Chapter 12
Ten minutes later they were flying down the highway toward Lexington in the Jeep.
Annie nervously bounced her knee. They were so close to getting Turner she could almost taste it. Stormy was on standby in the command center, coordinating their efforts. Nox, Mack, and Zane were at the ready in case they were needed.
King had come with West and Annie, and she was grateful for the buffer. She and West hadn’t talked it out yet. Ironically having sex had pushed them further apart, not brought them together.
The tension was thick in the air and no one spoke.
“Well, this isn’t awkward at all.” King crossed his arms and leaned against the backseat. “You two love birds wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”
“No,” they said in unison.
“Of all the stupid…” King made a disgusted sound. “We’re about to march into a killing zone and the two of you are so distracted, you’re gonna get us chopped into bloody bits. And please understand, when I say that, I’m worried about me, not you.”
“It’s fine.” West’s sour tone ended the conversation and silence fell again.
Twenty minutes later, they’d reached their destination, according to the GPS, but there was no signage on the building to indicate what was inside. The escort agency/brothel billed themselves as a luxury hotel and since they had powerful clients, vice hadn’t busted them. Huck said The Diamond Club had the entire building to itself, so Turner didn’t have to worry about being seen.
Huck’s deputy stood by the front entrance to the building and they parked in the underground structure beneath. She stepped out of the car, but West blocked her exit.
“You’re stayin’ here.”
“If you think for even one second, I’m gonna twiddle my thumbs while you play cowboy, you’re out of your damned mind. I’m gonna get this guy.” Annie was on edge, spoiling for a fight. She’d been working toward this showdown for six fucking months. She wouldn’t let anybody bench her.
His lips flattened into a thin line and West fisted his hands, as though she’d gotten on his last nerve.
She tipped her chin back, waiting for him to pull rank on her.
“I got no idea what we’re walkin’ into here.” West got in her face and they were nose to nose. “You don’t have combat experience, we do. We can put down a threat easier than you can.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Why’d you bring me along in the first place?”
“I knew you’d want to be there when we bagged Turner.”
“Yeah, but I wanna do the bagging. I’m not exactly a civilian.” Why did he keep trying to protect her?
“Do. You. Understand?” He spit the words out, one by one. “You’ll stay behind or so help me God, I’ll handcuff you to the steerin’ wheel to keep you safe.”
“I’m going in and that’s all there is to it.”
He simmered with inarticulate rage.
“Oh yeah, this is gonna work out great,” King said dryly.
Annie startled. She’d forgotten all about him.
“Want my two cents?” King asked.
“No,” they said in unison.
“Too bad. We ain’t got time for this shit. Since I’m the only grownup here, I’m gonna make the decision. We’ll be in the lead, and Annie’s got our six.” Six was military slang for back. “Deal? Great, let’s shake a leg.” With an oh so expressive roll of his eyes, King headed for the elevator. “Come on Romeo and Juliet, Jack the Ripper won’t wait all night.”
Reluctantly, they followed him.
Huck stood guard by the elevator doors. Annie had met the sheriff at the jail when they’d turned Ryder in, and he’d been charming in a country boy way. Now, he had a thousand yard stare and his face had gone chalk white.
“You okay, man?” West asked.
Huck swallowed and nodded, but it wasn’t convincing.
“Can you give us any details?” King asked gently.
He hooked a thumb at the elevator. “June called me, but the line went dead. And when I got upstairs…” Huck ran a hand down his face. “She was gone. There are at least a couple more bodies, from what little I saw. I don’t know what happened to the rest of the girls. Maybe they ran for it? Or they could be hidin’.” He shook his head. “The Diamond Club is a dirty little secret in these parts. They’re high class girls and big shots book a ‘date’ for afternoon delight or an evenin’ out. So they break the law, but they didn’t deserve…” He trailed off.
Hmm. That’s why June had called Huck, instead of 911.
“It’s okay, Huck, we got this.” West patted his shoulder.
They got into the elevator and ascended up to the lobby. Weapons drawn, they got off the right floor and stepped into a massive two-story foyer.
There was a cozy, crackling fireplace in the rear of the room, a big black and white checkered rug, and sets of matching suede armchairs spaced together for casual conversations. In the center, a fountain bubbled, and it was flanked by more armchairs. At the end of the room, stood a glass wall and a marble reception counter.
