Shadow Ops: Danger's Heat (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Shadow Ops Novella Book 2) (9 page)

Hollywood’s pulse began to race. Even exercises to calm his breathing in stress situations wasn’t working. The thought that his partner and friend, Lucky Cavanaugh was on the other side of the OMC’s clubhouse door and possibly in a deadly scenario made remaining calm almost irrational. There was nothing he could do at the moment—everyone’s lives were at risk.

“Hollywood, pay attention—where were those six bikers heading?” Rose leaned closer—he felt the hot rush of air.

“The SilverHart Complex on the South Side,” Hollywood replied. His focus shifted to Rose’s e-tablet as Voodoo’s conversation with Bonny droned on behind him.

“That’s not where Bonny’s calling from. Better cue Justice—might be a trap.” Rose’s face showed an unusual level of concern, considering the disrespect the bikers had shown her earlier.

Anxiety formed a sheen of sweat across Hollywood’s forehead. He was sure it was Lucky in the clubhouse, but no one else seemed to have noticed. He motioned for Billy to come closer while Rose handled Voodoo’s phone call and HQ’s information feed. Hollywood leaned close to fill him in.

“Lucky Cavanaugh’s out there. Remember what Justice said about a gun deal going down today?” Hollywood’s voice tightened in concern. There was so much at jeopardy now—Lucky’s safety because the Savage Souls had the federal agent identity database, STR getting jammed up if ATF raided the clubhouse with them in it, Justice getting dinged as a rat for vouching, and the Rougarou’s plan launching the next morning.

“Who’s that? You got somebody listening?” Bonny’s voice shot angry and cold.

“Oh, that’s the SWAT guys—they always get jacked up before a raid. Heading to the French Quarter—they think they gonna see some titties. Freaking children.”

“No shit. Cops are dicks, you should quit that crap and come work for me.”

“Ha, just what do you do Bonny. Besides dress slutty and try stealing my boyfriends?”

“Good point. Well, gotta, baby. Big day tomorrow and then off to another adventure.”

“Another? Damn girl where you going?”

“To hell I’m sure. Later, baby.” Bonny ended the call with a kissing sound.

“We got her pegged around West Marquette Road and one or two possible cross streets. It’ll keep sweeping until the signal is pinpointed. Time to move—now,” Rose ordered.

“We got problems,” Billy said. “Lucky Cavanaugh’s out in the main room making an arms deal. I’m sure ATF has this place under surveillance if not ready to raid.” Billy explained.

Hollywood pressed his foot against the door to prevent anyone from walking in on their conversation. He nodded his head to alert the others that he needed to tell Justice about his guys going to the wrong location.

The door exploded inward. Hollywood tumbled into KC and Chase then landed atop the small desk. Papers and whiskey glasses smashed against the far wall. His palm hit the Medal of Honor shadowbox. Blood covered the light blue ribbon and embedded white stars.

Billy scrambled to his feet and reached for his weapon as they all flailed for cover. Justice followed the shattered wooden door. His breathing was exaggerated and his neck flexed with each pulse beat. Hollywood struggled to push himself from the desk—his right shoulder throbbing despite the pain meds.

“This is fucking war,” Justice roared like a grizzly. Fists rose to rip whatever door was left on its hinges. His reddened face glowed with hell’s vengeance.

Hollywood was able to see beyond Billy into the clubhouse. The others were sprawled throughout in disbelief. Someone unplugged the music. Hollywood heard wailing and the slaps against leather, as the brothers mourned the loss of six Savage Souls.

They deciphered that the six brothers, in their rampage, went to the address where the deadly bio-chems were stored. Like bulls in a china shop, accidently set them off.

“It’s your fucking fault, bitch. Get out of my house. Now.” Justice snatched up Rose by the shirt with one hand. She kicked but resisting was no use. She was on her way out of the very place she wanted out of. The others grabbed their belongings and trailed Justice and Rose to the door.

