Hard Case V: Blood and Fear (A John Harding Novel Book 5) (22 page)

I absorbed the chorus of ‘hell yeahs’ with my mind racing at the prospects, but also with the downside where we’re leaving people behind. I ain’t saying this yet, but that won’t happen for me on a personal basis. I’m a Marine. I die for the United States of America… period. The thought of allowing the turd world nations to simply overwhelm us without a fight pissed me off beyond the reality Casey voiced. Lucas slapped me in the side of the head.

“Don’t read in facts not in evidence, Recon. We ain’t abandoning America. We just need a sanctuary where loved ones and operations can be dealt with while we spearhead the resistance. Don’t go deaf on me Probie.”

I gripped Lucas’s hands slowly after the first lightning fast grasp, making sure in an instant he knew he couldn’t break free no matter what. “I know what we’re battling, brother. The thought of making everyone we care about safe in a bad situation works for the greater good of turning us loose to do what we do best. I understand that.”

Lucas relaxed as I let him go. “Then what’s the problem?”

I shrugged because I wasn’t sure. “I don’t know, but you and Casey are right. We need a sanctuary like that. This latest bunch of revelations with allowing our enemies to filter freely into the country over our borders, while creating known terrorist training grounds protected under a suicidal interpretation of religion, is beginning to remind me of the boy plugging a hole in the damn with his finger. It’s been a bad week, Lucas.”

“Yeah, it has. Let’s wrap this up for the cleaners, and get the hell out of here. I’m like Denny. I want to go home, get some sleep, and start looking at island real estate.”

The rest of us enjoyed Lucas’s pronouncement – our pack of break-in wolves, not so much. They stared, moaned, groaned, and generally shifted continually in pain. It was another twenty minutes before Denny’s cleanup crew arrived. We didn’t feel like celebrating, because other than another terrorist headache, all we had was a bad early morning shit-storm. We did what any other bunch of monsters would do, we started perusing island real estate on the satellite uplink. It even made me feel better.

* * *

Lora awaited my arrival at a bit after 4 am. She hugged me at the door with something flimsy on I liked very much. “Mama Mia, you feel good.”

“I was worried about you. I had a premonition.”

Uh oh. I never dismiss premonitions, especially one who has shared many close moments with me of the female persuasion. “We called in the big guns tonight just as I told you we would with Tommy and me taking point. If you could have seen the way Lynn’s invention, put into place by Laredo worked, you wouldn’t have worried at all. I only had one to handle at the door. Lucas and Casey grabbed the driver who turned out to be none other than Amara’s Dad. They’re all on the way to detention of Denny’s choosing. We already know Kornev made it happen.”

Lora clutched onto me hard with her face buried in my chest. “I…I don’t know what I’d do without you. Forgive me if I channel my shrew sister Tess once in a while, making your life miserable. I’ll do better.”

I forced her out at arm’s length. “Hey, you’re not going soft on me, are you? We’re partners. I’m in for the duration. I love you beyond life, and everything in it. God forbid you ever see what happened to the BBC reporter you thought I was sweet on, Natalie Radcliff, and that terrorist henchman that tied you and Al up here in our own home. Cruella and I helped those two into the afterlife in a way you’d probably dump me if you knew the manner in which we found out their involvement in the anthrax scare. It was probably something that would have made Jack the Ripper puke.”

Lora blushed. “I made Lynn show it to me. She told me you make videos so it saves some time from having to do the interrogations the hard way. I talked her into showing me the video, but I only made it through about five minutes. Would… you know… rather be with someone like Lynn?”

Now that was funny. “There is no one like Lynn, babe… no one. Even my monster squad talks about Clint and Lynn being together in terms of the cosmic balance shifting. We have our own team – you, me, and Al. I don’t expect you to be anyone other than the woman I can’t keep my hands off of, and backs any play I make - whether it be UFC brawling, terrorist intervention, or deadly force. You’re the whole package to me.”

