Shadow Ops: Danger's Heat (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Shadow Ops Novella Book 2) (8 page)

The abandoned barroom smelled like the last night it had been open. Beer, piss and pussy odors saturated the atmosphere. Cobwebs dominated the once heavy-metal décor. Pieces of wooden chairs lay strewn throughout the building.

“How’d you folks like the show? The boys wanted you to see they still got it.” Justice, who’d waited inside the bar while his brothers assaulted the SUV, looked pleased.

“Nice. Where’s the eleventh?” Rose asked.

“Couldn’t promise me he wouldn’t try killing you,” he said in a matter of fact tone.

“I respect his honesty,” Rose retorted. The direct threat of death didn’t faze her. She’d been there before.

“He and the boys got a gun deal going down later—he’s needed back at the clubhouse.”

Hollywood’s eyes adjusted, peering in the gloom to examine the other bikers. Semi-propped against a wobbly barstool, and still tender from the physical sexual episode with Voodoo, Hollywood forced thoughts of her from his mind so he could remain focused on the bikers.

“Here’s the latest. STR HQ decoded more of Bonny’s diary, but what we learned is what we already know. They’ll assault the Chicago River during the festival. Best guess is the bio-chem concoction of fentanyl and an unknown nerve agent. A couple of drops in the river and its potency lasts about thirty minutes. Touching it gets you blistered but treatable. Inhaled, and it’s goodnight Irene. Lungs singe until the nervous system collapses—death in three to four minutes tops. Not a pretty way to go.” The corner of Rose’s mouth twisted as she scanned the latest top-secret report sent to her e-tablet reader.

“You got antidote cocktails for everyone?” Justice asked. His index finger sandpapered exposed skin between his bottom lip and beard.

“As opposed to just my team? I even had one for the guy who cared more about killing me than saving his country. Narcan and atropine will do the trick.” Rose set the container on the pool table as eager grease-covered hands jerked away at the packages.

“So what’re we supposed to do?” Justice asked. “They got less than a day and a half before go-time. That truck’s got to be somewhere close to the river. I’ve got almost two hundred and fifty men looking for a Hart’s Hauler, but nothing so far. I assume that’s changed and why we’re here.” His tattered Savage Souls’ t-shirt strained against the kind of bulk stacked from manual labor and illegal steroids.

“Seems Bonny and Fats back in New Orleans can’t stay away from each other. They play a naughty cat and mouse game and Fats is missing his mouse. She sparked up her cell phone this morning. Sent Fats a series of questionable pics.” Rose wheeled the laptop around and flipped the lid open.

“He gives her orders, and she photographs herself acting them out,” she said, but her words were drowned out by the bikers’ howls and catcalls. Rose shot glaring at the rowdy bunch. “Where’s this location?” she asked.

Justice brushed his hand across the screen and most of them quieted. He leaned forward, studying carefully, his face sunk into thick padded palms. He released a massive shot of air.

“That’s inside the SilverHart Complex.” A biker named Viper offered.

“You sure?” Justice asked.

“Fuck yeah—we ripped off some copper leads stashed in there about three months ago.” The biker’s slight frame was covered in sinewy muscle and prematurely wrinkled skin. Heavy ink embedded across his forearms was strewn with military service images. Hollywood noticed the Marine’s Devil Dog and rolled his eyes for Chase to take a peek.

“You recall the address?” Chase barked in a tone that only another marine wouldn’t take offense to.

“No, sir, but I know how to get there. That’s the place all right. See that window in the background? Right where I jimmied through,” he said with a nod of accomplishment.

“Let’s load up and check it out,” Rose commanded.

“You mean haul ass and kill any motherfuckers still there, don’t you?” Justice licked his bottom lip. He stood over his crew with arms folded across his chest—he had ideas beyond asking questions.

“No matter what happens, we can’t go in like a pack of wild animals,” Rose warned. “The freaking feds and CPD would eat our ass alive if they caught wind.”

“What about CIA?” Justice asked.

“The CIA leaks like a cheap diaper,” she grumbled.

“Don’t forget the stash of chemical weapons. One bad bullet and the entire place goes up in a death ball.” Billy had remained quiet most of the time while calculating a less forceful option.

