Stormwind (The Storm Chronicles Book 3) (8 page)

In the middle of the lot was a large diesel generator and a camp trailer originally designed for two cozy campers and maybe a dog. It had been converted into a kitchen that served a variety of food, as long as it was burgers, dogs, fries, chips and fried fish.

A dozen picnic tables chained to old lampposts hosted a handful of diners from nearby businesses. It may have looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic video game, but Jeezburgers made some of the best lunches on this side of the city. Ainsworth made your order when you ordered it and nothing ever went to waste.

Raven walked past the other diners, took a seat at the small bar outside the trailer and smiled at Hartwin. “Hey, Hart, you can smell this place from two blocks away. What’s cooking?”

Hartwin Ainsworth, dressed in black pants and a pristine white shirt pushed his long black hair behind his ears and leaned on the counter. “I trust it’s a good smell, Ms. Storm. Can I get you and your friend something?”

Raven grinned at Ainsworth’s cockney accent and said, “I’ll take one of your famous Jeezburgers with everything, a side of chips and a water. Rupe?”

Levac was still looking around the strange fenced-in lot. “What? Oh! Um…fish and chips sounds good, with a cherry coke.”

“Right you are, sir!” Ainsworth replied. “I’ll have your lunch ready in a jiffy.”

Ainsworth set about making their meals and Raven sat listening to the sizzle of fresh meat on the grill and the burble of the deep fryers while Levac sipped a cherry coke and flipped through his notepad. After a time she became aware of a strange tingle on the back of her neck. She picked up her water and turned on her stool, her eyes surveying the crowd of diners. None of them were paying her or Levac any mind. She raised her eyes and looked out the gate. A delivery van was parked in front of Harrison Bank, one of the few branches still operating near The Dark. Two men were loading boxes into the back of the truck while a third sat behind the wheel of the truck, his eyes hidden behind aviator glasses.

“Hey Rupe, don’t delivery trucks usually deliver things?” Raven asked.

Levac followed her gaze to the van. “They pick up, too. Why? What’s up?”

Raven took a swig of her water then stood and started walking. “Bad guys doing bad things. Stay here and call in a 033 at Harrison Bank.”

“What about your lunch?” Levac asked.

“Hart, keep my burger warm, I will be right back.”

“Aye, Miss Ravenel,” Ainsworth replied.

Raven walked across the street toward the parked delivery van. One of the men outside stopped loading boxes to face her while his partner kept working.

“Can I help you?” the delivery man asked.

“Do you think you could put your hands on the side of the van and admit you and your buddies are robbing the bank?” Raven asked. “That would make my life a lot easier.”

“What?” the delivery man asked.

Behind him the other man had loaded the last box and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun he was trying to hide by his leg.

“Forget it,” Raven said.

She lashed out and punched the first man in the stomach with her left fist. He doubled over and her knee caught him in the face, knocking him out while she drew her Automag and pointed it at the second thief’s head.

“Drop the shotgun and put your hands on your head, you’re under arrest!” Raven said.

The thief’s eyes crossed as he tried to focus on the cannon covering his nose and he dropped the shotgun to the ground with a clatter. He raised his hands and made a grab for Raven’s pistol, pushing it aside.

“Go, Rico, go!” he yelled.

Raven kicked out with her foot, burying the pointed toe of her boot deep in the thief’s crotch. He crumpled around his own personal slice of pain as the delivery van began to move.

“Not a smart move, bub,” Raven said.

She handcuffed the two men together, holstered her pistol and ran after the retreating van. She caught one of the swinging cargo doors and hung on to the top, gritting her teeth when the madly swaying door slammed into the frame, squashing her fingers. The world then went spinning as the truck rounded a corner and she swung out into the open air to slam into the side of the truck with a thud. She could feel blood coming from beneath her fingernails and she felt her vampiric side trying to take hold. She swallowed her pain and anger and hung on as the truck made another wild turn, trying to scrape her off on a passing eighteen wheeler. Raven ran along the side of the tractor’s trailer and pushed off to land on top of the delivery truck. She rolled and came up on one knee, blood streaming from beneath broken fingers. Ignoring the pain, Raven crept forward and slid down the windshield of the van. She pulled out her badge and slammed it against the glass, leaving a smear of blood from her injured fingers.

“Detective Raven Storm, Chicago Police! I’d like to see your license and proof of insurance!” she yelled.

Inside the truck was a muscular Hispanic man whose biceps threatened to split the arms of his stolen uniform shirt. He blinked in surprise at the detective clinging to the windshield visor, his surprise slowly becoming a look of malice. The truck came to a screeching halt throwing Raven through the air to land several yards down the street. She rolled to one knee, a bloody hand pressed to the pavement for balance. After a moment she raised her head and glared daggers at the driver who grinned and revved the truck’s engine. Raven stood and drew her pistol. Blood ran down her hand, along the barrel and dripped onto the pavement. She disregarded it and continued to glower at the driver. His grin faded and the truck lurched forward, accelerating toward Raven. She watched it come, her eyes still locked on the musclebound thug behind the wheel. With precision born from years of practice Raven raised the Automag and shot the driver through the forehead, his brains spraying against the stainless steel wall of the truck. She stepped aside and let the truck roll by to come to a safe stop against an old telephone pole. She then began walking back to where she knew a warm burger with sauce, extra pickles and a sesame seed bun was waiting. She would report the incident later; she was in no mood for one of Frost’s lectures about using her weapon.

Her fingers had started to heal by the time she dropped heavily onto her stool back at Jeezburgers. She grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped off as much blood as possible, nodding at Ainsworth who placed her burger, chips and a fresh bottle of water in front of her. Levac finished the piece of fish he’d been gnawing on and turned to look at Raven. She knew he was looking at her torn jacket and jeans, but she paid no attention to him, choosing to savor her burger instead. Ainsworth had managed to keep it warm, but juicy with a hint of blood and she could feel her fingers healing and her strength returning. After a few bites, she wiped her lips on a napkin and turned to Levac.