I began stroking all the areas within my reach through the nearly transparent black nightie she wore, while kissing her with due diligence. My soft passionate side descended into darkness without warning. I scooped her into my arms. Seconds later, we were in our bedroom with the door locked. We spent Sunday morning in the pre-dawn hours allowing me to prove I held no grudges concerning Lora’s supposed off key day on Saturday. Al made our morning by having been really blitzed from all of her activities the day before, allowing both of us, especially me, to sleep until ten, an awakening time unknown for many moons to the Dark Lord.

“Hey! Are you two still alive in there?”

Our precious Sunday late morning reprieve came to an end for the Dark Lord, called out by an unfriendly referee with a grudge concerning her breakfast not being on the table when she woke with smiley faced pancakes and bacon. I glanced over at Lora, lying in as bedraggled a sexy pose as I’ve ever seen… out cold. She never stirred at her mini-me’s banshee shriek through the door.

“Be right out, Al, but only if you get your butt back in your room and hunt down your inside voice before meeting me again in the kitchen.”

A giggle, and then a confirming, “yes, Dark Lord.”

I threw on a jeans, tee-shirt, and slippers ensemble to amble out for kitchen duty. My buzz-cut hair looked the same as it always did when I glimpsed it in the bathroom mirror while washing up. The beard stubble would have to wait. In the kitchen, I made tea for both Lora, and her mini-me just the way they liked it. Al joined me with her ten going on thirty smirk. She sat down in her favorite spot where I had placed her tea.

“Well, Smirky, what would you like for breakfast?”

“I would like an omelet like you cook for Mom with tiny pieces of cutup onion, pepper, tomato and jalapeno mixed in it with Colby Jack cheese.”

“I thought you hated all that stuff.”

Al shrugged. “Mom gave me a bite, and I loved it. Who knew?”

“One omelet coming up. I may as well make one big enough for your Mom too. I’ll serve her breakfast in bed this morning.”

“Good idea, Dad,” Al agreed. “You’ll chalk up some brownie points for that play. What time did you get home?”

“After four this morning, but I have the day off from the banana suit today, so it’s like a mini-vacation day.” Al came over to watch me cut the ingredients into very fine pieces, and stir them into a bowl with five eggs. I added a few tablespoons of milk before putting the concoction on the burner with super low flame. Once I covered it, I made some rye toast. My timing was impeccable because I finished topping and folding over the omelet as the toast finished.

“I think I could do that the next time,” Al declared. “Can I try it?”

“Sure, but only with me next to you, okay?”

“Yeah, that would be better. How the heck do you get those pieces of stuff so small with those huge fingers?”

“Practice… practice… practice.” I readied Lora’s heated tea, toast, and omelet on a tray. “Watch the Dark Lord walk your Mom’s tray in to her.”

I did the robot Dark Lord all the way into the bedroom with a very entertained Al, trying not to cough up tea and omelet. By then Lora was stirring around, squinting at the clock. “Oh God… is it really almost eleven?”

“Don’t worry about it, babe. It’s Sunday. Al liked your bite of omelet so much, she ordered one this morning. I made enough for you too with rye toast.”

“Yum.” Lora sipped her tea, and took a bite of omelet. “Delicious as usual. You have so many talents, Dark Lord. What’s your secret?”

“Practice… practice… practice,” I chanted once more as I slipped in nearer to Lora. Of course the phone rang. Such is life in monster land. When a monster gets too close to the light, a little darkness must fall. Al knocked on the door I had kicked shut.

“It’s Uncle Tommy, Dad.”

“That can’t be good,” Lora said.

“Jinx.” I opened the door. Al handed me the portable while waving at her Mom. “Good morning, Mr. Sands. How may I be of assistance?”

“Sorry to break into your Sunday after our earlier mission, DL. Our man Eric Tamil called me. We have a bad guy to retrieve the bond on. It can’t wait.”

Eric’s our paid snitch to let us know if he sees anything we might be interested on a bond retrieval basis. Like hell it can’t wait. I’m glancing at Lora’s innocent breakfast eating in her flimsy nightie, wondering how I can hint at Al going over to her friends’ house somewhere for a couple of hours. I planned to make this morning only a preview. “We’ll pick that weed Monday, T. Enjoy your day with the family. I’ll be in the Bay tomorrow morning bright and early. I’ll go with you to pluck the garden parasite out after training.”

