Shadow Ops: Danger's Passion (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Shadow Ops Novella Book 3) (9 page)

Billy and Chase shielded Rose as Hollywood lunged across the back seat. She leaned back with feet ready to strike her former teammate. Hollywood’s face flushed with hatred as he cursed Rose for her carelessness. The SUV rocked as violent bodies swayed it.

Two New Jersey State troopers pulled their vehicles across the lane to block highway traffic. A booming voice over the loudspeaker ordered the driver to exit the Suburban.

Chase exited with his gold badge in his left hand.

“We were changing clothes in there. Too many brother cops in one place. Sorry officers, on our way to the memorial.” His words matched his embarrassed smile, and it worked.

“Sorry, just had to check out the suspicious activity. Got a VIP coming through. Stand clear,” the anonymous voice ordered. Chase nodded, hands still raised.

He pounded his elbow against the door and everyone’s face pressed against the heavily tinted glass. Lumbering toward the Zapp Street exit was a beautifully custom painted Hummer H-1. The 300 horsepower behemoth slowed until it crept past their SUV. The red, white, and blue motif and American flag graphic wrap was specifically created to honor America’s hero, JW Colt. The H1 also bore the former Navy SEAL’s name and movie advertisements.

“Sorry you had to see that, Hollywood,” Chase said as he climbed back behind the wheel.

“Fuck him. Maybe Bonny will take him out along with the president.” Hollywood scrunched down low in his seat. Arms folded tight against his rigid body, head turned out the window, his thoughts returned to his family in exile thanks to JW Colt’s tell-all movie. Chase lowered the front passenger’s window for Hollywood. He stuck his hand out to ride the wind, which seemed to calm him by returning him to a safe place in his life.

“Hollywood, I really am sorry about the doctor. I did vet her and trusted her very much. I can’t imagine what might’ve caused her to flee,” Rose offered.

Hollywood refused to respond.

“We’ll know soon enough. Justice and crew are on the tracker website now and heading toward the beacon’s signal. Looks like the doctor is heading back toward the apartment from last night,” Chase said.

“The one where Justice sniped the biker?” KC yelled from the back seat.

“One and same,” Chase replied with a glance and smile in the rearview.

“That’s an odd coincidence.” Rose stated the obvious.

Chase piloted the SUV as close behind JW Colt’s motorcade as possible. Had it not been for the audacious H1, their SUV looked like a VIP transporter. A flash of gold federal agency badges greeted the security guard at the first of many entrance checkpoints.

“Hang on, it’s Lawless,” Rose said.

The others began scanning the crowds for Bonny.

“Don’t worry about Fats,” Lawless’ voice was flat and serious.

“He change his mind about coming?” Rose asked.

“Vengeance changed it for him.” Lawless hung up.

“Lets spread out. There’s got to be fifty thousand people here,” Rose guessed.

Hollywood spotted the bodyguard contingency escorting JW Colt through a designated side alley. There’d be no way the U.S. Secret Service would chance trapping POTUS in this crowd without an escape route. The privacy sheeting that covered the temporary fencing provided that path. JW Colt used it; Hollywood would use it.

The ocean of police blue, fire red, and military green leapt to their feet at the introduction of the national anthem. Hollywood’s natural instinct was to stand at attention and pay proper respect to his country. He did while scanning the crowd. Even so, gazing at the sight of the future “Empty Sky” memorial, he became overwhelmed with its significance. The State of New Jersey had lost seven hundred and forty-nine citizens on the morning of September 11, 2001. This Easter Sunday ceremony was to honor them and to serve as a fundraiser for the site.

His entire career had come as a direct result of those seven hundred and forty-nine people’s death, along with the other two thousand, two hundred and forty-seven victims killed in the terrorist attacks. As a result, Hollywood had committed every second to tracking and killing those responsible. He’d been successful, but he’d also paid a huge price along the way.

Hollywood wanted it all to end on this Easter Sunday. He was willing to pay the ultimate price to bring peace to a nation ravished by zealots hell bent on destroying the nation’s security.

He began to slip quietly along the fence before the music ended. The best chance of spotting Bonny was while everyone was standing. The pledge of allegiance was next—he moved closer.

It was just past mid-morning and the sun’s glare shimmered off the Hudson River. Adjusting his sunshades, he systematically searched the audience using the wide area surface scanning technique taught to him while counter-sniping Taliban long-range shooters. The technique had earned him numerous confirmed kills.

There was the president. She was easy enough to spot, and there was his fraudulent ass, JW Colt. Seated about three chairs down from the leader of the free world. A world Hollywood had helped keep free by hunting and killing the wolf.

He felt a flush rise at the sight of JW Colt being honored as a guest and a speaker. Okay, enough of JW Colt. Where was Bonny? He saw law enforcement from across the country and the world, but no Bonny. He recalled Justice saying she might be dressed as a cop.

