Chapter Four

Beckett

 

Spending the afternoon at the office had been draining, pretending to be a version of myself that I’m not, but I’m back at it tonight. There’s a restlessness in me, there always is, and only one thing will calm the fire that’s running through my veins. When the doors opened into my penthouse I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it onto the couch. In the living room you could looks out on a panoramic view of the skyline; your worth in this city was determined by how high up you were.

There was a painted portrait of me as a child with my parents hanging proud and solemn over the fireplace mantle. Some days I thought about putting it in storage, but I needed to see their faces. I needed something of them to hold onto. Home sweet home.

I loosened my tie as I headed into my library, the familiar smell of leather and paperback books. Past the rows of hardcovers and first editions I pressed the button on the hidden panel of one specific floor to ceiling bookcase. The unit clicked, then swung open effortlessly. When I commissioned this alteration to my home it was designed as a three room panic room where I could stay for weeks if I wanted to. Now it was where I kept everything I needed to become the dangerous figure that took down criminals. The police needed to work within the law; produce search warrants and do their due process. I on the other hand followed none of those rules, I made my own. And lucky for me, I had limitless resources at my disposal to buy anything and everything I needed for my unique “hobby”.

I let the door close behind me. In the main room were my weapons, maps of the city, photos of targets and equipment. I unbuttoned my dress shirt, letting it fall down my arms, and started to get dressed with the outfit I wore on nights like this. I pulled on black pants and a shirt that were woven with kevlar to protect me, then a hardened top layer over my chest for additional protection against bullets. I secured the straps tight around my torso. A leather jacket hid everything and made me look like an average biker with an affinity for dark colors. Finally I pulled on a heavy black mask over my face obscuring my features and eyes. It fit over my entire head snugly, the eyes covered in a black reflective material you couldn’t see past to make out my eyes. Custom made.

They called me the Phantom, but that wasn’t my choice of name. If anyone had asked me, I felt more like a vengeful shadow. Standing tall in my protective gear I went over to the wall and chose my weapons for the evening, there were a lot of options. You could get anything on the black market with a suitcase full of cash, including unregistered guns. I chose two sleek black handguns and a high voltage taser. There was one man I wanted to answer my questions, the rest could die for all I cared. They were the worst of the worst and didn’t deserve to be breathing.

I went back to my notes, looking over the building plans of the warehouse. There was only one way in and out of where the men I was targeting met - the back door. No windows, no other connecting rooms. Subtlety wasn’t going to be needed this time, I was going to hit hard and fast. No prisoners, no mercy. I wanted the Venetti family, and I would burn this city to the ground to get to them.

Grabbing a helmet, I took my private elevator down to the section of the garage where my cars were kept. No one came here but me, I didn’t allow security cameras either. I took steps to maintain my secluded spaces. That was the thing about wealth, if you had enough of it you could afford to be a recluse. Or an eccentric maniac.

Ripping the sheet off my black motorcycle I slid on my helmet and stepped on, turning on the engine with a roar. It was time to go. I was coiled tight like a spring, ready to snap. Slipping out the garage and into the city I tore through the streets, the machine humming underneath me as I propelled my way in the direction I had carefully planned. I wove around cars, past casinos and busy streets, until finally I turned down the dark back alley where I parked. It was time.

Stepping off my bike, I removed my helmet then reached to my sides and smoothly slid the safety off my guns. Safe wasn’t my style, not when dealing with scum. Especially not scum that hurt women like my research had revealed these particular assholes did.

I could hear the music booming low and fast, matching my pulse, as I turned the corner to the back entrance. The main club entrance was out front, this is where the dirty deals were done. Where women were lured, then bought and sold like cattle. I pressed my back against the wall, getting ready, weapon in hand. There were heavy footsteps.

I whipped around the side of the brick wall then jammed my taser directly against the thick neck of the guard out back. There was a gurgle in his throat as his whole body jerked, then I whipped the back of my gun against his head. He dropped to the ground like a pile of rocks. Tensing my shoulders, I pulled the door open and walked inside. On the other side of the brick wall the music was so loud, they wouldn’t hear what I was doing. The things I was about to do, I didn’t want to be disturbed.

