Ashen Rayne (Shadowlands Book 1) (20 page)

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say” he said. “That kid isn’t worth this. Come on, Bruno.”

Smoak stepped back and watched the two men leave before dropping the knife and turning her attention to the younger girl crouching in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” Smoak asked, holding out her hand.

The girl took her hand and came out of the darkness. Smoak was amazed at how fiery the kid’s hair was.

“I’m okay,” the girl said. “They hadn’t really hurt me yet, just scared the bejesus out of me.”

“Good,” Smoak said. “What did they want, anyway?”

The girl shook her head. “I don’t know, they were looking for my sister, but she’s with a different Foster family. I don’t know where she is. Not really.”

“You should tell your family someone was looking for your sister,” Smoak said. “Just in case. But please don’t tell them about me, ‘kay?”

The girl nodded and Smoak turned toward the exit. “Come on, let’s bail, they might come back. Do you have a ride home?”

“I was going to take the bus, but I think I missed it by now. It’s okay, I can walk,” the girl replied.

“You were on the Academy side,” Smoak said. “That’s a long walk, even if you take the cut. Want a ride? My Mustang is just on the other side of the wall.”

The girl smiled. “Sure, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m Blaze,” the girl said after a few seconds. “What’s your name?”

Smoak took her sunglasses out of her top and put them on. “My friends call me Smoak.”

“Smoak. That’s a cool name.”

“I bought you ice cream on the way home,” Smoak said.

“Cherry, my favorite. Then you and your girlfriend took me home, and I thought I would never see you again,” Blaze said. “But I never stopped thinking about you. You’ve changed a lot, though. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

Smoak raised a hand to her face. “My face got rearranged about a month after we met. They put it back together as best they could, but it will never look the same.”

Blaze smiled and kissed her way along Smoak’s jaw. “I wasn’t complaining, honey. You’re beautiful. You were pretty when you were in school, but you had a hard edge to your face. It’s softer now, not so angry.”

“My friends called it the ‘Bitch Face.’ I guess Gaia was trying to tell me something when they put me back together,” Smoak said with a smile.

“Maybe she was telling you to relax,” Blaze said. “Not many people would have done what you did. I don’t know how many people walked past me that day, but it was a lot. You didn’t have to stop either, but you did. Maybe whatever happened was someone telling you to take a break.”

“I never took a break,” Smoak said. “I joined the service a few weeks later.”

“You’re already a hero, Kam. You don’t have to save the world.”

Smoak smiled and kissed Blaze softly. “I’m no hero, honey. I’m just always in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Maybe that’s what makes a hero. Being in the wrong place and not running,” Blaze replied.

“Maybe,” Smoak repeated. “I don’t know.”

Blaze frowned and rolled onto her side. After a while, she took Smoak’s hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

Smoak nodded. “Whatever you want.”

“The hair, the makeup, the nails, none of that is the girl I saw at the stadium that day. You had black nail polish and black stripes in your hair. You looked like the sort of girl who would be thrashing at a metal concert and breaking heads, not hanging upside down on a pole. The only thing about you that’s the same are the sunglasses and the attitude. I understand what happened to your face, but why the rest?”

Smoak paused, debating whether she should tell Blaze the truth. But she wasn’t sure she could handle telling Blaze and having the woman tell her to get out.

“I spent several years overseas,” Smoak said. “No makeup, no hair stylist, just a lot of mud, blood and sand. When I got home, I decided I needed something different. And here I am.”

It was partially true. When she’d gotten home, she had opted for a change, but only partially because she wanted to. It was also to hide who she really was. Working in the shadows and skirting the edge of the law was far easier if no one knew who she was. Her tattoo wasn’t that uncommon, they had two other girls with similar ones at Lollipops alone.

Blaze pursed her lips. “So this mane of beach blonde hair, these stripper-length nails and a job as a dancer is just ‘cause you wanted a change after Iraq? Isn’t that a little extreme?”

Smoak kissed Blaze’s pert lips. “Not if you’d spent all that time being one of the guys. It’s nice to have someone take care of my hair and hands, and I can use a little pampering. In a couple years, I’m sure I’ll cut my hair shorter and get rid of the nails, but for now, it works. Does it matter how I look?”

“As long as you’re happy, you can dye your hair pink and wear finger-puppets for all I care,” Blaze said. “I’m content to have you any way I can.”

Telling Blaze the truth was becoming a necessity, but she’d rather face a room full of enemy mercenaries than take a chance on losing this beautiful person. She was certain that Blaze was the one.

Smoak held her tight and stared at the ceiling, happy and terrified at the same time.

Ashley spent the afternoon digging through personal records and photographs, trying to find a physical match for Frulov at any of the places he frequented. She found a potential match in the least likely of places.

You’ve got to be kidding me
, she thought.