Glare limited his vision and made his tired eyes water, so he maneuvered closer to the opening at the end of the makeshift escape route. He moved slowly because he knew once Secret Service detected him, they’d remove or arrest him for being within a restricted zone.

[Anybody got eyes on?] Rose’s text went unanswered.

Hollywood’s focus strained to eliminate the view of Manhattan just across the river. The President of the United States of America had just been introduced, and Hollywood knew that would be the perfect time for an assassin to strike.

[No word on Voodoo either] This text from Rose caught his attention. His heart sunk—he’d failed her again.

He forced himself to focus on the mission. Still over one hundred yards away, Hollywood could see officers stand to applaud as the president delivered her most patriotic speech to date. A British Bobby standing alone caught his attention. Attired in a formal uniform like the other officers present, the distinctive hat appeared overly ornate and outdated. It looked classic when combined in a dress-class uniform.

I couldn’t imagine wearing that damn hat for a twelve-hour shift.

Seated not far behind the POTUS and JW Colt, the Bobby became a distraction for Hollywood. He forced himself to scan other locations close to the target zone, but his eyes kept returning to the British officer.

POTUS wrapped up her speech, and would soon be whisked away while other police, fire, and military dignitaries droned on.

Hollywood paused. He’d been in this game long enough to realize you didn’t ignore the little voice or the times when the hair on the back of your neck stood up. No good cop did. He now focused on the Bobby instead of trying to avoid him. He leaned in. Then lurched across the fencing. His weight balanced across. It rattled the feeble metal and drew the Secret Service’s attention.

“Freeze!” someone called out.

Hollywood ignored them. Something stuck out in plain sight, but what was it? He glanced at the teams of Secret Service Agents making their way faster toward him. He again ignored them. When he turned back, he saw what it was that drew his eyes like a moth to the flame.

British Bobbies didn’t carry firearms. The one seated about three chairs to the left and one row back was wearing a leather duty belt with a semi-automatic pistol attached. Hollywood jumped the chain-link fence and hurried through the audience.

He made eye contact with Billy, who had begun to circle closer to the front. Hollywood mimed a large hat above his head, and Billy looked to have understood the reference. Both operatives moved quicker, but unfortunately drew more attention to themselves.

When POTUS moves, the general rule is everyone else sits their asses down.

Four Secret Service Agents were now over the fence and in pursuit of Hollywood. His heart raced at the danger, but there wasn’t time to stop to explain.

POTUS stepped away from the podium and headed back to her assigned chair. Hollywood moved faster though he had to fight his way through the mass of humanity. He saw the British Bobby rise. The blue felt helmet came off to reveal a shock of blonde hair, cut above an angular jaw line—Bonny.

“Stop!” yelled the Secret Service agent.

Hollywood clawed his way over laps and dress shoes.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!” screamed another agent dressed in the typical dark navy suit with the lapel pin of the day.

Frantic, Hollywood pushed harder. He was within about thirty yards of Bonny when he saw her withdraw a Glock semiautomatic from her holster.

“Freeze!” A Secret Service agent confronted Hollywood at the end of the aisle.

“British Bobby. A gun,” he gasped.

He saw Billy sprinting across an opening to the front of the audience.

“Bonny, no!” Hollywood yelled.

Bonny flicked her head to toss her hair from her eyes. She turned back and fired two rounds.

The president never had the time nor the training to move out of the line of fire. It all happened so fast. Who could’ve expected her to react? Officers, once spectators, grabbed Bonny’s arms and eventually pulled the weapon from her hands.

Hollywood froze at the barrel of a Secret Service pistol pointed at his forehead. He glanced over the federal employee’s shoulder to see Billy Price being handcuffed by another team of feds.

His peripheral captured a flash of agents evacuating the president through the fenced escape route. Crowds scattered as emergency medical personnel arrived to the front row.

Though it happened too quickly to see, witnesses with phone cameras and live television had captured the moment. Hollywood saw the footage later. The SEAL seated near the president redeemed himself in the end. He recognized the threat, and like every good SEAL is trained to do, he defended the helpless. JW Colt dove into the line of fire. The day’s single casualty was United States Navy SEAL, Captain JW Colt—American hero.

Traffic slowed along Louisiana Highway 18 as the procession of police cars, limousines and Harley Davidsons squeezed across a sliver of shoulder that dotted the river road. A levee that held the mighty Mississippi River at bay was also speckled by guests’ vehicles.

Hollywood’s thumb and forefinger flapped his tuxedo jacket to coax a slight breeze across his torso. He greeted each of the Boudreaux brothers as they marched into the narrow lanes of asphalt. Hollywood slid the slick sole of his shiny black shoes across the damp surface of manicured lawn. Thoughtful as he read the rocker patches embossed across the backs of their cuts, he’d actually grown to understand their ethos—if not respect it. Hollywood chuckled at the sight of their leather vests cleaned up—or at least wiped down for the ceremony.

