Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (50 page)

One of the
Koreans dove away from the others in an athletic shoulder roll,
missing the dogpile. He came up in a crouch ten feet to my left, a
semi-automatic pistol appearing in his hands and tracking towards
me.

The rush
that blasted through my nervous system at the sight of that gun was
the strongest I’d felt yet. Call it a result of panic, excitement …
Whatever. Just seeing that pistol aimed at me brought flashbacks
and images that I did
not
want
to relive under any circumstances.

It was like the
night my van got broken into all over again.

One moment I
was standing on the stage. The next I was directly in front of the
Korean gunman.

It was a surge
of energy and life that propelled my body forward, faster than my
mind could register. I had the man’s pistol arm trapped in one hand
and a handful of his suit jacket and shirt bunched into the centre
of his chest before my brain caught up with my body.

Since it took
me two or three steps to actually come to a halt physics took over,
transferring my momentum to the Korean man in my grip. With a
mighty shove his tiny body sailed away. My three hundred pounds
going at an improbable speed given to his hundred and forty-ish
pound frame. He was launched backwards through the air, crashing
heavily on top of the main bar and sliding along it’s smooth
surface before tipping over the edge and collapsing out of
sight.

I turned to
examine the room again, my hair now slick with sweat from the heat
and my own exertions. My acquired hat fluttered to the ground off
to my right after my sudden explosive movement.

People stared
at me.

With
purpose I strode over to where the hat – fuck it,
my
hat - rested on the floor. With a
simple flourish I picked it up by the brim and repositioned it on
my head.

Dress for
success, right Dad?

Big Mike and
David were picking themselves off the floor along with the heavyset
guard I’d hurled at them. Their eyes were wide and nervous, but
ready to fight if needed. Their gaze dropping to my hand as I
approached.

I still had the
Korean man’s semi-automatic in my left hand. I gave it a negligent
look then intentionally tossed it high over my shoulder onto the
fire engulfed main stage.

Both of them
blinked at me.

“Tell me you’re
not involved,” I barked at them, my eyes tracking Parise and
Aaron’s movements nearby. Miller and Mackie were still out of
sight, possibly among the figures moving around like shadows in the
increasing smoke.

“What?” That
was David, still on his ass and sliding away. “Involved in what?
What the hell happened, Joe?”

“You’re not
involved in the prostitution ring? The human trafficking?” My eyes
blazed, not literally I hoped. That would be way creepy. I advanced
a step on David. “You’re not involved?”

“Shit, man. No.
They just wanted extra guys to help with the girls. For the party.
I figured they were hookers, but that’s it! I’m not part of
anything else!”

I turned my
gaze to Big Mike. His chiseled jawline nodded frantically in
agreement.

I motioned with
my forehead towards the door. “Get out of here. Help anyone who’s
having trouble getting to safety.”

You’ll never
see two gigantic, overly muscled men move so fast in your entire
life. Practically tripping over themselves in their effort to get
out of my way.

Shards of glass
crackled under my feet. Flames licked up the walls of the building
behind me having caught the decorations and curtains to the stage
alight. Smoke billowed heavily now. Everything getting that hazy,
gray-orange glow.

Parise stood
before me still gripping Aaron’s arm furiously, refusing to let go.
Aaron himself was simply poleaxed. Terrified and frozen.

“How do you see
this ending, mon ami?” Parise called out to me for the second time
as I stalked forward, my eyes narrowed on his face. “The building
is on fire and you have assaulted police officers. Hell, you have
planted bombs! Become a terrorist in your own city!” He sneered at
me then, his perfectly groomed face becoming ugly. “I am the city’s
next Chief of Police. This will not go well for you.”

My small smile
appeared on my lips. Energy coursing through my veins in waves,
feeding my ego and fuelling my supreme self-confidence.

“How do you
think this is going to go for you?” I snarled, not slowing my
pace.

Aaron began to
blubber, fear overtaking his better judgment.

“This wasn’t
supposed to happen, Joe. You have to believe me.”

Parise yanked
on his arm fiercely. “Shut up!’

“Fuck you! This
was supposed to be easy! Easy money!” Aaron turned to me
pleadingly, his eyes streaming tears. Fear and smoke most likely.
Parise began dragging Aaron back and away from me, towards the main
entrance.

“You knew what
you were getting into!”

“Running a
boutique brothel? Sure! A place for high end clientele to spend
more money in a safe environment? Getting their rocks off with no
one the wiser? Of course!” He struggled then, flailing at Parise
and trying to break free. “I never wanted to get in bed with the
Koreans!”

Parise lashed
out with his fist, splitting Aaron’s upper lip. Aaron cried out in
agony and sagged in the knees. Parise hooked his arm around Aaron’s
throat and hauled him up, keeping his body upright like a
shield.

Parise’s face
sneered some more. “No one missed those girls,” he spat at me.
Literally, he spat. French people. “Those pitiful girls already
being pimped out by their precious street gangs, by their
families.” He dragged Aaron further backwards, out to the main
hallway. “We gave them clothes. Food. A purpose. Safety from street
johns who would abuse and assault them.”

I followed them
out, stalking at a distance. People were still milling about here,
trying desperately to file out of the burning building and into the
street. Big Mike and David were directing traffic as best they
could at the main entrance.

Parise saw the
crowd of people and swore, redirecting towards the marble
staircase.

