by Jon Mills
Angel of Death
Debt Collector 5
Jon Mills
Direct Response Publishing
Copyright © 2016 by Jon Mills
All rights reserved.
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Debt Collector 5: Angel of Death is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Synopsis
Also by Jon Mills
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
A Plea
Readers Team
About the Author
Synopsis
A wealthy businessman hires Jack Winchester to rescue his daughter from a dangerous cult in Peru, but with Special Agent Baker breathing down his neck, the fanatical leader and his followers may be the least of his troubles.
From Florida to Chicago, Lima to the Amazon rainforest, Angel of Death is a fast paced thriller that grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go until the very last page.
For my Family
Also by Jon Mills
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The Debt Collector
Debt Collector 2: Vengeance
Debt Collector 3: Reborn
Debt Collector 4: Hard to Kill
Debt Collector 5: Angel of Death
Debt Collector 6: Prey
Debt Collector 7: Narc
Debt Collector 8: Hard Time
Debt Collector 9: Her Last Breath
Debt Collector 10: Trail of the Zodiac
Debt Collector 11: Fight Game
Lost Girls
I’m Still Here
Undisclosed
Retribution
Clandestine
The Promise
True Connection
The angel of death has been abroad throughout the land; you may almost hear the beating of his wings.
John Bright
Chapter One
CHICAGO
SOUTH SIDE
Jack Winchester didn’t need to pretend he was drunk, he was, well, at least halfway to being blitzed. To be fair, eight hours of watching strippers slide up and down poles could do that. He’d feasted his eyes on more ass in the hours between noon and two than he had in the past year. By the time evening came around he had consumed more than his share of beer and bourbon, and stuffed a quarter of his earnings for this job into the panties of numerous scantily clad women.
Usually he would have scoped the joint out, figured out the day and exact time she got on stage, but with Special Agent Baker breathing down his neck, he didn’t have time for that. Instead he chose to enter 4Play at midday and stay there until she showed up.
This wasn’t going to be some long-drawn-out job. He was going to get it done in one day. It went completely against his method of operation but for the past two weeks he had been trying to keep his head down after nearly being nabbed by Baker.
God, she infuriated him. Half the time he didn’t know whether he wanted to shoot her or take her to bed.
“Waitress, I’ll take another double.”
The girl was dressed like a bunny, and he’d already spanked her ass twice and received stiff words from the management. He didn’t do it to be a jerk, it was all part of seeing what he was up against in the event that the shit hit the fan. Sure enough, two brawny-looking fellas covered in tattoos came over and informed him that if he did it again, they were going to throw his ass out.
“I’m just having some fun, boys.”
They were men of few words. They glared at him, pointed a few times and then wandered back to the VIP section. Jack had watched all kinds of men stroll into the back room. Most had wedding bands on their fingers. None of them had any morals. Jack took his time on his next drink. He glanced at his watch. It was close to ten. He could have shown the photo that her father had given him but that was liable to invoke a bad reaction.
A machine blew a plume of dry ice on stage as various young women came out and danced around in nothing more than thongs. His eyes drifted over the faces of the perverts staring up at the women like they were nothing more than meat. His old boss Gafino had run a number of strip joints back in New York. All the money was made in the back rooms. They catered to all kinds; business owners, bored husbands and horny entrepreneurs looking to impress friends by shelling out thousands of dollars on strippers who would give them lap dances and tend to their needs. While some money was gained from VIP access, it really came from the drugs and deals that were made as half-naked women gyrated.
Jack was focused on a young guy in his early twenties sitting in the back corner when she came on. He was on the phone, smoking a cigarette, and had four heavies guarding him. No doubt, it was the owner. He’d watched him come and go throughout the day. Always surrounded by a cluster of tattooed meatheads.
He turned to see the curtain open. The lights went down and the machines off to the right and left began spewing out an insane amount of dry ice that hung low on the stage like a ghostly apparition. One single red light flicked on, and out came the girl. He pulled out the photo again to verify it was her before weighing his options. Anyah Cho was nineteen and had been missing for the past two months. He watched her work the stage like a professional. Squatting down and letting guys three times older stuff her panties with green dollars. One of them groped at her ass and was quickly slapped back by one of the staff. Her high heels glistened sparkling silver as the colorful lights reflected off them.
