Retaliation

by G. K. Parks

  Mercer watched the woman scoop a drink off the bar and head toward a crowded table. She kept her face purposefully turned away. Under normal circumstances, no one bothered to do that, and Mercer didn’t believe it was a coincidence.

  “Are we going, or should I order a pint?” Duffy asked.

  “We’re going.” Aglin yanked on Mercer’s shoulder. “After you, Julian.”

  Mercer maneuvered around the barstools and made his way past a boisterous group of football fans. Outside, dusk had turned to dark, and the cool night air chilled his skin. The lights and architecture served as a constant reminder he was in enemy territory. This was the last place on earth he wanted to be, but that decision was taken out of his hands the moment he discovered the materials hidden in Flynn’s basement.

  Setting off in the direction of their next destination, Mercer felt another presence. His eyes darted across the street, scanning for danger. He didn’t spot the woman from the pub, so someone else must be watching.

  Then again, Mercer had been under constant scrutiny. Flynn’s men wanted his head on a pike, even more now that Flynn trusted him. Mercer had to watch his every step. He couldn’t risk losing favor with the faction leader. Doing so would be his death, so he’d do whatever was necessary to remain in Flynn’s good graces until he knew when and where the attack would happen.

  Heading down a small side street, Mercer followed the others at a brisk pace. At the end of the street, Duffy cut away to speak to a pusher working the corner. That’s when he heard footsteps. They weren’t just being watched. They were being followed. Alone with Kevin Aglin, Mercer slowed, grasping the wall as if on the verge of collapse. He needed an excuse to look behind them without tipping whoever might be in pursuit. Plus, it was best to appear vulnerable, both to Aglin and the unknown third party.

  “You all right?” Aglin asked. “Bag too heavy for you?”

  Mercer squinted as if in pain and managed a nod. A shadow ducked into an alcove, but in the dark, he couldn’t make out much more than a human form. He didn’t want to say anything until he knew who the person was. It could be a member of his team or some bloody moron from MI5. Or perhaps, Flynn sent Killian or another of his minions to keep an eye on Julian from a distance.

  Donovan or Bastian would only make an approach like this if something were about to pop off, and since Mercer had no idea what kind of progress the team had made, he couldn’t discount the possibility. If the person following was a member of his team, they’d make an approach at the next stop. Mercer was sure of it. So until then, Julian wanted Aglin distracted. However, if it turned out their tail wasn’t friendly, Mercer would mention it to Aglin. After all, this might be another of Flynn’s tests. And the fastest way to build trust was to fight side by side.

  Mercer coughed and clutched his chest. “Must have overdone it with the run.” He coughed again and straightened. “All better.”

  “Right. It was the run.”

  Mercer knew the sadist enjoyed the misery of others, even more when he inflicted it, so Julian was willing to play it up in order to lull Aglin into a false sense of security. Shifting his weight to the other leg, Mercer felt the heft of the Sig Sauer on his right hip. Kevin would be surprised by Mercer’s capabilities should the situation turn violent.

  “Are we almost done here?” Mercer asked. He cast another look across the empty alleyway. Duffy tucked something into his pocket and shook hands with the man.

  Aglin looked at Duffy and tapped his watch. “Almost.”

  “Why does Flynn trust him?” Mercer asked.

  “For the same reason he fucking trusts you. You both have something Colin needs, but he won’t hesitate to end you if you no longer serve a purpose. Duffy knows that.” Aglin’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just not sure you do.”

  “Well, you did your best to enlighten me.”

  “Aye, and if you cross the line, I’d be more than happy to end you myself. There are no second chances.”

  Mercer smiled. “It looks like we’re finally in agreement.”

  Duffy skittered across the street to join them, and the trio continued to the last club on the list. Kevin nodded to a bouncer and went to the side door. He pulled it open. “After you.”

  Mercer didn’t want to turn his back on the man who nearly beat him to death, but he didn’t have a choice. He entered the dark room, subconsciously counting the intervals of the strobing neon lights. The duffel bag on his shoulder contained the last five machine pistols. Belatedly, he wondered if the wankers at MI5 would bother to get him out of the mess should the tail prove to be an overzealous cop. Truthfully, MI5 would probably disavow any knowledge and hang Mercer and his team out to dry. After all, isn’t that why they hired outside contractors?

