Close Enemies
Page 6
“I’ll ask you one more time. Where can I find your boss?” yelled Michael over the man’s screams of pain, but Triple-chin remained mute. The man’s cranium caved in a sickening cracking sound, and Michael let the limp body collapse onto the fat man’s chest.
“Who… who are you?” asked the man. Fear was clearly visible in his eyes now.
Michael unbuttoned his shirt and held it open for the man to see his bloodied torso on which the wounds were starting to close, albeit a lot slower than they should have. One by one the lead pellets were expelled from his body and fell to the floor.
The expression on Triple-chin’s face was one of pure terror. He looked ready to answer some questions.
Chapter 15
“The target’s name is Michael Biörn,” said the woman. She stood erect in front of the elves. All three had been handpicked for the assignment.
“I know you have some history with Biörn, but you can’t let this interfere with the mission,” she said, looking at the leader of the trio. “Your team must be invisible. Biörn must never see you. Is this understood, Leka?”
The elf nodded. “I have seen Michael Biörn fighting before. It would take a small army to bring him down,” he said.
“That’s precisely why your services have been requested. The three of you are excellent marksmen; use this skill to your advantage.”
Leka looked somber but determined. “We’ll blend with the shadows, become one with our surroundings. We’ll bide our time until the right opportunity presents itself. And when it does, we’ll strike from a distance and retreat.”
“Take care to erase any trace of your involvement. Nobody must know elves were implicated.”
“Have no fear, my Lady. The enemy will never see us coming.”
Chapter 16
The sun was getting low on the horizon but wouldn’t set for another two hours. Olivia and Daka were walking along the tree line, slowly pacing the path Michael had followed a few days earlier in search of the poacher, when Olivia suddenly turned around.
“No one’s following us, Olivia. You’re imagining things.”
“Maybe… I tend to be a bit paranoid these days.”
“Nobody will blame you for that. If anybody’s earned the right to be paranoid, you have.”
The remark, though accurate, bothered Olivia. She didn’t want to be perceived as a victim. She wouldn’t let the traumatic events of the past couple years define her. She was stronger than that. But she knew Daka’s comment had been made from kindness so she decided to simply ignore it.
“Let’s morph. Our wolves will have a better chance to find something useful,” said Daka.
They stepped into the woods and walked out on four paws a few minutes later. The sole witness of their transformation had been a grizzly bear snacking on some lichen-covered rocks thirty yards away.
With Michael in Houston, the poacher’s trail was getting cold and the two of them had decided to give it a shot. Their furry alter egos faced better odds than the park’s understaffed law enforcement rangers when it came to unearthing anything potentially useful in identifying the man who’d thrown a kid into a hot spring.
They trod carefully, often with noses to the ground, but any lingering scent was long gone. The only odor around was that of their peeping bear who had also exited the woods and was now leisurely roaming the plain.
Their only hope would be to stumble upon something the man had left behind. His wallet would be nice, but they’d be happy with a credit-card receipt fallen out of his pocket.
They’d been searching for about an hour and still had nothing to show for it when Olivia suddenly felt a bite on her hindquarter. She spun around, all teeth out, ready to fight, only to find herself face to face with Daka’s wolf who was giving her a toothy grin. Before she had a chance to react, Daka took off running.
Don’t think you’re going to get away with that, she thought as she went after him.
The two wolves chased each other in and out of the woods for a long moment before lying down side by side, both panting hard.
Olivia was the first one to recover. Her werewolf metabolism gave her a significant edge over Daka’s skinwalker. She got back on her feet, nudged Daka with her head, and took off in the direction of the woods. She was already under the canopy by the time he finally caught his breath.
A game of hide and seek seemed appropriate at this point, so she started looking for a good hiding place.
She stumbled upon the entry of a small cave after a couple hundred yards and entered without hesitation.
The cave was larger than it had appeared on the outside, with two separate rooms located on either side of a thick irregular partition. She couldn’t see the end of either tunnel, but she quickly noticed the strong bear scent. Not a good hiding place after all…
She was about to exit the cave when she heard a weak cry. It sounded like someone moaning. Hibernation season was over, and if the bear had been around, she’d have likely already been evicted by the rightful occupant of the premises, so she decided to go investigate the origin of the sound.
She found it a moment later at the end of the first room. Two hungry black bear cubs.
*****
Olivia walked out of the cave highly distraught and nearly collided into a grizzly bear she recognized as their peeping Tom.
She quickly put some distance between her and the bear before remembering the cubs. Black bear cubs were on a grizzly’s menu and Olivia couldn’t allow this to happen.
Reacting on instinct, she rushed back towards the grizzly and, before it had a chance to react, nipped its back leg.
She then took off at full speed, with the bear close behind her. The grizzly was as fast as her wolf, but she was more agile and negotiated tight turns more easily. This allowed her to maintain a precious few yards’ advantage over the pissed-off bear.