“You don’t
understand. None of you understand,” Parise growled, backing up the
steps one at a time. Aaron’s body no longer fighting back, just
following fearfully. Aaron’s fingers were bloody as he examined the
damage done to his previously perfect teeth. “The money. The
opportunity. It was too good to turn down. Our girls were a big hit
overseas. Fresh blood.” He laughed then, climbing another few
steps. “The Koreans need fresh girls for their own purposes, we
need a solution to street prostitution. A way to cripple the street
gangs! This is that solution!”

My feet hit the
bottom stair. I began to climb after him. The crowd behind me
started to dwindle, smoke following David and Big Mike out the main
entrance.

“I get the
pimping, but why kill the girls? What did Candace Cleghorn do
wrong?”

Parise’s face
twisted and he went silent, cutting off his villainous
exposition.

“Nothing,”
Aaron choked out from behind bloody and broken lips.

“Nothing?” I growled, the Neanderthal now howling at the sky
from my belly. Strength and vicious anger surged through my body.
Images of missing girls from the
Posse’s
victim wall flashed through my mind’s eye
in a blur. Candace’s smiling face in that green party dress
repeating the most often.

“Nothing?” I
shouted, my voice echoing off the walls.

“It was an
accident,” Aaron’s sputtered despite Parise’s choking grip, dragged
another step or two further. “One night, there was a party. She was
… She was the party … One of the guys … He just … He went too far
and …”

Shit.

I closed my
eyes and stopped midstride.

Images of
Candace partying in the club under my very nose flickered through
my brain. Her and the other girls, all kitted up and dragging well
to do gentlemen around by their ties or lapels. Whispering in their
ears while giving sultry, sexual looks. Taking them upstairs for
“after party fun.”

And one of
those party goers killed her.

And Aaron and
Parise covered it up.

“Is that what
you told her brother?” I growled up at them, opening my eyes. They
were more than half a flight ahead of me now. “Is that what you
told Keimac Cleghorn before beating him to death?”

Aaron’s eyes
widened. “Was that you?” he sputtered, starting to flail again.
“Did you and your ape …” His voice cut off as Parise tightened his
grip and continued backing away up the stairs.

I followed
grimly, my fingers clenched tight.

Once Parise had
dragged Aaron up near to the top where the balcony platform rested
the double wide doors swung open behind them. A number of Korean
men in suits came rushing past them down the stairs. Two of them
held the arms of an older gentlemen between them, this one dressed
in the sharpest suit I’d seen yet.

The big boss I
presumed.

The two lead
Korean bodyguards raised pistols and opened fire. The electrical
rush overwhelmed me, surging from the back of my neck and sending
my body into overdrive as the thunder of guns was echoed by the
thunder outside.

Instinct hurled
me back and away instead of towards the gunmen this time. I found
myself leaping over the railing of the marble staircase in a high
wide arc, landing heavily near the entranceway to the dance floor.
Bullets whined and cracked in the air behind me, ricocheting wildly
against the aged stone walls.

When I hit the
stone floor it wasn’t pretty. No high speed ninja tuck and rolls
for this guy. Hurtling myself thirty feet headfirst through the air
I was lucky that I landed as well as I did, high on one shoulder
and smashing flat to the floor. My momentum carried me forward in
what was technically a roll I suppose, though it was more of an
uncontrolled sideways fall than anything else.

Eventually I
crashed into the base of the main bar where I finally stopped.

At least I was
out of the line of fire.

Pushing myself
off the ground took a ton of effort. The agony was intense.
Breathing had become very difficult and labored. Feeling at my side
I was almost certain that I’d cracked my ribs if nothing else. My
left shoulder was in agony and lights floated in front of my
eyes.

I tried to
shake my head clear, reaching for the tingling sensation at the
back of my neck.

It was still
there. But weaker now, less of a rush and more of a pulse.

Gritting my
teeth I reached for that sensation and let it flood through my body
in a short wave, lending strength and feeling to my agonized body.
Both a blessing and a curse, pain became crystal clear in areas
where I had thought it muted. My eyes cleared up instantly however,
allowing me to see the Korean gentlemen hustling down the last of
the stairs and rushing out of sight. Presumably out the main
entrance to the street.

“Come on, Joe,”
I grunted to myself between short, painful breaths. Reaching for
the top of the bar with my right hand. “Get off your fat ass.”

Pulling myself
up with a grip on the main bar took more effort than it should
have. My bad knee was complaining for the first time in days even
with me drawing heavily on the energy pooled behind my eyes. It was
clear that the well was running dry. I knew this because my stomach
had begun to growl again, aching as if completely empty.
The fire was quickly getting out of control.

The stage was
completely engulfed in flames. Over near the deejay booth sparks
still sputtered and flashed into the air, adding the sharp scent of
burning ozone on top of burning bar. Smoke was black now and
hanging just above my head, making my already labored breathing
even more difficult. Distantly I could hear sirens wailing. Police
and emergency services were going to arrive on scene shortly if
they weren’t here already.

I had to get
out of there.

Lurching away
from the bar with a grunt, I made it half way across the dance
floor before stars exploded behind my eyes with the sound of
shattering glass. Liquid spilled down the back of my neck and over
my battered leather coat as I was hammered to the stone floor
again.

Agony exploded
through my chest. My poor ribs already beaten senseless took
another blow as a massive boot caught me right in the side,
knocking me over onto my back.

Brutish Officer
Miller stood over top of me, outlined in a stark silhouette of
flames and billowing smoke. His bearded, animalistic face twisted
in rage with blood pouring over his eyes from a cut high in his
scalp. The broken neck of a vodka bottle still held in one
hand.

Chapter
48

There were no
words. No witticisms or epithets to utter. No dialogue
required.

Neither of us
were big talkers anyways.