by Jim Heskett
Harry appreciated her lack of commentary. And now he felt silly for keeping secrets about his wife and son from Serena. She was effectively his best friend, even though he sometimes felt like he barely knew her.
When she left, the office felt quiet again, but not small, as it sometimes did. Harry walked over to Sir Pointy Sword, the dwarven paladin battle miniature. Currently sitting on the shelf next to the Sapphire Dragon, each facing in different directions. Harry picked up the paladin miniature and turned it so the little warrior actually faced the dragon, instead.
As he did, the bell above the door jingled. Harry looked up, expecting to see Serena returning to grab something she’d forgotten. Instead, Harry found himself looking at a young woman, probably late twenties. She was short and thin, and kept herself drawn in to appear even smaller. Her brows were knitted together in a tense show of worry.
“Hi,” Harry said. He pointed. “The nail shop is over there, and the AA meeting room is over there.”
“No, I came to see you.”
“Oh. Is there something I can do for you?”
The woman nodded, fear etched into her face. “You’re Harry Boukadakis, the private investigator?”
“I sure am.”
“Harry, I need your help.”
A NOTE TO READERS
Thanks for reading my book!
Join my reader group to get updates and free stuff! Also, skip ahead to read a free BONUS Harry and Serena short story. In fact, it’s the short story that inspired this very book you’re holding!
And if you haven’t read Layne Parrish’s series or the Six Assassins series, it’s time to get started on that. Did you know Serena Rojas also appears in BOTH of those series?
Harry Boukadakis is an unlikely hero, but I seem to like writing about unlikely heroes. A firefighter battling a fire is a noble thing, no doubt about it. But a passing criminal on the run who stops to put out a fire, throwing himself in further danger on multiple levels? Now that’s something extraordinary.
If you’ve read this far, you’re probably looking for some “behind the scenes” info. Well, here you go:
Kemba Wood was originally “Derrell Wood” in the first draft of this book. But during the writing of the first draft, our family dog passed away from his age. He was almost 11. He was larger than life and sweeter than honey, our amazing and cuddly pit bull.
Derrell was renamed to Kemba in draft #2 so our sweet and beloved pit bull could live on. While it’s painful for me to see that name in print, it’s an honor I hope the character can live up to.
The Micah Reed series is, in a word, about redemption, and the treacherous path it necessitates. The Layne Parrish series is about loyalty, and the cost of placing it with the wrong person. The Harry Boukadakis series is about… well, you’ll just have to read it to find out.
Thank you for reading about Harry and Serena. Have a great day!
Click here to get free books by me!
Now, turn the page to read a bonus short story…
In 2020, I wrote a short story on a whim about Harry Boukadakis and Serena Rojas teaming up for a little “side quest.” The idea popped into my head and I just started writing, without knowing where it would go. Turns out, I had so much fun pairing cold-blooded assassin Serena with heartfelt hacker Harry that I wanted to write more. That’s why you’re holding this novel in your hands right now. And I also wanted to share the original story with you, to show how this all started…
I’LL BE RIGHT BACK: A Short Story
Harry Boukadakis kept his hands at ten and two as he piloted the car along the dirt road. He didn’t like the havoc this bumpy surface was wreaking on his aging Toyota’s shocks, but it couldn’t be helped.
In the passenger seat, Serena Rojas stewed. She’d been in a stewing sort of mood since Harry had picked her up at the airport an hour ago. He could count the number of words she’d said on one hand during this lengthy drive out into the country. Nothing odd about that, though. Serena could go days without speaking, and Harry had seen her do it.
“So,” he said, “uh, do you think you could tell me what we’re doing out here?”
She leaned forward and examined the sky, purple and dotted with lazy clouds as the sun sank below the trees. She checked her watch. “Sunset’s late. It was supposed to be dark by now.”
Harry could debate the tardiness of nighttime, but decided to leave it be. He lifted a hand to flick on the headlamps, actually. But before he could touch the button, Serena snatched his hand in midair and knitted her brow. “Let’s stay dark, because we’ve arrived. Pull right over there.”
She tilted her head to the right. Harry parked along the side of the road. An odd street, with nothing but open field on the left and the back of a bar or restaurant on the right. Not much else around in “shitkicker country.” They were outside the lights of any major town, on a back road disappearing into the hills.
“What is this place?”
“That’s the rear of Lucky’s,” Serena said. “Pool hall. The main entrance is in the front, but what I’m looking for will come out the back.”
Harry nodded and shifted in his seat. At this angle, they could see the cinderblock façade of the building clearly, but Harry’s car was shrouded in shadows.
A drop of sweat slinked down his belly. “Right. And what’s going to come out the back? I mean, I’m always up for helping you out, but maybe you could help me out a little by telling me why we’re at a pool hall in the boonies in Virginia. I already told my wife I’d be late, but she’s probably expecting me to come home at some point tonight.”
Serena parted her lips to speak, but then the back door of the bar opened and she stopped short. “One second.”
