Deadly Intent: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 4) (15 page)

“Okay, keep doing what you’re doing, Josh. I’m almost there, so I’ll contact you when I reach Panama.”

“No worries. Watch your back, yeah?”

“You too.”

I hang up and throw the phone out of the Jeep, just to be safe. In another few minutes, I’ll be in Barranquilla and one step closer to Tori.

20.

APRIL 13
TH
, 2017

07:31 CDT

I open my eyes slowly, stretching and cracking my back and legs. I feel like I’ve just slept for a lifetime... I need a minute to get my bearings. I’m sitting on a comfortable chair, slightly reclined, with a pillow behind me. I turn my head and look out the window on my left, seeing nothing but blue skies around me and white clouds below.

After I arrived in Barranquilla, I made my way to a small airfield and bribed the pilot of a cargo plane bound for Panama to let me sneak on board. I didn’t get any rest on the journey—there was nowhere really to sleep, and my mind was doing a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out the shit-storm I’ve found myself in.

It took about two hours to reach Panama. I made contact with Josh, when I landed, who directed me to another airfield, where he had arranged for another GlobaTech jet to fly me home. He said it’d take some time to get to me, and he sounded stressed, so I didn’t push him or stay on the line any longer than I needed to.

It had taken quite a while for the plane to arrive, and I used the time to get some much-needed rest. There was a small office on the airstrip, and I got some sleep on the sofa in there. And even once I was on board, as soon as ass touched seat, I was straight back out like a light.

There’s a stewardess on the flight, who smiles at me as I look around, slowly emerging from my deep sleep.

“Are we there yet?” I ask, smiling.

She laughs. “We’re making the descent now,” she says. “We’ll be on the ground in fifteen minutes or so. You’ve been asleep well over three hours. Is everything okay?”

I take a deep breath. “That’s a pretty broad question, under the circumstances. I’m alive, and if we can make it home without another plane I’m on being hijacked, I’ll consider that a victory for the day.”

Her face changed immediately to one of concern.

“
Another
plane?”

“It’s, ah… it’s been a rough few days,” I say with a weak smile, standing and stretching again. “You’ve not seen my bag, have you?”

“It’s stowed at the back of the cabin,” she replies, now sounding distracted. “Oh, and Mr. Winters requested a change of clothes be made available for you as well.”

I notice as she says that, she looks me up and down. I realize I still have on the shirt I stole, which is both insulting and offensive to all other shirts in the world.

“Thanks,” I say, a little embarrassed.

I walk to the back, seeing a new outfit hanging from a clothes rail in a small, open closet space opposite the bathroom. My bag and a change of shoes are underneath.

I step inside the bathroom and change my clothes, putting on the fresh pair of jeans, tan work boots, and a plain black T-shirt.

I leave my old stuff in the trash and step back out, picking up my bag on the way past and walking back to my seat. The stewardess isn’t there, so I assume she must be in the cockpit, talking with the pilots.

I take my Berettas and back holster out, load the guns, click the safety on and slide them into place. I put the holster in the bag again and relax back in my seat. I feel better now I’ve changed my clothes and I’m on my way home.

I hope Tori’s doing okay... As soon as this mess is over, I’m going to take her on holiday somewhere—put some distance between us and the real world for a while. And then, once the FBI, and God knows who else, have finished dissecting my bar, I’ll get the place back up and running. It shouldn’t take long to do. It might sound crazy to say, but I sometimes forget I’ve got a quarter of a billion dollars in my account. I’m a simple man with simple tastes and needs—I took that money more out of principle than necessity. But I’ll get the place looking brand new in no time.

The stewardess reappears, smiling professionally and looking a little more relaxed.

“We’ll be landing in San Antonio in ten minutes,” she announces. “There’ll be a vehicle waiting for you to take you home.”

“Thanks. Do you mind if I drive myself? Could do with the alone time if I’m honest.”