The grizzly finally gave up the chase after a few minutes. They had easily covered a mile or two and Olivia hoped this would be enough to save the cubs from a horrible fate.
The chase hadn’t made her forget what lain lifeless in the cave, however. And the simple thought of it made her want to retch.
She found Daka at the spot where they had left their clothes.
Upon seeing her, he morphed back into his human form and started getting dressed. Olivia didn’t even bother stealing a glance at Daka’s chiseled body. Her mind was elsewhere. She turned into her human half, picked up her shirt lying on a boulder and put it on. She didn’t bother buttoning it up before turning towards her friend, her face ashen. “Daka, we have a problem.”
Chapter 17
Sheila sat on her couch, folded her legs underneath her and reached for the Agatha Christie novel resting on the coffee table. A bit of light reading would do her some good.
Night had fallen hours earlier, the quiet neighborhood’s silence disturbed only by the singing of the frogs and an occasional barking dog.
Michael had been in Houston for about forty-eight hours, but she’d hardly seen him during that time. The man had been busy raising hell among the city’s human traffickers.
As a result, no less than five cantinas had accidentally burnt to the ground in the past two days and nearly sixty women had regained their freedom. When at all feasible, Michael had even gone to the extent of freeing the women’s children, often held hostage in nearby buildings as a warranty for their mother’s docility.
All in all, he’d accomplished more in a few hours than Houston PD had in a year. But in the cops’ defense, Michael had the luxury of ignoring the law and killing at will. A luxury he abused liberally, according to the news reports Sheila had seen on television.
She’d been reading the same page for a good five minutes, her brain unable to focus on the task, when she finally gave up and closed her eyes to reflect on the situation.
Despite Michael’s best efforts, they still had no idea who was behind her car’s bombing, and Sheila worried that Michael’s rampage would only bri
ng more reprisals against her. The man was going around town asking the scum of the earth if they’d tried to kill his girlfriend; what reaction could one expect from them other than vengeance?
But Michael had assured her it wouldn’t be the case. She prayed he was right. She hadn’t dared to ask how he could be so sure. The man was no fool. For him to be so positive could mean only one thing: he was leaving no witnesses alive to tell their story. Although all the bastards deserved to die, she simply wasn’t ready to accept that her boyfriend was a mass murderer. So, she didn’t ask too many questions.
She heard the shower being turned on, and an instant later Michael showed up in the living room wearing nothing but curve-hugging boxers that left little to the imagination.
“I’m going to jump into the shower, then I’ll drop you off at the hotel.”
Even his burnt legs didn’t succeed in making the man unattractive. In his case the animal magnetism wasn’t only raw, it was literal. Despite everything she had on her mind, she felt desire rise within her.
She got up and slowly walked to him, unbuttoning her blouse in the process.
“Are your bags ready?” he asked, oblivious to what was happening.
She nodded and kissed him on the neck, her hand cupping what was quickly rising underneath the boxer’s thin fabric. At least a part of him had gotten the message.
*****
She lay on her bed, spent and satisfied. This had been the perfect distraction. There was nothing better to clear one’s head than multiple orgasms. She’d even managed to forget about the second part of her story which, published a few hours earlier, was likely to create a fresh batch of problems.
She could hear Michael showering on the other side of the bathroom door. He was washing away her scent and his delicious musky aroma at the same time.
She closed her eyes and stretched leisurely, thinking of his body against hers, a smile on her face.
She opened her eyes to find the silencer of a gun resting on her forehead and a hand pressed against her mouth. The man holding the weapon was dressed in black from head to toe and looked Chinese: a suspicion confirmed when he whispered to her in Mandarin, “Make a sound and you’re dead.”
She seldom spoke the language but understood it perfectly. She had no doubt the man was speaking the truth, so she remained silent as he slowly lifted his hand from her mouth. A second shadow she hadn’t noticed before immediately covered it with duct tape before restraining her wrists behind her back using a zip tie.
The shower was still running in the bathroom and Michael could be heard singing. Singing! Sheila couldn’t recall having ever heard the man sing before. One of the shadows lifted her off the bed and placed her 110-pound frame on his shoulder in one fluid motion.
The two men moved like ghosts, making absolutely no sound as they retraced their steps all the way to the front door. The man carrying Sheila led the way while the other covered their retreat, gun in hand in case Michael came out of the shower.
By the time they reached the front door, Sheila’s hope of seeing Michael save her had vanished. Although the bathroom was located on the other side of the house, she’d have heard the door open had he come out.
This could have never happened if his nose had been functioning properly. He’d have been on the men before they even made it to her bedroom.
The man put Sheila down on her feet. “You walk now. Make trouble and you dead,” he whispered, this time in heavily accented English.
The shadow with the gun slowly opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch while the other positioned himself behind Sheila, one hand on her shoulder.
Before she had a chance to realize what was happening, the gunman literally flew back past her and landed on his back twelve feet from the door, gunless and unbreathing.
As the other kidnapper was pulling his weapon out of its holster, Michael appeared in the door frame. He was naked and looked pissed. Sheila had never been so happy to see him.
