Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (53 page)

Chapter
50

“This is
Cathy Greenburg reporting live on the scene of what at first glance
appears to be a gang related vendetta against the owner of what
used to be
Cowboy Shotz
nightclub.”

“Ow.”

“Quit it.”

“Owwwww …”

Tiny hands
smacked at my fingers.

“You’re being a
baby.”

“A what?”

“Hush, I’m
trying to listen to the news. Hold still.”

“…
For
years the burning building behind me has been a place where people
came to enjoy an evening out with friends. Blowing off steam with
music, adult beverages and dancing. Now these same people are
coming to grips with a more shocking reality ...”

“Have they
shown me yet?”

“Hold
still.”

“Did they?
Seriously, Tamara I need to know if …. Ow! Why does that have to
sting so bad?”

“It’s just
rubbing alcohol, Joe. I need it to clean this cut.”

“Does it have
to hurt so bad?”

“You are
unbelievable. I pulled glass shards out of your skull without you
making a peep, but now that I’m trying to clean you up ..”

“Wait, there
were glass shards in my head?”

“Big ones.”

“Man …”

“…
All we
can say at this time is that we have reason to believe that there
was more than liquor being served at this
establishment.”

“That was
Constable Richard Simmons of the Winnipeg Police Service from
earlier tonight. While it’s too early to know for certain, it
appears that he will be taking over the media duties for the WPS
from former officer Chris Parise as more evidence comes forward
implicating him in this prostitution ring.”

“Cathy, this is
Gord back at the station.”

“Go ahead,
Gord.”

“All of the
evidence coming in seems unbelievable. Officer Parise had a stellar
record with the WPS.”

“Apparently
appearances can still be deceiving, Gord. The most compelling piece
we’ve been able to ascertain so far comes from the young woman
rescued from the burning building.”

“Did you rescue
that girl?”

I shrugged
slightly, a bit embarrassed. “I guess. Sorta. Wait, what are you
doing with those scissors?”

“…
members of the RCMP have taken the woman, identified by
police as Jennifer Saunders was reported missing weeks ago by
members of her family. Early information provided by the RCMP have
confirmed that Miss Saunders was seduced by the allure of drugs and
an affluent lifestyle which initially brought her into this world
of sex and violence.”

“Seriously, are
you cutting my hair?”

“I can’t quite
see this gash to clean it. Your hair’s in the way.”

“You’re
training to be a massage therapist not a barber. Put the scissors
away. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“What can you
tell us about how the night ended, Cathy? We have reports in front
of us that suggest the Police were forced to employ snipers at one
point?”

“Shh hang on, I
gotta hear this.”

“Just would you
…”

“Shhh!’

“ …
show
that one of the police snipers was in position across from the
nightclub at this parking garage. Reportedly he witnessed the late
Officer Parise threatening Miss Saunders and was forced to
eliminate him.”

“Just the girl?
No one else?”

“What’s that,
Joe?”

“As you can see
behind me, members of the Tactical Unit are withdrawing from the
scene at this time. While there will still be lots to clean up on
scene and many questions that will need an answer, it appears for
the moment that the danger has passed.”

“Shit!”

“What? Did I
hurt you?”

“What? No, I’m
fine just … Shit!”

“What?”

I pointed at
the screen as officers in black combat gear and armour loaded into
the back of a large vehicle labeled TAC-1 on the side in big white
lettering.

“What?”
I pointed more vehemently, my shoulder burning with fatigue.
“There. That guy.”

“The little
dark haired guy?”

“Yeah.”

“What about
him.”

“That’s
Sampson. Myron Sampson.”

“Who?”

I threw my
hands up slightly. “He was one of them. One of Parise’s crew along
with Miller and Mackie. Always the quiet guy off in the corner.
Never making a noise, never causing a scene.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You think he
was involved?”

“I think he’s
the sniper who killed Parise. Covering his ass and distancing
himself from the club.”

“What?”

God, my head
hurt. I rubbed at my temples lightly, ignoring the painful rumble
in my belly. “What better way to show his innocence in all this?
Shoot Parise dead when presented the opportunity. Claim ignorance
to his designs. Appear remorseful and upset by the betrayal of your
friends.”

Small, cool
fingers touched the skin at the back of my neck hesitantly.
Cautiously. My skin prickled under her touch and then tingled more
as Tamara slowly rolled her thumbs and fingers over the taut
muscles in my neck.

I groaned
heartily, not even trying to keep it quiet.

“Is this
okay?”

“God ...
yeah.”

“You just…”
Tamara cleared her throat, her thumbs never ceasing their
movements. “I just figured, you looked so tight. So achy.”

“You’re not
wrong.”

Tamara’s
fingers worked their magic on my battered neck and shoulders as
Cathy’s live report continued on screen.

“We are now
receiving reports that members of the RCMP have apprehended a Jar
Shu-Phon, a foreign national and the executive assistant to South
Korean Ambassador Mah-Jon Sun. Ambassador Sun has been in Winnipeg
for the past week, meeting with Canadian officials to discuss
everything from foreign trade to finding solutions to the
international black market. Tomorrow night Ambassador Sun was to be
the guest of honour at a fundraising dinner where the topic of
Human Trafficking in his country was to be discussed.”

“Are the RCMP
thinking that Ambassador Sun was somehow involved in actions
related to the nightclub?”
“Time will tell on that score, Gord. Right now they seem more
interested in his assistant who was seen fleeing the nightclub a
few hours ago along with several of his countrymen. Reports at this
time imply that they have someone in custody but are not at liberty
to discuss the matter further.”