“I think I found something, Rock,” she said. “It looks like Frulov’s doppelganger may have been the owner of B-52 across town. A man named George Green, nickname Geordi G.”

Rock straightened up in his seat. “B-52, that place made out of an old military hut?”

“The same,” Ashley said. “He owned several other clubs around town as well as Goldfinger’s over in Fort Lauderdale. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“I agree, Miss,” Rock said. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go check out the club,” Ashley replied. “Maybe, for once, we’ll get lucky.”

“It’s getting late, Miss, should we call Miss Kamryn?” Rock asked.

Ashley shook her head. “Let her rest, we’re just going to go poke around.”

Rock stared at her in the rearview mirror for a beat, started the Evade, turned around on the beach and headed back into the city.

B-52 sat nestled in the middle of a large lot within walking distance of Miami City Center. Sometime in the 80s, a developer had gotten the idea of moving an old Quonset hut from a World War II airfield south of the city and plonking it down in the middle of Miami, turning it into a nightclub in the process. The result was the still-popular B-52, sold three times since opening, each time to another lowlife for a large profit. The club’s location made it the ideal spot to woo local politicians, and the underworld couldn’t wait to get their hands on it.

The Evade was parked across the street from the club, a beast among kittens. Ashley watched several groups of men and women pass through the door, no doubt taking advantage of the club’s early happy hour.

She went through her backpack and chose a few choice items, then tossed it aside and smiled at Rock.

“I’m going to go poke around,” she said. “See you in a few.”

“Try not to get caught this time, Miss. My heart can’t take it,” Rock replied.

“No promises, big guy, but I’ll try.”

Happy hour always started early at B-52, and as usual, a medium-sized crowd had gathered in the bar area, listening to soft jazz and enjoying two for one cocktails. The dance floor was empty, except for a janitor pushing a dust mop around the surface.

Ashley took a stool at the bar where she could see most of the other patrons and ordered a glass of grape club soda. When it arrived, she showed the barman the photograph of Green.

“Have you seen this man?” she asked.

“What, old Geordi?” The barman asked. “He doesn’t get down here often. Usually not more than twice a year.

He paused and looked thoughtful. You know, now that you mention it, he did stop in a few days ago. A check up, he said.”

Ashley put her phone away. “This might sound strange, but did he seem like himself when you saw him?”

“I couldn’t say, I don’t talk to him. You would have to ask Billi, the manager.”

“Where can I find him?” Ashley asked.

The bartender smiled. “Her. She’s probably in her office. Take the employees door on the other side of the dance floor and tell her Kevin sent you.”

Ashley smiled and picked up her glass. “Thanks, Kevin, I appreciate your help.”

A single, bare bulb glowed in a fixture hanging from the distant ceiling, and the back room smelled of mildew. Not uncommon in south Florida, but not something you expected to find in a popular downtown club. Ashley wrinkled her nose at the scent and knocked on the manager’s door. After the second knock, a short, plump woman opened the door. She was wearing a cream-colored blouse and a pair of pants that did nothing for her figure or her scarred left arm.

“I said come in, are you deaf?” the woman asked.

“Yes,” Ashley replied. “Do you have a moment?”

The woman paused, staring at Ashley’s face. “You’re really deaf?”

“Do you really have one arm?” Ashley asked.

The woman pursed her lips before her face cracked into a smile. “I like you. I guess Kev sent you back, yeah? What can I do for you?”

“The owner, Geordi, have you seen him recently?” Ashley asked.

Billi shrugged and moved to settle her bulk behind the desk. “Yeah, he was here a couple days ago, why?”

“Dumb question, but did he seem like himself? Did you notice anything different about him? An accent or anything?”

Billie shook a cigarette free from the pack on her desk and lit it with a battered Zippo. She blew a stream of smoke and nodded. “Since you bring it up, yes, he was a bit off. He didn’t talk much.”

“Didn’t talk much? What does that mean?” Ashley asked.

“Normally, Geordi is the sort of man who will talk your ear off over nothing. When he came in this past week, his lackey, a new guy named Valerian, did most of the talking and all he talked about was business.”

“Valerian, are you sure?” Ashley asked.

Billi smiled. “That isn’t the kind of name you forget, dove. He was a huge man with more tattoos than I have ever seen on one skin, and he hovered over Geordi like a mother hen.” She paused and looked at Ashley. “Does that name mean something to you?”

“It does,” Ashley said. “Do you have any idea where Geordi or Valerian may be?”

“We don’t have the same social circles,” Billi answered, the cigarette wobbling between her worm-like lips. “But I’ve got his business card.” She rifled through an antique rolodex on her desk and plucked out a slip of plastic. “Here you go.”

Ashley picked up the card. Geordi’s name, phone number and address in a downtown high-rise was emblazoned across the front. She slipped it into her pocket and nodded at Billi.

