Chapter Twenty-Six

 

 

Shades and Ghost moved to the back of Black Jack’s compound, scoping out the alley.

“We need to get up on the roof,” Shades said, looking up.

Ghost leaned back to look at the three-story historic building. “You’re out of your mind; that’s like, what..? Thirty feet up.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“And that’s terra cotta tiles. You know how hard that is to stand on? And how unstable that shit is?”

“Quit being a whiney ass,” Shades said.

“I’d like my whiney ass to stay on the ground, thank you.”

“I thought you were afraid of small spaces. You got a problem with heights now, too?”

“No, what I’ve got a problem with is falling to my death.” Ghost looked up. “Besides, how the fuck are we supposed to get up there?”

“The drain pipe.”

Ghost looked over at the hundred year old ceramic pipe. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

“Nope. Let’s go. You want to go first?”

“No. It’s your stupid idea, you go first.”

Shades grabbed onto it.

Ghost put his arm out, stopping him. “Hold on. Before we do this, I just want you to know one thing.”

“What?”

“Whatever happens, I really, really, from the bottom of my heart… hate you so much right now.”

Shades huffed out a laugh. “Love you, too, bro.”

He started up the pipe, grabbing onto the metal connections and shimmying up. Ghost started up after him. “You realize you fall, you’re gonna take us both down.”

“Yep.”

“And that pipe’s gonna probably break loose and fall on top of us.”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Just checkin’.” Ghost started shimmying up after him. “I guess there’s worse people I could die under a pile of rock with, huh?”

They made it to the top and lay on their stomachs, surveying the inner courtyard and the surrounding galleries that overlooked it.

A moment later, several more club members slunk up and lay along side them.

“How many men are there?” Bam-Bam asked.

Ghost turned to him frowning. “How the hell did you guys get up here?”

“Used the fire escape on the other side of the building.”

Ghost turned to glare at Shades, who just shrugged. “They said to take the back. We took the back.”

“So what’s the plan?” Bam-Bam asked.

“We need to take out the guy standing on that third floor gallery across the way.” Shades observed.

“I can make the shot, but they’re gonna hear it,” Ghost said.

“Allow me, boys.” Easy knelt with a crossbow to his shoulder. He fired, the steel point shooting silently through the air with deadly precision, hitting the man in the throat. He grabbed for his neck, staggered, and pitched forward over the railing to land with a splat two floors below on the stone-tiled courtyard.

The men peered over the edge down at the body.

“Gross,” Bam-Bam muttered.

“Clean up, aisle three,” Mud said.

Ghost turned to Easy. “Nice shot, man.”

Easy shouldered the weapon and grinned. “Did I just blow your mind, or what?”

“You shoot gators with that thing?” Ghost asked.

“You two want to focus on the mission,” Shades rebuked them.

 

***

 

Blood and Sandman stood in Black Jack’s office.

“Let’s get on with it. Where is she?” Blood asked.

Black Jack smiled up at him from behind his desk. “All in good time, Etienne. First you have to come through with your end of this deal.”

Blood tossed the ring on the desk. Black Jack’s eyes flared at the sight of the sparkling emerald. He picked it up and studied it. “Been a long time since I’ve seen this.”

Sandman exchanged a glance with Blood, and both their eyes shifted to the man standing at the door behind them and another at a second side door.

“Show me the girl,” Blood bit out.

“You know the ring was only part of the deal. You know what I really want.” He stared down Blood, then his eyes dropped to the leather cut Blood wore, and he jerked his chin toward it. “Take it off.”

Sandman gave Blood a questioning look.

Blood clenched his jaw. “Let me see the girl, first.”

At that qualifying word, Sandman turned on him. “First? What the hell do you mean, first? What the fuck is he talking about?”

Black Jack chuckled. “He didn’t tell you?”

At that, Sandman’s eyes swung to him. “Tell me what?”

“My son has decided to leave the MC and rejoin the family business. Isn’t that right, Etienne?”

“The hell he is. Tell him he’s full of shit, Blood.”

Blood ignored Sandman and took a step toward Black Jack. “I’m fucking here. Like you asked. Now show me the girl, damn it!”

Black Jack stared him down for a long moment before nodding to the man behind them.

“Look around. All this—everything I’ve built—is all your birthright. You’ll be King of the Quarter one day now that you’ve come back home, back where you belong, where you’ve always belonged.”