  Aglin took the bag from Mercer’s shoulder. “Go ahead and order yourself a pint. We’ll be here a while.”

  “Sure.”

  Mercer watched Kevin and Duffy head for a private VIP lounge and disappear behind a heavy velvet curtain. Julian kept his eyes on the front door, confident their shadow would reveal himself. A few minutes later, a group entered. Mercer didn’t spot any familiar faces, so he went to the bar and ordered a drink. Taking the glass, he stood at the side, his back to the wall.

  His team would have seen him and made contact by now. Whoever tracked the faction members from club to club wasn’t on Mercer’s side. That left an unlimited number of possibilities. None of which were appealing. Glancing around, Mercer removed his phone.

  Any police activity in the entertainment district? he typed, sending the message to an unregistered burner in Bastian’s possession. The number was secure, untraceable, but Mercer didn’t know if his own phone had been compromised which is why he hadn’t used it since the night Flynn drugged him.

  Twenty seconds later, his phone vibrated in his palm. None. Should there be?

  Negative. Mercer waited, but Bastian didn’t make contact again. The analyst knew they were running radio silent. He wouldn’t initiate communication, but that wasn’t enough. Deciding to send one final text, Mercer typed, Lose the phone.

  Fifteen seconds later, Mercer cracked open the back cover on his device, removed the SIM card and battery, and dropped the phone into the pint. From across the room, bright blue eyes watched him leave the pint on the bar and disappear onto the crowded dance floor.

  A moment later, Julian appeared behind her. He pressed the muzzle of his gun into her low back. “Who are you? Why are you following me?”

  Eighteen

  “You noticed? I hoped you wouldn’t.”

  “I noticed.” Mercer’s gaze went around the room. The club was crowded. No one had any idea he was holding the woman at gunpoint. “Are you alone?”

  She laughed and did the unthinkable. She spun away from the gun, pivoting to the right and leading with her forearm. She batted the gun away and punched Julian in the face. Surprised by the punch as much as her brazenness, he stumbled back a step. However, she didn’t retreat. Instead, she launched herself at him, two kicks in rapid succession. The first landed solidly to his already battered chest. The second, he stopped, catching her leg and tipping it up, causing her to lose her footing. She slid backward on the waxed floor, her leg still in his hand.

  “You bastard.” She scissor-kicked at his other side, but he blocked it with his free hand as he crouched on the ground over her. He pinned her legs with his body, and she punched him again. He moved with the hit, letting it glance off his cheek. Something sharp cut into his skin, and for a moment, he thought she had a blade, but it was her ring.

  “Stop fighting me.”

  She let out a string of curses, but her voice was drowned out by the music. That’s when he finally got a good look at her.

  “Lara?”

  She blinked, stunned that he knew her name. “Where’s my brother?” she snarled, lunging for his throat.

  Mercer hauled her to her feet. He kept his chest against her back and his arms tightly around her, pinning her arms to her sides. �
��I’m a friend.”

  “You’re a fucking liar.”

  “Bollocks.” Glancing around, he dragged her, kicking and screaming, down the hallway toward the bathrooms. He hauled her inside, giving the few men using the facilities a dirty look. “Get out.” They didn’t move fast enough. “Now.”

  Lara tried to scream, and he spun her quickly, covering her mouth with his. The men inside would either think they were lovers or Mercer was about to commit a heinous crime. Based on the chuckles and how quickly they exited, Mercer hoped they believed it was the former. She bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and he pushed her away. He turned to flip the lock on the door, and she jumped onto his back, clawing at his eyes.

  “Fucking listen to me.” He couldn’t buck her off. Despite her diminutive size, she was trained, probably by her brother. He rammed her against the wall. She left him no choice. He had to fight back. When her grip loosened, he flipped her off of him. “Stop attacking me. I don’t want to hurt you.” He held up his palms and stepped out of her striking distance. He let his hand rest on the Sig, which he’d holstered at the beginning of their fight.

