction.
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” The officer grabbed his hand and pumped it vigorously. “You were a legend among my graduating class at the academy!”
“Thanks,” Wolf said, still a bit thrown by the response.
“What the hell is a wolf?” the second officer questioned, not sold on the thug.
“Only one of the greatest detectives to ever wear a badge,” his companion said. “This is the guy who solved the Gooden case.”
The second officer was familiar with the case of little Johnny Gooden. It had become a headline when Wolf uncovered the fact that it had been a priest who had murdered the boy and a police captain who had buried the evidence. When the shit hit the fan, heads rolled both figuratively and literally. In solving the case, Wolf had also exposed a ring of police corruption stretching all the way down to One Police Plaza. When all was said and done, a lot of decent cops lost their jobs for looki
ng the other way, and Wolf ended up with a promotion. While some praised him as a hero for what he had done, others branded him a traitor for turning on his own.
“So this is the cop who hunts other cops?” the second officer said. A few of the ousted cops had been his friends. He knew the detective by name, and had caught his picture in the papers, but this was his first time seeing him in the flesh.
The detective shrugged. “A wolf will hunt just about anything if it’s hungry enough.”
The second cop shook his head. “How could you do it, man? Bringing down your own people.”
“Those weren’t my people,” Wolf shot back. “They were symptoms of the disease that’s rotting this department from the inside out. I make no excuses or apologies for honoring my oath to protect and serve. I only wish that I could do it over again, so I could blow their fucking heads off instead of sticking them in cages.”
“You’ve got a real slick mouth,” the second cop.
“Trust me, my bite is far worse than my bark.” Wolf drew his lips back into a sneer, flashing his long canines.
“Detective Wolf!” a female voice called from the mouth of the alley. She was tucked into the shadows, so he couldn’t see much beyond her curvy silhouette, but Wolf would recognize that voice anywhere. It was time to get down to the business that had brought him here.
“You boys have a good night.” Wolf shook the first cop’s hand.
“See you around real soon.” The second cop didn’t veil his threat.
“I hope so. I haven’t eaten pork in years, but for you, I’d gladly make an exception.”
When Wolf passed the police tape, he got a better look at the woman who had called out to him. The slither of light cast into the alley from a single streetlamp kissed the gold shield resting on her ample breasts. She was five eight, with cocoa-brown skin and cropped black hair. She wore tight-fitting dark jeans that showcased her thickness—the perfect ass-to-waist ratio—and a black leather jacket that protected her from the night air. On her hip was a large silver revolver that he was pretty sure hadn’t been department issued. The gun looked too big for her petite hands, but Wolf knew personally that she could not only hold the cannon, but handle it efficiently.