That’s where the elegance ended, and the slaughter began.
Sprawled across the counter, a young Asian woman had her throat sliced open, blood pooled on the desk and trailed down on the white carpeting. The phone laid a few inches from her limp hand. It made a persistent beep-beep-beep, like a ghostly cry for help.
Must be June.
Slumped on the floor in front of the counter, was a middle aged security guard. His neck had been slit open, too. Around the corner, Annie glimpsed a pair of blood soaked legs. Presumably, the rest of the body was around the other side of the wall.
Three more people dead because of me.
“Think he’s still here?” King asked.
“Who the fuck knows? But this place is like a cookie jar for Turner.”
“I got eyes on you,” Stormy said on the comms. “Stay frosty, Chief.”
Annie only dimly heard the words. She stood frozen, gaping at her surroundings. Her brain had turned to sludge.
She stood on shaking knees. The metallic scent of blood was thick, filling the air. There were other smells, too.
People’s bowels let loose when they die. The carpet was slightly wet, squishy. It’s soaked up fluids, like an enormous sponge.
West spoke to her, his tone soft, but insistent and she couldn’t focus.
It was a bit like watching television, with the sound off. Annie was aware of everything going on around her, but couldn’t quite comprehend it.
“Annie?” West shook her. “Annie, can you hear me?”
She nodded.
“This is why I wanted you to stay downstairs. We’ve gotta stay alert. Got it?”
King stood behind him, gun out, surveilling the area.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She sucked in a breath, pulled herself together. “I’ll be okay.”
“What are your orders? If we find the tango, are we puttin’ him down?” King asked hopefully.
“Negative. We’ll take him alive, but don’t forget he’s got military training.”
“And if it’s a choice between him and us?” King asked.
“Then you have a green light to finish it. But if you can, shoot him in the leg, slow him down.”
King nodded. “Gotcha, Chief.”
“Did you hear me, Annie?” West asked.
“Understood.”
“Then let’s go.”
When they rounded the corner, West held up his hand, halting their movements, as he visually surveyed the space quadrant by quadrant, searching for any threats. The legs she’d seen earlier, belonged to a young escort whose neck was now an open wound.
Once they knew the coast was clear, they proceeded.
“Stay close,” West ordered.
Sweat trickled down the small of her back.
Blood spattered the paisley wallpaper, as though Turner had slung it everywhere. They continued to go slow, room by room. They kicked open each door, to make sure he wasn’t lying in wait, ready to spring out at them.
Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
“I don’t get it. Where is the prick?” West whispered. “Did he get his rocks off and go?”
“I hate this place.” Annie groaned. “And I’d rather not spend the night reenacting scenes from The Shining.”
“Redrum,” Zane said over the comms. Evidently, he’d decided to narrate the horror movie playing out before their eyes.
King sighed. “You’re such an ass, Zane.”
“Yup.” He chuckled.
West glanced at her and his eyes had defrosted a bit. “You know, we had a phrase in basic that stuck with me. It might help you, too.”
“What is it?” she asked.
King shook his head. “Oh, here we go.”
“Embrace the suck.”
She raised an eyebrow. “As quotes go? It’s not that inspirational.” Annie had been expecting some Navy SEAL style, hooyah, go get ‘em phrase.
“The hell you say. It’s very inspirin’,” King put in. “Even if I’ve heard it a million times.”
“What does it mean exactly?” Annie asked, pushing open a door and peering inside. It was empty, no sign of blood.
Come out, come out, wherever you are, you creepy bastard.
They kept walking.
West explained. “A lot of shit sucks in the military—the food, the scratchy clothes, the heat, the cold. So, you learn to just—wait for it—embrace the suck. Just deal with it, whatever you hate. Stop dreadin’ it. Stop thinkin’ about it. Embrace it and get the damn thing done.”
She paused to flash him a smile. “Okay, I changed my mind. Embrace the damn suck.” Everything about this situation sucked ass.
They came to a door marked with a bloody handprint, and it was partially open.
Annie gasped.
West nodded, and they approached. He carefully pulled the door open wider. The lights were off and soft moans issued from the room, like those coming from a wounded animal, in the throes of death.
Two young women were laid out on the twin beds. Escort agencies like this didn’t hire uglies to service the fat cats. They couldn’t be more than twenty-one.