“We’ll follow
that story from our end here in the news room, Cathy. What can you
tell us …”

Tamara’s
fingers began moving up the nape of my neck and into my hairline. I
shivered as she drew a firm series of lines along my scalp into my
soaked and admittedly filthy hair.

My attention on
the news immediately died. Every fibre of my body was protesting
one sort of ache or pain, save for the areas directly under
Tamara’s strong but delicate fingers. It became very difficult to
avoid making completely inappropriate sounds of pleasure. I’m not
sure I managed to succeed.

A sharp buzzing
sound cut into the air.

Tamara jumped,
yanking her fingers away from my aching head. I tried not to groan
in frustration.

“Pizza’s here,”
I said, feigning excitement. It wasn’t actually hard to feign, my
belly was ready to chew on my own liver by this point. Though given
the choice between food and more scalp massaging I’m not sure I
could’ve made an educated choice. What with the blood no longer
hanging out in my brain.

“Right. Yeah.”
Tamara sounded flustered. I peered back over my shoulder at her as
she adjusted her librarian glasses and looked around her tiny
apartment. The intercom buzzed again impatiently. “Okay, I’ll go
get it.”

My body
protested violently as I stood up, thankfully facing away from
Tamara. No need for her to see me readjusting my cargos. I fished
out the last of the cash Aaron had given me for protecting his club
and stared at it sadly for a moment.

Dammit, Aaron.
I thought you were smarter than that.

Tamara found
her purse and began rifling through it. I stepped over and handed
her the cash. “Go. Least I can do.”

She gave me a
tiny nervous smile and nodded before punching the call button on
her intercom, advising of the delay and heading out to the front
door.

I sighed
heavily and stretched my hands up over my head, feeling every pop
and crackle in my spine as I did so.

Somehow, I
didn’t die.

Not sure if
that ever entered my head as a possibility when I laced up my boots
earlier in the evening.

I
staggered away from the door and stood in front of the TV. Shaky,
low quality footage was being shown. Clearly shot by an amateur,
likely with a smart phone. It showed a few youngish partygoers
smiling and waving at the camera in front of
Cowboy Shotz
on an upward angle. The screen went
white for a moment and thunder boomed loudly from the TV. When the
image cleared smoke was rising from the back of the building near
the roof and people were screaming in fright all around the
image.

“Cathy we’re
not sure you can see this footage from your location, but this
video was sent to us by a patron who was outside of the nightclub a
few hours ago. It appears that on top of everything else a
lightning bolt struck the building. What are the odds of that?”

“Definitely a
night for the ages, Gord.”

Well, that
explains the blown out window.

“We are looking
at some other footage right now, Cathy. Of the man who reportedly
set off explosives in the club and is credited with starting the
fire.”

My heart froze
in my chest.

It was the
front of the club. Smoke outlined a tall, heavyset man carrying a
passed out girl with a wide brimmed hat covering his face as two
firemen approached him.
“Can you see this footage, Cathy?”

“I can, Gord.
It looks very indistinct. All of that smoke and the dark shadows
really obscure any details.”

Is she hiding a
smile?

“What are you
hearing from the police or the witnesses about this man?”

Uh oh.

“Honestly, Gord
there is just too much conjecture at this point. With all the
reports about an illicit prostitution ring, potential international
human trafficking accusations and the involvement of police
officers. Any speculation about this man is considered sketchy at
best. And frankly a bit low on the totem pole for the investigators
on scene”

“Sketchy?”

Sketchy?

“We have heard
he was a patron tonight. He was a football player. He was a
magician getting on stage to entertain the crowd. He was one of the
bouncers who lost his mind. He led a biker gang into the
establishment and began shooting up the place.” Cathy shook her
head sadly and looked directly into the camera. “Since all of the
internal security footage seems to have been lost in the fire, it’s
very likely that we’ll never know who this man was.”

I felt a small
smile creep onto my face.

“Terrific work,
Cathy. Thank you. That was CTV Correspondent Cathy Greenburg on the
scene tonight of …”

I flicked off
the TV as the door to Tamara’s apartment opened again. I made my
way over to her as quickly as my rapidly cramping knee and back
would allow me.

Two extra-large
pizzas and a bottle of Coke takes a lot of arm space for anyone,
never mind a five-foot woman struggling to open her apartment door.
The relief in Tamara’s eyes as I saved her further indignity and
snagged the pizzas away was palpable.

The aroma of
cheese, pepperoni and grease hit my nose like a hammer. Saliva
flooded my mouth and made my empty belly growl in anticipation.

We didn’t even
bother sitting down. Or at least I didn’t. Cramming huge slices
into my mouth with reckless abandon may have been somewhat uncouth,
especially while leaning against the stove in Tamara’s miniscule
kitchen. But the relief it gave my cramped and depleted system was
flat out awesome.

Tamara sat at
her kitchen table, occupying the chair I had vacated only a moment
ago. She picked at her vegetable laden slice tiredly.

“Sorry,” I
mumbled through another huge bite.

She blinked at
me tiredly. “For what?”

I shrugged
lamely. “I seem to keep doing this to you. Waking you up in the
middle of the night. All filthy and beat up.”

“Yeah. You
should be sorry.”

“I am.

“Good.” Tamara
took a small bite, chewed it carefully and swallowed before
replying. “Next time you go out and take on a group of violent
criminals with your bare hands at least have the decency to go to
another ladies house to get cleaned up.”