Sandman glared at Blood. “What the fuck’s he talkin’ about?” When Blood didn’t reply, his brows shot up. “You throwin’ down your colors? For this asshole? You better tell me that’s a fucking joke.”

Black Jack, noting the increasing tension in the room, yelled out, “Tanner! Get in here!”

A moment later the door opened, and in strolled Undertaker and several of his men, guns drawn.

“Tanner doesn’t work here anymore,” Undertaker informed Black Jack with a smile.

Black Jack’s one remaining man drew his weapon, but he was outnumbered.

Blood glanced toward Undertaker with a look that said what the fuck are you doing here?

Undertaker wasn’t about to explain a thing in front of Black Jack and Blood hadn’t expected him to, so he ground his teeth and looked back at Black Jack, hoping this hadn’t fucked the whole deal up. He knew his father was capable of anything.

Maybe Undertaker thought the man was out of options, but Blood knew better than to underestimate his father. True to his suspicions, Black Jack pushed a button under his desk and several plumes of smoke shot out from the desk and walls, filling the room with a cloudy screen.

The men broke down in coughing fits as Blood dove blindly across the desk for Black Jack, but the man was gone.

Sandman threw open the French doors leading to the balcony to get some air into the room. In the few seconds it took for the smoke to clear, it became apparent that Black Jack was long gone.

“Where the fuck did he go?” Undertaker bit out, coughing. He pointed to the second door. “Search that hallway!”

Blood shook his head and felt along the walls. “He didn’t go out that way. The bastard’s got a secret passage. I’d bet my life on it. We just need to find it. Goddamn it.”

“I’ve got men all around this place. He won’t get far.”

Blood tapped the wall and located a section that gave off a hollow sound. He grabbed a gun from one of the men and blasted a dozen rounds into the wallpaper. Then he punched his fist through the wall and began jerking pieces of drywall out. Sandman pitched in and helped him. They found a hollow section with a metal ladder that led down toward the ground level and beyond in the dark shaft. Sandman pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and peered down.

“That goes below ground.”

The men were startled as gunfire resonated through the building. Black Jack’s men were putting up a fight. Blood looked at Undertaker. “Find Holly for me, please. I’m going after the son of a bitch.”

Undertaker nodded. “Be careful. This whole place might be booby-trapped.”

Blood nodded.

Mooch tossed another gun to Sandman as he followed Blood into the shaft.

The two men climbed down the ladder, following it down thirty feet before their boots landed on wet ground. They squatted in the tunnel that was only about four feet high, and Sandman flashed his light down the only way it led.

“Shh, listen,” Blood bit out. They both strained their ears. “You hear footsteps?”

Sandman looked back up at the shaft. “Can’t tell if they’re coming from above or not.”

“Come on.”

The two men moved forward, guns in hand.

 

***

 

Above them, Undertaker, Mooch, and Easy all headed down the hall to where Bam-Bam was in a gunfight with a man crouched around a corner. They all fought their way to the end, bullets ricocheting off the walls.

“You smell that?” Mooch asked.

Undertaker turned back toward the main staircase where smoke was drifting up. “They set the place on fire. Shit.”

A haze of smoke rose and curled along the ceiling.

“This old place is gonna go up like a tinderbox.”

They moved along the hall, their backs pressed to the wall, knowing they only had minutes to find the girl. When they reached the end, the hall opened to the left and to the right. Halfway down the hall to the left were several nervous men guarding a door.

Undertaker pressed his back against the wall around the corner. The men hadn’t seen them yet. He could overhear their arguing voices.

“The place is on fire, you moron. I’m not waiting around to burn to death.”

The second man put a walkie-talkie to his ear. “Jocko, come in. You there? What’s going on?”

“Fuck this shit,” the first man said, abandoning his post and the other two men to run down the hall toward where the MC waited. As he came around the corner, Mooch took him out with two shots. He was dead before he hit the oriental carpet runner.

Easy darted into the hall and took out the men still at the door. They slumped to the floor.

Bam-Bam peered around the corner. “They’re down.”

Just as he said it, more gunfire erupted from the end of the hall to the right.

“Cover me!” Undertaker yelled as he moved to the door the men had been guarding. It was locked, so he kicked it in with a boot. The door gave way and bounced off the interior wall.

