The Price of Disrespect (Gray Spear Society Book 6) (6 page)

"Aaron," she said, "I'm sure it's just a glitch in the video, but it looks like Wesley is with you."

"He is." Aaron nodded.

"I'm going to regret asking this question, but why?"

"He wants to be my
legionnaire
."

She stared.

"I'm tired of traveling all the time," Wesley whined. "I'm tired of living with heartless monsters like Carlos and Atalanta. I'm tired of revealing truths nobody wants to hear. I'm tired of being a target. Mostly, I'm tired of being jerked around by fate all the time. I want an ordinary life."

"Being a
legionnaire
is ordinary?"

"Compared to being the Voice of Truth, it is. I'm never going to use my gift again! I hate the pain and chaos it causes. The world is a happier place when everybody lies. Humanity isn't ready for enlightenment."

Marina raised her eyebrows. "I was right. I regret asking the question."

"What should I do?" Aaron said.

"Did you call Ethel?"

"She wasn't very helpful."

Marina winced. "I'm afraid I won't be very helpful, either. This is out of my league. Actually, I think it was a mistake to let me see Wesley at all. I didn't need to know he was in Chicago. His location is extremely sensitive information."

She was right. Aaron furrowed his brow with annoyance.

"I do have one question," she said. "Where is the protection team?"

"Downstairs in the hotel."

"Carlos?"

"Yes." He nodded.

She shuddered. "For once, I'm glad we're two thousand miles apart."

He looked at her face and felt every one of those miles. He desperately wanted to hold her. "I guess this is my problem to solve alone. Wesley came to me, not anybody else. We'll see if I'm up to the challenge."

"I love you. Good luck."

He sighed. "I love you, too. Bye." He turned off the video system.

He walked across the room and sat behind his desk. The twins had recommended a specific kind of ergonomic office chair, and he was very happy he had followed their advice. Soft gray webbing didn't allow any pressure points. Everything was perfectly adjusted. He could sit in his new chair for hours without getting uncomfortable.

"We need to talk," Aaron said.

Wesley walked over to the desk. "About what?"

"About you being a
legionnaire
. It would be extremely irresponsible for me to send you out on assignments. It's too dangerous for you."

"I can protect myself!"

"You're just a kid."

"My parents taught me how to fight every day since I learned to walk," Wesley said. "During the last year, Atalanta and Yvonne took over my training. You can't have better instructors."

"What do you weigh? Seventy pounds? Eighty? You just don't have the physical mass or strength to defeat an adult opponent."

"I'll show you. Let's spar right now." Wesley stuck out his chin defiantly.

Aaron smirked. "Sure." He looked up at the ceiling and yelled. "Jack! Tell Smythe and Norbert to come to the exercise area. They'll want to see this."

Jack's voice emanated from an overhead speaker. "Yes, sir."

Aaron and Wesley walked out to where blue mats were laid on the tile floor. Both of them were wearing loose, comfortable clothes so there was no need to change.

Wesley dropped into a defensive stance that looked flawless even to Aaron's expert eye. Maybe the boy had some skills.

Smythe and Norbert arrived and watched with interest.

Aaron came in with a soft kick-punch combination so he could see how Wesley moved. It turned out he moved very well. The boy nimbly dodged the attack, slid underneath, and kicked Aaron in the abdomen. Aaron allowed the contact so he could gauge Wesley's strength. The blow struck with enough force to make Aaron grunt.

"Nicely done," he said.

Wesley smiled.

Aaron became a little more aggressive. He used a double feint to make Wesley step backwards awkwardly. Aaron hooked the boy's legs, but instead of falling, Wesley performed a graceful back handspring. He landed squarely on his feet. Aaron shoved Wesley's chest before he could regain his balance. Wesley rolled and was back on his feet again an instant later.

Smythe and Norbert clapped.

Aaron performed a series of punches that forced Wesley to dodge and weave at a desperate pace. Wesley tried to counter-attack, but Aaron stayed just out of reach every time. There was a lot of quick movement but no contact. Wesley didn't get tired or frustrated though. He maintained excellent focus for a full five minutes until Aaron finally stopped chasing him around.