Hollywood moved closer to Billy in anticipation of his strategy drawing opposition from an adrenaline-fueled crew of cowboys. “I say we establish surveillance and wait for more diary decodes or phone calls to Fats. We might luck out and see the van or even Bonny. St. Paddy’s Day’s still over a day out and I doubt they’ll move the barrels until the very morning of.”

“Fuck that waiting shit. That’s what caught us hell in Helmand province—I ain’t waiting. We know where the terrorists are. Longer we sit here playing briefcase badass, the more chance they got to escape.” Viper leapt to his feet. He waved his hands for approval from his brothers.

“We’re not even sure the bio-chem is there, or whether they have it in multiple locations. We’re glad to work together with a bunch of kickass veterans, but lets not risk a bad move by bum rushing the wrong warehouse.” Hollywood caught Chase’s glare at Viper but he also sensed the swelling tide of an immediate call to action. These killers didn’t get into the pits because they thought through shit.

“Leatherneck, he’s right you know,” Chase called out.

“We lost one war with the terrorists because we listened to D.C. suits. It ain’t gotta be that way now. We control this battle, not you federal agents.” His words riled up the other Savage Soul brothers.

Justice took a long time rising to his feet. “Boys, you volunteered for this mission, and I can’t order you to listen to them, but I trust them and ask that you do too. Wait on the intel.” Justice stared across the silent room at hard faces showing nothing but contempt for his words.

Thick animosity clouded the air.

“Justice, you right—we volunteered. I un-volunteer, and say it’s time to move if we gonna catch these extremists.” Viper stood up to face Justice.

No one showed fear. These were hard-core criminals who’d faced death in combat and returned home to find there was no place for them so they’d made their own—a place without fear or rules.

“Savage Soul forever brother.” Justice extended his hand.

“Savage Soul forever.” Viper gripped it and hugged him close.

He walked out with six others in tow. Hollywood looked at the other STR operatives—there was no surprise in their faces, except for Voodoo. She looked to Justice with her hands up as if to ask what the fuck?

“Well, that didn’t go like it should’ve,” Rose said.

“I just lead ’em, I don’t control ’em.”

“We need to move past, and set a plan in place. No time worrying about rogue ops,” Billy said. “Who knows, they might capture the whole crew.”

“No capture. Kill only.” Justice stated what everyone already knew.

“You sure this shit’s safe? I’m not too happy about returning to their clubhouse,” Hollywood examined the endless line of Harley Davidson motorcycles that jammed up most of Division Street. Music screamed through the walls, making talking street side difficult. Hollywood’s eyes sliced through the haze that settled atop the block. He wanted Billy and KC’s attention.

The mood was tight and the Savage Souls who loitered around the front door failed to acknowledge Justice with the same earlier reverence. The five brothers looked right through Hollywood and the other STR members, keeping their hands tucked beneath leather vests on what Hollywood assumed were weapons. Justice waited for the biggest of the five to move from in front of the door. The man wasn’t as tall as he was wide. His girth was a hard mixture of obesity-covered slabs of muscle. He didn’t move immediately.

“Problem?” Justice asked in his typical low tone.

“Yeah, your cop friends are a problem.” His vest patch read, Stump.

“I vouched for them, so you saying the problem is me?” Justice’s biceps pulled the slack in his shirt into a screaming stretch as his arms rippled. Fists clenched. His voice, now a growl, dared Stump’s loyalty to his president.

“It’s whatever you think.” The older man’s feet shuffled off balance and his hands moved between his pant pockets and crossed arms.

“I think you’re about to lose some teeth if you ever question me again. And move your worthless ass out of my way.” Justice eased his right leg back to balance for a strike. His hand looked like a hammer ready to pound.

“They’re talking shop inside—no visitors. Satan’s order.” Emboldened by the vice president’s support, Stump drew his shoulders back and lifted his chin in objection.

It wasn’t so much a crack sound, as it was a smack against a slab of beef. Layers of fat flesh rippled along Stump’s jaw as Justice’s right fist buried itself to connect directly with bone.

“Dress him for church revival.” Justice told the others, who nodded with gnarled expressions. The president looked side-to-side and two other brothers jerked against Stump’s hulk until they’d cleared the doorway for he and his guests. They also pulled off his “colors” and handed the Savage Souls leathers to Justice.