She reached down into her purse on the floor and drew two rolls of quarters, then she opened the door. Harry shot his hand up to the roof console to kill the door light as Serena skidded across the short field to the back parking lot. With the sun now mostly set and a single lamplight illuminating the far side of the lot, Harry could barely see her. She was wearing loose black pants and a tight brown t-shirt as she blended with the shadows on a roundabout course to a figure standing outside the door. Her hair had been pulled back into a compact bun.
But Harry could see those rolls of quarters clutched in her palms as she skulked through the dark.
She moved toward that back door as it slammed shut. Harry could barely make out a tall figure standing in front of it, probably male and Caucasian. He paused to light a cigarette, head down. The figure wore a red baseball cap and a dark jacket.
Like a flash, Serena met him. She approached from the right, and he only noticed her at the last second. Too late. Serena swiped a fist full of quarters at his jaw, and Harry heard the ferocity of the punch all the way over here. The man involuntarily twirled, his arms in the air and his shoes kicking up gravel.
“Holy crap,” Harry said to the dashboard, gripping the wheel.
Before the red-capped man could recover, Serena snatched him by the arm and jerked him around to face away. She wrapped an arm across his throat and used her other arm atop his head in a classic sleeper pose. She threaded her feet inside his ankles, then pulled them both to the ground, him on top and trying to wriggle free as she kept her arms firmly in place.
Harry felt his pulse escalate as he wiped sweaty palms on his pants. “Okay. Right. There’s got to be an explanation for all this.”
A few seconds later, the man stopped fighting her and stilled. Serena flipped him over and checked his wallet. Harry couldn’t read her expression from this far away, but she seemed disappointed. She stood and grabbed the man by the hands, then dragged him across the gravel to the other side of the lot.
A moment later, she came running back toward Harry’s car. A lump formed in his throat as she opened the door, and her shoulders heaved as she sucked in harsh breaths.
“Okay,” Harry said, “we should talk about what just happened.”
She frowned. “It wasn’t hi
m.”
“This is the part where you tell me who you’re looking for.”
Serena gulped and exhaled as she checked her pulse. “Sorry, I’m a little out of breath. He was stronger than I thought. Wrong guy, though.”
“Wrong guy for what? Is he dead?”
“No, he’ll wake up in a couple minutes. Sorry, I’ll explain. You know I have a couple little sisters, right?”
“Yes.”
Her eyebrows jumped up her head as she held up a finger. “Hold on. I’ll be right back.”
Harry’s eyes flicked to the back door as it opened. Before he could get a word out, Serena had fled the car and rushed across the lot.
“Great,” he said, sliding back into his seat. He wondered if he should leave the car running for a quick getaway. Serena hadn’t said anything about it.
This man also wore a baseball cap, this time black. Otherwise, he looked exactly like the first guy. Or, he did, as close as Harry could tell. He was long overdue for an optometrist visit to adjust his prescription.
Serena creeped up behind the man. He never saw it coming. She stomped on his calf, sending the poor bastard to his knees. With no hesitation, she jabbed a needle into his neck.
“Oh, good Lord,” Harry said. He craned his neck to look for other cars or any pedestrians strolling by. So far, they seemed completely alone out here on this back road. Just the crickets and the humidity.
Serena checked target #2’s wallet, again scowled, and then dragged his body across to join the other one. She dusted off her hands and rolled her head around her shoulders.
When she jogged back toward the car and got in, Harry decided he’d had enough.
“Listen, Serena, you better tell me what’s going on. Right now.”
She pushed air in and out of her nose, chest heaving. “I’m sorry, K-Books, I was trying to tell you.”
“First: is that guy dead?”
“No. Based on a rough guess of his bodyweight, he’ll come back around in about a half hour.”
“And...?”
“My youngest sister. She came through here about three weeks ago, on her way up north. She and a friend stopped for a drink and she got flirty with some guy. They were getting along better and better as the night went on, if you know what I mean.”
“Sure.”
“But then she and the friend went to the bathroom, and when they came back, he’d stolen her purse and disappeared.”
“That’s why you flew in from Anchorage today?”
“She only told me about it yesterday. Believe me, I wouldn’t have waited three weeks if she’d told me right away.”
“I’m just trying to understand our goal here. You interrupted your current field mission to beat up some guy for robbing your little sister?”
Serena pivoted in her seat toward him, a blank expression on her face. Her forehead was dotted with sweat. “That purse had a St. Christopher medal in it. It was a gift from our abuela. It’s important.”
Harry took a beat to consider before responding. Eventually, he nodded. “Roger that. Should I leave the car running?”
She twitched her lips back and forth a couple times. “If it makes you feel more comfortable. I appreciate you doing this, Harry.”
“Sure, it’s no troub—”
Serena’s head whipped toward the bar as the back door opened. She snarled. “That’s him. That’s the thief. I can tell from here.”
Like a gust of wind, she disappeared from the car. Once again, Harry sat alone. Just the steering wheel and a pine-tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview to keep him company.
As Serena intertwined with the shadows, Harry sighed at the dashboard. “Sorry, honey, I know I’m late, but I had to drive my work colleague out to the country to beat up a redneck thief. It was either this or clean out the gutters this evening, and we both know that wasn’t going to happen.”