His men kept firing as he moved inside.

There was a young terrified girl bound to the bed, a gag tied around her mouth. Her scream behind the dirty rag was muffled, and her eyes were wide with fear.

Undertaker holstered his weapon and put his hands in the air. “I’m here to take you home, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her fearful eyes dropped to his patch-covered leather vest, and Undertaker knew that to her, he was just another one of these monsters.

The smell of smoke drifted into the room with the wisps crawling across the ceiling, reminding Undertaker he didn’t have much time. He moved toward her as slowly as he dared and eased onto the bed next to her. “I’m going to take my knife out and cut you loose, honey, okay?”

Her fearful eyes dropped to his hand as he pulled his knife free. She didn’t believe he wasn’t going to hurt her, and she began to fight against her bounds.

“Easy, girl. Easy. Your sister, Cat, sent me. Your name’s Holly, right?”

She nodded.

“I’m going to take you to your sister, Holly. No one’s going to hurt you again. I promise.” He sliced through the rope. As soon as she was free, she scrambled back on the bed to the corner, pulling the gag from her head.

Undertaker immediately put the knife away and backed off. “It’s okay, Holly. I’m here to get you out and bring you home.”

She sat in the corner shaking, her eyes darting to the door as Mooch stuck his head in.

“Boss, fire’s spreading quick. The lower level is about to go.”

“Get the men out. We’ll be right behind you,” Undertaker said.

“I’m not leaving you here,” Mooch protested.

“Get out!” Undertaker snapped. “That’s an order.”

Mooch’s eyes took in the girl, and he moved back out the door.

“The building’s on fire, darlin’. We need to get out. The bad men are all dead. You don’t have to worry. No one’s going to hurt you. I promise.”

She shook her head.

Undertaker pulled the small teddy bear he’d tucked in his vest and held it out to her. “Your sister sent this for you. It’s yours, right?”

She frowned, reached out, and took it from his hands, clutching it to her. “Cat? She’s h-here?”

Undertaker studied her eyes. “She’s waiting for you somewhere safe. I’m going to take you to her, I promise. She sent that so you’d know not to be scared.”

A moment later, she was across the bed and throwing herself into his arms. He caught her to his chest, holding her tight, and murmured into her ear, “Shh, shh. It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

He stroked her head. Her silky hair was the color of corn silk and just as soft under his hand as he whispered, “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head.

He moved toward the door and peered out, but the fire was already coming up the stairs and down the hall. He closed the door and stepped to the window. There was a balcony, thank God. He hefted the window up and climbed out, extending his hand to her. “Come on, sweetheart. We have to hurry.”

She slipped her hand in his and climbed out after him.

Undertaker glanced around. There were stairs at the far right of the gallery, but that part of the building was already consumed, the light from the flames casting an orange glow to everything surrounding it. The heat was becoming unbearable. They’d have to go over the rail and down the support post. Undertaker leaned over and studied it. Thankfully it was iron scrollwork, and so he should be able to get a foothold.

A shot pinged off the wrought iron above his head, and Undertaker spun around, drawing his gun. One of Black Jack’s men fired from the second floor window of the adjacent wing.

Undertaker shoved Holly behind him, putting himself between her and the threat. He returned fire, and the man pitched forward out the window, plunging to his death.

Holly started to fall apart. Undertaker spun back to her and, with a hand to her cheek, turned her face from the broken body on the ground. “Don’t look down. Keep your eyes on mine, darlin’.”

She did as he asked, her wide eyes finding and holding his.

“Come on, angel. Take my hand.” He climbed over the rail and extended his arm toward her. She peered over the edge and backed away, shaking her head. “Holly, you have to trust me. I won’t let you fall.”

She glanced toward the flames; the only other way out was no longer an option. Turning back to him with tear-filled eyes, she took a tentative step toward him.

“Thatta girl. Come on.”

She took another step and grabbed his hand. His strong arm wrapped around her waist, and he hoisted her over the rail. “Grab onto my back. Wrap your arms around me.”

She did as she was told.

“Good girl. Don’t let go.”

Her hold tightened, and Undertaker struggled down the wrought iron with her clinging to his back.

When they got to the ground, he grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the building as the other side caved in.

She clutched the teddy bear close to her with one hand.