Music exploded as Justice shoved open the thick metal barrier. Hollywood felt his bones vibrate as he followed close behind. He blinked to adjust to the smoke and dim lighting as he moved from the foggy exterior to a haunted darkness that seemed to muddle and pool, like liquid at the edge of his vision. The stench of motor oil, gasoline and gunpowder came at him like an octopus on prey. His gut twisted at the thought of the decadent shit that went on in here.

“This way,” Justice ordered.

Hollywood captured everything he could about the interior and those who occupied it. He’d get his revenge for the chicken-shit ambush a bunch of bikers had laid on him years back. Sure, he’d stumbled into the wrong bar while chasing pussy, but the bullshit beating hadn’t been called for. Bearded, toothless faces were burned into his memory—one by one he scanned, looking for them.

“What the fuck?” Hollywood whispered. His jaw dropped in surprise. His eyes strained toward the pool table, but Justice demanded he move into the office. He reached for Chase, to alert him.

Couldn’t be…

*     *     *

“If she’s dumb enough to keep her cell, much less use it, why don’t I call her? She doesn’t know I’m with y’all, or that I know she’s involved.” Voodoo’s idea seemed simple and also sophomoric in the midst of the hi-tech and tactical ideas being passed back and forth.

“What’s to lose?” KC agreed.

“Any word on your boys at the warehouse?” Billy’s question appeared to remind Justice of the brothers who refused to follow him.

The big man pressed thick fingers against his eyelids. “Nothing.”

“Know what? Let’s give it a shot, what’s to lose? HQ hasn’t anything new, your boys can’t find the van and if they get into a firefight with Rougarou’s bayou boys, the whole damn thing might go up in all of our faces. Voodoo, if you want to call, then call.” Defeated, Rose collapsed in her seat—both hands rested atop her head.

“Who’s Rougarou?” Justice asked.

“Some blue star secret in their database,” Voodoo snapped sarcastically. Rose jerked up to reach for her—too late.

Justice’s look blanked. “Blue star? Rose, what the fuck have you gotten me into?” His voice trembled. His hulking frame seemed to wither before the group.

“You know that’s a no talk,” Rose said. Her eyes blazed at Voodoo, lips pursed so tight, they created a circle.

“This changes shit, Rose. I’m not getting involved at that level. None of this happened.” He stood up and stole all the free space in the back office.

“We need your help, Justice,” Rose pleaded. His big paw scrubbed over his face and beard before slamming the door shut as he exited the room.

“Stupid move, Voodoo,” Rose snapped and continued to glare at her.

“Sorry, but unless you tell me what the fuck a blue star means, how do I know it’s important? I’m just a high school dropout, remember?” She curled her bottom lip down and imitated sad eyes in a sort of taunt. “So don’t tell me I’m stupid again.”

“You just jeopardized the mission,” Rose said.

“Maybe you did by not telling him the whole truth. He’s a good man and deserves that much,” Voodoo defended.

“Maybe so.” Rose said.

“Oh, and Bonny replied to my text.”

“I see that. HQ just messaged me. They’re working on a location—keep up the communications.” Rose’s eyes brightened. The team gathered around the two.

“Did you see who I saw behind the pool table?” Hollywood asked Chase.

“No, who?”

“Lucky Cavanaugh.”

“No freaking way.” Chase let slip a nervous laugh.

“It’s ringing.” Surprised, Voodoo held the phone out to show everyone. Billy curled her hand back toward her head and mouthed for her to answer it. Hollywood and Chase quieted.

“Hey, Bonny. Where you been, girl?”

“Oh, here and there.”

The room stilled, as every operative huddled to listen.

“I need you to pay rent for March. Shit, it’s like two weeks overdue. You know they gonna boot me.”

“Why don’t you ask your beau to help pay?”

“Who?”

“Hollywood, I thought y’all were all in love.”

“That dude hauled ass after Mardi Gras. I thought he’d be different, but work called and he hauled.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” Voodoo mocked a cry with wiped tears.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. He looked like a dick anyway.”

“Thanks. You coming home soon, or should I look for a new roomie?”

Rose jerked her head up from the e-tablet—a big smile and thumbs up signaled they’d locked onto her call and were narrowing the location. Rose rolled her finger for Voodoo to keep Bonny on the line. Voodoo winked.

“Where were those bikers heading?” Rose whispered in Hollywood’s ear.

“Shit, Rose, we got a serious problem,” Hollywood warned.