by Natalie Grey
Two minutes later, she was back out in a pair of leather pants. The men barely raised an eyebrow, but Tabitha caught the slight movements. “Gabrielle's that she left here. Her ass is a little smaller than mine, but I’ll be fucked before I wear that other shit anymore.” She slid on a black bra and reached behind her to hook it, then put on an Under Armour long sleeve lycra shirt. She finished, her breasts damned near popping out, and noticed that the two men hadn’t moved a centimeter while she dressed in front of them.
“Guys?” Tabitha asked. “Woohoo, guys?” She snapped her fingers in front of their eyes. “What’s the big deal? You're all gay, aren’t you, like Akio?” The men minutely shook their heads.
Tabitha’s face turned red as she dropped her face into her hands. “Oh, fuck my life!”
Hirotoshi looked at Ryu and winked.
Chapter 6
New York City, NY, USA
The two-story was old-fashioned, with wood planking covering the sides. The hurricane fence had grass growing where the weed-eater couldn’t reach too well. The buildings on either side were boarded up.
Scott walked down the street as two more guys stepped out of the house in the early morning chill. They noted the six men heading their direction, but only one seemed intent; the others were hanging back. Probably didn’t want anything to do with what the asshole in front wanted.
Scott reached out to grab the gate.
“Yo, homes, that isn’t smart,” Mars said and pulled his cigarette out of his mouth. “Private property.”
“Oh?” Scott stopped at the gate. “So, if I open this gate, like this,” he asked as he opened the gate, “and step through like this,” he took as long a step as he could and left the gate to swing behind him, “you will call the cops?” He put up both arms like he was questioning the guy.
“No,” Mars agreed and reached into his pants. “But we will call the ambulance.” He pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Scott, who turned toward John and raised an eyebrow in question. Mars looked at Scott's posse. “Don’t think we won’t shoot all six of you fuckers.” When Mars finished speaking, the other three pulled their pistols and held them down by their sides.
John considered it for a second. “Yeah, I’d call that uncivil.”
Mars was trying to understand why they were talking so casually when he realized the first guy was already running toward him. He was hit so hard the one shot he got off was because his hand clenched as he hit the front door on his way through it.
Scott punched the one to his left and kicked the one to his right. The last guy just stared in confusion. “Get the fuck out of here. This isn’t about you, dumbshit!” Scott grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him off of the porch toward the gate.
The rest of the team stepped around him as they walked up to the front door. Scott yelled, “Mario! Get your pimp ass up, you fucking piece of trash!”
“You think we should go in?” Peter asked, and the men flinched when a window shattered above them and a body rolled off the awning to fall into the grass with a thud.
“Is that…” Eric started when they heard Scott yell, “Mario!” again. “Guess not,” he finished.
There were two female screams, and the men were almost run over by two twenty-somethings with t-shirts and pants held to their chests wearing g-strings.
Peter watched them run down the walkway and out the gate, and both hooked a left, heading away from their limo. “Doesn’t that floss hurt?” he wondered. “Not that I’m complaining. No lines when the pants are tight, but still…”
The guys turned back around when they heard two pistol shots crack and one shot fired in return, then a cry of pain.
“That would be Mario, I’m guessing,” Darryl said.
The men could hear a crying male and the thump-thump-thump of a body being dragged down stairs. Scott was commenting, “No, you don’t have any rights, motherfucker. This is Justice, just a little late. Well, there is my attempted murder first… Oh, and a friend you killed years ago is going to rest easier tonight.”
John spoke into his microphone when Scott reached the front door. The men started to leave when a Pod came down from the sky and landed in the middle of the street. John turned to Scott. “Just remember, you have to clean up the blood. See you back at the ship.” He smiled.
Scott looked down at the helpless man in his hands and called after John, “You would do this, wouldn’t you?”
John turned as the four others continued toward the limousine. “Do what?”
“Kill him in cold blood, no trial, no worries?” He looked at his boss.
“Was I worried about the men in the warehouse tonight?” John answered.
Scott paused for a second. “No, but that was about Bethany Anne. I’d have done the same thing.” Scott thought about it for a second. “Ok, maybe with fewer grenades.”
John nodded in Mario’s direction. The pimp was hanging from Scott’s fist, trying fruitlessly to get away from him while attempting not to move his shattered kneecap. “He’s trash, Scott. If the system does anything, it will spit him back out like it did the first time. Do I care if you kill him?” John asked as Mario redoubled his efforts to get away.
Scott casually took the pistol and popped Mario across the back of the head. He now hung without fighting, but held the back of his head and moaned.
John continued, “No, he shot first. Look around. Is anyone else dead?” Scott turned to catalog everyone. Even the one lying on the lawn was moaning. “No. What use is he to society?” John asked. “But really the question isn’t what good he is for society, but rather what vigilantes do for the four hundred million people in this country? It messes up the illusion of a justice system, however good it feels to do it. That's up to the person, and is a personal decision.”
“I want Justice done, John,” Scott grated out. “I can’t just drop him.”
John turned toward the limo. “Akio?”