"You were trained by masters," Aaron said. "I'll grant you that much. But I'm still not convinced you can survive a street fight. If you go out on a mission, you'll go with at least two teammates, and only after I give you explicit permission."

Wesley opened his mouth as if to complain, then said, "Yes, sir."

Bethany and Leanna came out of the computer room and walked over.

"We located Tawni," Bethany said.

Aaron raised his eyebrows. "That was fast!"

"The NSA maintains a secret archive of all phone and text messages. We performed an adaptive search for relevant keywords until we determined which phone Tawni is carrying. It's in the name of one of her former boyfriends. We can triangulate her signal at any time, sir."

"Do it now." Aaron faced Smythe and Norbert. "The three of us will leave immediately. Tawni needs to be tested."

Smythe grimaced. "Sir, what kind of test did you have in mind?"

"I want to know if she's tough enough to work for me."

"In other words, she's about to have an absolutely miserable experience."

Aaron nodded.

* * *

Tawni was sitting in a tiny dining room by herself. She heard movement in the adjacent kitchen as a man prepared dinner for both of them. His name was Dante, Darnell, or maybe Darrell. She couldn't quite remember which name was right, but it didn't matter. He was letting her stay in his apartment for a couple of nights, which was as long as she allowed herself to live in one place. A lot of bad people were looking for her.

Dante came out of the kitchen carrying a big bowl of spaghetti. Bright red sauce covered the top. Tawni liked it when a man cooked for her. She might even have sex with him depending on how the rest of the evening went. A bowl of spaghetti alone wasn't enough to earn that honor.

His eyes widened. He placed the bowl on the table and raised his hands above his head.

She turned around and discovered two big, muscular men in the room. They had entered silently. They carried assault rifles of a type she didn't recognize, but they looked very expensive. They weren't weapons that could be bought on the street. The men wore black and gray camouflage clothing that seemed designed for night operations. Vests with the same color scheme protected their broad torsos. Smaller weapons hung from their belts or were strapped to their ankles. They appeared ready to go to war. Tawni had to admit the men looked hot.

One had blue eyes and short, rust colored hair. The other had brown, curly hair, and his face was a little puffy. Their expressions were as serious as a funeral.

"Lay down on the floor," the first man said in a deep voice. "Hands behind your back. Both of you."

Tawni had no choice but to comply. Her hands and feet were quickly bound with nylon ropes. A bag was put over her hands to make it harder for her to free herself. Finally, the men slipped a black cloth sack over her head. She could breathe through the coarse fabric but she couldn't see a damn thing.

"Who are you?" she said. "What are you going to do to me?"

She was ignored.

One man picked her up and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. His strong arms seemed to have little trouble lifting her even though she wasn't small.

A cool breeze and the sound of traffic indicated she was being taken outside. The man placed her on a surface covered with a thin carpet. She heard an engine running. A door was slammed closed and all light was cut off. She guessed she was in the trunk of a car.

Her heart was pounding like a drum. She desperately tried to free herself, but the men had done an expert job of tying her. All she accomplished was working up a sweat.

She listened to the road noises and tried to judge where the men were taking her. The road was bumpy for a while which suggested city streets. When the ride smoothed out, she guessed she was on the highway. She was travelling a long distance.

She tried not to contemplate her eventual destination. The Lake Street Vigilantes had made a lot of enemies in the past few months. It was possible the mob had put out a contract on her. She made another failed attempt at freeing her hands. She really didn't want to die today.

The long trip finally ended. Tawni was lifted out of the trunk and carried some distance. The air was cool and moist, and she heard waves lapping against a shore. She was placed on her feet.

The cloth sack was yanked off her head, and she looked around. She was standing at the end of a short pier on the shore of Lake Michigan. A small, white house stood a short distance from the water, but otherwise, she saw only trees along the shore. The night was very dark and quiet. She couldn't even see the lights of Chicago.