She smiles, like she understands. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

07:49 CDT

We land just over ten minutes later, as she’d said. There’s a black rental car waiting on the runway with the driver standing by it, resting on the hood. I thank the stewardess and the pilots for their service and step off the plane, feeling the early Texas sun on my face. Without a word, the driver hands me the keys before turning and walking across the runway toward the Terminal building at the far end. I climb in, crank up the air conditioning, and set off.

I’m excited to see Tori again, but also a little nervous. I’ve spent the last two and a half years burying Adrian Hell and starting over, and I’ve just spent the last seventy-two hours resurrecting him. In a strange way, I feel like I’ve betrayed Tori. I’m going home with so much blood on my hands. Regardless of how necessary it might have been, it still wasn’t me—not anymore.

I let out a sigh. I need to stop worrying—I’ve got enough on my mind as it is. I lean over and turn the radio on, fiddling until I find a station playing something half-decent. After a moment, I stumble across the opening line of
I Wanna Rock
by Twisted Sister. I smile and wind my window down, feeling myself go a little bit faster.

I soon reach Devil’s Spring. I feel a warm sense of familiarity and comfort as I drive through the center of town, truly feeling like I’m home. I stop at a red light. If I go right, it’ll take me up the hill toward the station house.

I wonder how Sheriff Raynor’s doing… He handled the truth about me really well, which I’m grateful for.

The lights change and I turn left, following the road around to the right and finally pulling up outside The Ferryman. I get out and stretch, looking around for a moment and soaking it all in.

Jeez, it’s quiet around here…

I get my bag out of the trunk, sling it over my shoulder, and then head around back and up the stairs to my apartment. The first thing I notice is that the door is open... I place my bag quietly on the ground, and take out one of my Berettas, holding it firmly in my hand. I push the door open gently and step inside.

The place is a mess. All the furniture is either upturned or broken, scattered across the floor.

Jesus... when did this happen? I’m just glad Tori wasn’t here.

I walk over to the bed. The mattress is on the floor, and the frame is on its side. I check the other door, that leads down to the bar area, but that’s still locked.

Strange... whoever did this was coming to my home specifically, not the bar.

I hear a noise behind me, and spin around, bringing my gun up to aim.

Sheriff John Raynor is standing in the doorway at the top of the stairs outside. He looks like shit—a couple of days’ worth of growth on his chin, and his right arm in a sling.

He holds his left arm up when he sees my gun. “I’m a friendly,” he says, with a weak smile.

I relax, lowering my gun. “Jesus Christ, John, what the hell happened to you?”

“It was… a nightmare, Adrian,” he replies. “That’s the only way I can think to describe it. An absolute nightmare. There were only five of them, too—and I never thought I’d use the word
only
when describing a five-man assault… That’s your goddamn influence... Anyway, they came the night you left for New York. It wasn’t guns blazing, like the others. It was… it was planned. Meticulously. They came knowing exactly what they intended doing, and how they wanted to do it. I got here as soon as I could—brought all my deputies with me. In hindsight, we never stood a chance…”

I look around my apartment again. “It must’ve been the bad guys I went after in New York,” I say, turning back to him. “If they knew I was coming for them, they maybe tried to pre-empt my involvement by taking me out here. They were just a few hours too late...”

Raynor shakes his head. “We arrived as they were leaving your place, but I don’t think they were here for you.”

I frown. Who would they be after, if not me? A split second passes, and my eyes go wide, realizing who their only logical target could’ve been.

“John… is Tori alright?”

His mouth forms a grim line of regret. “We exchanged gunfire, and then chased them in squad cars. All the way to young Nicki’s house... Adrian, I’m sorry—but the woman of the group put a bullet in Nicki’s head, right there in front of us, and two of the men bundled Tori into the trunk of their car.”

I glaze over, numbed by the news that Tori was taken. But my brain kicks in after a few moments, and alarm bells sound as I process what Raynor had told me.