Outside the heavy metal door I heard screams and men laughing. Something bad was happening on the other side of the wall. Whatever they were doing, they were going to stop. They were going to give me answers, or I was going to start breaking bones one by one until I got them. But first, I needed to get past that locked door and knocking wasn’t going to be the answer. Luckily, locked doors were never a problem for me. From my pocket I pulled out a thick metal device with a flat end. I jammed it into the crack of the door and pressed a button. With a crack of immense pressure, it broke the lock and the heavy door swung open. The scene inside made me freeze, but only for a split-second. Three men had a woman stripped and pinned to the couch, her makeup was streaky with tears and Dale Merrick was standing in front of her unbuttoning his pants.

“What the fuck?” Dale snapped when they locked eyes with me.

I pulled my guns free, faster than his goons whose hands were busy holding a helpless woman, and I fired. I was a good shoot, I never missed my target. In seconds they dropped to the ground, no longer protection for him or a problem for me. As I walked forward the woman cowered, she looked familiar somehow but I didn’t have time to stop. I was here for Dale. I walked fast as Dale lunged for his desk, pulling open drawers and scrambling for his gun. Too slow. I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up, slamming his back onto his desk and smashing open a bottle of vodka. The liquid spread out underneath him, dribbling onto the floor and filling the air with its septic smell.

“Leave,” I shouted at the girl over my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her crawling for her dress, she was shaking all over. She should run, she was safe now. She didn’t need to see this.

“You know who I am?” I gripped Dale by the collar of his shirt.

“You’re a fucking dead man,” he spat back.

“Your boss. Marco Venetti. I know they have a safehouse in Vegas, where is it?”

Dale started to laugh. “I’m not telling you shit.”

I pulled my arm back and punched him across the jaw, hard enough that I heard a crack.

“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll have told me everything.”

“Look out!”

A woman’s voice, a scream behind me. I moved to the side just in time to avoid a knife that jammed into the side of the desk. There was a big brute I hadn’t seen, I was so focused on getting to Dale I hadn’t cleared the room. Stupid mistake. I missed the knife  but the big man grabbed for my throat, I twisted backwards out of his grip but he caught hold of my mask yanking it free.

I spun on my heel, face to face with the guard. His eyes squinted, then widened with recognition. Shit. Holding my revolver forward I pulled the trigger once, he fell to the floor with a thud eliminating one of my problems. I walked back to Dale and shoved the still-smoking gun under his chin.

“Where do they meet,” I demanded.

He glared at me, right into my eyes, studying my face and shaking his head.

“Beckett fucking Carter. I don’t believe it. I figured the Phantom was a cop, maybe ex military. Not some crazy rich kid.”

“I’m not asking again.” I jammed the gun harder beneath his skull, lifting his head off the desk so he knew I meant business.

“If I tell you, what are the odds I get out of this alive? I skip town, I move down to Mexico. You never see or hear from me again.” This sleazeball was bargaining with me.

“It couldn’t hurt your chances Dale.”

We stared at each other, each weighing the odds of getting what we want.

“They meet at the MGM on big fight nights, there’s a hidden room off the back. I’ve never been there, that’s all I know.”

“Thanks Dale.”

I raised my gun and his eyes went wide as I aim, he threw his hands up in a weak attempt to protect himself.

“Wait, no, wait. I told you everything I know, you said-”

“I said it wouldn’t hurt your chances.”

I pull the trigger and Dale falls back against the desk, his blood mixing with the vodka. He’s no longer a problem. I have what I need, I’m ready to leave now. I picked up my mask and turn around. That’s when I remembered she was there. That’s when I noticed her wig had fallen off, and I remembered where I recognized her from. She’s not a hooker, she’s that reporter I met. She must have come here undercover. And now, she’s seen my face. She knows who I am. Who the Phantom is.

“Fuck,” I shout, and I punch the wall. She jumps, huddled against the wall in her flimsy excuse for a dress.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she assures me, barely above a whisper. She’s shaking all over.

I was careless tonight. Nothing went according to plan, because I was too brazen. And I can’t leave witnesses. But she’s an innocent in this. I can’t kill her, but I can’t let her go. She’s inching towards the door slowly, not making any sudden moves. I sigh.

Taking my taser I switch it to a lower setting, walk towards her and press it against her soft neck. In an instant she gasps, then drops to the ground quiet and still, stunned. I replace my mask then scoop her limp body into my arms, carry her out into the cool dark night and walk back towards my bike. I hold her in front of me on my motorcycle. She weighs next to nothing, her small body held against mine. Replacing my helmet I drive quickly through the streets, away from the crime scene I’ve created, back to the refuge of my home. I need to buy myself time to think. To process what I should do next.