One had her throat cut, blood soaked the white bedspread beneath her, staining it crimson. Her eyes were wide open and fixed. Dead.
The other had been turned on her side, and her wrist was flayed open. Her skirt was hitched up her legs, and she had an ugly looking gash on the inner thigh.
Had he tried to rape her while he was killing her?
“Holy shit,” King whispered.
Just then, the wounded girl turned to face them, and her cheeks were caked with blood, some of it dried, some fresh. Turner had sliced into her cheeks, almost down to the bone.
And then the bathroom door swung open.
King and West swung around, guns raised.
A man stood there, gripping a sawed off shotgun.
“Put the gun down!” West pointed his weapon at the man’s head.
“Easy! I just wanna leave.” He edged toward the door.
“That wasn’t a suggestion. Identify yourself,” West ordered.
The man hesitated. And then Annie realized he looked familiar. She’d seen his picture somewhere before.
He lifted his chin. “Jason Turner.”
“Good, I’ve been meanin’ to have a talk with you,” West said. “Now, drop your goddamn weapon.”
Jason shook his head. “Let me go.”
“Not a chance,” West said. “Let’s try this—lower it, and I’ll lower mine.”
Slowly but surely, Jason lowered his gun until the barrel was pointed at the ground. They stopped taking aim at him as well.
Annie knew why West was giving Jason so much leeway. He could’ve blown the man’s head off easily, but West wanted information on his brother, Richard Turner. If Turner had fled the scene, Jason might be their only remaining lead.
“What the fuck happened here?” King asked. “Did you do this?” He never took his eyes off Jason, but he stepped back and took the wounded woman’s pulse.
Jason shook his head violently. “No, Richard said he had to blow off some steam. He said he’d get laid, rob them for some travellin’ money, but I didn’t know…” Jason gestured to the room around them.
“You didn’t know your big brother is a serial killer?” Annie’s voice dripped sarcasm. “What? You’ve been hiding under a rock or something?”
Annie glanced at the woman bleeding on the bed. They needed to end this standoff quickly so they could help her. And yet, they couldn’t see to her needs with a potential threat in the room.
“He’s my brother and the only family I have left.” He winced. “I love him, no matter what.”
Seriously?
Annie didn’t understand blind loyalty. She only gave hers to people who’d earned it. And if a friend or family member went on a murder spree, she wouldn’t protect them.
“He’s a predator,” West said simply. “And he needs to be put down.”
Jason frowned. “You don’t understand Richard. We had it rough growin’ up. My dad died when we were middle school.”
“Yeah, that’s real sad.” West snorted. “But it don’t excuse cuttin’ women up.”
Jason tried again, making even more justifications. “After our dad died, my mother started drinkin’ and takin’ up with strange men. Some of them,” he paused, for effect, no doubt. “Did things to Richard. He lived for those train trips with our grandad, it was the only peace he got. Richard isn’t a terrible person, he’s just—”
Evidently, he’d held his mother responsible for the abuse he’d suffered. A serial killer with mommy issues. Fantastic.
“We’re knee-deep in bodies.” Annie thought this was horseshit. “And I don’t give a damn about his tragic backstory.” Normally, she’d try to reason with him, persuade Jason into cooperating, but she’d hit her limit.
“Yeah, what she said. Where’s your brother?” West asked. “Maybe we can take him in peacefully. There’s no need for any more violence.”
Jason didn’t answer, but his gaze kept darting to the open window across the room.
They were getting nowhere.
“Okay,” King said. “Let’s try another topic. Why did he leave you behind?”
Jason glanced at the window again. “I didn’t say he—”
“Save it,” Annie snapped.
“He jumped, didn’t he?” West asked.
Had Turner made a run for it when he’d heard them coming?
“What? You’re afraid of heights? Or just a chicken?” West stepped forward. “If you won’t help me out, you’re useless to us. And I ain’t gonna tell you again. Drop your gun, or I’m gonna put one between your eyes.”
For a split second, Jason hesitated.
Put it down, idiot. Your brother isn’t worth dying for. Annie closed her eyes.
And then Jason lunged forward and blew a hole in the wall behind them.
West shot him and Jason fell to the floor, deader than a proverbial doornail.