“You got thirty seconds to be off my street or I’ll start shooting,” Justice said as he kicked the front door open, and hauled Rose through it. She clawed at his wrist but it was like a dove pecking against titanium.

“Let her go or I’ll put this bullet through the back of your skull.” Billy whispered so the other brothers couldn’t hear him. Hollywood saw the .45 caliber model 1911 concealed beneath Billy’s vest.

“Be cool, this is the only way to get y’all out of here alive,” Justice whispered to Rose, while Hollywood helped her regain her footing once on the sidewalk.

“What happened?” Rose asked.

“Crashed through a door on their hogs, and into a gun battle with a Cajun bad ass. Ricochet into the barrel and gas cooked ’em all. Even the old, fat swamp stomper.”

“Tater, I bet,” Hollywood recalled the only one of Rougarou’s men that treated him with an ounce of decency.

“Y’all got work to do, I’ll handle these bastards. Kill ’em for America will ya?” Justice’s big body jolted as the brothers tried getting past him to attack STR’s team.

“Thanks,” Hollywood said with a sincere nod.

“Thank you, brother. Nice work on bin Laden—total respect.” Justice gave him a thumbs up and a menacing grin. Hollywood felt a sense of sadness for Justice. The man had fought for his country, yet met the same fucked-over fate he had upon returning home. Justice just refused to allow them to put him in a rectangle. Hollywood studied the cracks in the sidewalk but roused at shouts from Chase and Voodoo who waited in the SUV.

“Call off the gun deal. Just tell the dude it’s off—no questions,” He said to Justice. Hollywood’s gut turned like a pig on the spit. Lucky could negotiate other undercover gun deals but Justice had earned a reprieve from the long arm of the law.

“Will do—total respect, Brother. I got colors waiting for you when you decide the 1% life is best for living free.” Justice winked and turned to face the wrath of his men. Hollywood only hoped they wouldn’t take it out on him.

As he headed for the SUV, the door swung open and the brakes released. Hollywood leapt and landed on the running board before Voodoo yanked him the rest of the way by the collar. Chase made eye contact through the rearview mirror as he blasted the Suburban away from the OMC’s clubhouse.

“What was that about?” he asked without taking his eyes from the reflection.

“Nothing, I asked for directions to Soldier Field.”

“That’d better be all it was.” Chase’s tone harsh and accusing.

Hollywood finally looked away.
I hope Lucky gets out alive.

“Showing about forty minutes to touchdown.” Chase estimated once KC had completed punching Bonny’s location into the navigation system. “Probably do it in less.” He smiled as the powerful 5.3 liter, V8 engine’s massive three hundred and fifty-five horsepower chewed up the streets as he hit the main artery to head toward Englewood.

[Where are you?] Bonny texted Voodoo.

“Hey, she just sent this message. What should I tell her?” Voodoo asked.

“Say you’re working.” Rose snapped.

[working u/c deal] Voodoo replied. Her palms were moist and her head ached in a dull throb.

[I called for you. Lawless said you were out]

[Am out. Working u/c deal. Wuz up] Voodoo sensed Bonny knew she was with Hollywood. Everyone assumed Bonny was a dumb blonde, but Voodoo had seen a different side of her.

[Lawless??] Voodoo didn’t mean to respond so quickly, but the mention of Lawless had thrown her off guard. Voodoo shook her head as her body bounced beneath the safety belt. She knew Bonny hadn’t called the Task Force office, because Lawless was still off duty after getting shot by her network of crazies.

[Can I trust you Krystal] Voodoo bit her lip. She knew Bonny never used her real name unless there was something going down.

[Always – friends] Voodoo continued the cat and mouse charade.

“Shit, Chase watch the road,” Hollywood tried to monitor the text-messaging volley between the two women. His body tossed by Chase’s top-speed steering, he tried holding on without buckling up.