Serena crept up behind the man and she appeared to ready herself for the same calf-stomp move. She stood to her full height. Hands wide.
Except the man was ready for her. He spun and backhanded Serena across the mouth. Hard.
Harry sat up straight and gripped the wheel. “Uh-oh.”
Serena dodged to the right, but her opponent delivered a lightning-fast kick to her ribs, sending her staggering.
Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Serena lose a fight before.
“Shit,” he said. His eyes bounced around the car, looking for anything he could use as a weapon or tool. He had his phone, but who could he call? Layne Parrish and Daphne Kurek were too far from this current location to do anything. Even if Harry called the cops, they would still waste several minutes responding.
His gaze landed on Serena’s black leather bag.
But before he could lean over to spy the contents, he heard a sound to his left. Harry turned to see a burly figure in a red baseball cap, standing next to his car. Bloody nose, one eye puffy and showing early signs of bruising.
The first guy Serena had subdued. He’d woken up a little earlier than expected.
“You’re with her?” the furious man asked.
Harry’s throat closed up. His mouth went dry. Red Cap thunked a bare fist against the window, sending a hairline crack up the middle.
Harry looked over to his right. Serena and her opponent were tied up in a standing stalemate, hands around each other’s throats.
The man outside punched the window again. The crack spread. “Roll down your damn window, fat boy. Who the hell are y’all?”
Arms trembling and stomach bubbling, Harry reached a hand out toward the door release. Red Cap stepped forward. Harry fixed his jaw and pushed the door open with all his might, smacking the man in the knees. He bellowed and took a step back, cursing the air as he stumbled.
Harry wrenched the door closed and pressed the lock. Frantic, he leaned over to Serena’s bag and opened it. He rifled through normal purse items like lip balm, a wallet, paper receipts, an unopened bag of airline pretzels.
Then he found a 9mm Ruger at the bottom. Had she smuggled this onto the plane from Alaska? How in the world had she done that?
No time to ponder as the man again smacked the window, hurling repeated obscenities that would make Harry’s mother blush.
He snatched the gun and held it up toward the window. The guy stopped mid punch, his fist bloodied. He thrust his hands up into the air and took a step back. Total shock on the guy’s face.
Harry hated guns. But in this moment, he did like the respect it commanded.
He breathed, the pistol jiggling in his hands. He hadn’t even checked if it was loaded. Or was the safety on? Did this model have a thumb safety?
Harry couldn’t look now. “Back up!” he said, forcing confidence into his tone.
The guy took a couple steps into the street. Harry desperately wanted to turn his head to check on Serena, but he knew he couldn’t. If he looked away for one second, he would lose his advantage.
An idea struck. He opened the car door, waving the gun. The man took a few more steps back, eyes wide, staring intently at the weapon in Harry Boukadakis’ vibrating grip.
He scooted out of the car and reminded himself to lock his arms. He shifted in a semicircle to his left until he could bring the back of the pool hall into his peripheral vision.
But Serena and her target weren’t there now. No one stood in the pool hall’s back lot.
“Look, dude,” the guy said. “Whatever you and your psycho girlfriend are doing, I don’t want any part of it.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Harry said, wiggling the ring finger of his left hand. “We just work together.”
“Whatever. I don’t care. Please don’t shoot me.”
Harry hesitated, unsure what to do. His target was about fifteen feet away. Obviously, he wouldn’t shoot this guy. But now that Harry had him at gunpoint, he wasn’t sure where to go from here.
And he must have let his eyes wander for a split second, because the man across from h
im made his move.
He dashed forward, hands out. Teeth bared, road dirt churning under his tennis shoes.
Harry’s finger tightened around the trigger. His eyelids wanted to shut, but he forced them to stay open.
Red Cap closed the distance. One step, then two, and now half of that fifteen-foot buffer evaporated. Eyes burning, rage on his face.
But then something zipped across the air, and the man skidded to a stop as a curt yelp escaped his lips. A tiny black stick jutted out from his neck, as if it had appeared there by magic.
One step away from grabbing Harry, the man stumbled on the dirt road and collapsed at Harry’s feet. Eyes closed. Unconscious.
The gun-wielding intelligence analyst whirled around to see Serena standing to the right of the car, with a tranq gun clutched in one hand.
“You okay?” she asked.
Harry unclenched all his tensed limbs at once, which resulted in him careening into his Toyota. He slumped down on the hood, making it dip. “What was that?”
Serena scooted over toward the man on the ground, eyeing him. She hunkered down and plucked the dart from his neck. “You can take your finger off the trigger now, Harry.”
He did as ordered and set the gun next to him on the hood.
“This guy will be out for quite a while,” she said. “Sorry, I shoulda done that the first time. I didn’t think we would be here long enough to matter.”
“How did you get these guns through airport security?”
“I didn’t. I stashed both these pieces at Dulles about a year ago. Thought I might need them someday.”
“And where’s the other guy? The one you were fighting?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t have it on him.” She pulled out a phone and a set of car keys. “No wallet, but I got his keys and his phone. Can you hack this thing and tell me where he lives? I’ll bet he’s got my sister’s necklace at his house.”