“It’s Glock Sterner, John.”

I straightened the hell up when I heard that name, my fist clenched around the phone in shatter mode, retaining a grip on reality with will power. “You could have led off with the name, Mr. Sands.”

“Sorry, but even I need a warm up sentence before I spew that name, brother.”

“Give me a second.” I looked at the phone in my hand while holding reality images at bay. William ‘Glock’ Sterner gunned down my neighbors’ two kids three houses down from me, and shot at the Sparks’ twins, Kara and Jim, as the drive-by vehicle streaked away. Kara remembered seeing five guys in the car, laughing at them as they did it. My neighbor’s teenage son wanted the easy life sellin’ drugs, and rakin’ in the money. He began sampling his wares, and the rest was history when Keith tapped into his sales money, thinking he could hide the skim. He was sixteen, and his sister Monique fourteen, when Glock fixed things for his employer, a piss-ant dealer name Roady.

I heard the shots, and ran out on the lawn, taking in the scene instantly. I grabbed the twins who were wailing away, wide-eyed and terrified, handing them off to their Mom as she ran out of her house. I called into 911 while running to my neighbors’ house, sticking my .45 Colt under my shirt at the back. There they lay, pitched from the sidewalk onto their front lawn like broken toys. Their Mom was screaming at me to do something. I met her pounding fists with stoicism learned on the battlefield as I held her tight. There was no use in speaking.

I found them all but Glock. There were no survivors… only landfill. I didn’t leave them for the police. I’m sure they were all abused by society, their moms, the system, the man, the whatever. I introduced them to responsibility for their actions with final penance. My bereaved neighbors fled from the unspeakable. I knew I couldn’t change anything… except on my street. No one does drive-bys on my turf… ever. Now I had the shooter in sight. There would not be a bond ticket retrieval. There would only be death.

“I hope you don’t think Glock will walk into the police station, T. If you do, then it would be best to send the info, and step off. If the info is good, I want Eric to get a grand. That’s all I ask if it doesn’t work out.”

“I’m in to the end, John. I know those two kids’ passing ate into your soul.”

“Yeah… they did. It’s not because of fate or anything else. We can’t control shit. We protect our streets or we get used to being on our knees. I kneel to no one, not in defense or offense. Lay it on me, T.”

“Eric spotted him outside the Lake Chalet Seafood Bar and Grill. You know the place, high end atmosphere, and the whole works. Eric says he’s dealing, but he’s dressed to the nine’s. He looks like someone poured him out of a ‘Gentleman’s Quarterly’ ad according to our man at the scene. Eric got the hell away and called me. He knows Glock would know him on sight. I don’t know what kind of scam he has dealing in a spot like the Lake Chalet, but he damn well will be easy to spot. I know you, DL. I’m getting into my ride right now, and I’ll be at your house in ten. I have my celebrity suit on like I’m going to a million dollar ad campaign meeting.”

“I’ll do the same. See you when I see you, brother.” I got off the phone, and did a white trash cleanup with baby wipes. Lora watched me throw on my dark gray suit without comment. She knew something big had come up, and she didn’t pretend to be a virgin newbie to what I was heading for. Lora spoke only when I finished, slinking next to me in only the way she could: impressive enough to wipe even ‘Glock’ out of my head for a moment.

“Hi, sailor… want to have a good time?”

Oh good Lord in heaven did I. “Don’t do this you little minx… I’m warning you… don’t do this.”

Lora turned, fluffing her nightie up past her waist as she bent over looking back at me. “Forty seconds sailor, and you walk out with a smile, baby.”

Damn it!

* * *

“You smell like a French whore house, DL, and not the perfumed scent. You went and tapped La Lora in the short time it took me to get over here, didn’t you?”

I remained silent. I may have smiled.

Tommy smirked, turning to his driving. “Such is life. We live when we can. Any thoughts about what you want to do when we get there?”

“The good part is Glock hasn’t seen either one of us. The bad part is you can be sure the deaths of all his compatriots have been known to him, including my name. Get this straight, T: Glock dies today. If you’re not comfortable with that, drop me off when we find him. I’ll call Clint to pick me up.”