“HQ says they got another feed coming from Bonny’s cell. She’s still at South Racine and West Marquette Road. Keep her messaging Voodoo. Doing great girlfriend,” Rose said.

Voodoo snorted and rolled her eyes at Rose’s comment. Condescending bitch. She’d only said it because it benefited the mission.

Hollywood gently squeezed her hand. She glanced to see his exhausted eyes beam at her. They smiled at each other and became lost in the madness of chasing down a band of murdering miscreants. Then the cell shook in Voodoo’s lap. Smiles faded.

[Why u lied. Thought we were girlfriends.]

[We are. I miss u. want u 2 come home]

It turned Voodoo’s stomach to think of the relationship she and Bonny once shared. Sure, it was hard to explain to the average person, but it was at a time she needed the structure in her life and Bonny had provided that. Besides, why should she have to explain herself to anyone? Hollywood understood—that was all that mattered.

“We’re about 7 minutes away,” Chase yelled.

“Street View showing a multi-story brownstone. I checked Chicago’s city utility records and it seems there are three apartments at that address. First and second levels occupied by paid-up-to-date renters. Logic says they’re not bunking with locals. Makes tactical sense to occupy the highest level.”

“Four minutes out,” KC called out. Chase focused on the driving. The streets had become narrow and congested.

[Something bad has happened. I need your help. Where are you] Voodoo’s former loyalties created a sense of sadness for Bonny. Maybe she was just caught up in the middle of some scheme and Fats was controlling her.

[I can help you baby – where are you] Voodoo texted back.

“Rose, we’re close. Which apartment do we hit?” Chase asked with a voice filled with adrenaline.

[Where are you Bonny. I’m worried about you hun]

“SWAT up. Target location three blocks ahead on the right.” Billy ordered.

“HQ shows Bonny’s still on site,” Rose said.

Her eyes twitched and Voodoo noticed her temples pulsing. She knew that meant Rose was in the deepest realms of concentration. Logic and data had no place in Rose’s extrapolation of information—she calculated intuition, gut and instinct during these moments. Most of the time she was right. But STR needed an answer—which apartment?

[You lied bitch] Voodoo knew it was done.

“She knows,” Voodoo told the team. Something stuck in her gut—Bonny’s never used the word bitch. No matter what the situation.

“Rose, we need to know which apartment? We can’t afford to linger in the open.” Chase mashed the brakes as the SUV jumped the curb and landed halfway between the small yard and front door.

“First floor. No chemicals on site.” Rose barked with an unsure confidence. Voodoo pocketed her cell and racked a round into the chamber of her 9mm Colt submachine gun. The team exited on the driver’s side that faced away from the freestanding complex. Everyone covered down on windows and doors.

Voodoo’s pulse pounded until she heard it inside her eardrums. The thought of confronting Bonny added strain to an already stressful scenario. Her gut wretched with a queasy uncertainty.

Voodoo waved for Rose to slide through the backseat and join the rest of the team. She read the gravity on Rose’s face, but also the grace under life-threatening pressure. Maybe Rose had been condescending earlier, but Voodoo now regretted her attitude. This was an incredibly talented woman and she’d brought them this far.

“Rose, move. We’re sitting ducks.” Billy’s HK MP5 zeroed on the far front corner, but his attention was on Rose.

Voodoo began to wretch. Everything started to catch up to her. She stepped out of formation. Vomit spurted between her lips. Her rifle hung loose from the nylon harness strapped around her neck and back. She felt the weight of Hollywood’s gloved hand upon her hip. She nodded that she was okay.

“Come on Rose,” she pleaded through a Nomex hood soaked with bile.

“Second floor,” Rose ordered. “I’m certain of it. Not stopping at one—go hard to two. STR says Bonny’s still on site. We got her ass trapped,”

Rose looked directly into Voodoo’s moist eyes. “Thank you.”

“Team 1, take point to entrance,” Billy initiated the assault.

“Roger that,” Chase said.