Michael ripped the gun out of the goon’s hand before he had a chance to squeeze the trigger and shoved him inside the house. He then closed the front door with his foot before protectively placing himself between her and the man. Sheila’s fear vanished. She now felt slightly turned on.
The killer delivered a powerful punch to Michael’s solar plexus. The blow would have neutralized any normal human being, but Michael didn’t flinch. Instead he just stood there as the killer pummeled him with kicks and punches, blocking only those aiming for truly vital points such as his eyes or anything below the belt.
The man wasn’t small by any stretch of imagination, but he was no match for the werebear.
After a minute of non-stop blows that seemed to have absolutely no effect on his enemy, the man started getting tired; his punches were getting slow and lacked power.
That’s when Michael grabbed him by the throat with one hand and lifted him a foot from the ground before slapping him back and forth a few times. The slaps were powerful enough to give the man a concussion and, based on the killer’s unfocused eyes, that’s exactly what had happened.
“And now, you and I are going to pay your boss a visit,” said Michael, dropping the man back on the floor.
Chapter 18
Kewanee sat lost in thought on a boulder in the midst of Lamar Valley. The rain had started to fall heavily, and the evergreen canopy no longer offered any protection from the downpour. But Kewanee paid no attention to the weather. She was still in shock.
She’d been there, hiding in plain sight, when Olivia and her boytoy had changed into wolves in front of her very eyes. She’d suspected something was off with the girl the minute she’d laid eyes on Olivia, but the truth had exceeded her wildest expectations.
This was Biörn’s protégée? Did he even know? Of course, he knew. The man was a disgrace. What had her mom ever seen in him?
Kewanee was a Potawatomi and had of course heard of werewolves, but she’d never seen one before. Now she had and she wanted to heave.
Kewanee’s mother had shared Michael Biörn’s true nature with her daughter but had said nothing about him befriending werewolves.
The wolves were one of the tribe’s ancestral enemies, second only to vampires. And based on the little Kewanee knew about werebears, the werewolves should have been Biörn’s enemies as well. Instead, he seemed to have all but adopted a werewolf bitch. The man was a traitor to his own kind.
She’d seen Olivia walking into that cave and heard the cries that had followed. Kewanee had been patient. She’d taken her time after Olivia’s departure, but eventually she’d gone inside the cave to check it out for herself, and that’s when she’d found the body of a freshly killed black bear.
The sow had been killed by a werewolf, Kewanee was certain of it, and there was only one werewolf in Yellowstone…
Chapter 19
The black Toyota Sequoia handled the road very smoothly: a fact Michael was sure the wannabe-kidnapper locked in the trunk would greatly appreciate. Michael didn’t try very hard to avoid the many potholes that were the pride of Houston, however. After all, his contrived stowaway could count on the close proximity of his associate’s corpse to soften the blows.
Michael turned off Bellaire—the main road crossing Chinatown—to enter an upper-class neighborhood lined with oaks. If the man hadn’t lied about his boss’s address, they should arrive shortly.
Michael didn’t have a trusting nature, which explained why the guy was still alive and tied up in the trunk. If further questioning was necessary, he would simply pay the trunk a visit.
He could still see the shocked looks on the thugs’ faces when they’d opened Sheila’s front door only to find him waiting for them on the other side. His little trick had sure caught them off-guard.
He’d been about to step into the shower when he’d heard whispering on the other side of the bathroom door. His hearing hadn’t been impaired by the hot spring incident and had remained twice as acute as that of a human.
He’d heard the characteristic sound of zip tie being fastened and concluded Sheila’s life wasn’t immediately threatened.
In a split second, he’d decided to not walk out of the bathroom to confront the newcomers. That’s what they were no doubt ready for. He needed to get the drop on them. Take them by surprise.
He’d started singing to cover the sound of the opening window and, once outside, had run to the front door. A quick peek through the door’s window had told him everything he needed to know about his opponents. He’d then retreated to the darkness and waited for the door to open.
He parked a block from the address he’d been given and walked out of the car.
It was three in the morning, but the moist Houston spring air hit him like a wall. Thank God he didn’t live here.
As he approached the house, Michael knew he was at the right place. Two large men stood in front of the door, smoking and speaking Mandarin in hushed voices. As Michael approached, they fell silent, observing him through suspicious eyes.
He crouched to tie a shoelace that didn’t need tying and picked up a small decorative rock from the adjacent front yard as he got back up. Invisible to the casual observer, the rock fit perfectly in the palm of his giant hand. His other hand held a five-gallon gas can.
The men wore light-colored sport coats despite the heat and the shortest one reached inside his jacket as Michael walked up the path leading to the door they were guarding.
“Hey, guys. My car died and I was hoping one of you could give me a ride?” he said, walking to them.
“Do we look like Uber drivers? Fuck off, jackass,” said one of the men in perfect English while lifting his coat lapel to reveal the submachine gun hanging at his side.