“A woman?” I ask.

“Yeah, real evil-looking bitch—excuse my French. Dark eyes, bit too much make-up, wore a cat suit...”

Clara Fox!

“What did she say?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “She just pulled out a gun so big I was surprised she could lift it. Had it strapped to her back. She just unloaded at us—destroyed both cruisers. Killed one of us; injured the rest.” He reaches behind him and pulls out a disc in a plastic sleeve, then hands it to me. “She threw this at us before leaving. Got your name on it.”

I feel a rush of anger explode inside me, waking my Inner Satan from his slumber. It’s like a river of heat coursing through me, making me shake with fury. The only thing stopping me from properly losing my shit right now is the sadness and despair I feel, unable to get the image of Tori lying dead somewhere out of my mind.

I shake my head.

No. She’s alive. If Clara’s taken her, it’s to draw me out, so she won’t kill her only bargaining chip just yet. I pick up the DVD and examine it.

“Come on,” I say to Raynor, focusing on the problem and trying to distance myself from it emotionally. “Let’s see what she has to say for herself.”

I walk over to my TV, which is still in one piece. Clara must’ve had this whole thing planned from the beginning—they destroyed my apartment, but left the TV in one piece on purpose, knowing I’d need to watch this DVD.

He follows me, and I put the disc in the DVD player and press play. We stand side-by-side, my arms folded across my chest, watching the TV intently as Clara walks into view. It looks like it was filmed on a cheap handheld camera—the picture quality is grainy, and the background noise is hollow.

The room she’s in is pretty basic, and could be anywhere in the world—plain dirty walls, no carpet on the floor, no visible windows…

“Hello, Adrian,” she says.

She stands silently smiling at the camera for a moment. The first thing I notice is the long scar across her face, running from her right temple diagonally across to the left corner of her mouth.

Hope that hurt, you heartless bitch.

Her hair is jet black now, not blonde like I remember. She definitely has too much make-up on, like Raynor said. Her dark eyes betray no emotion.

“It’s been a long time,” continues the video. “What is it? Four years? Four years since you left me for dead in the desert… four years since you killed my father… and for four years I’ve been itching for a chance to have my revenge.”

Raynor looks at me out of the corner of his eye. I see it, and I know what he’s thinking.

“Yeah, I killed her father,” I confirm, turning my head to look at him. “He was a terrorist trying to kill a whole lot of American soldiers. I beat him to death and blew his base off the face of the earth.”

“Fair enough,” replies Raynor, shrugging.

I re-focus on the video. “…geddon Initiative will soon be able to hold every nation on the planet to ransom. I know Yalafi Hussein has already tried to recruit you, but I told him that wouldn’t work, you fucking Boy Scout! But in typical
Adrian Hell
fashion, you had to start asking questions about things that didn’t concern you, and now… now we’re at the stage where we need to make a concentrated effort to remove you from the picture.

“If you’re watching this video, we have your little girlfriend. We’ll make sure she’s looked after until you get here.”

She’s pacing around as she’s talking, trying to look scary and intimidating. She looks more like a psychopath than the last time I saw her, and from her body language, I get the impression she’s harbored a grudge toward me that’s consumed her entirely.

“I’m sure you won’t have any trouble working out where we are, so I’ll wait patiently for you to arrive. Oh, and to be clear, our plans will not be delayed any further by your interfering. In seventy-two hours, we’ll control the world, and my vendetta against you will be obsolete. At which point, if you’re not here, I’m going to cut your girlfriend’s fucking head off and mail it to you… Bye for now.” She smiles at the end and blows a kiss to the camera before walking out of shot.

I turn back to Raynor. “I have to find her,” I say to him.

“What do you need from me?” he asks.

“I’ll let you know when I have a better idea what I’m up against.”

We’re interrupted by the sound of a very deep, haunting, foreign voice.

“Adrian…”