  “You’re not Irish, but you’re with Colin Flynn’s men. Who are you?”

  “I’m not the enemy. I’m here to help. I was sent to find your brother.”

  “Bloody bastards,” she muttered. “You’re with MI5?”

  “Not exactly.” Mercer’s gaze flicked to the door. He didn’t have time for this. Duffy and Kevin would be finished with their meeting at any moment. He couldn’t let them find her. “What do you know about Owen’s mission? What did he tell you?”

  She stared wide-eyed at him. “How stupid do you think I am?”

  Mercer knew time was running out. “Give me your phone.” She didn’t move, so he pulled his gun. “Give me the bloody phone.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  He grabbed her crossbody bag and pulled it over her head. He unzipped it, finding nothing inside but cash and keys. He tossed the bag back to her, surprised when she caught it in mid-air. “Lock the door behind me. Wait here until we’re gone, and stay the fuck away from Colin Flynn and his friends. Do you understand? I will find your brother. But do not get in my way.”

  “Who are you?”

  She took half a step toward him, and Mercer aimed at her. He had no intention of shooting her, but he needed her to believe he meant business. If she disobeyed his orders, Flynn’s men would kill her, and that bastard Aglin would make it as unpleasant as possible. Mercer wouldn’t allow that, even if it meant he had to convince her he was one of the bad guys.

  “I’ll chain you to the pipes if necessary.” He gave her a hard look, wiping the blood from his cheek with his fingertips. “Is that going to be necessary?”

  She stepped back. “This isn’t over.”

  “It better be.” Mercer unlatched the bathroom door and stepped out. He glanced around, seeing a line starting to form. “Sorry, lads, the loo’s out of order. You’ll have to use the ladies’.” He kept one hand on the door handle while he grabbed the mop and caution sign from the cart at the end of the hallway. He shoved the mop stick through the door handle. Since the door pushed in, it would make it more difficult for Lara to get out. Then he put the caution sign in front of the door and headed back to the bar.

  On his way, he brushed against a man on the dance floor, nicking his phone. He sent a text to Hans: The bird’s been spotted. Followed by the approximate coordinates of the club. No one should be able to intercept the message, but if they did, Mercer hoped it was cryptic enough to cause some confusion. Since Flynn claimed to have had someone inside MI5 and Partridge and Flynn apparently shopped at the same stationery store, Mercer feared MI5 might be monitoring his team’s communications. And since he didn’t know who to trust, he didn’t want Lara anywhere near the Security Service if he could avoid it.

  Mercer had just ditched the phone when Aglin clapped him on the back, asking, “What happened to your face, mate?”

  “Just a misunderstanding with a woman.” Mercer eyed the duffel bag. “We should get that back to Colin.”

  “I thought we were getting a pint first,” Duffy said.

  Mercer could see the mop jerking wildly. “Is that really a good idea under the circumstances.” He wiped the blood off his face with a napkin. “The police might be on their way.”

  “He’s right,” Kevin said, aggravated with Julian, “but you owe us. After we drop this off, you’re buying.”

  “Sure,” Mercer agreed, following the two men out of the club.

  At the exit, Mercer stole a final glance toward the bathrooms. The mop stick was gone. Hopefully, she’d keep her distance, but Mercer had seen the fire in her eyes. Lara Shepherd would not be easily dissuaded.

  Outside, the streets were dark. Groups waited in line to enter the popular clubs, and dealers and other nefarious characters conducted business on street corners and in alleyways. While most of the city boasted low crime rates, this one block was responsible for most of the reported crimes in Belfast.

  Casually, the three men walked down the street. Kevin’s van remained parked outside the first club they visited. Kevin and Duffy exchanged friendly banter, and Mercer tried to slow his pace to take up the rear. However, Kevin hooked an arm around Mercer’s neck and pulled him against his side.

  “Where do you think you’re going? Planning to disappear with Colin’s payday?”

  “No.”

  “Keep up then.” Kevin eyed Mercer’s cheek. “What kind of misunderstanding did you have?”