Akio got back out of the limo and quickly jogged over to them. “Yes?”
“Do you think you can command this piece of trash to go to the police and tell them all of his crimes?” John asked.
“Yes, easily,” Akio agreed.
Scott turned from Akio to John. “Thank you, John.” John nodded and turned to walk back to the limo. “Don’t take too long, guys.”
The Pod disappeared back into the sky.
Thirty minutes later, near a lonely stretch of beach, six men got out of a limousine. John stepped over and shook Bartholomew's hand. “Thanks for this.”
“It was truly my pleasure,” their driver told him. “I’ve got an hour before sunup if there is somewhere else you need to go?”
“No, but what are you going to do?” John asked him.
Bartholomew turned to look at the city behind them. “Go back to my room in a basement, and wake up tonight and see if someone needs my services.” He shrugged before turning back to John. “What I’ve done for the last eight years.”
“You ever wanted to know what is over the horizon?” John asked. Behind him, six Black Eagles descended from the sky, and the other five Bitches grabbed helmets and threw their bags into the back after they landed.
“Why?” Bartholomew asked.
“It’s something my Queen does: find people with good hearts and provide them a chance to do something else in life. You’ve got a good heart, Bartholomew. I can’t promise you a long life, but if you want to know what is above the horizon, I’ll take you.”
Bartholomew looked at the waves and smiled. “Mr. Grimes, you’re the first one to offer me anything like this in over six decades. I need to think about it. Right now the Big Apple is all I know, and you guys have shown me there is good to do here. Can I call?”
“You’ve got the card, so don’t be a stranger!” John clapped him on the shoulder and turned to go.
John palmed his cockpit lock open and grabbed his helmet. He slid into his seat and hit the Close button.
John spoke into his helmet. “
Good times, everyone, good times. All right guys, what happens on a Bitches’ Night Out…” John started.
Frank interrupted his comment and finished, his voice loud in their helmets, “Gets written about in one of my books!”
FINIS
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
March 22, 2016
Guess who?
You know, I’ve actually read something on either an Amazon Forum or on Facebook or someone mentioned seeing that the real author of the Kurtherian Gambit is Frank Kurns, and that “Michael Anderle” is actually a pen name for him.
Damn, now I don’t know who the hell I actually am.
Just to screw with people, I should open up another author name account with “Frank Kurns” and then put books out under THAT name.
That will teach us all a lesson. A lesson on how to really screw up your author branding, that’s what it will teach us!
So, Margaret, here is the book you asked about. Why am I highlighting Margaret? Because I was on the forum an hour ago and noticed her comment about “When is John’s book coming out?.” That’s when I realized that the beta readers had delivered the document to my Production Editor, who had promised it to me tonight. But then, he pulled a fast one and delivered it early while I was out eating. So, I completely forgot I HAD the document to go through and get it online.
Which, I’m doing right now because Margaret was asking. (See, I get back to the original point eventually).
I hope you enjoyed this small slice of John’s life with Bethany Anne as much as I enjoyed writing it. I will do Tabitha next, and if you have a particular person or character/situation you would like to read about, why not drop me a line sometime? Or, better yet, create a Forum post and argue why it should be done, and maybe the Amazon Almighties will wonder just what the H#LL is going on with all of these forum posts/updates on such a tiny Indie-Authors Forum?
Mwuhahahahaha! We are having fun, that’s what we are doing :-)
If this is your first book, by now, I think you have figured out that these characters (John Grimes and Bethany Anne) are actually from The Kurtherian Gambit Series. So, apologies from me and my readers that you are now part of the family.
I imagine it feels a little like a shotgun wedding.
Love the book? Drop a review! Like the book? Drop a review! Hate the book? Here is another author you might like to read… ;-)
http://www.amazon.com/Veronica-Roth/e/B004FX672S/ref=kar_mr_-1_99
Just be prepared, if you like my writing: a few people have lost a few days catching up on the series.
Don’t say you weren’t warned (and I’m not being egotistical; read the reviews. All of them (good and bad) are real. Except that the first book has been edited since November…like a few times ;-)
Best Regards,
Michael Anderle
Bellatrix
Frank Kurns Stories of the UnknownWorld Book 3
Chapter One
Alec Nikolaev lifted the latch and pushed open the door into his parents’ kitchen. At almost six feet tall, he had to stoop to get in the older, shorter, doorway. The first few flakes of an early snowstorm clung to his black hair.
“Hello, Mama.” He went to where his mother, far shorter than he was and now grey-haired, was kneading bread with the sort of intensity that masked worry. She always baked when she was worried. He kissed her on the cheek. “Why did you need me here in the middle of the day?”
She gave him the answer she often gave: “It’s your sister.”
Alec walked to the kitchen table and slumped down in a chair with a groan, “Mama, every week you tell me to get Yelena to quit her job and move home.” He decided this time, he was going to go to the wall with his mom.
She needed to finally accept the truth.
He continued, “Mom, she clearly doesn’t want to come back. She’s a grown woman, she gets to—”
“She came home.” Was his Mom’s curt response, hand’s strangling the dough.