“What the hell happened?” he asked before she could say a word. “You look like you got hit by a truck!”

“The bank was being robbed, as the nice officers behind us are learning,” Raven replied. “I stopped them and was almost run over by a truck.”

“We heard a shot, Miss Ravenel,” Ainsworth added.

Raven shrugged and turned back to her meal. “The driver was less than cooperative.”

“You’re supposed to take me with you, not tell me to stay here,” Levac said.

“Don’t start that again!” Raven said around a mouthful of burger. “I thought I was just going across the street not four blocks!”

Levac sighed. “Which is why you take your partner with you, Ray.”

“He has a point, Miss Ravenel,” Ainsworth said.

Raven glanced in annoyance at Ainsworth and finished her burger, sopping up the bloody juice with a piece of bun. She then pulled a roll of cash out of her jacket’s breast pocket and tossed three bills on the bar, enough to cover both lunches.

“Thanks, Hart,” she said. “It was delicious as always.”

Ainsworth bowed from the waist. “You are welcome, Miss Ravenel. Do come again, maybe next time the bank won’t be robbed.”

Raven smiled and turned toward the gate.  She heard Levac mutter something to Ainsworth and then his footsteps as he hurried to catch up.

Back in the Shelby Levac laid a hand on Raven’s before she could start the car.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Raven asked, not meeting his eyes.

“Treating me like a mushroom. I thought we were past this,” Levac said.

Raven sighed and turned to Levac. “We are, Rupe. I’m sorry, okay?”

She and Levac stared at each other for a long moment before Levac sighed and leaned back in his seat. “So what do your instincts tell you we should do now?”

Raven turned the key and listened to the engine’s rumble, her nails tapping on the steering wheel. “Club Black. They’re open now. Let’s go see if anyone there can tell us anything about Franks and who he may have been with last night.”

Levac plucked at the strings hanging from Raven’s torn jacket. “We’re not really dressed for Club Black.”

“We’ve got badges, we’re always dressed for the occasion,” Raven said with a smirk.

CLUB BLACK SAT IN THE heart of the Chicago Loop and was a very popular nightspot for both the city’s upper crust as well as tourists looking for the best wine, cheese, cigars and modern jazz the city had to offer. The black mirrored structure was an office building of sorts, with the lower level rented out to the club. Raven knew for a fact the upper levels contained a variety of vampire-owned businesses of the less bloody type. Even vampires needed something to do to keep from being so bored their brains atrophied.

She parked the Shelby on the street, fed the meter with her police-issued card and traded her torn denim jacket for the old aviator’s A2 she kept in the trunk. She pushed up the sleeves on the slightly too big jacket and joined Levac at the door to the club where he was speaking with an attractive middle-aged man who had salt and pepper hair and wore a black suit. As Raven got closer she realized what appeared to be a polite discussion was the maître’d refusing Levac access to the club.

“What’s the problem?” she asked, stopping next to Levac.

“This…gentleman is refusing us entrance,” Levac replied. “He says we need a warrant or a membership.”

“Excuse me?” Raven asked.

“You do not have a warrant and are not members of the club,” the maître’d replied. “I’m sorry, but club rules are very strict on membership.”

Raven grabbed the man’s tie and yanked him halfway across the podium. “You listen to me, little man. I happen to know you don’t require membership and this club is on city property. My badge means I can come in and ask questions pertaining to a police investigation. Now do you want to allow us entrance or am I going to arrest you and drag your skinny butt to jail? My lieutenant would love it if I made an arrest instead of shooting someone.”

She let go and the tall man loosened his tie and took a deep breath. “My apologies, officers. Please enter and enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” Raven replied.

Levac opened the door and Raven ducked under his arm to enter the lobby. What she saw was red. Red, red and more red. The carpet was red, the round benches were covered in red leather, the hostess desk was red leather…the black lacquer walls made the red stand out in bright and somewhat annoying contrast.

Behind the desk was a painfully thin young Asian woman with waist length black hair. She was wearing a red dress the same color as the leather decor matched with black fingerless gloves. She smiled and beckoned the two detectives closer.

“Can we arrest people for bad taste?” Levac asked as they crossed the lobby.

Raven shook her head and whispered back, “No but with our luck they’ll have to redecorate after we leave anyway.”

They reached the hostess’ desk and the lithe woman smiled another warm greeting. “Welcome to Club Black. I’m sorry, but we do have a strict dress code, business dress is required.”

Raven placed her badge on the desk. “We’re not here for a martini. Is there a manager around?”

The hostess examined Raven’s badge for a moment then handed it back. “Of course, Detective Storm. One moment.”

The young woman typed some keys on a pad in front of her and spoke softly into the Bluetooth device connected to the strap of her dress. After a moment she turned her attention back to Raven and Levac.

“Ms. Hisakawa will be with you in a moment. Please feel free to have a seat.”

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Raven said. “Thanks.”

The pair took a seat on one of the circular benches and Raven tried not to feel like a little girl waiting at the doctor’s office. Something about the décor unnerved her.

A few minutes later an Asian woman entered from the bar. She was dressed in a smart black pantsuit and boots. At her neck was a red gemstone that carried on the club’s theme of red and black. It made Raven want to vomit.

The two detectives stood and the manager extended her hand to each of them. “I am Noa Hisakawa, manager of Club Black. You are Detectives Storm and Levac? What can I do for you?”

“Ms. Hisakawa, is there somewhere we can talk more privately?” Levac asked.

Hisakawa bowed and turned away. “Of course, please follow me.”