  “The kind that involves being slapped.” Mercer shrugged out of Kevin’s grip. “Her ring caught me. Does it look bad?”

  Duffy chuckled. “It might be an improvement.”

  Mercer forced a smirk onto his face, resisting the urge to glance behind them. “We should hurry it up. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can get this taken care of, and the sooner we drink.”

  “Aye.” Duffy smiled. “Now you’re talking.”

  Aglin narrowed his eyes; the obvious distrust reflected in his irises. As they approached the van, Kevin Aglin reached into his pocket for the keys. He unlocked the side door, and they loaded the two bags of cash inside. Mercer kept an eye out for trouble. When this began, he thought trouble might be an inquisitive cop or a rival faction member. Now, he knew trouble came in the form of a petite woman. And from the ripple in the crowd on the street, Mercer had a feeling trouble had found them.

  “We need to go,” Mercer said, just as Lara’s scream cut through the otherwise tranquil night.

  Duffy and Kevin spun around. Duffy tugged on the door handle and climbed behind the wheel, but Kevin had other plans. He laughed, recognizing her. “Not yet. We have one more thing to collect. Colin will be pleased.” He nudged Mercer in the ribs. “This ought to be fun.”

  Aglin reached for his gun, and Julian grabbed the man’s wrist.

  “Who is she? What does she want?”

  “Is she the bitch who struck you?” Aglin asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How the hell’d you find her, mate?”

  “I didn’t. She found me,” Mercer said. “Who is she? What does she want?”

  “Colin’s been looking for her. He’ll be pleased by this turn of events. No wonder he wants to keep you around. You’re lucky, and you’re not even Irish.”

  “I doubt he’d be pleased by you shooting her,” Mercer replied. “Is she a cop?”

  “Don’t worry about who she is. All you need to know is we’re going to take her to see Colin.” Kevin watched Lara sprint toward them, an amused smile dotting his lips. “Don’t concern yourself with her well-being. We’ll take her alive, more or less.”

  What was she thinking? Mercer thought. He told her to stay inside. He told her to wait. Now she was literally racing toward her death. The woman was clearly suicidal. She stopped a few meters from them, a gun materializing in her hand. Where the hell did she get that? Julian wondered, not having time to complete the thoug
ht before she opened fire.

  Nineteen

  “Shite.” Mercer pressed his back against the brick as dozens of people screamed and fled.

  The once busy street had practically emptied in a matter of moments. The police would be responding soon. And from the determined look on Kevin Aglin’s face, he had no intention of being around when they showed up.

  Lara fired again, and Aglin took refuge along the side of the van while Mercer ducked down the nearest street. From here, Julian couldn’t see Lara, but he kept Kevin and Duffy in his sights. Duffy opened the driver’s door and crouched behind it. He aimed, shooting in her direction.

  “Don’t,” Mercer yelled. “Colin wants her alive.” He peered around the corner, but she had taken cover across the street. He prayed she’d find a cross street and disappear, but he doubted she would retreat. The word wasn’t in her vocabulary. This woman had a death wish, and for Julian to take notice, it was serious.

  Duffy gave Mercer a sideways glance. “I’ll just wing her.”

  Kevin shot Mercer an angry look. He said something to Duffy that Julian couldn’t hear and crept along the side of the van. When he made it to the end of the bonnet, he ran at a crouch to a cover position behind a mailbox. Kevin knew where Lara was hiding, and he and Duffy planned to box her in.

  She fired another few shots, the bullets impacting against the steel of the mailbox. They perforated the outer shell but didn’t break through the second layer. Aglin poked his head up, and she fired again, missing by mere millimeters. Lara Shepherd was a fighter and a decent shot. Maybe she actually stood a chance.

  Headlights approached from the other end of the street, and Aglin used the vehicle as cover to get closer to her position. As soon as the car passed, he straightened. Mercer caught a glimpse of Lara just a few meters from Aglin’s new position. At that distance, he doubted Colin’s lieutenant would miss, so Mercer fired. His bullet hit precisely where he intended, grazing Aglin’s gun hand before hitting the brick a meter from Lara’s head.