Alec’s mouth dropped open. “What? When?”
“This morning.” His mother licked her lips. Her shoulders were hunched. “She took an overnight train.”
Alec felt a prickle on the back of his neck. “And? What aren’t you telling me?”
His mother finally gave up on her kneading. She sighed and wiped a floury hand across her forehead, and paused to pick her words.
She was a woman who could argue with her children for hours, almost without drawing breath, but now she didn’t seem to know what to say. “She’d been crying,” she said finally.
She looked older, suddenly. “But she wouldn’t talk about it. She said everything was fine. But she was still in her work clothes, and she didn’t bring a suitcase. It looked like she just walked out of the house without even a coat, and bought a train ticket.”
Alec knew just what his mother was suggesting, but he had one question.
“Mama….” He tried to smile. “You’ve wanted her to break up with Ciprian for months, and come home. Why don’t you look happy?”
His mother went back to kneading, with more force than was necessary once again. She had complained non-stop since Yelena had taken a job a few hours away. His mother hadn’t liked the job. She hadn’t liked Ciprian, Yelena’s boyfriend. She called Alec every few days to plead with him to get Yelena to return home. Now, though, she didn’t seem to be celebrating.
She was sad. She looked over at him, finally. “I didn’t want her to be unhappy,” she said finally. “I never wanted that.” Then, she whispered her greatest concern, “And, she’s broken, Alec.”
Alec sat, frozen. He and Yelena were twins. When they were children, they always knew when the other one was upset. That had faded over the years, especially when they began to live further apart.
Alec had woken up the previous night from a sad dream he couldn’t remember, and sat at his own kitchen table late into the night. He was feeling like his heart was broken and not knowing why.
Now he wondered if it had really been him who had been sad … or Yelena.
What had happened?
He pushed himself up without a word and went down the low-ceilinged hallway to his sister’s bedroom, all the way at the back of the house. He half-expected to hear music.
When she was a teenager, Yelena would play music far too loudly and dance all evening until someone pounded on the door and told her to stop. Now, nothing. He raised his hand to knock on the door, and then thought better of it and just pushed the door open. His sister was sitting on her bed, staring at nothing.
She looked terrible. Her black hair was nicely styled, her skirt suit was tailored, but she was too thin and she appeared so exhausted that her eyes looked bruised.
Her makeup had long since worn away, but he could still see the shadow where her mascara had run and she hadn’t washed it off properly. Her fingers kept working over one another, twisting.
She looked over at him dully, her eyes lifeless. “Hi.”
Alec tried to conceal his shock behind a smile, “Mama said you were home.”
She smiled back, the sort of emotionless smile she would give in the law office where she worked. She opened her mouth to say something witty, to tease him—he knew she was planning to come up with some story so she wouldn’t have to tell him the truth. Yelena never wanted to tell anyone when she was hurting.
Their parents had always used Alec’s sense of her, to figure out when something was wrong, and even then she would lie.
She couldn’t pretend this time, though. She crumpled.
Her shoulders hunched and tears began to run down her cheeks. When Alec came to sit by her on the bed, she leaned her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around his beloved sister, and held her close.
“It’s going to be okay.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“No. It’s not….” She gave a choking sob. “It’s not going to be okay. Work is terrible, and getting worse, and I caught Ciprian with….” She tried to steady herself. “With our
downstairs neighbor. Again! I didn’t even grab anything, I just left. I wanted to beat him into the floor with my bare hands and I knew I shouldn’t do that.”
She gave a watery laugh.
At least there was a spark of the feisty sister he remembered. Alec gave a grateful smile and squeezed her shoulder. “I dunno, I probably would have.”
Her laugh turned into a sob. “Alec, I didn’t know where else to go. He said he would never see her again, but he….” Her voice trailed away. “God, how could I have been so stupid? I was proud of myself for getting him when everyone else wanted him, and he was just a jerk the whole time once we were together.”
Alec felt a hot wave of anger course through him. His sister had been a fighter at one time. Once, she would never have allowed a guy to walk all over her, but she’d fallen hard for Ciprian. Alec understood why their mother hated the man—he was arrogant, cold, and he clearly didn’t care about Yelena at all. But, Yelena had refused to hear a word against him.
He let Yelena cry, her tears soaking his shirt. He didn’t know what else to do. The feeling of helplessness only made him angrier. After a while, the sobs stopped, and he tried to think of something to say. Something that wasn’t promising to kill Ciprian.
“You could stay here for a while,” he suggested.
She picked her head up. “What?”
“I mean; you’ve got your room here. You could stay for a couple of weeks, until you find a new job.”
I have to go back. He saw the words come to her mind, but to his shock, she didn’t say them. She stared at him for a moment and she looked terrified. Then she nodded. “I’d like that,” she whispered.
Her eyes filled with tears again. “I don’t want to go back. I hate my job. I’ve hated it for months but I didn’t want to say because I knew Mom would tell me to come back.” She sighed, “Have I mentioned I hate my job? It was a mistake moving there, I don’t want to go back.”