“Team 2, breach and cover up.” Billy’s assignment meant Hollywood and Voodoo were responsible for breaking the door in—any means necessary.

“10-4,” Hollywood replied.

“Team 3, we will lead point up the stairs.” The others were silent at the suggestion that Billy and Rose would run the most dangerous section of the mission, but there wasn’t time to waste. Besides the terrorists being alerted by their presence in the front yard, it would be a matter of minutes until the Chicago Police Department arrived.

“Go,” Billy ordered over the tactical headsets.

In a flash of fluid motion, everyone moved in a straight line from behind the SUV. Shots rang out from a window on the second floor. Rose returned fire from her rear guard position. The curtains fluttered. No more shots.

Chase and KC led the short sprint across the yard and covered down on windows alongside the front door. The wooden door had a top-half etched glass insert. Hollywood hooted at the weak barrier as his boot smashed into the doorknob and locking mechanism. The decorative door flung open without resistance.

“Good job,” Voodoo whispered as they cleared out of the path for Billy and Rose to make their way up the narrow stairway.

“Coming through,” Rose said, laser-focused up the stairs.

Solid walls lined each side of the stairwells. The only landing visible was once you were actually on the second floor.

Gun shots rang out—random and raggedly timed. They didn’t sound like the disciplined trigger pulls of experienced operatives. She heard the heavy thud of a human body tumbled against steps.

“Friendly down,” called either Rose or Billy—excitement blurring the distinction in the headsets. Voodoo’s heart clutched—Rose was on point in the assault. She hesitated.

“Move!” Hollywood’s order snapped Voodoo out of her trance. She spun around the blind corner and saw Billy at the base of the stairs. She gasped at the blood pooled from his neck.

“I’m okay, cover Rose.” Billy’s voice was strained, weak.

Voodoo’s legs felt like steel pillars but she willed herself to jump over Billy’s body. Rose was alone at the top of the stairs. Hollywood grabbed Billy’s body and dragged him to safety. She had to concentrate on climbing the steps. Each footfall felt like a kettlebell dropping. No need to worry about stealth. The creaking stairs signaled each advance.

“I’m here, sister.” Voodoo squeezed Rose’s left shoulder to signal she was prepared to fight.

“Team 1 moving to secure rear door,” Chase announced. They had to cut off any avenues of escape.

Voodoo took a breath. That bitch Bonny was trapped on a second floor apartment off South Racine Avenue, around Englewood with a bunch of deranged maniacs. It was already one of the most dangerous communities in America. It didn’t need their presence adding to the insanity of violence. There’d be no calls to surrender or second chances. Voodoo was ready to confront her.

“Ready, Rose. Move.”

Rose pulled the pin, and tossed the heavy metal canister around the corner. Brilliant lights flashed and deafening decibels from the Def-Tec 25 ignited. Both women lunged up from their crouched position on the stairs and rotated around the corner wall.

They zipped silently through the thick white smoke created by the flash bang’s diversionary device. Voodoo spotted Tater in the corner looking to pop more rounds out the window. She lifted her weapon, but before she could squeeze the trigger, heard two soft cracks from the suppressed barrel of Rose’s HK UMP40. The gangly bayou boy’s body crumbled to the floor.

“Skinny down,” Rose radioed.

A rapid fire of rounds blasted holes in a hollow core door—they melted the cherry wood in a bookshelf across the room. Voodoo moved to the sound of the gunfire. She knew it would be Bonny. Who else would waste ammunition shooting without purpose into a door?

“Bonny come out, this is Krystal.”

More shots, but this sounded like the weapon’s select-fire had been switched to fully automatic. These shots were from an AK 47—a very distinctive sound, and nothing to fuck with.

“Voodoo,” Hollywood radioed. “Y’all get out of there. That AK 47 will rip right through the walls. Regroup on the first floor, and get Billy stable first.”