A third man came out of the house and walked down the dock. Like the other two, he wore black and gray clothing and a vest. Weapons decorated his body like Christmas tree ornaments. He had straight brown hair and a very handsome face. Bushy eyebrows gave him a wild appearance.

Tawni suddenly recognized the men. They had worn masks before but their bodies were distinctive. "Hey! You're the assholes from the alley last night!"

The man with bushy eyebrows nodded. "You're perceptive."

The man with red hair ran a thick rope around her chest and under her arms. He tied it tight but left about ten feet of rope hanging loose.

"We want the names and addresses of your friends," he said.

"My friends?" she said.

"The punks who call themselves the Lake Street Vigilantes. Give them up. Save yourself."

"Fuck you."

She was pushed off the dock. She hit the water hard and sank quickly. With her hands and feet bound, she could only thrash helplessly. Cold water was forced up her nose. She coughed reflexively and sucked more water into her lungs. Darkness closed on her like the lid of a coffin.

Her lungs were burning when she felt the rope around her chest tighten. She was hauled out of the lake and dropped on the wooden planks like a fish. For a minute, all she could do was lie there and spit up water. She was already exhausted from her ordeal.

The man with bushy eyebrows leaned over her. "We want names."

"Fuck you
again
." She spat at him.

He pushed her back into the lake with his foot.

This time she didn't thrash. There was no point. If she was going to drown, she would do so with dignity at least.

After about a minute that seemed to last an hour, she was hauled out again. She gasped for air.

"We can do this all night," the man said calmly.

She spoke through her chattering teeth. "I needed a bath anyway, asshole."

She went back into the chilly water.

After six more plunges into the lake, the men stepped away to confer with each other. She was left shivering and helpless on the dock. Hypothermia made her feel a little numb and sleepy. Her shoulders ached from being in an awkward position for so long. She was proud of herself though. She hadn't betrayed her friends and never would.

The man with bushy eyebrows seemed to be the leader of the crew. He went back to the house and emerged a moment later carrying a sniper rifle. She recognized it as a M107 .50 caliber. It was a monster of a weapon capable of penetrating light armor at extreme range. He knelt on the dock and aimed the rifle in her direction.

"Names," he said without emotion.

"Go to hell!" she screamed.

He fired. The barrel belched flame and boomed like a cannon. The bullet passed so close to her head, the shockwave caressed her face. It took all her self-control to keep from pissing in her pants.

"Mother fucker!" she yelled.

"You like my gun?" he said. "It's one of my favorites."

He pulled the trigger again, and this time the bullet zipped by her ear. She instinctively tried to curl her body into a fetal position. She had no way to protect herself, and it was the worst feeling in the world.

"I don't have to miss," the man said. "Where do you want me to shoot you? The foot? The knee?"

"You're a fucking piece of shit!"

He aimed straight at her face. "Last chance. All I need are some names."

"I got three names for you. Go! Fuck! Yourself!"

He settled into a solid firing position. She could see straight down the barrel, and she knew the next bullet would take her head off. She had never been this close to death before. It was like an icy presence standing on the dock and breathing on her neck. This was the end.

"Say goodbye to your old life," the man said quietly.

He pulled the trigger.

The rifle clicked.

He stood up. All three men walked over and looked down at her. Her heart was beating so hard she thought she might have a heart attack.

"What's your assessment, gentleman?" the man with bushy eyebrows said in a clinical tone.

"Not bad," the man with red hair said. "The profanity was amateurish, but that's just a quibble. I never got the sense she was about to crack."

"I like her spirit," the man with curly hair said. "A tenacious fighter."

"What the hell are you assholes talking about?" Tawni said.

The leader knelt down and got close to her. "This was a test."

"A test?"

"I actually don't care about your gang or your friends. This was all about you. I needed to know what kind of woman you are, and you impressed me. My name is Aaron."

"You're a sick bastard, Aaron." She yanked on her ropes.

He smiled a little. "You can calm down. You're safe now. I was never going to kill you."

"Untie me!"

"Not yet."

"Why are you doing this?" she said. "What do you want from me?"