On the surface she was every bit the kind of woman a man might hope to see in a dive like this. Her figure was slim, her breasts just the right size but something was missing. Jack could see it in her eyes. She was going through the motions, doing what they expected. Dancing provocatively as they had demanded. She wouldn’t get to keep all the green thrown at her this night, neither would she find satisfactio
n in the service she was providing. The tracks on her arms told a different story. Though they were barely visible to the eye, he could see them when the light flashed against her skin. They had her hooked. Turned her into a junkie. It was insurance, a means to keep her twerking that ass until she was all used up and then they would spit her back onto the streets. After that she would probably be found with a dirty needle stuck in her arm in some godforsaken crack house.
He hadn’t seen her come through the front door like the other girls. He placed his glass down and rose from the table. He stumbled a little and the world around him shifted. Okay, he’d had a few too many but it was nothing compared to the all-nighters that he used to have when he was younger. Just now he was beginning to feel it. His body couldn’t handle alcohol the way it once had.
Jack staggered over to the men’s room to take a piss. He placed one hand against the cream tiled wall and relieved himself before he returned to the club. Now it was time to cause a stink, and get a taste for how they would react. Jack walked over to the stage and waited for Anyah to make her way down to him. He acted as though he was about to place a few dollars in her thong, instead he wrapped his arm around her legs and tossed her over his shoulder and began heading for the back door.
He hadn’t even made it a few feet when they took out his legs and he collapsed on the ground. Two fists pummeled him into submission. Groaning but still assessing the situation he went to get up.
“Just had to push your luck,” a bald, muscle-bound guy said grabbing a firm grip on his collar and attempting to drag him up.
“Hey, drinks are on the house,” Jack hollered. A roar came from the twenty-odd people seated at tables dotted around the room. Some laughed while others told them to toss him out. He felt a fist in the gut, thankfully the alcohol had pretty much numbed his senses.
“Come on, out you go, you drunk bum.”
One of them kicked open the fire exit and the other threw him out. Jack hit the ground, landing in a shallow, oily puddle. His skin felt droplets of water hitting the side of his face.
“And don’t come back.”
They slammed the heavy door closed leaving him in the downpour. It didn’t take long for the rain to soak through his clothes. Jack stumbled to his feet and made a quick phone call.
“She’s here. Bring the money.”
He hung up and walked over to a nearby doorway to get out of the rain. He shook off the excess and waited. A harsh wind nipped at his ears. Drenched through to the bone he fished into his jacket and pulled out half a packet of cigarettes that had been turned to mush.
“Shit,” he muttered before tossing them. With his hands tucked in his pockets, he wrapped his coat around him and waited for the vehicle to show.
Ten minutes passed before it pulled into the alley. He dashed out into the rain and went over to the dark-tinted window. It lowered just a few inches.
“Where is she then?” an older Chinese man asked.
“Be patient.”
“You better not be wasting my time.”
Jack scoffed. The nerve of this guy. He wasn’t the one out here soaking wet, with a bruised shoulder. He returned to where he’d been standing and kept an eye on the exit. Another twenty minutes passed before another vehicle pulled up. It was a white van. It parked just outside the exit and two men got out. They briefly glanced at Jack before going to the door and banging on it. When it cracked open, he heard them mutter a few words and then they slipped inside.
Five minutes passed before the men came back out. This time they weren’t alone. The girl was with them. One of them had a good hold on her while the other opened the van’s double doors. It was time for Jack’s performance. He stumbled out, exaggerating every step he took. He bumped into one of them and the guy shoved him back.
“Spare some change?”
The burly man tossed a finger up. “Get the hell out of here before I bust your lip open.”
Out the corner of his eye he saw the exit door seal. The man shoved Jack back a second time and he asked again.
“Come on, man, I just need a drink.”
“Hey Victor, check this guy out.”
The other one chuckled as he came up on Jack and kicked him back into a pile of garbage.
“Get in there,” the other man said to the girl, tossing her in the back of the van.
