09-09-2018, 02:34 AM
“I saw them too.” The words clung like bats in the rafters. Lofty, shadowed places stretched into memories that Jay did not want to resurrect. White hospital, shining tiles, opaque glass. He’d plunge the entire building into black waters if he could, watch it sink and walk away forever. But from those infinite depths something bloated and rotting floated to the surface. He forced himself to look at it, lip curled with disgust. Natalie’s light-hearted humor did not reach the inner fiery circle that he stalked like his own red-painted kingdom.
He stalked to the first one. Caged, trapped with bars of light. He was going no where. Rippling muscles were useless now. Well-dressed slacks and good sturdy boots. He’d give it to the guy. He had fine taste in footwear. The second moaned, palm pressed to his forehead. Raw red blushed his face. Jay didn’t envy him the migraine soon to erupt, even as his own fist ached, but the guy was lucky he wasn’t a corpse.
He knelt, hand sinking a lead-anchor upon his chest. Warning him to stillness while the other yanked open the guy’s jacket amid the feeble defense. “Hands to yourself or you’re going to lose one.” The order was humorless, the steel-cage of his eyes flashed a single warning. From a pocket was dug a wallet and magazine. The latter was chucked near the .44 Jay previously kicked far from reach. The former was locked tight.
The guy managed to spit a few mumbled curses. Lost in the slur were a few protests. “The hell is wrong with you.”
Jay barked a shallow laugh. “A lot. Now, shut up.”
“He’s right. You belong in jail,” he murmured. Jay wasn’t playing, though. It was all he could do to not put a bullet in their hearts right there.
“You’re here to kill us and you think I belong in jail.” He laughed at the insanity of that. But the laughter died down as he pulled something else to light.
He turned the thing over in his hands. The world fell to utter stillness. His heart might stop. But he stared until heat forced the first burning blinks.
Federal Bureau of Investigation. was stamped in gold across the top of the badge.
Jay looked at the second guy. He was starting to rouse. “That’s right,” the man moaned as he tried to get up, but he pushed through the pain and made it to an elbow. “FBI.”
Jay pushed to his feet, clutching the badge. It made no sense. Amengual sent FBI agents? Did he have them on the payroll? Maybe. The American government sent Marines to dismantle the factories and take Andres alive on the orders of someone in the Pentagon. Maybe it was some kind of internal investigation? Taking Andres alive was a stab into the heart of a crooked FBI? What the hell was going on? What’s worse, Jay had no idea how to find out.
A single finger lifted slim warning. “Stay the fuck on the floor while I think.” The guy tentatively moved, protests continued, boasts of impossible claims, but his voice was the fluttering of bats in the dark. Jay just stared at the badge until he absently began to search the tagged name and ID number on his Wallet.
“You’re Carpenter, aren’t you? She’s Grey.” That caught his attention, but he couldn’t look away from the portrait of a dark-haired, clean-cut guy on the FBI website proudly displayed. Jay didn’t need to check to know that the portrait matched the man at his feet.
Breath came quick. Jaw bolted shut. He searched the name of Amengual’s cousin again. Sure that it was the same man. Sure. He swore it was the same face he studied on the plane. He studied them all. Memorized all those faces. All their names. Everything he could find about anyone with any connection to the Amengual cartel, legit or otherwise.
But he had been tired. Alcohol fuzzed the usual sharpness of that mindless flight. The faces blurred and splintered, warping from one to one-thousand men and back again.
He pinched his eyes tight and blackened the screen, arm falling limp at his side. This definitely didn’t look good. Add FBI to the list of American agencies that probably wanted Jay Carpenter’s head on a pike. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, speechless, when a shriek of a Wallet buzzed from Natalie’s bag.
He stalked to the first one. Caged, trapped with bars of light. He was going no where. Rippling muscles were useless now. Well-dressed slacks and good sturdy boots. He’d give it to the guy. He had fine taste in footwear. The second moaned, palm pressed to his forehead. Raw red blushed his face. Jay didn’t envy him the migraine soon to erupt, even as his own fist ached, but the guy was lucky he wasn’t a corpse.
He knelt, hand sinking a lead-anchor upon his chest. Warning him to stillness while the other yanked open the guy’s jacket amid the feeble defense. “Hands to yourself or you’re going to lose one.” The order was humorless, the steel-cage of his eyes flashed a single warning. From a pocket was dug a wallet and magazine. The latter was chucked near the .44 Jay previously kicked far from reach. The former was locked tight.
The guy managed to spit a few mumbled curses. Lost in the slur were a few protests. “The hell is wrong with you.”
Jay barked a shallow laugh. “A lot. Now, shut up.”
“He’s right. You belong in jail,” he murmured. Jay wasn’t playing, though. It was all he could do to not put a bullet in their hearts right there.
“You’re here to kill us and you think I belong in jail.” He laughed at the insanity of that. But the laughter died down as he pulled something else to light.
He turned the thing over in his hands. The world fell to utter stillness. His heart might stop. But he stared until heat forced the first burning blinks.
Federal Bureau of Investigation. was stamped in gold across the top of the badge.
Jay looked at the second guy. He was starting to rouse. “That’s right,” the man moaned as he tried to get up, but he pushed through the pain and made it to an elbow. “FBI.”
Jay pushed to his feet, clutching the badge. It made no sense. Amengual sent FBI agents? Did he have them on the payroll? Maybe. The American government sent Marines to dismantle the factories and take Andres alive on the orders of someone in the Pentagon. Maybe it was some kind of internal investigation? Taking Andres alive was a stab into the heart of a crooked FBI? What the hell was going on? What’s worse, Jay had no idea how to find out.
A single finger lifted slim warning. “Stay the fuck on the floor while I think.” The guy tentatively moved, protests continued, boasts of impossible claims, but his voice was the fluttering of bats in the dark. Jay just stared at the badge until he absently began to search the tagged name and ID number on his Wallet.
“You’re Carpenter, aren’t you? She’s Grey.” That caught his attention, but he couldn’t look away from the portrait of a dark-haired, clean-cut guy on the FBI website proudly displayed. Jay didn’t need to check to know that the portrait matched the man at his feet.
Breath came quick. Jaw bolted shut. He searched the name of Amengual’s cousin again. Sure that it was the same man. Sure. He swore it was the same face he studied on the plane. He studied them all. Memorized all those faces. All their names. Everything he could find about anyone with any connection to the Amengual cartel, legit or otherwise.
But he had been tired. Alcohol fuzzed the usual sharpness of that mindless flight. The faces blurred and splintered, warping from one to one-thousand men and back again.
He pinched his eyes tight and blackened the screen, arm falling limp at his side. This definitely didn’t look good. Add FBI to the list of American agencies that probably wanted Jay Carpenter’s head on a pike. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, speechless, when a shriek of a Wallet buzzed from Natalie’s bag.
Only darkness shows you the light.