Hands shoved deep into each front pocket, he beamed at the majestic view. Eighteenth century Greek Revival architecture at its most splendid. An eight hundred foot canopied-path lined with twenty-eight grandiose oak trees led to the main plantation home, known as Oak Alley, the most iconic of all Mississippi River Valley antebellum mansions.

Yet, it all faded in comparison to the beauty who had just arrived in an ornate candle-white, Barouche buggy, drawn by a pristinely groomed white stallion. Fingers teased a wave as she rode past. Voodoo’s smile was as innocent and sincere as he’d ever seen.

Cinderella, who would’ve guessed.

“You ready, Hollywood?” Chase asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he smiled. They shook hands again before the trek beneath the blanket of foliage. “Chase, I owe today to you,” Hollywood said.

Mint julep spilled across his bottom lip. “Owe me for what?”

“Never doubting my suspicions of Doctor Hailey. Dropping the tracker into her purse was pure genius. Without that today wouldn’t be happening.”

“Yeah, it’s nuts that Senator Dunn dispatched the good doctor to kill Rose—can’t trust anyone. Too small a world.” Chase whistled after he emphasized his point.

“No shit.” Rose had shown him the cleaner’s pictures of the scene. Mercy, had made a fucking mess of things. The story he told was that Doctor Hailey tried to jab a syringe into Voodoo, so he shot her in the face. Hollywood had his doubts.

“Mercy showed that bitch no mercy,” Chase simulated pulling a pistol from a holster.

“Not so sure I trust Mercy’s story about bringing Voodoo back to the apartment because he knew the NYPD would be there soon. Either way, had Mercy not stolen the doc’s purse, we’d have never found my bride.” Hollywood said.

“It ain’t that simple,” Chase said.

He waved to the rest of the wedding party who waited under the last tree, next to the white lattice gazebo. They began to assemble.

Hollywood cut off Chase’s words, “It is that simple. You saved her, Chase, and I’ll always owe you.” They hugged with heavy backslapping—the way warriors do.

“Let you in on a secret?” Chase said. He pulled Hollywood back in close to whisper. “Mercy was going to steal the doctor’s Mercedes to drive Voodoo away, but as he approached it with your bride slumped over his shoulder, the Benz zoomed away. Driven by none other, than Senator William Dunn.”

Hollywood smiled. There’d be one more dragon to slay before closing the chapter to this fairy tale.

“Lets do this, all right?” Hollywood smiled as they approached the rest of the wedding party.

Seated in the front row next to his daughter and Lawless, Justice stood to tower over Hollywood. They stared, and then grinned.

“She’s one of our own bayou girls, you better treat her right, California boy.” Justice’s huge hand dwarfed the groom’s. “It’s been good learning to trust you.”

“Same here, outlaw.”

“Seems one more wolf left to slay,” Justice mouthed while he straightened Hollywood’s boutonniere.

“Right after the honeymoon, my brother.”

“He tried running down a brother—the Savage nation will take care of the Senator. You enjoy Turtle Bayou and keep an eye on my little brother.” Justice stood back after one last inspection. He had to go.

Everyone stood as
The Wedding March
cued over the speakers.

Hollywood’s heart pounded with excitement. He couldn’t take it any longer—he had to see her. He bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to see over the crowd. Chase squeezed his left shoulder one last time. It was the silent signal between shadow operatives that it was “Go time.”

Hollywood embraced the butterflies that raged in his nervous belly. Warm air invaded his lungs as beads of sweat speckled his forehead. He exhaled forcefully before leaning to peek down the aisle. The lush lawn, dotted with white wicker chairs, flowers, and pastel frocks, looked deep green and cool.

Rose, Billy, KC, Chase and even Lucky Cavanaugh, sat sweltering in the Creole humidity. Hollywood laughed at their looks of discomfort, but was ever thankful they’d come to celebrate his special moment. They looked at him and everyone smiled. His nod had just signaled his farewell to the Special Threats Response team.

The music began. He looked to the heavens and mouthed, “Thank you.”

Hollywood stepped forward so he had a view of the long, rose-strewn path. There she was, his beautiful Krystal Marie Laveau. She looked so tiny, but never so happy. Radiant, smooth caramel skin accented her ivory, satin and lace gown. Spaghetti straps lay across tattooed shoulders, while a ruffled train swept behind her.

White teeth nibbled at her bottom lip, while wide, green eyes looked wet beneath fluttering eyelids. She and her escort waltzed along the grass as gracefully as if they’d practiced it.

“Hi,” she said softly when she reached her groom’s side.

“Hi, baby.”

Hollywood gripped Justice’s hand and thanked him for walking her down the aisle. She kissed her childhood friend. Her dad would’ve been proud of her this day.

“By the way, I wore this just for you,” she said.

Hollywood lifted the veil—it was her black leather collar.

The End

For more of outlaw biker, Justice Boudreaux, please watch for 2015 releases in the Savage Souls Series. There’s also a sneak peek into this outlaw biker world below.