They slammed the doors on the back of the van and were about to head around to the front when Jack got up and tossed an empty wine bottle at the van. It smashed sending shards of glass everywhere. The one guy who had just placed his foot inside the van and was about to get in, glanced over his shoulder. He could barely turn his head because his muscles took up what little neck space he had.
His brow knit together. “These bums never learn.”
“Victor, leave him, we need to go,” the other one said.
“One minute.”
Jack had his head down but could see him approaching. It was always the same. There was always one. Ego got the best of them. As the guy went to plow his foot into Jack’s face, he moved back and grabbed the leg. Within a split second, Jack twisted it sending the man off balance. As he landed on the ground, Jack pounced on him and smashed his head against the wet concrete twice before his buddy even had a chance to come around the other side of the van. Out the back window of the van, the girl looked on wide-eyed.
“Victor!” The other one rushed at Jack. Both of them collided and fell back among the thrown-out garbage bags and cans. The smell was putrid. The man tried smashing his forehead into Jack’s face but he moved in time and parried his movement with a blow to the kidney. Now had this guy not been two hundred and forty pounds, Jack might have inflicted some damage with that punch but it barely registered. He followed through with a few more jabs but the meathead just offered a toothy grin.
Oh shit, Jack thought.
Both rose to their feet and the guy pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the ground. He must have thought it was constricting his movement but it wasn’t the jacket, it was all that muscle. It made them slow. The guy charged Jack with his head down like a bull. Jack moved, grabbed his back and used the forward momentum to push him into the dumpster. The guy hit the thing head on and turned around to face him. Anyone else would have been knocked out —not this guy. He slapped his head like a lunatic and smiled as though he was enjoying this. Where did they get these guys from? Within seconds Jack was forced back against the exit door. The one thing he had hoped to avoid. The noise would echo inside and attract more of them. He only had a few minutes before they would come out to see what was going on. Jack began raining elbows down on his back but the guy seemed unfazed by it.
With his head lodged under Jack’s chin he pummeled his abdomen like a medicine ball with both fists. Jack drove his teeth into the top of shoulder muscle and bit as hard as he could. The guy cried out and reared back as Jack spat a piece of flesh to the ground. He placed a hand on the area that had been torn. He glanced at a bloody hand and then cried out. Jack reached for his pocket hoping to find his gun, but it was gone. Shit!
In an instant the guy charged. From behind, Jack heard the exit door open. He shifted sharply to one side and the guy missed him and slammed into the door. Jack scooped up a trash can lid and powered it against his skull four times. It clashed like a drum cymbal. With his forehead bleeding profusely, the guy staggered a little and then slumped back down. All the while, whoever was on the other side of the door was pummeling it hard and yelling. Best of luck, he thought looking at the size of the thug wedged against it.
Wasting no time, Jack opened the van doors and took the girl out.
“What is going on?” she asked.
He didn’t reply. They rushed up the alley to the waiting black sedan with an open door and slipped in. The moment she caught sight of her father, she tried to get back out of the vehicle.
“Let me out.”
“What the—?” Jack’s eyes darted between the two of them. He had expected her to be glad to see
her father, the same man that was paying Jack twenty thousand to get his daughter back. Her father didn’t react to the wild behavior, he simply told the driver to move it. Jack looked out the window and saw that the meatheads inside the club had managed to squeeze out the exit and were now running towards the car. The driver slammed his foot down, and they all jerked back in the plush leather seating as the car peeled away into the night.
Five minutes later, further down the street, Chan handed him the second half of the money in a brown envelope. “The other ten thousand.”
The car pulled over to the edge of the road in Chinatown on the South Side. The driver opened Jack’s door and Chan thanked him and motioned for him to leave. Jack slipped the envelope into his jacket still feeling a little strange about the girl’s behavior. Her English wasn’t good but he had learned enough to know when a person was fearful.
“What’s going on?” Jack asked.
“Thank you for your services but I will take it from here.”
“Why is she acting like this?”
Ever since she’d entered the vehicle she’d been trying to escape but the doors were locked. When Jack’s side was opened she lurched towards it but one of Chan’s men held her back. Jack had one foot out of the vehicle when she said something in Chinese that he recognized.
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