Rose looked at Voodoo as if to question what she wanted to do. Voodoo pointed in the direction of the closed room. The reek of a gun battle drifted thick and heavy through the air. Voodoo’s ear rung from the streamlining clatter of the AK 47, and streaks of light bounced into and out of the new holes ripped open by the Russian assault rifle.

Rose moved to cover and called for Bonny to surrender. Shots ripped through the door again and in the direction of Rose’s voice. Voodoo swept along the wall that enclosed the bathroom. She began to fire consecutive rounds through the wall until the AK 47’s shots stopped. She heard the clunk of what sounded like the heavy weapon hitting the tub and tile bathroom floor.

“Good thinking, Voodoo. Hold tight, let’s bang it and go.” Rose peeked around a hard corner, pulled another pin. She threw this canister overhand like a baseball. The Def-Tec 25’s weight and force busted thru the shredded hollow core door. Like the first diversion device, this one too, exploded into a violent display of light and sound.

Rose and Voodoo sprinted their short distances to confront Bonny—kill her if they had too. Voodoo front kicked the bathroom door and they jammed their bodies into the space.

“What the fuck?” Rose sputtered.

“Cranston Stone. Got your ass again.” Voodoo taunted the brutal torturer who’d kidnapped her in New Orleans before she’d escaped on her own. “Where’s Bonny, old man?” She towered over him without an appearance of offering aid.

“Help me.”

“Where’s Bonny?” Voodoo demanded.

“Please, I don’t want to die with the Yankees. Take me back south.” His rail-thin arm quivered as it reached for her. “Bonny ain’t here,” Cranston begged.

“I know Bonny’s here. I’ve been texting with her and I know she’s here.” Frustration poured into Voodoo’s tone.

“Help me, and I’ll show you.” The face once cloaked in evil, now exposed a frightened timeworn shadow. The bullets Voodoo had drilled into him forced his meatless frame to spasm in agony. His wounds had pieces of sheetrock and fiberglass wall insulation meshed with the exposed blood and bone.

“Deal, Stone. I’ll help you,” Voodoo said.

“Let me show you,” He rocked his body to the right and jerked his right hand from behind his back.

“Gun,” Rose called and blasted two more bullets into his cranium. His hell-bound body died.

“He died for nothing,” Voodoo felt empty as she looked at the lifeless, decrepit lunatic.

It wasn’t her first time to take a life, but it shocked her that her emotions had become so hardened so quickly. Almost matter of fact—but in the big picture, that’s all it was. One person trying to kill another person—he lost.

“He died for his cause.” Rose shook her head.

“What cause?” Voodoo snapped back at her.

“To kill you.”

Rose lifted the cell phone out of the blood pool. She showed Voodoo the string of text messages Cranston Stone had sent to her. It was all a trap to lure Voodoo into her own execution.

“Bonny was never here?”

“At some point she was. Probably hauled ass after the Savage Souls did us a favor and inadvertently took out those barrels of chemical weapons. Of course it costs those dumb assess their lives.”

Voodoo and Rose both spun to quickly aim their weapons as the thumping of boots came closer up the steps and through the apartment. It was Hollywood. His eyes were wide as they watched the muzzles of both weapons fall back away from him.

“Billy’s fine. He’s loaded into the SUV—Chase tending to him. KC gonna come up to help scrub the sight before locals arrive,” Hollywood said.

“When’s that going to be?” Rose asked.

“HQ advised CPD scanner shows Patrolmen dispatched, but they have a delayed response code thanks to a deadly chemical spill and a massive riot on Division Street.” Hollywood smirked.

“The Savage Souls clubhouse?” Voodoo asked.

“Seems so. Something about calling off a business transaction and half the club disagreed with the other half that called the shots.”

“I hope Lucky made it out all right,” Rose said.

“I hope Justice is okay too,” Voodoo added.

“I’m just glad we stopped another threat,” Hollywood waggled his head, “For now that is.”