“Well, you warned him.” King shrugged. Then he leaned over the young woman, checking her pulse. He grabbed a sheet, tore off a strip, and tied off the wound on her wrist, and did the same with the one on her thigh.
“How is she?” Annie asked.
“She needs a lot of blood.” He held the earbud tighter against his ear. “Hey, Stormy, we need an ambulance over here. Pronto. This is supposed to be a quiet operation and all, but I ain’t lettin’ her die on my watch. Huck will have to get over it.”
“I’m on it.”
West went to the windows, staring down and Annie joined him. They were fresh out of leads. Again.
“He can’t have gotten far on foot.” West peered into the darkness. They were on the fourth floor of the building, and it was black as pitch outside.
“Why don’t you call Huck? And see if he can help?” There’s no way they could pinpoint which direction he’d run in, or where Turner was going. If they split up, and covered the city, maybe they’d get lucky.
“No time.”
West glanced at her and she shook her head, as she figured out what he had planned.
“Don’t you dare.”
And then the next thing she knew, West leapt out the window, graceful as a diver. He landed in the open Dumpster, sprung over the side, and then ran off.
“West, don’t go chasing after him!” she called, but he was freaking gone. Like leaving a trail of cartoon dust gone. No sign of him whatsoever. Or Turner.
Muttering to himself about “stupid motherfuckers” King checked their patient’s pulse once more and groaned. “Hey, Stormy, cancel that ambulance. Our victim’s dead.”
“And you! Are you tryin’ to be his next victim?” King yelled over the comms and Annie winced, “Since when do we chase psychopaths by ourselves?”
There was no reply from West.
Oh God. What if Turner hurts him? What if he leaves West in the middle of an alley bleeding to death?
No. Not again.
She slapped her hand against the window pane in sheer frustration. Holding her breath, Annie lifted a leg, ready to go after West, when King grabbed her by the waistband of her jeans.
“And where do you think you’re goin’?”
“He’s all alone out there, and he needs backup.”
“Yeah, but this ain’t about you, it’s about me.”
“How in the world is this about you?” Annie threw her hands in the air.
“If I don’t keep you safe, West is gonna kick my ass.” He touched his caboose. “And I like my butt, the way it is, thank you very much.”
Annie ignored his humor. “Yeah, well, you’re not the boss.” She headed for the window again.
“Don’t even think about it.” King stood in her way, and it was like trying to maneuver around a brick wall. There’s no way Annie could get past him. He was bigger, stronger, and apparently goal-oriented.
She swung the mic away from her mouth so West wouldn’t hear.
“King, what if something happens to him?” Annie was frantic, imagining all sorts of scenarios. “I won’t be able to live with myself.”
“West can handle himself, even if he is a fool. Do you hear me, dumbass?” King asked, pressing a hand to his ear.
“Don’t worry, I got this,” West shouted in between panting breaths. “Keep her in the room.”
Stormy groaned over the line. “I’m calling Huck. You need back-up, and I’m monitoring the situation. If you find Turner, King and Annie will head to the scene.”
“Understood.”
She’d been outmaneuvered, so Annie nodded.
King flipped his mic up. “West don’t know it yet, but he’s fallin’ for you.”
Annie didn’t know what to say.
“And I think you feel the same way.” He patted her on the shoulder. “He hasn’t shown an interest in any woman since he got divorced, and I wanna see this play out.”
“King, I—”
“Save it. You won’t convince me otherwise, and you ain’t leavin’ here until I say so. If I were you, I’d cool my heels and embrace the suck, darlin’.”
***
West rounded a corner and winced in pain.
He’d injured his leg in the fall, and it ached like a son of a bitch. It didn’t feel broken, but he’d definitely sprained it.
“Come on, bastard, show yourself.” West pushed forward. He kept running, searching and finally, he came across Turner.
Score one for the good guys.
The man was pacing back and forth, whispering to himself, holding the bloody knife. They were in an alley, between two large buildings. His hands were shaking, and he appeared agitated.
West couldn’t determine what he was saying. Probably a bunch of crazy talk.
“Turner, throw the knife down and surrender.” West raised his gun.
Turner didn’t even glance his way.
“Turner!” West yelled, trying to break through the madness.
His head swiveled in West’s direction. “How do you know my name?”
Because I’m the one huntin’ you, dickhead.