“Thank you for your help.”

She turned to leave, but was stopped by Billi’s thrown cigarette.

Ashley slapped the hot ember off her shirt and turned in annoyance.

“You don’t get off that easy, dove,” Billi said. “Information ain’t free. Where did you serve?”

“What?” Ashley asked..

“I know one when I see one, dove,” Billi said. “How do you think I lost my arm? Where did you serve, Iraq?”

“Among others,” Ashley said. “Iraq, Afghanistan, the Philippines, Burma…”

“I didn’t figure you for Spec Ops, but I’m not surprised. I heard the scuttlebutt about an all-female outfit, same as everyone else. Is that how you lost your hearing?” Billi asked.

Ashley shook her head and hurried away.

The address Billi had given Ashley belonged to a large corporate building in Miami City center, not all that far from B-52. The thirty-five story building loomed over the city like a chrome monolith and made Ashley feel as if she was being threatened by a gigantic electric razor.

She and Rock sat at an outdoor café down the street, watching the comings and goings on the building’s rear dock and enjoying an early supper of sandwiches and coffee. Two container trucks had arrived while they were watching, and Rock declared that both were empty. The trucks were riding too high to be fully loaded, and the containers rocked slightly when the trucks went over speed bumps.

Ashley had taken that as her cue to crack into the building’s main server and find out if there were any manufacturing facilities in the building. There were none. In fact, a large portion of the building was empty due to economic losses. Geordi Greene’s business took up the thirtieth and thirty-first floors, and the owners of the tower occupied the top four, though it didn’t look like more than a handful of their people were in the building at any one time. The rest of the building was empty.

So what did they need two shipping containers for?

It didn’t take Ashley long to get the container numbers and run them through the system. Both had been rented that morning from a local shipping company. Before that, the containers had sat empty in a warehouse lot, rusting in the sea air.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Miss Ashley,” Rock said.

Ashley took a bite out of her pickle and frowned. “Yeah, me too. We pushed Igor into a corner, and he’s using Geordi to finish his business and blow town. I’d bet anything he’s taking Rayne and the other girls somewhere in those containers.

“What are you going to do?” Rock asked.

“I have no idea,” Ashley replied. “I count at least ten men around those containers, and I’m betting the bulges under their jackets are MP7s or micro-Uzis. Taking them out isn’t going to be easy. Or quiet.”

“What about the cops?” Rock asked. “They can stop them, and we can go home.”

“What do I tell them? That I think a local businessman with only minor criminal infractions is part of the skin trade? They’ll think I’m nuts,” Ashley said. “Besides, we started this, we’re going to finish it and get Rayne back to her sister.”

“Can you break in like you did at his practice, then?” Rock inquired.

Ashley brought up the building’s security system on her tablet. It was far more sophisticated than what she had encountered downtown. Given enough time, she could shut it down, but the adaptive algorithm they were using would take time to crack and would likely reset the password once her presence was detected, making her exit complicated. But fun.

“It will take time,” she said, popping her knuckles.

“I’m not sure how much time we have left,” Rock said.

Ashley followed Rock’s gaze and sighed. The two trucks had backed up to the loading doors, concealing what was going on inside. But whatever was happening, it was happening soon.

“He’s getting ready to bug out,” she said.

She gathered her equipment and ran to the Evade where she had left her pack. A few seconds later, she was buckling on her knife and Beretta. Rock joined her, and she looked up at his disapproving frown.

“What?” she asked.

“Where are you going? You already said taking those guards head on was risky,” Rock said.

“I’m not taking them on,” Ashley said. “I don’t even think Smoak is good enough to fight that many at once.”

Rock folded his arms. “Then what are you doing?”

“I’m going to sneak in there and see what’s going on,” Ashley replied. “Call Smoakie and tell her to get her butt down here right now.”

“Why not wait for her?”

Ashley blew hair out of her face in exasperation. “Not this again, Rock.”

“Miss Ashley, going in there is too dangerous.”

“This is what I do, Rock,” Ashley said. “I don’t sit behind a desk, I don’t teach ASL. I learned, long ago, that the world had other plans for me. I’m not sidelining and leaving this to Smoak, so just let it go.”

She didn’t wait for Rock to answer. She turned away and started across the road. Over her shoulder she yelled, “Call Smoak.”

There was a shorter building next to Geordi’s tower, and a low concrete wall that gave anyone using the lawn the illusion of privacy separated the two structures. Anyone on either lawn was clearly visible to anyone above, but not to people on the first floor.

Ashley skirted the wall and used it to hide herself from the guards around the trucks until she was well into the night shadow of the tower. She then hopped over the wall and landed behind a dumpster with a decent view of the docks. The nearest truck was swaying slightly as cargo was loaded, and she could see people moving in the gap between the loading ramp and the door. Lots of people with bare legs and feet.