“I’ll tell you, once you throw the weapon down.”
West wasn’t getting anywhere near the lethal blade and he’d rather not shoot the bastard. His victim’s families deserved to see him put to death by the state, watch him as he writhed on a gurney.
And he wouldn’t rob Annie of the chance to watch him being placed behind bars either. West knew how important closure could be.
“Never gonna happen.” Turner shook his head, backing away.
Just then, a middle aged woman dressed in a maid’s uniform stepped out of a door on the left with a sack of trash, heading to the Dumpster. She had headphones on and was oblivious to the drama playing out around her.
Turner snatched her up before West could take the shot.
Goddammit. West was awfully sick of people taking hostages. Why not be a man and face the consequences of your actions head on?
“Throw your gun down, or I’ll stab her.”
The maid screamed.
Turner yanked one headphone away from her ear. “Shut up, bitch, or I’ll give you a real good reason to yell.”
This is what I get for playin’ the Lone Ranger. Only I’m not alone. As if Stormy had heard his thoughts, his voice echoed in West’s ear.
“Relax, Chief, I’m listening in. I’m sending King and Annie your way. Try not to die in the meantime.”
Much easier said than done.
West mentally calculated his shitty options. There was only one viable one.
Slowly, he lowered his weapon, placed it on the ground and kicked it a short distance away. West decided to take a page from Mack’s playbook and talk him down.
“Okay, I’m unarmed. Let her go and deal with me.”
“Sorry, but you aren’t my type.” He backed up a couple of paces.
“Yeah, I saw your handiwork at the escort agency.” West advanced forward.
Turner sneered. “What can I say? I got a bit carried away.” He placed the blade up against the woman’s throat but didn’t draw blood.
“Eventually, they’ll find you, so you might as well turn yourself in.”
“I’m facin’ a death sentence. And I’m gonna have a good time, while I can.” Turner didn’t have anything left to lose, which made him extremely dangerous and unpredictable.
“You’re only makin’ things harder on yourself.”
Turner squinted at him. “Who are you? A cop?”
“Somethin’ like that,” West said evasively. Knowledge is power and West never told the enemy any details.
“Tell me who you are.” This time he sliced into the woman, and a thin red line appeared on her throat. She whimpered and shut her eyes.
Fuck. “I’m Jackson West.” West walked toward him, not making any sudden movements. He kept his hands in the air.
“Stay back! Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“FBI? The Marshal Service? Quit givin’ me the runaround and answer my question.” He cut the woman again.
West winced. “I’m with Black Star Security.”
“Then why are you after me?” Turner stepped a few paces back, dragging the maid with him.
“For the reward money. You’re worth fifty thousand dollars.” Dead or alive. I know my preference. “Come on, it’s over Turner. There’s nowhere to run, or hide.”
Just then, the sound of sirens echoed down the street.
Turner was wild-eyed, his gaze darting around the alley. And then he cut into the maid again. This time, she shrieked as the blood dripped down her throat.
“Stop it!” West ordered. He couldn’t stand there and let the woman be butchered in front of him. He had to do something. West needed Turner to come after him, and leave the maid alone.
And then he had a terrible idea.
“Aren’t you curious about your brother?”
“What are you talking about?” His grip on the knife tightened.
“You took off and left Jason to face the fallout all by himself. Don’t you wanna know what happened to him?”
His eyes narrowed. “Where is he? Did you arrest him?”
“Naw, because as we already established, I ain’t the police.” West grinned, all cocky swagger. “Although, I did put a bullet between his eyes when he lunged at me.”
And then things went south in a big way.
Turner tossed the woman aside and she slammed against the wall, stumbled, and then went running down the alley, screaming and shouting at the top of her lungs. Turner attacked West, knocking him to the ground. They rolled over and over, wrestling with the knife—kicking and punching.
West grabbed the blade and pushed it between their bodies, trying to shove it into his ribs, when Turner seized the handle and slashed at West’s chest instead.
He groaned in agony. A thick, hot wetness soaked his shirt and West’s fingertips came away streaked with crimson.
Turner raised the knife, ready to plunge it deep into his chest.
And then tires screeched to a halt a few feet away. Footfalls echoing down the alleyway interrupted Turner.
He ran for it, leaving West lying broken and bloody on the ground.